Medellin, Colombia to Salento, Colombia
July 14, July 29 2014

Paisa Paradise


Our good friend "Marcos el Narco" in tow, we glided down the mountains and into Medellin unsure of what to expect. Our experiences with Colombia that far had been wonderful, but we were now entering the lion's mouth, the home of the famous eponym cartel, Pablo Escobar's headquarters. You know how the saying goes? Don't believe the hype! Within 10 minutes of entering the city limits, several motorcycles had joined Marcos in following us, all eager to catch us a the next stop, wish us a warm welcome and ask about our journey. It was the friendliest welcome we've received anywhere so far! We crossed the Parque Lleras to reach the Tamarindo Hostal to find another welcome committee, our old friends Tom and Peter working on their bikes! We all comfortably spent our next week there, oblivious to the location's ominous past and had a wonderful time.


Big thanks to David, Sonia and Ethan for the warm welcome and the mailbox services :P

David, Sonia and Ethan were also waiting for us. The little family had recently fled the madness of the French capital to start anew in Medellin. The Wolf, desperate to wear high the colors of Endurospirit, his old MC in Provence, had found David on Facebook via a common friend. The legendary solidarity between bikers led David to put his mailbox at the disposition of a perfect stranger and a few weeks later we all met for the first time around a delicious barbecue. We found a new Replay camera, fancy personalised jerseys, and more importantly new friends! Thanks a ton guys!
Sadly our third package fell prey to the shipping demons who patrol most Central and South American locations. (It was much later located in a warehouse in Bogota, but seems irretrievable at this point. A donation to Colombia I suppose.)

It was in Medellin that we discovered the joy of free walking tours - they have them in most major cities worldwide and the tour guides work only for tips.


Our guide, from Medellin herself, told us about the proud Paisa history, the growth of the coffee industry and they key role played by the railroad in connecting the city to the outside world. We also discussed the carnage of the Colombian civil war and how Colombians were today cheerful and friendly to keep away the demons of the past.

On the motorcycle front, the Wolf was delighted to discover Mundi Moto and the shops on the Calle 38 #52. We were able to buy all the parts we had been missing for so long, fork seals, clutch perch, thick inner tubes and more. The other thing Medellin has loads of, is fancy malls, and it was in this city I realised what a mallrat the Wolf truly is. Perhaps it's merely a product of rough adventure travel, but we indulged in many hours of mall time, which included watching Guardians of the Galaxy in the premium theatre - lazyboy recliners included. (Great movie, by the way.)

Iced Coffee

Scenic views as we entered the Zona Cafetera, the coffee region

After almost a week of cultural exploration (and retail relaxation, although we didn't really buy anything) we said goodbye to Medellin, and aimed South towards Salento, a small but touristy town in the Zona Cafetera.

We set camp at Yambolombia a slightly hippy hostal with an awesome vibe, were Gabriel, the owner, made us feel welcome. We begun chatting about our journey and mentioned meeting in Guatape a fellow rider from neighbouring Armenia. Gabriel proceeded to describe the guy, pick up his phone and 30 minutes Joaquin showed up at our door on his shiny 660 Tenere! We were like, huh??! Impossible. The next day Marcos, Peter, Tom and the Yeti all showed up in Salento and Joaquin proceeded to take us on what was supposed to be a quick ride around the Salento valley. That turned into 4 days and close to a 1000kms of the most fantastic roads. We rode the highest road in Colombia in the Los Nevados park (DR Hypoxia), visited coffee plantations, enjoyed cocktails in fancy hotels and wrapped it all up with a trip to the luxurious Santa Rosa de Cabal hot springs. We don't know how to thank you for the amazing experience, Joaquin.

As a parting gift Joaquin helped us plot our route to Ecuador. We discovered the Tatacoa desert, the Tierradentro ruins and San Agustin, but that's for our next post.

More pictures here

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So glad you have you guys back with an update!
Keep it up!

