Day 8 Guamo to Neiva Colombia

Good morning Colombia.
I got to bed early last night in anticipation of a long day of traveling . My sleep was interrupted several times during the night by a couple of roosters who started crowing at odd hours of the night. I saw the birds earlier yesterday wandering around the hotel courtyard. Not being a country person I did not realize that our feathered friends crowed so much at night. I thought they just crowed early in the morning. Maybe during the night they were feeling horny and were just calling out to their lady friends.

Looking out the window of my hotel room to the busy highway in front of the hotel I could see that it was going to be another great day for riding. I found my bike in the hotel lobby parked where I had left during the night. As I was packing my gear onto my bike in preparation for an early departure, the hotel guy showed up, he asked if I wanted breakfast, I told him I would get breakfast in town, he insists that I have breakfast here and that there were no good restaurants in town anyways. So I relent and agree to have breakfast here. There is another hotel guest seated at one of the tables in the breakfast area just off the lobby. He asks me in broken English to join him. His English is worst than my Spanish so I start talking to him in Spanish but he says he prefers to practice his English. I look down by his chair and I can see what looks like a set of canvas motorcycle panniers. There is another small motorcycle parked in the hotel lobby beside the Aprilia. I point over to the bike and asks him if the bike was his. He says that he is a salesman for an agricultural company and the motorcycle is the company vehicle he uses to get around. While we were talking I asked him what he got charged for his room, he tells me 35,000 pesos which is 5,000 pesos less than what I was being charged, and also his room rate included a full breakfast, so it just confirmed my earlier thought, I was given the special foreigner’s rate. As I got ready to leave I went over to pay the hotel keep for my breakfast, even though I knew I was being overcharged, I was not about to make a big deal over $6.00 but when I went to pay the hotel guy says to me that I used the swimming pool yesterday and there was an extra charge of 4000 pesos for that on top of the 5000 I owned him for breakfast. I handed him what I owned for breakfast and told him the gringo was not paying anymore. I get the rest of my gear on the bike and as I am reeving up the engine getting ready to leave, the hotel guy comes running out, he hands me a bunch of business cards for his hotel asking me to tell all my motorcycle traveling friends about his hotel, I nod my head and rode off.


From the hotel to the town of Guamo was about a kilometer, the traffic on the roadway going into town was completely congested with large trucks and buses. I don not know if it is by design or not but traffic coming into any little town or village is forced to slow down to a minimum speed and forced to pass through narrow and congested streets in the center of town. Buses driver think nothing of stopping in the middle of a crowded village street blocking all traffic to unload or pick up passengers and cargo. It must of taken me 30 minutes or more to get out of Guamo, the entire time I was stuck behind half a dozen trucks that slowly inched their along the narrow streets of Guamo.

I planned on following Hwy 45 south to Neiva with a side trip over to see the Tatacoa desert and the the nearby colonial town of Villavieja. The road south follows along a flat river valley of the Rio Magdalena.

Route Guamo to Villavieja Colombia



As you drive south the vegetation is becoming more sparse and the land more arid looking.


I think I may of located JuanValdez's lost burro




After riding for about an hour along Hwy 45, I came across a sign post with the words Tatacoa desert painted on it. The sign directed me to a dirt road that lead away from the main road and to the direction of the Magdalena river that I could see in the distance a couple of kilometers away. I followed the dirt road, which after a ride of a kilometer or so led me to a little village.


Pigs and dogs running around road in Colombian village


The place was no more than a collection of a few cinder block houses, with trash strewed all around and dogs and pigs roaming about. I continued down the road that eventually ended a a few kilometers away near the water edge of the Rio Magdalena. There was a van truck parked near the waters edge and 3 or 4 men were busy unloading what looked to be milk churns off a flat bottom boat. I parked the bike near what appeared to be a large steel barge that looked as though it might of been used for transporting cars or trucks across the river. It was now pulled up on the shore and not in use. I remember later talking to Mike from Motolombia about this and he commented that the government was trying to set yup a car ferry here to allow vehicle traffic to cross the Rio Magdalena river at this location but someone stole the steel cable that was strung across the river to be used by the barge and dismantled part of the tower structures on either side of the river where the cable was to be attached. So the only transportation was this flat bottom barge boat.

I stood by and watched the men as they completed the unloading of the boat. There was a young girl down near the boat with a motorcycle, she told me that she was waiting to cross the river on the boat. The fellow who ran the boat came up to me and asked if I wanted to cross the river with my motorcycle. I shrugged my shoulder and said I was not sure, I told him his boat looked pretty small and my bike was big and heavy and that it weighed 3 times as much as the little 100cc motorcycle that the young girl had. While all of this was going on I could hear the men in the truck talking, they must of assumed that the gringo did not understand Spanish. I head them say in Spanish “The gringo looks nervous about his motorcycle, I do not think he will go across the river”. I ignored them and asked the boatman what the price was for the crossing, he said 3000 pesos then quickly corrected himself and said 4000 pesos ( $2.00). I told him ok, he said that he would be ready to leave as soon as the men were done. I turned around looked over at the Colombian who had made the comment earlier and said “The gringo and his motorcycle are going across the river”.

