More pics of the journey.
Jan 29, 2010
Nos encanta Colombia. What a great surprise this country is. Spent a few days on the hot and sweaty north coast. Great beaches and Cartegena was worth a look, but it is good to back at altitude. The highlands are stunning, the roads are twisty, the country is green.
The people are lovely. There are a large number of small bikes (100cc to 200cc) about everywhere. Sometimes we are surrounded by a crowd of buzzing motos as the riders rubberneck to see who is riding these loaded down bikes. Cannot stop anywhere w/o getting into a conversation about motos. Several times a day we go through the "where are you from" routine, followed by disbelief that we actually rode all the way from Canada. Each day we just follow a road somewhere and go through the prettiest farmland and pueblos. The country is clean and it is obvious the people care for their country. Abject poverty is not "in your face" as it is in some other countries.
A couple we met on the side of the road, pulled over fixing a flat on their bike, told us that President Uribe is very popular and in 5 years has turned Colombia around. They were on their way to sign papers to buy a farm in the highlands east of Medellin. They told us that taxes have risen a lot in the last few years, but people are happy to pay because of the increased security and because social organization has dramatically improved. They felt they were getting so much benefit from the current situation. There is a heavy police and military presence everywhere as they try to clean up the rest of the leftist types and the drug runners. If North America could do something definitive to end the demand for drugs in our countries, I believe much more progress could be made here. Police checks are frequent, although we are rarely stopped. Just 5 years ago we would not have been able to travel in the area we are now due to violent activity.
A few years ago Colombia passed a law that all moto riders needed a vest with the plate number written on it and to have the plate number on the back of the helmet. Among foreign moto travelers there has been a question of whether or not we need the vest and helmet number. The law exempts foreigners, but apparently sometimes the police have stopped foreign bikers for not having the vest, so there has been some confusion about the issue.
We have been stopped 3 times. The first time as soon as the officer saw our plates he grinned, strode over and shook my hand and sent us on our way. The second time was at an army checkpoint on our way to a small pueblo near the Venezuela border. No one yet has asked us for documentation. They are bored standing along the road and just want to talk and look at the bikes.
The third time a couple of days ago was a hoot. We reached a small pueblo at the end of the paved road, planning to continue on an unpaved road onward to another small place. These 5 police officers (see picture) were bored and jumped at the chance to talk to us. After the usual where are you from, etc.... and the inevitable disbelief that we have ridden all the way from Canada, the talk turned to the road ahead. A long, animated discussion ensued among the 5 of them, complete with a great deal of arm waving and pointing. It became impossible to follow the discussion. Finally a non-consensus was reached. The road ahead was:
1. Unpaved, in good condition, in bad condition, almost impassable.
2. It would take us 1 1/2 to 4 hours.
3. The road did/did not go to the next town.
4. The road went north/south of the next town.
5. We really ought to have lunch before setting off because there was/was not/might not be anything along the road.
6. We were told we really ought to be travelling with GPS.
7. Ask in town about the road.
Into town we went for food. Over lunch we had quite a discussion with the owner of the restaurant. He explained in great detail, as he closely examined our map, about all the roads in the area (not that any of this made any sense to us). A local truck driver and some other men hanging about offered all their sage advice as well, including one unsavory looking character who repeatedly offered his services as a "guide", even though he had no visible means of transport. Another non-consensus was reached.
1. The road was unpaved, in good condition, in bad condition, nearly impassable.
2. It would take us 2 to 4 hours or more.
3. The road did/did not go directly to the next town.
So much for local knowledge. We were exhausted from trying to interpret all this kind advice in rapid fire Spanish. It was too late to attempt the road by then anyway, so we raised the white flag and retreated about an hour back up the paved road to find a room. In the end we proceeded by another route, so we still do not know if the alleged road exists or where it goes. Perhaps it is best we did not find out.....it may have led us into the Twilight Zone.
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Those of us from the northern countries of North America have the wrong idea about Colombia. That actually holds true for all of Central and South America. Never once in all my travels have I felt threatened any more than I would in some parts of Vancouver or LA or NYC. We have, in fact, found people to be more friendly to us than we encounter in our own city.
OK. I shall climb down from my soapbox and show more pictures of Colombia.
forest fire outside Pamplona near the Venezuela border
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gang at gas station (bomba) "Where are you from/going/etc."
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local transport
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always the kids hanging about
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this guy was wheeling this new Honda 150 around town on this cart selling raffle tickets
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New Zealand couple we met on the road on the north coast. KTM 990, traveling south to north from the bottom of SA to the top of Alaska by end of September.
