Across Bolivia with Mr. Bean

As Bono was strapping himself with some succulent Argentinian eye fillets in the bathroom at Buenos Aires Airport, Betty was undergoing the final stages of her surgery with Dr. Ernesto and we ventured off to the magnificent lake Titicaca, where the water glistens in between beautiful mountains as if from some magical fairy tale.

Mr. Bean had been with us now for over a week, but he had still yet to be aquainted with Betty´s prowess on the open road.

The destination was Santa Cruz de la Sierra in the far east of Bolivia - the first stop - Uyuni - 500km south of La Paz and gateway to the largest salt flats in the world.

It was all smooth sailing on good roads till we reached the perimeter of salt, where the tar turned to soft golden sand.

Trucks and taxis lay bogged all around, but Betty was in no mood to play games and she roared her way over the sand hills and deep water crossings till we had reached the edge of the flats.

Past giant cacti, across 200km of rock hard salt highway and away into the surrounding mountains, Betty was on top of the world, and Mr. Bean was very impressed.

Only one thing could stop us now - fuel.

We had a rough idea of where we were but as the desert roads forked in all directions that rough idea became a faint one.

Betty´s compass was our only guide and surely if we just keep heading south we would eventually come to the main road heading east.. right?

As the sun hit the mountain crest, the guiding light of day quickly faded away as we finally found some sign of civilisation - the lonely train track that wound its way up throught the barren desert hills.

But civilisation often leads to trouble..

As Betty climbed the steep bank up over the tracks, she stalled, and you would never believe it, but it is true - Betty was stuck on the train tracks.

And then in the distance the faint light and sound of the roaring locomotive came screaming towards us.

Thankfully, this last part is not true, but we were indeed stuck on the tracks and Beano and Steve pushed with all their might as Harls had his foot to the floor to get her across.

In the dark of night and with our last drop of spare fuel in the tank, we reached what resembled something of a main road.

Now it was only a question of time.

In over 14 months we hadn´t yet once run out of fuel.

It was time.

On the side of that lonely, cold dirt road, Betty´s heart turned dry with thirst and for this moment would beat no more.

There was not a cloud in the sky and looking up we had never before seen so many stars shining down upon us.

But this was no time for star gazing - the cold sting of the night was brutal and we were forced into layers of warm clothes and blankets, before long wandering off into dreams.

Spare tank in hand, Steve was off in the morning to the nearest small town 30 mins away.Betty thirstily guzzlled down her breakfast and we were off.

Passing through the mountain city of Potosi, we arrived in the south eastern town of Tarija within a few days.

On the road north from Tarija to Santa Cruz, distaster struck poor Betty once again.

But how great a disaster can be for an experience.

Betty´s rear axel joint had blown, again, and again, we needed a tow.

On the back of a large truck there was a large tractor, and trailing happily along behind that large tractor, was brave little Betty.

After 2 hours we reached the cool truck stop town of Palmas and in the morning we met Mr. Onions and arranged another tow with his truck to the nearest town of Villa Montes, 4 hrs away.

This was proving to be a record breaking expedition..

First, we had set the record for longest distance travelled without refuelling.

Now, a modest 4 hr tow to Villa Montes would soon become a record breaking tow from Palmas to Villa Montes and from Villa Montes direct to Santa Cruz, 10 hrs away.

Tommorrow would be Saturday and on Saturday´s Mr. Onions takes 40 large sacks of his finest onions to sell at the market in Santa Cruz.

On this particular Saturday, Mr. Onions would be carrying some very special cargo in addition to his usual load - Hotel Betty and her three royal in house residents.

For this tow, Betty would ride first class, mounted directly on the back of the truck - no ropes, no chains.

So the first challenge was to help her up..

We towed her around and up on a steep embankment on the side of the road, backed the truck up to the edge of the bank and over some wooden planks pushed Betty up and onto the back of the truck.

We strapped her in nice and tight, but up the first steep hill she slipped and nearly fell off the back of the truck.

Thanks to the steel rear guard of the truck, Betty is still with us today.

It was around 2 o´clock pm when we arrived in Villa Montes, where we stopped for some lunch.

The plan was to head out to the farm, load the onions, be off around 6pm that night, drive till midnight or so, when Mr. Onions would have a quick snooze, and then proceed in the early hours of the morning to Santa Cruz, where Mr. Onions would unload Betty and his onions at the central market place and be home in time for tea.

By 630, the onions were packed, Betty was strapped in, a case of beer was on ice and we were off into the night, comfortably finding our moulds into the onion sacks below.

Life really is great.

Riding on the back of a fully loaded onion truck in the dark of night across the plains of Eastern Bolivia, eating some of the most tasty tomato, capsicum, chilli and fresh onion sauce over a bowl of perfect dry white rice, accompanied by a little chilled white wine, we lay back staring up at the full moon, around which glowed two magical rings of light, the likes of which we had never seen before.

Wrapped in blankets we drifted away into sleep as Mr. Onions silently steered his cargo safely through the lonely night.

We woke at times to screaming lorrys´racing past our ears and then at last to the beautiful face of the smiling sun rising up over the outskirts of Santa Cruz.

Mr. Onions backed his truck up to another steep bank, we rolled Betty off and we were done.

Within a few hours, Betty had a brand new joint and we were in Santa Cruz town - only three days drive from the Brazilian border.

It had been a fitting excursion for Mr. Bean, who would soon be leaving us to continue his own adventures working as a river guide deep in the La Mosquitia region of Honduras.

Betty never fails to dissapoint..