Video crossing the Magdalena River with my motorcycle




I went over to where the Aprillia was parked and rode it down to where the boat was beached on the shore. I still was not sure about how we were going to about getting the motorcycle loaded into the boat. The boatman came over to me and told me to watch him as he loaded the smaller 100 cc motorcycle onto the bike. In a very choreographed series of maneuvers, he put the bike in neutral gear and then expertly rolled the bike backwards onto the 10” wide plank, over the top of the gunnel then held it there while his young assistant grabbed the back end of the motorcycle and held it in place while he got into position to maneuver the bike down a second plank inside the boat. It all looked pretty easy and I am sure that he had done this literary a thousand times or more before

Boatman loading smaller 100cc motorcycle into boat







but that was with a 200 lb motorcycle, the Aprilia burdened down with the panniers and all my gear probably hits the scales at over 600 lbs. This could be a real handful to get it on board the boat. The boatman told me to get down in the boat and be ready to grab the boat when it was being rolled down the plank, he and his assistant would look after loading the bike.
Right away I could see that this was not going to be easy. As soon as they rolled the rear wheel onto the narrow plank, the wooden plank twisted and contorted under the full weight of the Aprillia. Time for plan B. They found a block of wood and placed it under the plank for additional support so that it would not sag so much with the weight of the bike on it. That worked and they were able to push the bike over the top of the gunnel. I went over and helped them position the bike and slowly allowed it to descend down the ramp into the boat. Success.. we were all feeling pretty pleased with ourselves, we got the bike in the boat, did not bang up the bike and or drop it into the river.
Boatman directed his young assistant to stay in the front of the boat and keep a firm grip on the front of the bike while I steadied the back end of the motorcycle. The bike laid on its side stand positioned in the middle of the boat for stability. Boatman using a long pole pushed the boat away from shore and into the fast flowing current of the Rio Magdalena. From where we were to the other side of the shore was no more than a distance of a 1000 feet or so. Boatman went to the back of the boat and started up his 25 HP outboard engine and started to head over to the other side. Instead of heading straight across the river to our landing, he instead navigated the boat upstream across the current, once he was about half away across he throttled down the engine and let the current carry the boat down the river towards his landing area. The fast flowing river was full of floating debris and numerous deadhead logs. I watched a few of these half submerged logs go floating by our bow, I can imagine that getting hit by one of these submerged torpedoes would certainly have ruined my day. It took less than 10 minutes to make our was across the river. As boatman steered the boat up onto the shore, I held onto the bike as he ran the boat up onto the landing ramp. I am not sure if it was deliberate or not but he had drive the boat quit a ways up the earthen ramp that was his landing area. The bow of the boat was resting at an incline of at least 25 - 30 degrees. Young assistant got out and attached the small wooden planks on either side of the bow. Boatman now tells me that he wants me to start up the motorcycle and put it in gear, from his position in the boat he will walk the motorcycle up the plan using the power from the bike’s engine, my job is to hold onto the bike from the backside and keep the bike upright as he coaxes the bike up the ramp. OK.. he keeps repeating to me that he has done this a thousand times and not to worry. He lets out the clutch a little and the motorcycle begins to climb the ramp, we get the bike near the top of the ramp, the bottom of the bash plate is now directly over the top of the stern of the boat, I am at the back of the motorcycle with both hands firmly gripping the luggage rack, with the bike now on top of wooden plank, my arms are almost at head level and the twin exhausts from the Aprilia are inches away from my face, boatman pulls the clutch out and twists the throttle a bit too much sending a blast of hot exhaust right into my face. Suddenly the engine suddenly dies and the bike begins to roll backwards down the ramp, I quickly react and grab the bike, I am now pretty much holding back the full 600 lb weigh of the motorcycle by myself. Boatman is anxiously trying to restart the engine, it takes him 4 or 5 attempts before the Aprillia finally comes back to life. Between the three of us, with me doing most of the pushing we get the bike over the stern, down the other ramp and onto terra firma. The land area was covered in deep loose sand, not the best place to be trying to maneuver a heavy motorcycle. The landing zone was only an area about six feet by ten feet. I climbed on the bike thinking that I could ride the bike up the steep ramp from the shore, but discovered that my front wheel was lodged in a deep hole. I looked over at the boatman and down at the hole, I did not have to say anything to convey to him what I was thinking. “ Why the hell do you have a big f*cking hole in the middle of your landing ramp”. Young boatman assistant, held the bike upright as I wrestle the front wheel out of the hole and pulled the bike around so that it was now facing in the direction of the boat ramp. I started up the bike and rode it up to the top of the ramp and to a dirt road that led out of here. Boatman came over and I handed him his payment for the boat trip and gave him another 4000 pesos for his efforts, the poor fellow practically had a heart attach in helping me lift the bike out of the boat.

The road from here should lead me south and down and into the village of Villavieja
One of the reasons for my crossing over to this side of the river was to ride through the Taotacoa desert. The Taotacoa desert is one of the most arid areas in Colombia. Tourist come here to view the unique desert scenery, giant cacti, strange rock outcrops, eroded gullies and valleys. The area is similar in appearance to the badlands found in South Dakota and across southern parts of Alberta in Canada.

Before I headed off down the road to Villavieja, I had to take a moment to recuperate from my recent physical exertions in unloading the motorcycle off the boat. The temperature down here near the shores of the Magdalena river was well over 40 degrees Celsius. Dressed up in my full motorcycle outfit, it felt like I was in a hot sauna. I should have really looked at getting some proper hot weather gear for this trip.
The hard pack dirt road from the boat landing led into another little village, just as poor and impoverished looking as the one I had passed through on the other side of the river.




At first I was riding along a forested road that eventually came out onto an arid and treeless looking landscape.





[url=http://www.flickr.com/photos/48473336@N00/5991788285/]


I must of arrived into the Tatacoa desert. For the next hour I made my way through this hot dry desert landscape. I stopped a number of times to check out the vistas and walk amongst the tall cacti and strange looking rock formations. I am not sure if it was because of the stillness of the wind or that the area seemed complete devoid of any life, because the area seemed to have an eerie silence about it. Standing there in the middle of the Taotacoa desert and listening to the desert around you, you would not have head the sound of a single bird passing by, an insect chirping or the wind blowing across the desert floor.












