Colombia. I can’t even begin to do justice to explaining the complex history of this incredible country, even that of the last 20 years, but suffice to say the word “Colombia” conjures up plenty of associations. Cocaine. Pablo Escobar. The FARC. Gangs. Kidnapping. I’ll do my best to set the scene a little first…
Whilst at university, I remember a friend telling stories from his summer travels in South America. He casually mentioned that, whilst in Colombia, his bus had been hijacked by armed men, driven to a field, and the passengers one by one stripped of their belongings at gunpoint. Through the 90’s and 2000’s, the country was a one of the most violent in the world, with Medellin, home to the infamous Pablo Escobar and the city we are calling home for a month, consistently topping the list of the most dangerous cities in the world. At its peak, there were as many as 400 murders annually per 100,000 people. This was not a country that tourists visited.
Fast forward to 2017, and Colombia’s President Santos has just received the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in progressing a peace agreement with the FARC. The armed guerilla group had waged a decades old war that has been responsible for killing and displacing tens of thousands of people, and had been a big part of the country’s cocaine business. Medellin has dropped off the top 50 “Most Dangerous” list completely, and is now a modern and thriving city, a haven for ex-pats and “digital nomads” (more on that next time…), full of craft beer, shopping malls and expensive gyms. Tourism is at its highest ever rate, with beautiful towns, hotels, restaurants and plenty of historic sights ready and waiting for the influx of tourists. Colombia has it all really. Snow capped mountains, volcanos, deserts, coastlines (the rugged pacific or the white sand beaches of the Caribbean), Amazonian jungle, salsa, music, buzzing modern cities, colonial towns, and the best coffee in the world. Though there are a handful of places where the gringo trail is firmly established, foreigners are still a welcome novelty in many areas, which has been great for us. We’ve found people to be welcoming, fun-loving, open, unbelievably hospitable, talkative and eager to help.
To say everything is perfect in colombia in 2017 would be simplistic and very wrong. The peace deal was controversially passed (after a public referendum vote narrowly rejected it, an amended version was passed by the parliament), and has divided the opinion in the country. Some see the deal as going too easy on the FARC members and not focusing on the rights of the victims. For others, the need to move on and look to the future is the priority if recovery is to start. Drugs and gangs are still a huge problem, and social inequality, gun violence and forced displacement still rage on the background. Other rebel groups remain, and in the wake of the FARC departure inevitable violent jostle for their power and control over drugs, land and people begins.
But the feeling of the country being at a turning point is palpable and it’s a fascinating time to be here. Cyclists we’ve met on our way north have all gushed about how much they loved their time in Colombia, and we were dying to se what all the fuss was about.
It’s been an expectedly tough journey so far, one that has thrown all extremes at us and almost broken us several times. We’ve had torrential rain, exhausting jungle humidity, 50 degree desert sun, and below freezing nights in the mountains. We’ve slogged up and down relentless hills covered in all kinds of tropical vegetation, and through shadeless desert tracks punctuated only by the odd cactus. There’s been heat stroke, hives, bedbugs, days where we have been ravaged by tropical insects, and there has been blood, buckets of sweat, and a few tears. As I said, its been tough, and eventually 9 months and 10,000km into our trip, my body seems to be saying “no more please”.
Despite all this, it’s fair to see we have fallen in love with Colombia. Though the thought of getting back on the bikes still send a slight shiver down my spine, looking back through the photos of the last 2 months has reminded me what a gorgeous place it is and how much of the country we have yet to see. Give me another couple of weeks of drinking cappuccinos and craft beer in the city, and topping up on all the British goodies we’vebeen brought, and I’m positive I’ll be dying to get back on the road.
Well, 99% positive!
Goodies!
