The End Of The Line

October 30th to November 2nd

‘La Linea’! The Line...

From the looks of doubt and confusion we elicit in the restaurant the night before and now the looks of outright horror we are getting from locals as we pass them on our heavily loaded bikes.... I am starting to worry.

We’ve done some big passes before and it’s only 55km (35 miles) to Armenia, but we’re starting to get a bit spooked by ‘La Linea’. It’s around a 2,000m (6,650ft) climb to the summit and I gather it’s a little tough in places. We steel ourselves to get the job done.

Incredibly the near vertical walls of the Bermellon river valley are cultivated. Wooden stakes are driven into the soil to reduce land slides and look like tiny tooth picks in a patchwork pin cushion from this vantage point...

We start to hit standing traffic and upon reaching the toll booth, we are told the road is closed due to a landslide and also a couple of accidents. It all seems like old news to these guys and I get the impresion it’s a common occurance. Colombians are a relaxed lot though, and stranded drivers seem to see it as an excuse to just chill out and meet the guy in the next car.

They are also enterprising and several canny vendors speed their wares ahead of the queue to make sales. A trolley of ice cream zooms past us behind a motorbike and I’m half expecting the wheels to come flying off! Surely it wasn't build for this kind of speed....

For us this is fantastic as we can ride around stationary traffic in peace. No grinding engines belching acrid fumes into our oxygen starved lungs, and best of all no need to worry about kamikaze drivers...

The line of stranded trucks snakes and coils around the mountain side, the head of the beast waaaay down in the valley below....

As we get higher, truckers begin cheering us on, clenched fists punching the air from their cabs. Car drivers line the roads giving us the thumbs up and buses of school children whoop and chase along with us. I’m starting to feel like I’m in an ultra slow motion version of the Tour de France. All fears of the ride slip away as the day takes on an unlikely carnival atmosphere.

It’s (almost) fun!

Winding higher that begins to change as we hit the cloud base; all heat leaves the day and a soggy blanket envelops us in a chilling, wet hug....

Then the clouds burst and the developing sense of fun is washed away in rivers. Drivers reclaim the warmth of their vehicles and study the rivulets of rain dancing across their windscreens. The mood of resigned patience slowly begins to crack as windows steam up and claustrophobia sets in. Cars start jockying for position, jumping the queue and the tension begins to grow....

It’s a pity about the weather as it would be a beautiful ride under blue skies past waterfalls that line the roadside....

The road climbs more steeply for the last few miles in what must be a cruel test for the racers. With the top in sight, it is a final sting in the tail; demanding a last, lung busting, leg melting assault on the summit.

Unfortunately (for us) the roadblock ahead seems to have cleared and four hours of pent up agression comes to a boiling head. The traffic snake begins to uncoil and normal Colombian driving standards are re-established....

Fifty metres from a blind hairpin, the centre line of the road is at the extreme right of the picture. At times five trucks run neck and neck and vie with each other to cause the next head on collision. It’s like a wild stampede of spooked animals blindly running with the pack. All sense of self preservation has gone in the blind panic to be mobile again.

Traffic coming the other way is often forced to stop and watching the efforts to sort it all out is amusing as more trucks pile into the snarl up from both directions. Travelling at 3mph, we seem to be the fastest things on the road as we glide serenely past the madness.

Finally, after a gruelling four and a half hours we conquer the mountain....

It’s a brief celebration as, much to the amusement of the truckers, we strip change into dry clothes and layer up for the descent. It’s freezing now in howling winds and driving rain!

Normally, once the work is done, the drop side of the pass is a grin inducing, tyre testing reward for all that altitude gained as it is cashed in and swapped for big speed.

This descent is a slow, finger numbing, teeth chattering test of cold temperature endurance. The road is slick with the slimy residue from the landslide and vehicles chuck up a spray of fine grit and dirt - turning us into extras from the set of a mud-man movie. Tyres fight for grip on roads turned a liquid brown from the clay soil and brakes are near useless in the wet sludge.

We stop often to warm up and are saved when we happen upon a ‘tinto’ vendor. These guys have carts stocked with thermos flasks full of a hot, sticky coffee/sugar solution. It’s just what we need as we grip hot plastic cups and try and get the feeling back into our frostbitten fingers.

Eventually we pass the landslide and the road clears of slippery mud. Then we breach the cloud cover and the air warms up a tad....

It’s 25kms (16 miles) straight down! We ride the snake....

Three miles shy of Armenia we check into a room in Calarca and set a challenge for the cleaner with our soaking wet, mud encrusted gear.

La Linea is finally defeated.... but only just....

It’s a tough, tough ride, demanding a rest day afterwards to sooth heavy legs.

Calarca is a good place to rest up as there is a guided tour of a nature reserve with a huge butterfly house....

With some rare species....

And tropical flowers....

Next day is a short ride into Armenia. We only stop for a quick look as the lonely planet largely dismisses this city as being just a place to change buses.

Once again, the book is wrong, but that is hardly a surprise as it doesn’t even mention Calarca and one of the best nature tours in the country.

To be fair, nothing about Armenia is outstanding, but it is a good example of a typical Colombian city. The people are once again amazingly friendly, swamping us as we ride into the square. After satisfying the curiosity of maybe 20 enthusiastic interviewers, one of them leads us to a cheap hotel. Insider knowledge saves us a bob or two.

Scenes from a forgotten city....

Modern art, modern cathedral....

Statues reach for the new heights set by a rising skyline....

Amidst the street chaos....

A family takes an outing....

While BMX dudes check out the street food....

During another tough day at the office....