Rain, Pain and Sugar Cane

November 12th to 17th

The weather never really clears, just grey drizzle interspersed with heavy downpours. The rainy season should be coming to an end now in Colombia, but if anything it's intensifying. But, we can find no more excuses to stay in a cosy hostal in Salento and finally leave under pregnant skies.

Just 2kms out we are forced to stop for running repairs to Sue's brakes....

We cross the Quindio valley once more under a canopy of arrow straight eucalyptus trees choked by creepers with vivid orange flowers....

Then the heavens open and people scatter using whatever means of transport available to get out of the incessant rain....

Once back on the main Highway, the ride is a long, steady descent as we roll off the side of the Cordillera Central towards the broad Cauca River valley. We make good time as first Armenia, then Calcedenia then Sevilla fly by.

The descent continues....

From the cool pine and eucalyptus scented air, past the coffee and passion fruit plantations we drop through ever changing growing regions and the air begins to warm noticeably. Evidence of Colombia's ancient railway network criss-crosses the road and rivers as it meanders alongside the highway....

Constructed to move coffee and banana crops it now lies unused and falls slowly into decay. Sadly, old steam locomotives are more likely to be seen decorating parks than hauling cash crops to market....

Disused rails arrow off into the distance....

We pass out of the coffee region and into cattle country....

And finally to the Cauca. The broad flood plains of the Cauca River sit at an altitude of around 1000m and at this latitude the sun is fierce and the air hot. The long rainy season makes this ideal ground for the next cash crop we encounter - sugar cane. As far as the eye can see fields of tall grasses sway in the breeze interspersed by devastated brown scrub where the woody stalks have been cut down and harvested. The scene stretches off towards the distant Western mountain range and a mirror image is repeated on the other side of the road towards the Central range....

Great road trains of between four and six wagons thunder past us loaded with cane sugar....

The cane will be crushed and boiled in huge vats to extract a sweet sticky brown liquid that is solidified into blocks reminiscent of building bricks called 'Panela'. Roadside cafes serve pint sized soup bowls of hot panela with a soft creamy cheese - 'Panela con Queso' for about US$1.50 and it's a fabulous cyclista pick-me-up.

We cover the 250kms to Cali in three gloomy rain sodden days. Cali is the largest city in the south of Colombia with over 2.25 million people. Large Colombian cities and touring bikes do not mix well, so we decide to ride on. Stopping to check the map we encounter Alfonso in his truck. He decides the best way to navigate the city is for us to follow him whilst he shows us the way. We proceed to bring the city to a standstill as he crawls at bicycle pace through the congested city streets. At intersections we have to weave through stationary traffic to find the cause of the delay is Alfonso who has blocked the road in his parked truck to allow us time to catch up. He's oblivious to the gridlock behind him and couldn't be more helpful to us even offering us a bed for the night if we chose to stay in Cali. For the sake of other motorists we decide to head on and leave the blaring horns and traffic chaos at the city limits.

Thanks Alfonso - muy amable and my first truck escort through a major city....

After Cali we leave the flat river valley and begin the 800m (2650ft) climb up to Popayan, the capital of the Cauca region. Fortunately the road is shaded as the climb is hot from this low altitude....

Unfortunately I've been suffering on and off from tooth ache for a couple of weeks. After Cali it suddenly flares up mightily leaving me pacing the streets of a small village Mondomo at four in the morning. The prospect of finding a dentist in Colombia for some fairly major work on two of my back teeth filled me with a kind of dread and is a nightmare I've been trying to avoid at all costs. So, I have been taking the approach that if I ignore the pain it will just go away.

Not so!

Sleepless nights of rocking, groaning and praying to a god that I do not really believe in during the wee small hours suggests that my nightmare will now come to pass in Popayan.

Just a note of tooth ache....

What is it really all about?

I mean from an evolutionary/survival-of-the-species point of view.

I get the whole concept of pain thing.... that does actually work and serves a useful purpose.

Stick your hand in a fire - I guess you need to know about that pretty sharpish; pain is a fine messenger.