The road wound itself across the Taotacoa desert, through hills and dry out gullies eventually ending near the town of Villlavieja. Its a small colonial town of some 8500 inhabitants. I made it a point to small in town for lunch. My passage into town was along a number of small narrow side streets that led me to the center of town. I found the town to be a bit underwhelming, no impressive buildings or sights that made any sort impression on me. I found a couple of restaurants on one side of the town square. As I was busy with parking my bike, a few Colombian locals who observed me as I rode around the plaza beckoned me to come over to where they were sitting. The pace of life is pretty slow in many of these little Colombian villages and any event such as a gringo riding into their town on a big foreign looking motorcycle would be a welcome distraction to them on this hot afternoon. I took a table in the restaurant and soon found myself befriended by a group of locals. As usual when I get stopped, everyone wants to where you are coming from, how big is your bike, how fast is it, how much does it cost and what I think about Colombian women. When I tell them I am from Canada, one or two of them in the group said they had a relative in Canada and if I knew them. As I ate my lunch and converse with a few of the locals in the group around around, I found out that one of them had worked on the same the same off-shore oil drilling platform I had some 30 years ago, neither of us of course recognized one another but he remembered the names of some of the American drilling crew whom I had worked with back then.

From Villavieja down to Neiva is about two hours of slow riding along a narrow highway. Not much f interest along the route.




I was glade the finally reach Neiva by late afternoon. I plan on spending the night here. Again I did not bother to make an reservations at any of the hotels. I knew from a google search I had done while preparing for this trip that all the main hotels where located in the downtown vicinity.. Neiva is the capital of the department of Huila. It is situated on the the Rio Magdalena, about a 5 hour car ride west of Bogota.With a population of 375,000 people it is a fair size city.

Not before too long I found myself in the middle of Neiva. I rode up to a taxi stand where there was a group of cab drivers standing around and asked them where I could find a good hotel, of course everyone had his own opinion about where I should go, but it seemed that all the better hotels were just a few block up the street from where I was.
I circled around the downtown streets for some time before I pulled up in front of the Hotel Andino.

In front of the Hotel Andino



It was on a narrow crowed side street but only a few blocks away from the center of town. I left the bike parked in front of the Hotel entrance and took my camera out of my tank bag thinking to myself, what isn’t there on the bike can’t be stolen. The young girl at the desk was busy painting her nails and seemed a bit miffed that I interrupted her while she was performing this all important task. They had some rooms on the second floor for 30,000 $ pesos ( $16.00). She brought me upstairs to show off the room. There was a row of rooms alone one side of the upstairs. Each room had a window covered by metal bars and a large steel latched door. I have wondered whether this place was was used as a prison facility. Inside the room was no more that 8 x 6 ft in size, just large enough to fit in a queen size bed and be able to swing the door open. There was a bath and shower with hot water and a TV pretty spartan looking, but at least it was clean and cheap. I asked where I could leave my bike for the night, at first the young girl suggested I just leave it parked on the street, I looked at here and shook my head and said that would be a very bad idea. While we were talking a older gentleman, whom by the way that the young girl deferred to him must of been her boss, said I could bring the bike into the lobby and park it there. There were 3 or 4 steps leading up to the narrow front door of the hotel. The door looked to be only a few inches wider than the width of my handlebars. I position the motorcycle directly in front of the door and was able to ride into the hotel foyer without bashing in to anything.
I removed all the bags and side panniers from the motorcycle and hoped that nothing on the bike would get stolen while I was here.

The Hotel Andino I found was only a few blocks away from the main commercial area of the city.

Interesting looking Hotel in Neiva



Main downtown area in Neiva Colombia



Main downtown area in Neiva Colombia






The main street street in the downtown area is closed off to vehicle traffic. The street is lined with shops and restaurants, bars and the like. The street was crowded with people and as it was a Friday night, all probably out looking for a good time. I went out in search for an ATM machine and was able to find one only a block or so from my hotel. There is no problem trying to find an ATM machine Colombia, just about every town and village in Colombia has one. Likewise as for Internet access, most hotels have free WiFi access or a computer in the lobby that guest can use
usually for a small fee.
For the rest of the evening I checked out a number of restaurant and bars, did I mention how very friendly Colombia woman are in this country. Lets just say that I had a very adventurous evening
in Neiva.

Tomorrow I head down to San Agustin

I've been there twice - I love Colombia ! Nicest people in South America - well Argentines were cool too. I'd like to go back.
If you get to San Augustin look up Miller Bravo at Miler Motos in town and say hi from James, Agent 006.5 - he'll remember me !

Zig

Day 6 Neiva to San Agustin



I am lying in my bed at the Hotel Andino, the noise from the door in an adjoining room being forcibly slammed awakens me. My brain revolts from being disturbed from it slumbers. As my mental haze began to fad, remembrances of events from the previous night began to come back to me. I had not gotten back to the hotel until about 2:00 that morning. When I came back to my Hotel the outside door was locked and there did not seem to be anyone at the Hotel front desk. I rang the outside buzzer a few times and after about 10 minutes someone appeared to let me in.
Last night's activities I remembered now included a stop at a Salsa bar, a number of friendly Colombian women, too many Coba Libres and shots of Aquardiente. For those of you not familiar with this Colombian drink. Aquardiente is an anise flavored alcohol fermented from sugar cane. it's a very popular drink down here in Colombia. After a few shots of Aquardiente, you definitely will feel a buzz. What would you expect from a drink that when translated into English means fiery water. It was still early in the morning and with my head still feeling the affects from last night,I laid there in bed for the next hour looking up at the ceiling and resolved to myself that would abstain from consuming anymore Aquardiente for the rest of the trip.

I got up showered and went downstairs expecting that The Hotel would serve breakfast to their guests. No such luck, they did not serve breakfast, the young girl at the front desk said there were a few cafes down the street. before I left the Hotel I checked out the Aprillia which was still parked near the front door and the Hotel's front desk. All the shinny bits still seemed to be attached to the motorcycle. I found a restaurant a few blocks away from the Hotel Andino. The downtown area seem relatively empty this morning, probably because most were still at home sleeping off their hangover from last night's festivities. At the restaurant, there were only few patrons seated down. The place looked like a Colombian version of a McDonalds with the gaudy yellow and red painted interior and similarity colored plastic chairs and tables. when I went up to the front counter to place an border for my breakfast my attention was immediately drawn to the girl standing behind the counter. At first I thought that she must be standing on a raised platform or something.