Salento, Colombia to Quito, Ecuador
July 30, 2014 - Aug 6, 2014

Tatacoa desert

The Zebra looking gorgeous in the Tatacoa desert with the Cordillera Central in the background

With the route our friend Joaquin helped us plot loaded into our trusted GPS, we finally left Salento for our next stop over, the Tatacoa desert. We rode for several hours with the Cordillera Central to our right and the rays of the evening sun painting gorgeous colours in its clouds. A field of blooming cotton gave us an excuse for a an improvised photo shoot, the old dirt road to the desert invited us for a detour at dusk, and we finally reached Tatacoa way past sunset. Wikipedia will give you more details on the specifics of this area. What we will remember are the Spanish pronunciation lessons of our host Rafael Marquez, the surreal swimming pool at Villa de Marquez and a night sky host of more stars than we knew.

We left early the next morning determined to reach the town of archeological site of Tierradentro high up in the Cordillera. Expecting a challenging road we preventively pampered ourselves at the Termales Los Angeles next to Neiva. In just 50 kilometers the landscape changes drastically with the abundance of fresh water, hinting at what Tatacoa once was. The termales are built around a stream that brings to several small pools the heat stolen from nearby volcanoes. We were surprised mid-bath by Tom and Markos with whom we had shared our route. Quite incomprehensibly, they resisted the appeal of a swim and went hunting for a random internet cafe, go figure.

The Cauca Valley
We painfully extracted ourselves from the pool and begun our climb to TierraDentro. A portion of the road follows an affluent of the Rio Paez and in addition of being alternatively rocky and muddy, it was also under heavy construction. After an hour long bonding session with the other drivers stuck at the road block, we resumed our progress to reach the town at night and under the rain. Our desire to camp was no match for the flood and the warm lights of the hotel La Porta where we found refuge for the night. The following morning I found a Zebra bouncing around at the thought of discovering painting and statues at the nearby archeological site. Under semi-clement skies, we followed the well marked trail to the first site. There we were greeted by a friendly local waving tickets at us and demanding $20 for the visit. Granted by US standards $20 is not much, but a strong trend of building fences around ill-conserved ruins and asking high prices to tourists for access has worn us down a bit. We turned our heels, jumped back on our bikes and rode back down the valley thoroughly enjoying the free and amazing landscape.

No coke, thanks.

Posing in the sugar cane fields above San Agustin

Next up was San Agustin. The town is arguably the prettiest one this side of the Cordillera and the gateway to several impressive landscapes. As it happened often, a random local approached us as we were looking for accommodation options on our GPS, and that is how we landed at la Casa del Japonese. Nicely located on a hill above town, a deck offers the ideal spot to daydream while watching the town rooftops and its flickering lights. The owner is a colourful character and will entertain you with outlandish stories about Colombia. He'll also suggest you take a tour of a local coke lab, and offer some samples, in case you're that way inclined. A behavior not only unique during our stay in Colombia but also in stark contrast with the efforts displayed in other regions to inform guests of the ravaging effects of the coke industry on the country. I personally fell in love with the little 2 stroke Yamaha he drives around town. He told me this model used to be a favourite of motorcycle assassins back in the days, now it does grocery runs, times have changed.
With the help of our Japanese friend, we planned a picturesque, adventurous (and muddy) loop in the nearby mountains. I got my fix of dirt trails while discovering amazing local attractions, among which the Salto de Bordones stands out. It probably is the most amazing waterfall we've encountered so far. On the South side there is the recently remodelled Hotel Bordones unlisted in most guides. The owner is very friendly and gave a tour of the building highlighting all the recycled materials used and the architect's (his father) inspirations. It's well off the beaten path, offering unique views of the waterfall and if you're on a budget, they have the prettiest campsite with hot showers. Opposite the Hotel, across the canyon, a tiny, barely maintained trail takes you meters away from the raging waters plunging down the cliff, a magical place with a semi permanent rainbow. Not far away, the Estrecho del Magdalena stages the show of the eponym river strangled thru a narrow 1.70m rock funnel.

El Trampoline de la Muerte!

