On our summer 2025 trip to Bolivia, it didn’t take long to learn that fuel—both gasoline and diesel—is a real issue. We’d heard about shortages before we flew out, and it wasn’t just rumor: the Hertz rental manager who handed over our car confirmed it as soon as we landed.
The shortage was only half the story. Bolivia is vast, and it’s not unusual to drive hundreds of kilometers without seeing a single gas station. That combination—limited supply and long distances—naturally made us wonder how we’d manage to get around by car.
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When the state sets prices, it rarely ends well
The lack of fuel at stations stems from a system in which the Bolivian government has long set fuel prices well below market levels through subsidies. For locals it looks like a perk at first glance—fuel is cheap.
The problem starts when the administratively fixed price sits below the real costs of import and distribution. If the state keeps prices artificially low while import and distribution cost more, someone ultimately pays the difference. Either the state budget covers it, or the volumes of imported fuel get cut.
Such pricing naturally fuels high demand that distribution can’t sustain in the long run. In 2025 there was added pressure on the country’s foreign reserves and a reliance on imports. If there aren’t enough dollars to buy fuel abroad or deliveries are delayed, there’s simply less fuel—and the result is endless lines at gas stations.
Filling up at the subsidized price
The subsidy system was designed for domestic vehicles and local residents. At the pump, staff would enter the license plate to determine the price. We did have a Bolivian plate, but tourists in rental cars are typically not entitled to the subsidy.
When we picked up the car, the rental manager offered a workaround. He issued a letter stating we were employees of a local Bolivian company—a document that existed solely so we could buy fuel at the local price. In reality, of course, we weren’t employed there.
That letter helped us several times at the pump. Its purpose was simply to counter the assumption that we were foreign tourists.
This small and, in essence, harmless travel hack saved us a fair amount of money and worked reliably at all official gas stations. Its usefulness faded quickly, though, once our route took us into more remote parts of the country.
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Cheap, yet unavailable
While refueling in bigger cities was straightforward, the trouble started as soon as we reached the more remote, less accessible stretches of the Altiplano. We ran into shuttered stations, restricted opening hours, and queues that meant waiting for hours. Fuel simply wasn’t available—it didn’t matter whether you were local or a visitor.
And as so often happens, where the state falls short, the free market steps in—often unflatteringly labeled the black market.
The black market
In villages and small towns where fuel wasn’t available, you could sometimes buy it from locals. That meant asking around, waiting, and accepting a price roughly ten times the subsidized rate—about what non-subsidized fuel costs.
Naturally, these purchases were often uncertain. In some villages we managed to buy fuel; in others we simply couldn’t.
Jerrycans
To function effectively in these conditions and reach truly remote areas, we needed the right gear. The key was carrying enough fuel. That meant not relying on the car’s tank alone, but bringing—in our case—three 20-liter jerrycans. By arrangement, the rental company provided them with the car for a small fee.
One caveat: at regular gas stations it wasn’t possible to fill jerrycans directly. We tried, but staff repeatedly refused. If we wanted to top up the cans, we had only two options:
- buy fuel off the books on the black market,
- decant fuel from the car’s tank into the jerrycans and keep returning to gas stations.
Fortunately, we never had to resort to that second option on our journey, which we appreciated—it would have been fairly time-consuming.
Overall, the jerrycans gave us real peace of mind. Without them, our trip simply wouldn’t have been possible. The fact that we were traveling with a dog demanded even better preparation. Sitting for hours in endless lines in the hot sun with a dog in the car was not an option. Nor was running out of fuel in the middle of the Altiplano.
For completeness, besides the jerrycans we also carried a siphon hose, a stash of empty plastic bottles to improvise funnels, and a small cloth to strain impurities from the fuel.
One more tip: plan any fuel handling ahead of time, don’t do it after dark, and avoid extreme temperatures (both cold and heat). Safety first.
Where we filled up
Below is a list of places where we fueled up at regular gas stations, on the black market, and places where we couldn’t get fuel at all. It’s purely for orientation, and conditions change fast. Think of it as a way to gauge the scale of the problem.
Refueling in cities
Refueling in cities like Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Tupiza, Tarija, Roboré, San Cristóbal and the like was always straightforward. Fuel was available and waits at stations ranged from a few minutes to at most half an hour.
Buying fuel on the black market
We bought black-market fuel fairly often, about as frequently as we used official stations. Here’s where that happened:
- Jirira – a small village on the north shore of the Uyuni salt flat. Finding a seller took a while, but we got there in the end.
- Tahua – the capital of the Tahua canton on the north shore of the Uyuni salt flat. Here, a local police officer even lent a hand while we were ‘refueling.’
- Llica – a forgotten little town on the northwest edge of the Uyuni salt flat. We were lucky and found a seller right at the town entrance.
- San Pedro de Quemes – the town where we sorted everything: car wash, money exchange, and topping up fuel.
- Villa Mar – a town in southern Bolivia. Here, the shortage was evident even on the black market. We found some fuel, but only a few liters.
Where we came up empty
Despite our best efforts, we also hit places where we couldn’t find fuel at all. These were mainly in the southern Altiplano—for example around Laguna Colorada, near the Aguas Termales Chalviri hot springs, or in the village of Quetena Chico below the Uturuncu volcano.
Bottom line: fortune favors the prepared
Driving around Bolivia during a fuel shortage meant thinking ahead. A route plan alone wasn’t enough. You had to factor in distances, check where stations were open, keep a reserve, and be ready to improvise.
The essentials were:
- keep enough fuel in the tank and in jerrycans,
- top up whenever you had the chance,
- never rely on a single specific gas station,
- carry basic gear for handling fuel,
- plan drives with temperature and the dog’s comfort in mind.
It was more logistically demanding than what we’re used to in Europe. Even so, we never got stranded because of the shortage—we were never stuck without a way to continue.
In the end, a simple rule proved true again: fortune favors the prepared. In Bolivia, doubly so.