Colombians for the most part are not that physically tall a people as compared to most North Americana and Europeans.. So I was taken back when I saw this Colombian woman who must of been 6 ' 7" to 6" 8" in height and probably over 250 lb. There is a department (state) in Colombian in the southern part of the country called Amazonas, and I thought to myself that she must be an Amazon from that region. After breakfast I returned to the Hotel Andino and checked out of the hotel. With my gear now packed up on the bike and ready to ride away, a few of the hotel employees came out to see me off and take a few souvenir photos of the foreign motorcyclist. I followed Hwy 45 south out of town stopping at the first gas station along the route. While I was fueling up a bike another rider on a Suzuki VStrom 650 rode into the gas station and pulled up along side me. we got to talking, he was an American working down here with an American based mining company involved in gold exploration. There was a little coffee shop across the roadway from the gas station, I invited him to sit down and share a coffee and a few road stories. I told him that I was heading down to San Augustin, but was not sure if I would first make a trip over to La Plata and then make my way up to see the archaeological ruins around Tierradentro. When I mentioned that I had planned on taking route 45 down to La Plata and from there ride up to Inza to visit the archaeological at Tierridentro before heading for San Agustin he mentioned that he had taken the road out from Popayan to Inca and down to La Plata and from there took route 43 north to where we were presently stopped. This was the same route I was planning on taking. He told me it had been two days of hard riding over absolutely miserable road conditions. Some sections of the road from Inza to The ruins around Tierridentro were nearly impassable. Route 45 North of La Plata was under construction and with all the frequent stops because of the construction activities and poor road conditions, it made for a long day's travel. His comments and advise was enough to alter my travel plans and instead continue along route 43 to San Agustin. Instead of only spending 2 days in San Agustin, I would add another day to my sight seeing around the San Agustin area.

Alternate route to La Plata and Tierradentro


Route 45 down to Pilalito and San Agustin is along a very good paved road. Traffic for the most part was light and the traffic that I did encounter was usually some slow moving truck or bus. Route 45 parallels the course of the Magdalena River or the Yuma River as it is also called in these parts.pass the town of Altamira the roads starts to get interesting as the roads starts to climb in elevation and the scenery becomes more interesting.

Overlooking the Magdalena River


Magdalena River from Route 45


Stop for lunch along the way


Past Altamira the road starts to get interesting


Video of Ride between Neiva and San Agustin Colombia



I finally arrived into San Agustin late in the afternoon. I followed the main road into the center of town and soon found myself in what looked like the main town plaza. I pulled up in front of a church on one side of the town square. I was preparing to pull out my copy of the Lonely Planet Guide to Colombia and check what accommodations could be found here in San Agustin when a local who had died me riding into the plaza came running over to where I was still seated on my motorcycle. As he was running to where I was, he called out to me "Señor, Señor, need Hotel." Si " I answered. In halting English he responded. "Bueno hotel ! very close, very quiet, clean, cheap, all motorcyclists stay here". "OKI said show me the way" With that he ran off down the street beckoning me to follow him. He led me to a two stores building a few blocks away from the downtown square. The only Indication that the place he brought me to was a Hotel was the sign on the side of the building which read "Hostal Diosa Lunar San Agustin".

Hostal Diosa Lunar


Looking down from my balcony


I followed the local into the Hostal, while I waited downstairs he went upstairs and came down accompanied by another fellow who seemed to be the guy in charge. He was wearing a vest indicating that he was an official tourist guide or something. He also spoke some English. I told him I wanted to inspect the Hostal before deciding to stay there or not. He said he still had a few rooms up on the second floor that he could show. The Hostal had just recently opened up and still had that look of a building that was still not completed.The streets around the side of the building were dirt roads with the main road in the front of the building having just been paved. Anyways I followed the fellow with vest up to the second floor. The inside of the Hostal looked better than from the outside. The first room he showed me was no more than 10 ft by 15 ft in size and had two large beds set up in it which pretty much filled up the tiny room. I asked the price he told me 20000 peso. I was about to say ok I would take it when he quickly corrected himself and said that was 20,000 peso per person in a double room but since I was alone I would have to pay 40000. breakfast would an extra 4000 pesos.Here we go again with the selective gringo pricing. I feigned disinterest in the room and asked him if he had any larger rooms. He opened the room across the hallway from us, the room was twice the size of the first room. The room looked as though it was currently occupied. He said that there were 4 girls from Brazil who were now occupying the room, but if I wanted the room he would move them to another suite.
This immediately told me that he was trying to overcharge me on the room rates. Again another example of the two tier pricing I have been experiencing while traveling around Colombia, one rate for the locals and another for foreign visitors. As I did want to kick the Brazilian girls out of their room, I told him, I would take the first room. I offered to take the room at 35000 pesos per night but only if that included my breakfast. He them made a big show that he could not possibly give me the room at that rate and that I would not find any cheaper accommodations in town, with that I started to head for the exit, I got about halfway down the stairs when he called me back and agreed to my price. He was still getting the better of me at 35000 pesos but I didn't feel like spending any more time looking around San Agustin for better accommodations.
The word must have gotten around that there was a new gringo in town when another local, also wearing a vest advertising him as a tour guide. He spoke better English better than the others. Carlos asked if I was interested in going horse back riding up to some of of the archaeological ruins nearby San Augustin. The reason for my coming here was to visit the local ruins in the areas. The archaeological ruins around San Agustin are one of the best preserved Pre-Colombian ruins in Colombia. The archaeological ruins are part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is one of of the most important tourist attraction in the country. At first I told Carlos that I was not interested and had planned on riding up to the ruins on my motor bike. He said I could visit the main archaeological park as that had a paved service road leading into the park but the the other sites were only accessible along a rough muddy trail and with all the rain that they have received recently it would be very difficult to get up to the sites even on an off road motorcycle. He had brought a group of Germans on a trip just a few days ago up to El Tablon and even the horses had a hard time making it through the muddy trail. Well Carlos was a good salesman because he sold me on going along with him on a horse back ride to some of the local ruins. He said he usually only goes out when his has a group of 3 or 4 persons but business has been slow this week so he would still take me out if I was interested . I told him I had no riding experience, he said that did not matter, all I had to do was sit on the horse and let him lead the way. Carlos told me to be ready to head out in the morning at 8:00. He would be there with the horses.