There are turns one does not want to miss.

Our initial plan called for crossing into Ecuador at La Hormiga in the Valle del Guamuez. The Zebra was not thrilled with this plan as it would mean missing the sanctuary of Las Lajas and venturing into the only region of Colombia we had heard rumors of turmoil. As we headed South through mudslides towards Mocoa, we stopped at a Military checkpoint. As always the officials were courteous but winced ever so slightly at the mention of our plan. After conferring among themselves they indicated that the Laguna La Cocha further west should not be missed and suggested we take that route instead. For the second time in our journey, we altered our routes to stay clear of a troublesome area. We were not disappointed as this detour lead us to Hwy 10, a road we would later learn has been fondly nicknamed El Trampoline de la Muerte (The trampoline of death) by the locals. The road connects Mocoa to Pasto over the Cordillera Central and while missing certain turns may result in bouncing right off the trampoline, we thoroughly enjoyed the ride and the views.


Thawing at the Chalet Guamuez

The only caveat was, the road crests a 4000+ meter pass, erasing any memory of sweating in the desert a few days earlier. A sign bearing the word "Chalet" evoked luring images of fondue and hot chocolate. The Chalet Guamuez delivered and within minutes of our arrival we were warming our derrières with a toasty wood fire, while the bartender poured his first ever Irish coffee.

Goodbye Colombia

A surreal sight in the distance, the Las Lajas Sanctuary

Tom, Markos, the Zebra and I broke the bank for a night in a Cabana that would not have looked out of place in Gstaad, Switzerland. The sanctuary of Las Lajas was on the next day's program. It was just as wet departing the laguna as it had been when we arrived, not an auspicious start to the day. At least the road was paved, and we were well rested. Except for losing Tom in the traffic in Pasto we had an uneventful ride to Las Lajas, and were appropriately awed by the elaborate structure as we crested the last hill. We found Tom thawing with a coffee at the entrance to town, and proceeded to explore and capture the church in the fading evening light. The next morning, we reluctantly said sad goodbyes to Tom (and temporarily Marcos as he had to go back to Chalet Guamez to search for his missing gps) and then the Zebra, Peter and I set off to cross over to Ecuador.

More pictures here

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Quito, Ecuador to Vilcabamba, Ecuador
Aug 7, 2014 - Aug 21, 2014

Blasé
After almost 2 months having a jolly good time rolling up and down Colombia's cordilleras, we were not quite prepared for Ecuador. First, we had taken a closer look at the map of South America and were a bit daunted by the kilometers left to cover. Peru looked like 3000kms, Chile 5000kms and maybe another 5000kms to Ushuaia. When Central America rewarded our progress with border crossings every few hundred kilometers, we would have to ride several thousands kilometers in South America without new stamps in our Passports.
Second, the spots we wanted to visit somehow failed to stir the kind of excitement we had felt for Lake Atitlan or for Medellin. After travelling for 6 months and seeing hundreds of amazing places, it is hard to keep your enthusiasm intact and find the energy to make a 300km detour in order to see another church or volcano. How lame of us to feel blasé.

Galapagos, or not?


On our way to Quito

After a fairly smooth border crossing and an impressive ride down canyons and valleys with our buddy Peter a.k.a. Cheeky Monkey, we reached Quito on August 6. We put our luggage down at the Piedmont Hotel a few blocks away from the Place Fochs. A large "What the Foch!" marks the spot and guarantees everyone know this is party central. From the terrace of the Azuca Beach one can spend hours watching tourists . In some aspects, Quito was comparable to Medellin, it is similarly surrounded by several mountains with new neighbourhoods slowly creeping up their slopes as if trying to reach for fresh air. Place Fochs vaguely reminds one of Parque Lleras without equalling its charm. We did however find the old Quito, Calle la Ronda and the presidential palace quite lovely.
One question kept nagging us while there, should we go the Galapagos? With my usual refraction to anything too popular, I felt the Islands were over marketed and was therefore fearing ambitious locals scheming to make a buck on eager tourists. We spent several hours comparing options from local agencies, unable to find anything compelling for less than $1300/pp for a 4 days/3 nights tour. In the end I talked us out of it, arguing that after our adventure on the Stahlratte we were bound to be disappointed and rationalising that for the same budget we'd be able to do something much cooler later on.