Colombia – From the border to Ibague
We crossed into Colombia and ticked off our first tourist sight, Las Lajas sanctuary, a bizarre 20th century faux-gohic church built into the canyon of the Guáitara River. in homage to an image of the Virgin Mary that miraculously appeared to a peasant girl. Apparently…
The church at Las Lajas, our first stop in Colombia
We spent the night in a convent and enjoyed the warm evening and toasted to our discovery that everything on this side of the border appeared to be MUCH cheaper than Ecuador. Hurrah! Our room cost £3 each, the beers 80p, and our tasty dinner of meat, rice and beans was the £2.50 and substantially bigger and tastier than we’d been used to. More food? Double hurrah! Colombia was off to good start.
More importantly, our first beers in Colombia, enjoyed in the gardens of the church. Maybe not the best way to ingratiate ourselves with the locals!
Laguna de la Cocha was next via the city of Pasto and some beautiful tarmac roads running through deep gorges with waterfalls cascading through them. It was our first full day of sharing the road with Colombian drivers, who have now easily jumped to the top of the table of “Worst Drivers in South America”, and after spending most of the last few months at the bottom of my bag, my sexy high-vis vest was back on!
Beautiful tarmac, plunging gorge, and crazy drivers a plenty on the road to Pasto
At the lake, we bargained a camp-spot in exchange for buying dinner in the restaurant, our lakeside bedroom had the best view in town…
Lakeside accommodation at Laguna de la Cocha
The drizzle and grey of northern Ecuador had followed us, and helped to add to the suspense as we set off to cycle along the fantastically named “Trampoline of Death”. The only road in the region that crosses the Andes to the lowlands on the other side just happens to be made of mud, and has a nasty reputation for things falling off it. Trucks, cars, buses…but thankfully no cyclists yet. Colombia has two mountainous ranges running south to north, with a big valley in between, coast on one side and jungle on the other. There is no flat option!
Our ride on the El Trampolin de la Muerte (it sounds even more sinister in Spanish!) started well, we set off at 7am along a pretty dirt road climbing up to the first of two passes…
Starting off on the Trampoline of Death. So far so good.
….but that soon disintegrated into a single lane of mud, dropping off into a deep gorge, waterfalls flowing over it, and tight blind corners.
A lorry broken down in a great spot. Not in picture, 200m drop to the side of the road..
Soon we were heading into the clouds….
We were popping in and out of the clouds all day, thankfully this part of the road had a crash banister…
….with visibility of about 20 metres, and some unwelcome reminder of how the road gets its nickname.
.…unlike others! One of many spots along the way where the crash barriers had disappeared into the gully, probably along with a vehicle
A fellow cyclist driving up to the pass (much more sensible…) kept us motivated for the hard climb with some very welcome buscuit donations.
Free sugar = happy Charlie
We celebrated reaching the top of the second pass with some roadside arepas, and then started the big downhill to the jungle. The descent turned out to be almost as tough as the climb, with our hands numb from all the breaking, and our bikes taking a battering from the rough road. But, having been freezing in the rain at lunch time, by dusk we had descended into the jungle, sweaty and exhausted and being bitten by mosquitos. We pushed on to Mocoa to the sounds of the rainforest, all croaking crickets and cicadas, and the roar of the Rio Mocoa. .
From the clouds to the lowlands around Mocoa. Green green green, as far as the eye can see.
The next few days had us battling, big climbs and alternating extreme heat and torrential rain as we made our way north through the state of Putamayo towards San Augustin. The state is at the heart of Colombia and the US war on drugs, with 50% of the countries cocoa cultivated there, and despite things being relatively calm when we were there, there was still a visible military presence. Thankfully, the only interactions we had with them were lots of “Hola!”‘s and encouragement, and the unexpected donation of a huge pineapple….
Biggest. Pineapple. Ever. Thankfully we were given this at the top of a big hill, and not the bottom!
And so began our introduction to the amazing Colombian hospitality we had heard so much about. Post-pineapple, for seven days straight, we were (sincerely!) invited to people’s homes to stay, given pineapples, bananas, cups of coffee, and all sorts of fruits I have never seen before in my life….
One guy, Julian, stopped to talk to us on his moped and offered his house for us to stay (sadly 200km in the wrong direction!). 15 minutes later, he came back after us with a snacks and bottles of water he had bought for us.
