Skunk’s advice on buying fuel in Bolivia

Navigating a system that seems to conspire against overlanders

Even before the current fuel crisis, word on the traveler grapevine had it that gassing up was somewhat complex for foreign vehicles in Bolivia. Unable to find any definitive information online, many planned to rush through, in an attempt to cross the country with what they were able to bring in. That was not an option for us. Maria’s Honda NX250 has a small 9-liter tank, and Aidan’s BMW F650GS only has a range of about 180 miles at the Bolivian altitudes of 10,000ft and above. We simply couldn’t carry enough spare fuel to cross from Lake Titicaca in the north to the Lagunas Route in the south. And, of course, we wanted to explore some of this beautiful country as well. We had already experienced the difficulties caused by a severe fuel shortage in Venezuela. Somehow we’d always been able to make it work, so we weren’t deterred by the challenge.

Bolivia’s complex fuel sales rules

The Bolivian situation was a little different, in that it was their complicated system, which caused most of the issues. For years, gas has been heavily subsidized by the government, to make it affordable for the local population, many of whom live a very poor hand-to-mouth existence. To discourage illegal export and resale across the borders, foreigners must pay the much higher, full rate.

That in itself wouldn’t be a problem; however, gas stations must be set up for it. For each sale, the vehicle’s registration or the person’s national ID number was entered in the computer. From what I could tell, this ensured the locals were charged their lower rate while the subsidies due were calculated. The option for foreign sales had to be pre-programmed in, to allow for a sale at the higher rate. Some gas stations readily processed us, while others sent us away with an apologetic shrug of the shoulder, saying they have no way to sell at the foreign price.

Much later, a policeman watching over the proceedings at a particular gas station explained that we needed to fill out a bunch of forms which the station must file. He brought out a pile of copies from the office to show us, but it was all very confusing in rapid-fire Spanish. He seemed to mention a sort of permit we should have obtained from customs at entry into the country. We’d heard about the forms before, but not of any required permit, and we were never asked for it again. So to this day I am not sure whether it was us, or that particular policeman, who misunderstood about the permit.

If a gas station cannot sell to foreigners, many traveler’s reports suggested approaching the pumps with a local, using canisters. That way the foreign number plate remains out of sight and the local’s ID can be used to register the purchase. However, a new law prohibiting the filling up of anything except the vehicle’s tank itself, came into effect as we were riding through Bolivia. I believe it had something to do with forcing people to register their vehicles (and therefore pay the appropriate taxes). Still in its infancy back then, it took a while to enforce the law everywhere, and we still managed to get our canisters filled most of the time. But the usually long lines of locals carrying well-used canisters and buckets were dwindling. Now that the law has been in effect for a while, and the fuel crisis has exacerbated the situation, it is strictly enforced and sales in canisters are only allowed to businesses with the appropriate documents.

Navigating the system

On the main routes frequented by tourists, we barely felt the problem. Rolling up to gas stations, they filled us up, charging a higher rate, as expected. When asked, we always said we didn’t need a receipt, because: why would we? Curiously, the price was always rounded down from the official 8.75 Bolivar to 8 Bolivar per liter. With time we realized that not requiring a receipt meant making life easier for everyone: the sale would go unregistered, and the gas station simply charged an easy-to-calculate rate. That this was an unofficial work-around became evident when, under the watchful eye of said policeman, the attendant wouldn’t sell us fuel without filling out the proper forms.

While the regulations have their purpose, they can make things impossible for overlanders. In the remote regions we often needed spare fuel, creating a conundrum. We didn’t want to force anyone to illegally fill our canisters. But without the extra, we sometimes wouldn’t be able to reach the next gas station. If we wanted to make it across the vast volcanic wilderness of the Lagunas Route, we had to top up to the brim and fill our canisters as well. Understanding our plight, the attendant rushed to fill our canisters, while her colleague went on look-out, as the police were due to circle back on their regular rounds. The no-canister law was clearly not aimed at our situation, and they wanted to help us out, but they did not want to lose their jobs. They dutifully charged full price and issued a receipt, in case the police wanted to see proof. The patrol car rounded the corner as expected, but they didn’t check us.

Back then, no one questioned the bright red fuel containers strapped to the top of our luggage, so long as they weren’t visibly being filled. But now, about a year later, with the new law firmly in place, it is probably advisable to store them less obviously. Understandably, gas stations have become less willing to fill canisters without the required business permit. One way to buy any needed extra is to fill the tank, siphon that into the canisters once out of view, then drive back and fill the tank again.

Luckily we never ended up having to do that. But one helpful rider did siphon fuel from his tank for us. He spotted us on the outskirts of La Paz, and offered to help us get fuel. At the time, we were as yet unaware of how things worked and assumed he was going to let us buy on his ID at a gas station. Instead, he led us to a residential area and disappeared behind a big gate. Moments later he was back with a bucket and a piece of hose pipe. The poor man swallowed a huge gulp of gas, trying to get the flow going. He thrust the bucket into Aidan’s hand and ran back inside. We could hear him desperately retching up the contents of his stomach, gulping down water, then spewing it out again. He wouldn’t take a dime for his troubles, but we found some candies to try and combat the awful taste of gasoline.

That night I felt extra guilty for putting the rider through all the trouble, because it turned out the Motorcycle B&B Bolivia, where we stayed, had spare fuel for their guests. Places that regularly receive overlanders often try to keep spare. And if they don’t store any, they’ll be able to help get hold of some, so they are a good place to reach out to.

Off the beaten path, the gas stations that do exist are often not set up to charge the higher tourist rate. A subtle hint, that as foreigners we usually pay more, spurred the attendant to get creative about releasing the sale. We didn’t mind in the least, that most of the arbitrarily made-up rate of 5 Bolivar per litre likely topped up his personal income. He’d gone out of his way to help us get the fuel we desperately needed, and I had the strong sense that he would have processed the sale completely above board, if only the system had allowed him to.

In the most remote regions people stored spare fuel to keep their machinery running. Asking around, we found a small farm selling gas from their shed. They charged extra, which only seemed fair, since they had gone to the trouble of sourcing the gas and carting it out here.

The fuel crisis

Not surprisingly, the fuel crisis has made things worse, and it is less likely to find farmers selling what little they can get hold of. Queues are long, and gas stations may run out before everyone has had their fill. Often, police or military guards are present to ensure order and safety. Under their watchful eye the rules are strictly enforced and there is less room for creativity to navigate the complex system.

The situation might be tough, but people always have a way of working things out, and in our experience, they will go out of their way to help travelers keep going. Putting ourselves in the shoes of the gas station attendants and approaching the situation with patience and a smile, always went a long way. We were never asked to fill out any forms again, and according to other travelers’ reports since, it still seems common practice to avoid the hassle and simply fill foreign vehicles up at the higher rate.

PS: Generally we found that YPFB gas stations are more likely to be set up for selling to foreigners. And people have often marked gas stations where they were able to fill up on iOverlander. (Just bear the fast-changing crisis situation in mind - such info may quickly become outdated and any latest updates from you will be much appreciated by the next person.)