Swinging on a star


We could not stop taking pictures of the Casa del Arbol in Banos

Feeling mildly regretful about our decision, we left Quito for Baños, heading East over the Papallacta (Guamani) pass through Baeza. This is definitely the road less travelled and despite the rain and the cold we enjoyed the countless waterfalls roaring down lush mountain sides to join thunderous rivers.
Several twisties later and we found ourselves in Baños, a cute mountain town cradled against the Tungurahua volcano. We checked ourselves in at La Petite Auberge and went hunting for the famous Casa Del Arbol. The pushy crowds bumping into each other as they waited for their 5 minute ride on the swing did not manage to spoil our experience, especially since they soon dispersed and we found ourselves enjoying a quiet evening, punctuated only by distant rumbles and bright orange flashes as the volcano burped and spluttered not far away. As the night fell we found ourselves alone with the owners and they told us how their grandad had initially built the cabana as a hideout to play the guitar while his grandchildren swung about below. It was wonderful evening!

Cuenca


On our way to Cuenca

Under clouds stubbornly opaque to sunshine, we launched our DRs towards Cuenca through Sucua. The road treated us with fun turns banking their way through the forest before escaping valleys drowned under hydro-electric floods by clinging to mountain sides.
Cuenca seduced us with well preserved Spanish architecture, as well as newer buildings lining the banks of the gently tamed Tomebamba river. After a pleasant Sunday morning, exploring museums and strolling around, Peter rolled into town after his loop around the volcan Chimborazo. We enjoyed a lazy Sunday lunch, helping Marco explore his options for wrapping up his adventure. We all met up again a few days later in Villcabamba, a pretty town whose charm and perfect climate has attracted a large community of retired expats. To the Zebra's initial dismay we stayed at yet another French owned hotel, but it turned our to be the nicest spot in many months. A local motorcycle shop lent us a couple square meters of dirt to give our DRs a bit of love, which was a mixed blessing as every part and tool got a dust bath in the process. Shod with new tires and with a few litres fresh oil in their guts, our DRs were ready to scramble to the tiny border of La Balsa and into Peru.

More pictures here

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wolfandzebra.com

Great reading! Stop by and see us in Huanuco, central Peru. We host overlanders and have a good moto/welding shop with everything... even a lathe if you need parts made!

Cheers! Toby

Thanks Toby, but the sad truth is we are just way behind in writing the stories, but we are currently no longer in South American, but in South Africa... the adventure continues, but in different ways... trying to catch up on all the posts though... we'll keep at it! Until next time.

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Jaen, Peru to Yungay, Peru
Aug 21, 2014 - Aug 29, 2014

Respecting lunchtime

The lonely La Balsa border at lunchtime

After several hours of riding dusty roads, we reached the tiny border post nestled in the mountains right at lunch time. What's the big deal you ask? Well most administrations in South America tend to not function from 1 to 2pm. Nothing official of course but good luck trying to get any document stamped in that time frame. With nothing else to do, we sat next to our aduana officer, wished him a "bon provecho" and ordered a random soup.
Shortly thereafter he was back at his keyboard. Although given his abysmally slow keystroke per minute, one might question whether he really had ever seen a keyboard before, or for that matter, the form he was supposed to fill to let our DRs into Peru. Several hours later we found ourselves riding into country #12, Peru. We happily discovered a nicely paved road. Little did we know that the introduction of pavement would mean roadworks. Many miles of roadworks.