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frying plantains...it is a burpfest each time after eating these
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old town of Cartegena
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Street vendor. In the thermos is "tinto", strong Colombian coffee sold in small plastic cups. About 25 cents for a blast of caffeine
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oops, no one hurt, just hurt pride
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this is the countryside we have been riding through the last few days....bit of a cloudy day
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Lunch stop along the road. The girl in the white cap, third from left, has been taking English lessons and was thrilled to actually practice with people who were native speakers.
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when I am too old to stay upright on two wheels, I will have one of these
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end of another rugged day
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The couple on the left were the ones on their way to sign the papers for their new farm. Thier moto is behind. Note the appropriate biker gear she is wearing.
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chiva bus, travelling in style
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Feb 7, 2010
We are in San Agustin, Colombia. Weather wise, our luck has run out. We are waiting out the rain so we can go visit some of Colombia's premier archeological sites. The other problem is that all the roads from here back to the Panamerican highway are rough, unpaved tracks of at least 90 km up and over the Cordillera Central. The track will go up to at least 3000 meters. Apparently they are a real bitch in the wet and there is not much traffic. Hmmm......what to do. Currently I am in an internet place watching it rain harder and harder. The only other option is to return by paved road and around, about 400 km.
Up until now the weather has been fantastic. El Niño is strong this year and it has been unusually dry here and so the rain is welcome. Anyway here are some more photos of Colombia.
Just another pueblo in the highlands
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Through the pueblo dodging stray dogs
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These backroads are called trochas
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From here we had to go down to the river bottom, along the road you can see, and then climb to the pueblo on top of the mountain in the middle of the picture.
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And on and on. This stretch of road, 40 km, took 2 hours.
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This is a prime example of how the pueblos are painted. This one is a bit brighter than most.
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We stopped for lunch at a small pueblo. The fellow in the next picture (driving the jeep) had lived in the US for many years and spoke English. He was the owner of the little roadside restaurant. He came over and in English asked us what in the world we were doing there. No one comes this place. He and his friends took us for the afternoon for a jeep tour of the area up to his farm. I felt we were in a scene from Romancing the Stone as we raced along some horrendous back roads.
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The jeep and friends
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Views from the farm
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The farm looks down on this rural school
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This lovely woman takes care of the school. She fed us fresh juice, freshly made cheese, fresh bread all made by her and would not let us go until we were full.
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Schoolhouse
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The farm was busy with the blackberry harvest. After all that cheese, we now had to stuff ourselves with blackberries.
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This sweetie is 11 years old, daughter of a friend of our host, who accompanied us. Smart, outgoing and lovely. In about 5 years she will be breaking hearts all over Colombia.
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The pueblo of Aranzazu.
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This was a house our host owned, so he let us stay there.
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These two little girls lived next door. The older one is ready for school. The younger obviously does not know what to make of the ugly gringo behind the camera.
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This is Parque Nacional Volcan Nevado del Ruiz, 5300 meters.
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This is the entrance to the park at 4180 meters. The road goes on up to 4800 meters, but motorcycles are banned because of past problems of motos going offroad. Bummer, I wanted to ride to 4800 meters. This fellow was our guide to the volcano.
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Private cars are allowed to go up. Everyone must go with a guide. A Colombian couple graciously let us accompany them and the guide to the top. The Colombian fellow is a doctor in a nearby city and so we rode in style to 4800 meters in the good doctor's brand new BMW 530i.
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Switchbacks to the top
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Parking lot at 4800 meters. We then hiked up to just right of the glacier at 5100 meters. Each year there is less snow and hotter temperatures. These glaciers will be gone in 20 years.
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At the top. There really is not enough air to breath up here.
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OK. The rain is now bloody serious. We live in Vancouver, BC, and are used to the rain. There is a river running down the street outside. We may be doomed. Stay tuned.
Feb 14, 2010
Here are a few pics of the final days in Colombia and the first days in Ecuador.
Travel this way, or
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this way---you choose
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or this way.
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or like this, with at least 12 of your closest amigos.
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The road from San Agustin to Popayan. It rained all day. 100 km of mud, rock and goo. This was the worst of it--road works at 3200 meters. It took us 5 hours to go the 100 km.
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and, yes, I went down--nothing injured except my pride.
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Last stop before the border. Santuario de las Lajas. Built in the bottom of the canyon. The canyon wall itself is the back wall behind the altar. It is said that a vision of the Virgin Mary appeared on the canyon wall, and so they built this amazing cathedral.
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