After unpacking and getting cleaned up I headed into town to check out things.

Street near my Hostal



San Agustin is said to have a population of 18,000 but the place seems much smaller than that. For a place that is suppose to be one of main tourist attractions in Colombia I only came across a few foreigners when walking the streets around San Agustin. Carlos the tour guide had mentioned that there were few tourist in town and that the last month or two had not been very good for his business.
This would be my first visit to San Agustin. When I worked and lived down here back in the 80's, I never considered visiting the ruins. At that time with all the guerrilla activity, San Agustin was a no go zone. For the rest of the evening I wandered around the central part of San Agustin, I found a good little restaurant run by some Italians who had moved and settled in San Agustin many years. As it was a Sunday night not a whole lot was happening in town. I decided to call it an early night and put off my exploration of San Agustin for another day.

Tomorrow I would go off on my horseback trip into the surrounding mountains and the search out some of the Pre-Colombian ruins in the area

San Agustin Colombia



I was awaken early in the morning by the sound of a harsh rain pelting against the exterior window of my bedroom. I had made arrangements this morning to go on a horseback ride to the Pre-Columbian ruins up in the nearby mountains around San Agustin. I had Carlos my guide that I would meet him at the Hostal for 8:00 this morning for the start of the ride.

I got up and headed downstairs hoping that they would be serving breakfast at this early early of the morning. I found a couple of other guest already seated at the dinning room table. I learned that they were a young couple from Panama who were backpacking on their way down to Argentina. They were artists and were on a working vacation of sorts. They are a commission do paint a mural for a restaurant down in Quito Ecuador and also had a similar job to create some out door mural for a school down in Argentina. They had stopped off in San Agustin for a visit on their way down to Quito. They had planned on leaving this morning on the bus to Pitalito and from their catch another bus to Mocoa and then onto Pasto and Ipaeles where they would cross over the border into Ecuador. After a couple more days of travel on a slow moving bus through the mountains they would be in Quito. I was interested in their travel plans as I would be following a similar route down to as far as Pasto. My interest in riding down to Pasto was to ride the section of road between Mocoa and Pasto. They refer to the road down here as “Carretera de la muerte". It has an infamous reputation as being one of the most dangerous mountain roads in Colombia. Any time I come across a road labeled as the most dangerous I am sucker for wanting to ride it. I have ridden across a number of other roads in my travels labeled as the Death Road. Ones that come to mind is the section of the Panamerican highway out of San Jose Costa Rica, the road between Mocoa and Pasto and of course the most infamous and best known,the Yungas road in Bolivia between Las Paz and Coroico. In Bolivia they have morbidly turned the road's deadly reputation into a tourist attraction for extreme mountain cyclist and motorcyclists. As we were talking Carlos enter the Hostal. I could see out the side window that there were a couple of horses saddled up in the alleyway. I told Carlos I was ready to go, I just stopped to collect my backpack that contained my cameras and rain gear.

I followed Carlos outside and he led me to where the horses were. Again I reminded Carlos that this would be my first time riding a horse. The horse that was to be my mount for the ride up to the ruins was a small chestnut colored horse. I would later learn that this breed of horse down here are called PaseoFino. Horses are not native to South America. They were first introduced by the Spanish over 500 years ago. The Colombian breed has a natural fine gait and are said to make a good trail horse. My horse looked to be on the smaller size. Carlos helped me into the saddle, it took a few minutes before I felt comfortable. Then he gave me a five minute lesson in how to ride the beast. Throttle and accelerator - Squeeze the horse with your thighs and/or use your feet to nudge the horse into action, Steering - Right Pull on the reins right - Left - Pull on the reins to go left. Braking - Pull up on the reins. I commented to Carlos that I thought the horse was pretty small and if the horse would struggle carrying my 210 lb body up and down these mountain trails. With that the horse raised his tail and let loose with a series of cannonading farts that resonated between the buildings. You would have thought that I was on board a Harley-Davidson motorcycle.

After my quick lesson on How to Ride a Horse, we were off. For the first first minutes I felt comfortable perched up on the saddle until we turned on to the main highway leading out of town. As the horse trotted down the roadway, I was feeling the impact with every footfall "My boys" were feeling the abuse. I am not sure if it was because of the type of saddle I was sitting on or what. We soon turned off the paved highway and continued along a trail. Cowboys must have an iron crotch to be able to sit on a horse all day. From the turn off Carlos aid that was 3 kilometers or so to the archaeological site of "El Tablon". At this early in the morning we seemed to be the only riders out on the trail. The first section of the route was along a narrow muddy trail. On all side of his we were surrounded by sugar cane and tall fique plants. Soon the trail began to get more difficult as the horses had to descend up and down the narrow mountain pathway. Along the more difficult parts of the trail, Carlos tethered my horse to his, so I was now no longer riding my horse but now sitting on top of a pack horse being led by my Colombian guide.

Video of ride along trail to El Tablon



The path in parts were extremely muddy and there were a number of shallow streams that we had to cross. At one especially deep muddy bog, Carlos instead led the horse up the side of a steep embankment and along a narrow ledge. My horse had already stumbled a number times along the trail and so I did not have a whole lot of confidence in how sure footed my 4 legged beast would be in making its way across the top of this narrow ridge. One misstep and its me and 800 lbs of horse falling into the quagmire below. Carlos assured me that the horse had been up and down this trail a thousand times.