It goes like this.... Fire-> Pain-> Move hand PDQ -> Lesson learned - no more sticking hands in fires and the species gets to survive a little while longer - job done!

That's good pain....

But tooth ache is different!

It's just a bit too evil in my opinion.

Consider the cave man - awash with his new found fire/pain educational experience.

Now he has tooth ache!

How does the triumph of sidestepping the being-burned-alive scenario translate?

What is he supposed to do now?

Invent Novocaine?

Toothache just doesn't seem to fall into the whole burn your hand, useful category of pain - it just hurts and I don't like it!!

Grumpy thoughts of a sleep deprived man in pain I guess and we roll wearily into a wet, grey Popayan and set about finding a dentist with strong drugs and hopefully a not too rusty set of hammers and pliers

Ibague's Finest

October 26th to 29th

We meet Omar when he spots us from his car riding through heavy traffic into Ibague. He calls us over to check we are OK and assures us his friend will give a good price in his hotel. Somewhat sceptical (we often get 'very good price' offers) we follow as he slows the traffic to a crawl so we can keep up with him. This offer turns out to be very much a good price as we occupy our sumptuous room for just 30,000 Pesos ($US16) and I cannot guess at the discount he has got for us. After the valet(!) has whisked our gear upstairs we relax on the balcony with fine furnishings and city views....

Omar turns out to be a champion cyclist who spent years travelling the world, riding in competitions and also commentating on major events for Colombian radio. He interviewed all the greats and worked all over Europe, including of course, The Tour de France. He's really interested in all thing bici and practically adopts us during our stay in town.

By association we seem to have acquired celebrity status and the valet accompanies us to show us the restaurant Omar recommends. Omar meets us an hour later and explains he has been busy speaking to a friend in a bike shop to get my seat fixed and also the sports reporter from 'Q'Hubo' newspaper to set up an interview! He seems to know everybody in town and works his cell phone to help smooth our time here.

We deposit the bike with 'Nezario' the guy who just happens to maintain all the bikes for a local Ibague race team and I get to meet the director of sports cycling who arranges all the training and race meets plus a couple of the racers. Then Omar takes us for dinner and refuses to let us pay for anything. He's a fantastic guy, interesting and intense and Sue tries to get a word in edgeways before the soup course....

Next day we meet reporter 'Ronal' and Omar drives us all to the bike shop to pick up my bike for a photo shoot, while Ronal starts the interview. Unfortunately - same old problem - the bike shop cannot source a seat post anywhere despite trying to call in a couple of favours. Not to worry though, the local machine shop has taken measurements and is milling a shim to size as we speak!

Riding back to the hotel the interview continues and despite it being a day off, we 'get in character' loading up our bikes and riding through city streets for video and stills. The demands placed on celebs these days....

It's a hectic day as Omar moves and speaks like he's on a sprint in the last leg of a race. As he drives he gesticulates wildly and the car meanders out of control across the road whilst he looks at me or worse, at Sue in the back seat. I stare fixedly at the road - hoping he will follow suit, and I sympathise with the pedestrians being skittled out of the way. It's definitely a British thing as the Colombians just seem to take near misses in their stride and don't even notice....

My knuckles are white!

Early next morning the hotel corridors reverberate as Omar arrives - bellowing 'Maaaarteeeeen' to make sure I'm awake. A trained radio presenters voice really carries!

He comes bearing gifts! A brand new cycling jersey and a full page spread in the morning paper....

We visit Nazario in his shop and he's come through for us as well.... a freshly shimmed, standard sized seat post. He also spent two hours freeing up the bottom bracket that had also frozen solid after our boat ride. Total cost.... nada. Muchas gracias amigos....

If anyone needs a top notch service in Ibague - Nazario is the man...

Nazar Sports Bike - Carrera 5 No.21-27, Ibague

After picking up the bikes, the boys are off to play. Omar takes me on a tour round the town and on a 25km climb straight up into the hills through a series of tiny villages through to an incredible river valley. The man can really ride and for me - a guy more used to a more measured touring style, his maniacal sprints on the steepest sections are exhausting. I cool off in the river in my shiny new shirt....