Hero of the day Julian, just before he came back with a bag of goodies for us
Other invitations came from a group of ladies on a plaza in the tiny town of Pital; a student that we were sat uncomfortably close to in a collectivo on the way to the tombs of Tierradentro; owners of a shoe shop in Pitalito and a young couple told us to meet them at their Finca a “few miles down the road”. Sadly, the “few miles” ahead of were a huge 1000m climb!
Whilst all these offers have been great, and the hostels cheap and plentiful compared to Ecuador, one disappointing thing in Colombia has been the lack of places to wild camp (i.e. find a spot off the road to roll in and pitch up for the evening). We’ve seen hundreds of beautiful spots but sadly every piece of land is fenced off by rusty barbed wire. Just once have we managed to sneak off through a hole in the fence. It was a gorgeous spot though, overlooking a lush valley with the sun setting over hills on the other side.
Sunset from our only wild camping spot outside of La Plata
The southern half of Colombia is the least visited by tourists, but had plenty of sights for us to hop between. First there were the hidden waterfalls and natural pools of Mocoa, perfect for a swim in the crazy jungle heat….
Worth the sweaty hour long hike into the jungle – the natural pools at Fin del Mundo
Then came the mysterious pre-Inca sculptures of San Augustin, a pretty town set in gorgeous countryside where we were first held hostage in our tent by a 22 hour storm before upgrading to a lovely cheap hostal. San Augustin was also where I remembered it had been a while since I fell over, and broke the run in style with a bloody collision with a cement paving stone in the architectural park. A nice new knee scar to add to the collection.
Next, Tierradentro another set of ruins a couple of days riding from San Augustin. This time, a set of tombs strewn across the hills that we scrambled in an out of for couple of days.
Tomb Raider Tom at Tierradentro
Inside the tombs
Then it was back to the lowlands, swinging by Lago Yaguara just in time to see a gorgeous sunset that we shared with the local police commander, who was determined to show us every photo on his phone of him and his mountain bike. Yaguara was a gritty but fun weekend town, bars and cafes spilling out on to the streets and soundtracked to the sound of reggaton and exploding dynamite. Thankfully the explosions were from the locals playing Tejo on a Friday night – lead weights thrown 20 metres into a pit of clay and TNT, all fuelled by beer and the lethal local Aguadiente spirit. Only in Colombia!
Sunset on Lago Yaguara
And sunrise
Finally there was the Desierto de Tatacoa, a little slice of desert on the equator. Sound hot? Yep! We rolled in an hour before sunset with our thermometer still reading 100F, but the evening shadows were beautiful.
On the way to Desierto de Tataco after one of the hottest days I’ve ever experienced on the bike
Squeezing in one picture of the desert before we retreated back to the air con!
Fragile but mostly mended, on day 3 we reluctantly headed back out in to the desert heat, this time at 7am. A gorgeous ride through cactus lined trails, through crazy tunnels and tracks through plantations kept our spirits high despite it being horrendously hot by 9am.
We picked up a cycling buddy in the form of Jonas, 3 years into his bicycle meanderings across the world, and still with a great spirit for the simplicity of travel by bike. He was camping in local’s gardens most nights, travelling cheap and always taking the scenic (i.e. hard!) route.
Tom & Jonas, cycling on to Payande after a 2 hour cool-down siesta and swim in the river
Whilst Jonas pushed on to find a free campspot, we finished our time in the lowlands in style, accidentally spending the night on the roof of a police station in Payande after finding the only accommodation in town full. Once we had convinced them that we weren’t carrying drugs or bombs (the result of a a very thorough bag search!) the big smiles came out, and the police guys at the station were incredibly hospitable We passed up the private bedroom we were offered in favour of the cool air of the rooftop outside it. With the stars sparkling above and a light breeze staving off the humid air, it was easily the best nights sleep we had in a while.
Home for the night, police station in Payande
Grrrls On Tour 