Finally we arrive in front of an old farm house, hanging upon the gated entrance to the courtyard was a sign say "Museo Etnografico".



This was the site for El Tablon. We enter the courtyard, for the next 10 minutes Carlos spent educating me on the various coca plants to be found in Colombia.



There were a number of different species or plant growing in the garden area. Each plant was 8 - 9 feet tall, he said there were a many different varieties of coca plants. The species of plants that he was showing me are mainly used for making coca tea or used in medicinal treatment of altitude sickness. For many of the indigenous peoples in the central Andes, coca leaved are chewed. They roll the leaves up into a ball and hold the masticated plant fibers between their teeth and gum. To this they usually add a mix of some alkaline component like baking soda or lime ashes which aids in releasing the pharmacologically active ingredients in the coca leave, its not the same reaction to a purified cocaine, instead the user a feeling of stimulation. The coca plant has been part of the culture of the indigenous communities of the Andean people for many thousands of years. The people down here were getting high on the coca leaf long before Christopher Columbus even discovered the Americas. Carlos said that many people down here keep a few plants in their garden for personal use, so long as you are not into setting up a commercial operation, the police or army don't care.

After Carlos's lecture on the medicinal uses of the coca leave, he led me to a clearing on top of a small hill, the site of El Tablon. Under a covered thatched roof were 5 upright stone carvings or stelae.

Stone Carving at El Tablon


Stone Carving at El Tablon


Stone Carving at El Tablon



The Pre-Columbian artifacts were created by a fairly advance civilization that inhabited these regions between the 6th century B.C and 12 century A.D.My guide explained that some of the statues represented the moon goddess, who was the deity responsible for ensuring that they would have bountiful harvests.Carlos seemed quit knowledgeable about the archaeological significance of the statues. Although much of the history and knowledge about the Pre-Columbia people and the makers of the statues has been lost to history and so what ever Carlos was telling me was probably just speculations by current archeologists.

Before we got back on our horses and headed for our next site, we ordered up a few espressos from the little on-site cafe. Although Colombia prides it self on growing some of the best coffees in the world, I do not think I have had a good coffee since I have been down here. It must export all the best quality coffees and keep the poor grades of coffee for local consumption. From El Tablon we journey on on the horse trail to La Chaquira. It was only about a kilometer from El Tablon to La Chaquira. I t was an easier ride with fewer hills to climb but he trail was muddier than on the earlier sections. Again we arrived and dismounted in front if a little farm house.

Again Carlos showing more local plants with hallucinogenic properties



There was a sign directing tourist to the archaeological site.




For the next 15 minutes I followed Carlos down a series of steep steps that descended into a valley below us.



At the bottom of the gorge was a river that Carlos said were the head waters of the Rio Magdalena. From where I was standing the river funneled through a narrow gorge of dark volcanic rocks. At this point the river did not seem to be more that 20 or 30 feet across, hard to believe that this is the source of the mighty Rio Magdalena.

Rio Magdalena River at bottom of valley


On way to La Chiquira


On way to La Chiquira


After a few more descends we went off the main pathway and climb over a series of rocks and boulders to reach the site. The La Chaquira site has a number of naturalistic animal and human figures sculpted onto the surfaces of the surrounding volcanic outcrops.

One of the stone sculptures at La Chiquira


One of the stone sculptures at La Chiquira


The most important of these figures is that of a big head bug eyed dud with his arms and legs spayed out to the sides, I cynically thought to myself that it looked little someone with their hands being held up after being robbed. Perhaps it commemorates when the first Spanish conquistadors came into these parts 5 or 6 hundreds years ago and robbed the indigenous Indians of their gold. Before climbing up back up the hill to where we had left our horse, we spent some time just sitting on the hillside taking in the natural panorama of the mountain landscape with the cascading waterfalls directly in front of us and the waters surging through the valley below, it all made for a very serene experience.

Waterfall across the valley from us


Some of the scenery


The ride back to San Agustin seemed to take less time than the ride down, perhaps it was because we were riding most of the way downhill than climbing up the mountain side. We passed three or four other groups of riders making their own way to view the archaeological sites.

The weather had begun to clear up and by the time we finally reached the Hostal the sun was out and the last remaining clouds hanging over the mountains had almost completely dissipated.

We arrived back at the Hotel shortly before noon. I had nothing in particular planned for the afternoon, so with that in mind, I grabbed my camera and headed into town.

Some scenes around San Agustin - Around main plaza


Some scenes around San Agustin - Another statue of Simon Bolivar


Around San Agustin


Around San Agustin


Some kids on their way to school


I found a restaurant along the main street near the center of town. I presumed that it was the main street as there was a military's check point setup directly in front the restaurant. Although it just after noon, there were only a few patrons in he restaurant. I took a table nearby where they had a large LCD television setup on the wall opposite me. Right across from from me were a group of soldiers seated in a corner table. As I sat down they all gave me a quick cursory look and continued with their lunch. Across from me was a television set, there appeared to be a news program on, from what I could understand from what the ammo under was saying and from the graphic videos they were showing, it looked like a family of 8 had been murdered by the FARC guerrilla group. It appears that a group of local criminals had gone into the kidnapping and extortion business, telling everybody that they were part of the FARC organization. The real FARC eventually got wind of what these guys were done and sent out a commando squad to close down there operation permanently. This all occurred not to far from where I was in San Agustin. The next story on the news caught my attention, a local bus traveling between Pasto and the town of Mocoa was stop and the passengers robbed. My travel plans was to ride the same road between Macoa and Pasto. Over at the other table where the group of Colombia soldiers were seated, one of the soldiers looked over at me and said in English. "Things now very bad down here, where you going Americano". After correctly him on my nationality, I told him I was on a motorcycle trip and was planning on riding the mountain road between Mocoa and Past. To that that he said, "Mocoa very bad place, many bad people down there". His fellow soldiers nodded in agreement and each gave me a derisive look, all to imply that I must be crazy to want to consider traveling through this part of Colombia. So I thought to myself that maybe I should reconsider my next travel destination. According to what I had read on a number of adventure rider forums, there was a mountain between San Agustin and Popayan. Depending on the weather conditions, other riders reported that it could an easy 120 kilometers of easy riding if the road conditions were good, but that same road could quickly turn into the "Road from Hell" during the rainy season. Knowing that they have had a lot rain over the last few weeks, I was not sure if the route to Popayan would be a safer alternative or not. I was not planning on leaving for another day or more so I would have time to make a decision where I would go next.

