Account of the day from Bolivia...

Dear Mitchell family,

Firstly I would like to offer my sincere sympathies to you for your loss; I have thought of you and Ken most days since his passing as have many others on the bike trip that day. I would also like to apologise for the delay in writing this; to be frank I have been at somewhat of a loss for what to say. I have tried to imagine how hard it must be for you all to have been so far away from Ken when he passed away and not to have known exactly what happened. I’m not sure how much or little you would like to know, but I shall give as full an account of the day as I remember it.

It was an early start that morning, Ken was sat in front of me on the bus and chatted away to me about the bike ride and his trip so far; not being much of a morning person, I’m afraid I was quite miserable company for him, not that he showed it. The first part of the bike ride was on tarmac road downhill, which was easy, fun and the whole group seemed to enjoy; the next section however was uphill and at 4500m was tough going even for the youngest and fittest. Ken found this section too hard and sat on the bus which was following us as we cycled. My friend Katrina was not at all well that day and had yet to get on her bike. Ken fussed around her, trying to find her a spot to lie down, getting her drinks etc. I remember feeling guilty for my earlier lack of sociability after seeing him being so kind to my friend. He chatted away to us all, congratulating me on my feeble attempt at cycling uphill and helping me out with my bike. His kindness and friendliness were clear in just a short space of time.

The next section of the road was downhill, Ken was away and enjoying himself. He rode in the middle of the group, not as fast as some of the younger testosterone-fuelled men, but without the fear and anxiety of some of the slower cyclists. Along the ride there were frequent stops where the guides described the next stretch of road, any tricky corners and tips on controlling our bikes and cycling safely. We were all advised to keep a long distance between cyclists for safety. This meant that nobody actually saw Ken fall. His bike was still at the road edge so we assumed he skidded taking a corner. The guides came back, abseiled down to him and commenced CPR. I cannot stress the extent to which the group were shocked, upset and affected by this, with many in tears. I don’t write this to upset you, but more to emphasise the fact that although Ken was travelling alone at the time and although none of us knew him all that well, there was such a heartfelt reaction. Amongst us there were two doctors, medical students, a nurse and a climbing instructor waiting to lend a hand if needed. From speaking to the guides afterwards, it seemed that Ken was not breathing when they reached him. Nevertheless, they continued CPR for well over an hour, returning physically exhausted.
He was not conscious nor suffering at the time, which I hope provides you with some solace.

Eventually the police and ambulance services arrived and the buses of cyclists made there way back to La Paz. I can honestly say that I thought of Ken everyday for the rest of my time in South America and tried to make sense of what happened. Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss. I hope you can find some comfort in him enjoying that day, in his passing being quick and in the people around him caring.

Warmest wishes,
Lalitha