Not just another mountain road


Our first mountain town was the uninspiring Jaen. It offered us little more than a giant nail that deflated the Zebramobile's rear shoe overnight. From there we aimed towards Chachapoyas. We reached the turn off to the capital of the Amazonas region early in the day and decided to push a bit further to Leymebamba. We followed a narrow strip of asphalt that dove into the Utcubamba river before fighting the rocky mountain side to carve a path at its side. The long trail to the Kuelap fortress looked like too much work and we instead visited the Mummy Museum where we learned more about the ancient tribes of this region. After a good night sleep, we went looking for gas and discovered what would become the norm for gas stations, an old man with a funnel and a 1 gallon jar, refilled in the dark recesses of his hut, hopefully with actual petrol. Our DRs did not seem to mind and we begun our climb to Celendin. It took us forever! Not because the road was bad, but rather because it was so beautiful that we stopped every few minutes to take more pictures. This was quite possibly the most dramatic stretch of road from the whole trip.

Down the mountain, up the mountain

Can you say switchback?

A jug of Chicha Morada later, the traditional drink make of fermented purple corn, we were off to Cajamarca. The town is the capital of the region and features gorgeous Spanish buildings. Our favorite was a small motorcycle shop where we found two Pirelli tires for less than $70/each, yes, we are bike nerds. We left the town early morning heading for Santiago de Chuco via Cajabamba. The dusty road took us over mountain crests and down narrow valleys, daring us to enjoy the breathtaking views at the risk of missing a turn. We compromised by switching the bikes off and freewheeling down the hills, enjoying the sound of our tires crunching through the sand and stones. It was dark when we reached Santiago de Chuco, with the now slick rear tire of the Zebramobile skidding around like it was in a supermoto race. We followed the fancy pick up trucks of construction workers towards the only hotel in town and promptly put the Wolf to bed. He was feeling poorly and quickly started shivering despite the warmth of several blankets. His condition deteriorated overnight and by the next morning was curled up in a little ball in bed. For the first time since I've known the Wolf, he spent the whole day sleeping in bed, almost certainly the victim of salmonella poisoning.
Luckily sleep and water did the trick and he was ready to go 24 hours later. After changing the Zebramobile's tire (never before did I wish I was strong enough to get the tire changed on my own) we set off for Tauca.

Rinse and repeat

Another delightful, dusty mountain road

Another day, another descent, and another climb. We did this for several hours, until the last set of switchbacks landed us in Tauca. Our GPS maps had no indication of a hotel or hostel, but we were sure there had to be something, and we were right. What we did not expect however, was that all 3 hostels in town would be full. We were finally sent to one that was under construction, and they offered us a room, with no shower, but at least a toilet and a bed completed. It was here that the Wolf's compromised immune system decided it was not satisfied with the state of affairs, complaining loudly with a violent allergic reaction, covering the poor Wolf with a rash and a constricted throat, scaring us both badly. Tauca is very remote. By morning the Wolf was still rather itchy, but breathing better, so we decided to keep moving. As we were loading the bikes, our friend Peter rolled through town, apparently having been on our tails for a few days. After a happy reunion, we all started riding South.

Enough dust already

Sunset silhouette

Our GPS teased us with the trace of what seemed like a direct trail to Huallanca, the last town before the Cañon Del Pato. After consulting with the locals we were recommended to cross Yupan, leave Corongo to our left and turn at Tres Cruces toward Yuracmarca. Needless to say this resulted in more dust, more switchbacks, absolutely unbelievable lunar landscapes and, a very upset Englishman forced to ride at night. We found Huallanca busy celebrating some random saint with live bands, folk dances and shiny tinsel. Unfortunately for us this also meant that, once again, every single hotel in town was full. After much negotiation we ended up paying an arm and a leg for the last two tiny, dusty rooms available in town. A place to sleep secured, we strolled around town after dinner enjoying the festive ambiance. Things became less fun when the bands were still going at 4am. The famed Cañon del Pato made us forget how tired and dusty we were (although it's still a mystery as to why it's called 'Duck Canyon' since there is nothing but rocks to be found there.) When we finally pulled into Yungay, our first stop was a carwash, where we attempted to pressure wash away a week's worth of dust and exhaustion.

More pictures here

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