For the rest of the of the afternoon I wonder around town taking photos and enjoying what turned out to be a particularly sunny afternoon. As this is a tourist town next to one of the most important archaeological sites in the country, there are numerous handicraft shops around town, most clustered along a three block area near the center of town. They sell a lot of replica Pre-Columbia artifacts, jewelry and other locally made goods. The town of San Agustin although an interesting place to visit for its Pre-Columbian history and mountain scenery, outside of that there not a whole lot to do. So when I came across a pool bar, I had to check it to find my game, out. Pool seems to be a popular pastime down here, I must of count 3 or 4 other similar places on my walk around town earlier today. The place I was in was located on a busy street corner. The pool hall was wide open to the street as there were no walls enclosing it on either side, so passer-byes could look directly into the place and see what was going on. I grappled one of the tables in the corner of the room. At this early in the evening there were half a dozen locals playing amongst themselves. After a few practice sessions one of the Colombians challenged me to a game. None of the men in the bar spoke any English, so I was forced to practice my Spanish. I lost the first game but after that I began to find my game. Two hours I had played against and beaten everyone in the bar, as the night progress and as my competition became more inebriated the better I seemed to play. By nights end, I had to hang up my cue stick and return to my Hotel as most of the local still in the bat were to drunk drunk to play.

Video of walk around town of San Agustin


Tomorrow I would be paying Indiana Jones and checking out some of other the Pre-Columbian ruins I the area.

Nice trip report!

You must be looking way to flashy since they try to cheat you with the hotel prices :-)

I enjoyed colombia tremendously as well and it has an unspoilt feeling about it.

__________________
Peter Kongsbak
South East Asia, USA, Central and South America and Scandinavia.

Not so much that everyone is trying to cheat you, none of the places down here
bother to post prices for hotel rooms etc, so you are always forced to haggle over prices on everything. Compared to prices to traveling through North American countries or Europe, Colombia was an inexpensive place to travel through.more expensive perhaps then other central American countries I have visited but still relatively cheap.

The Pre-Columbian Ruins of San Agustin



I find myself in San Agustin Colombia for another day. Today I plan on heading over to the main archaeological park just outside the town. In the park is to be found many of the most important Pre-Columbian monuments and megalithic statues the country. From my hotel the entrance to the archaeological park was only a few kilometers always, a short ride by motorcycle. I had breakfast again at the Hostal, This morning I seemed to be the only guest in the hotel as most of the other guests had already checked out over the weekend. Many the tourists who come in San Agustin are local Colombians who come down here for a few days over a weekend and then leave, so between Monday and Thursday San Agustin remains pretty quiet.

After breakfast I went outside to check on the motorcycle. It was parked just outside the main door sheltered under a portico. I had come out just at the right time, as there was a stray dog standing beside the bike, he was in the act of lifting his hind leg and was about to take a pee on the rear wheel of the bike. After noticing that someone was watching him, he paused glanced up at me and quickly buggered off. Once of the changes that I have observed in Colombian since I last lived her 25 years ago, is that there now seems to be many more stray dogs wondering around the back streets. No matter if its a little village or large urban city, there are always some stray mongrel mutt or pack of dogs wondering about.

The archaeological park is located only two or three kilometers west of San Agustin, only a short ride from my hotel. In the park is to be found many of the most important Pre-Columbian monuments and megalithic statues the country. The archaeological park is situated about 2 kilometers west of the town of San Agustin. This renown World Heritage UNESCO site covers an area of over 2000 sq kilometers. Within the park are numerous burial pots, stone carvings depicting various deities and mythical creatures. Evidence uncovered by archaeologists has shown that that this region around San Agustin has been occupied from as early 3300 BC. Except for some early artifacts uncovered from this time, little is know about these early people, where they came from and what happened to their civilization. The first early groups to inhabit San Agustin were a simple primitive stone age society making their existence as nomadic hunters. Between the 7th century BC and 2nd century BC a new group appeared in the region, they were a farm agrarian based society who cultivated maize on the surrounding mountain slopes and river bottoms. The height of early Pre-Columbian culture was established around the 1st century AD to about 800 AD. Most of the best examples of Pre-Columbian stone carvings and early Pre-Columbian art comes from this period. Within the park there are to be found hundreds of elaborate stone statues and burial mounds with many of the most interesting setup on display.

When I rode into the main parking lot, a security guard motioned me over to a designated area reserved for motorcycles. I found a ticket booth near the entrance and paid the entrance fee. When I came back out and walked by where I had parked the motorcycle, there was a group of 5 or 6 people standing around the motorcycle each taking turns having their photo taken posing beside the bike.

To get into the archaeological park I had to pass through a gauntlet of tour guides offering up their services. There were only a few tourists around this morning so the tour guides were aggressively trying to convince me to hire them for a private tour of the park. For the next hour I followed the path through a dense wooded area, every 100 feet or so you would come across a free standing monument usually depicting some fierce looking god or mystical animal. The path eventually led me to a wide open area called Mesita A where there was a large collection of statues and burial chambers on display.

