La Paz is the highest capital city in the World at somewhere between 3,650 and 4,000 metres depending who you consult. We arrived from Puno via another night train that was only a shade less frightening then the "death train" and then a bus. The ride on the bus took in some fantastic snow capped mountain scenery as we climbed towards La Paz. On arrival into the city you immediately get that big city feel, high rises all around, visible pollution, the most horrendous traffic jams, market stalls spilled out into the streets and thousands of people bustling from one place to the next. The city looks a bit like a giant terracotta bathtub, with the heart of the city in the base and houses clinging to the cliff like mountainsides all around.

We checked into the lovely Rosario hotel and went for a wander through the array of busy markets and alleys to visit some of the colonial buildings . After a visit to the San Francisco church we headed to the main tourist strip, Sagarnaga to check out the shops, cafes and the "witches market".

The "witches market" is a series of stalls that sell a variety of herbs, potions, animal shells and foetuses, particularly of Llamas. It is a bizarre sight and each stall is much the same. The goods are supposed to help with improving health and life, and I can't help thinking that the old women with no teeth that are selling should take some of their own medicine.

That evening I convince a few of the boys in our group to undertake the most famous mountain bike journey on the planet down the "World's Most Dangerous Road", or "Death Road" as it more commonly known, between La Cumbre and Coroico. They agree and we book our trip through Vertigo Mountain Biking, which is run by Pablo, a young guy who set up about a year ago. He solemnly tells us that he hasn't had a fatality yet. The 65km journey that drops 3,500m in altitude has claimed many lives down the years as a quick Google search will verify, or if you want to see what it is like do a You Tube search . The narrow gravel road has drops of up to 600m, hairpin bends and no barriers. Our research reveals that 8 tourists have been killed this year alone.

After a breakfast early in the morning (they feed you well during the day you also get a lunch half way down and a full buffet at a hotel where you go for a much needed swim and a shower afterwards) we head off. After padding up with helmets, knee and elbow pads we jump on our newish bikes and spend the first 8km or so on tarmac to get used to the bikes. We expect to experience all four seasons during the day as we drop from 4,700m to 1,200m. It is very cool at this height and also remarkable green and looking down into the huge crevasses and valleys below we can see the jungle. Having spent most of our time in Bolivia surrounded by an arid landscape I had forgotten the diversity this country has. The views are worth the money alone.

Our group of 14, split into 2 groups of 7, head off down the mountain and immediately pass a number of crosses on the side of the road . Cars, trucks and buses blow their horn as they come to pass you from either direction as if they think we shouldn't be there.

We reach the beginning of the "death road" and are hit with some bad news. The new road, which was opened 3 years earlier to take the traffic from the "death road" has had a major accident and is closed. Traffic has been diverted back onto the old road that we are going down, our numerous guides ask us to be extra vigilant and careful with our riding. We must also give way to the traffic by staying on the left side of the road, the cliff side, as they squeeze past us. Beads of sweat begin to run down my back.

We look down and can see the 3 metre wide muddy gravel track snake down through the jungle along the mountainside below. As we set off I concentrated intently on the road ahead, daring not look down at the abyss below, which at times was just a foot or two away. Every so often we stop and marvel at the natural beauty all around . Water runs down the cliff faces from above onto the road and make it very slippy, as I picked up confidence and speed I can feel the bike sliding around a little but remarkably it actually feels safer and I get myself to the front of the pack, my old BMX days coming back to me.

After our lunch stop we continue on and within seconds one of the group, a Kiwi, flips off his bike landing on his head and shoulder, before sliding to a stop a foot from a 300m vertical. We stop and check he is ok, a bit dazed he gets to his feet and checks out a giant red skid mark down his side. As we push off again I notice another two crosses on the side of the road, am old mountaineering adage comes to me "respect the mountain". Huge tour buses pass us by, thankfully most of them when we had stopped in the very few run off areas and I was thinking that the people that are looking out have probably got their hearts in their mouths more than we have.

The road and the trip is definitely an adrenaline rush but it needs to be treated maturely and the guides do ensure you are made to feel as safe as possible by providing as much information about each stretch at the breaks as they can. We get our "I've survived the World's Most Dangerous Road" t-shirt and head for a beer.

The journey back takes 3 hours along the now open new road and with Bolivian driving this was perhaps the scariest part of the day.