Scenes from San Agustin Archaeological Park


Rock carving of Snake


Some of the Statues in main viewing area in Mesita A


Pre-Colombian grave-site as seen in the archeological park near San Agustin Colombia


Some cool statues


A closer view of statues


More statues


Whats its all about ?


Burial Site




There were three or four of these Mesita sites scattered through the main park. To reach the main sites required following a steep climb up a series of steps ascending up the side of the mountain. It was an exerting 20 minute climb up the several hundred steps that leads to the top of the mountain.

Climbing stairs on way to seeing archeological ruins around San Agustin Colombia


The three Amigos. Some young Colombian kids posing for a photo



YouTube Video from tour of Park


During the entire time I was followed by a group of young Colombians who wanted to practice their English by speaking to me. My new posse followed me around for the next hour. They had seen me ride into the parking lot on the Aprilia motorcycle and thought that the idea of touring around Colombia on a motorcycle was pretty cool and they all said that one day they would do the same thing.

Scenes from inside the Park


Statuary from site on top of mountain



Later in the afternoon a sudden rain storm passed over the area sending many of the park visitors scrambling for cover. Myself along with a dozen others found shelter under a gazebo and waited out the passing storm. While I was there, I got into a conversation with an older gentlemen and his wife. They were both originally from Colombian and are now living in the US. When I told him I was from Canada, he mentioned that he had a brother who lived up in Canada. After a few more inquires, it turned out that his brother lived in the same town in Quebec where I grew up and coincidentally his brother lived only a block away from my parents house. It's a small world out there.

More scenes from inside the Park


More scenes from inside the Park


More scenes from inside the Park


I had a bit of an incident when I returned back to the parking lot where the Aprilia was parked. As I came out into the main parking area I found two guys near the motorcycle, one of them was actually seated on the bike as his friend was taking his photo, he looked up and saw me walking towards him, he had that look of someone who had just been caught in the act of doing something that they shouldn’t. He quickly climbed off the bike and in the process almost allowed the bike to fall off its side stand. I was pretty pissed off with finding this guy seated on the bike like that. There are many parts of the US and Canada where its a shooting offense for getting caught sitting on another man’s bike without their permission. After curing the fellow out I pretty much told him that if he were to do that in Estados Unidos that he would get his ass shot.
I like Colombians, but too many of them down here have no understanding of the concept of private property.

After visiting the park I return back to my hotel. Not long after returning to my room, there was a knocking at my door. When I went to see who was there, it turned out to be someone I had met on my arrival to San Agustin. He was one of the the many local tour guides. He was asking me if I was interested in buying some authentic Pre-Columbian artifacts. As San Agustin is a major archaeological site, there is a thriving underground industry in selling both authentic and fake archaeological artifacts to tourists. Many of the locals in San Agustin are involved in antiquities recovery. The region is a treasure trove of undiscovered burial sites. My tour guide Carlos who escorted me on my horseback ride yesterday, confirmed that many people down here were involved in the antiquities trade. When I asked him if that was illegal, he shrugged his shoulders saying so long as they told the government people the location of newly discovered sites and left the larger artifacts in place, then everyone got to profit from the find. I invited my Colombian friend (Tomb Raider #1) to enter the room. He cautiously closed the door, taking a final look down the hallway to see if anyone had observed him entering my room. Soon after entering the room he took out a cloth bag and carefully placed on a table. From the bag he proceeded to pull out a number of objects which had been carefully wrapped in newspaper. After a few minutes spent unwrapping his stash of Pre-Columbian booty, Tomb Raider# 1 laid out his collection of Pre-Columbian items on the table. Laid out in front of me where a couple of ritual burial masks, a few clay figurines and a number of small pots.

I examined the artifacts, everything look authentic, but I have no way of discerning whether the items were real or manufactured last week in the back of a local craft shop. I remember some one once telling me that one way of telling if a clay pot was old, was to wet the surface with water, if the item was really old then it will give up a dank earthy smell, also old pottery will readily absorb the water from its damp surface.. I tried these simple tests and they seemed to confirm that the objects were real enough. As we were talking there was another knocking at the door, someone outside in a low whisper called out to Tomb Raider # 1. I opened the door, it seemed that Tomb Raider #1 had invited a friend to join him in his nefarious activities. Tomb Raider #2 also had a satchel of Pre-Columbian goods that he wanted to show off to me. He had a number of bronze colored jewellery items which he said was gold. When I asked them where the pottery and figurines came from, they were a little evasive, only admitting that they were dug up from some ancient burial site. I told them that Colombian like many countries have signed on to the UNESCO convention prohibiting export of cultural antiquities. Now I was just talking bullshit to them, I had no idea what the laws were about selling and exporting cultural artifacts, but they all immediately looked guilty about what they were doing. Again with a straight face I told him if I got caught leaving the country with the items I would get thrown into jail or worse. Tomb Raider #1 looked at me then over to his friend and realized I was only pulling his chain. He told me they had very good jails in Colombia and so not to worry. We concluded our business and they left not having sold me anything. The fact is if they had been selling good replicas of Pre-Columbian art I would have been interested in some of the items. I was not interested in buying looted antiquities (aside from the fact that most of the stuff was probably fake). Later that evening I found an Internet cafe and did some further research on the legality of buying Pre-Columbian art. It does appear that Colombia did sign on to the UN convention on the protection of antiquities and they have have their own laws governing cultural patrimony. Not only is it illegal to take looted antiquities out of the country, it is illegal to bring them into the US or Canada. Regardless of how many laws a country institutes to protect their national treasures, there will always be sellers and buyers for this kind of stuff, the trade in black market antiquities has been going on since the days of the pharaohs.

As events unfolded, I wound up spending one more day in San Agustin and decided not to take the road south to Mocoa and Pasto. Instead I decided to tackle the mountainous and challenging road between San Agustin to Popayan.