The views are spectacular....

The ride back to town is a helter skelter dash back down some dirt tracks mixed up with a detour along some single track.

With built in obstacle course.... The track follows a water pipe bound for the city water treatment plant. Some are a bit leaky, wet and treacherous. There are five to cross and the drops are around 20 feet. Omar makes it look easy....

In between we put on a bit of speed....

Back in town, I get a tour of Omar's apartment and a glimpse into his life as a reporter when he shows me through his memorabilia from all the big cycle races through Europe. It's an impressive collection!

No time to lose, we pick Sue up and again, Omar insists on buying lunch, then drives us to his family's Finca just outside town. Ibague is built on a sloped section of land and sprawls for a good 10 miles. Dropping for 12 miles to the finca, the climate changes noticeably and it's much warmer. The Finca is maintained by a live-in couple who prepare it for family get-togethers at weekends and it's a fantastic getaway....

Omar smashing me at one-on-one basketball....

Next day we ride out towards Armenia that sits at roughly the same altitude (1,500m - 5,000ft) as Ibague on the other side of the Cordillera Central. The pass over the top is the famous 'La Linea' - second highest pass on the gruelling cycle race 'The Tour of Colombia'. It tops out at a cloud skimming 3,200m (10,650ft).

Omar insists on seeing us off and of course wants to try riding the beast....

Frankly it's a shaky start and I'm a little nervous. After a 17lb race bike - this 175lb super tanker takes a little getting used to....

Omar, being Omar though, with his oversized cojones is soon overtaking 22 wheelers on blind bends....

One thing a touring bike is good for is going fast downhill - all that weight just keeps on pushing and I think he is starting to enjoy himself....

There are two big climbs on route to Cajamarca where we plan to stop for the night and progress slows as the going gets tough under a hot sun....

At the half way point Omar and I swap bikes and I think he has gained a new respect for our tour. He looks to me; then the bike, and keeps repeating 'just too heavy... too much weight'. I think it's just a bit frustrating for a true racer, used to being able to up the effort and put on a sprint to suddenly learn that these bikes just don't respond to hitting it hard. It's a patience and slow grinding kind of game.

Once back on his mountain bike, the racer in him comes to the fore again and he's all energy and shouts of encouragement. It's a bit alarming on some of the steeper bends when the bike suddenly gets weightless and kicks on a bit as he lends a helping shove....

As we reach the outskirts of Cajamarca, Omar suddenly remembers he has a business to run that he has been neglecting all the time he has spent with us....

Omar - what can I say.

Thanks for everything. To take four days out to show us round and help us out with everything was just amazing.... not to mention picking up the tab for food as well! The rides around Ibague and to Cajamarca were truly memorable and even by the high standards of Colombian hospitality you are an absolute diamond.

If you ever get to England.... you know how to find us....

Thor's Hammer

October 23rd to 26th

Sometimes it takes a Colombian a few hours to size you up before getting to know you. We are packed and ready to leave with the dawn when Margarita the hotel owner stops us for a chat. She is joined by sister Magda and daughter Melissa and suddenly we are on a guided tour of their land which proves to be quite extensive....

Behind the fruit orchard is a 'vivero' or nursery for a range of unusual plants and trees. We sample fruits we have never even seen before like 'Lima' - that tastes like a cross between orange and lime. 'Guanabana' is a huge green prickly fruit the size and shape of a rugby ball.....

We are given one that must weigh about 20lbs which is too much to carry so Margarita juices it for us with milk. It's totally delicious!

We eventually get away by around 11am and the heat is building, but it's not a problem as the road we are about to take falls off the edge of the 'Cordillera Oriental' range into a deep river valley over a thousand metres below....

At the Northern tip, The Andes split into three fingers that spread through Colombia and on to Venuzuela like a giant hand. Now there are three ranges - The Oriental (East), The Central and The Occidental (West). The Magdelena river valley that we are dropping into divides the East and Central ranges, a flat grassland at around 300m wedged between peaks that soar over 5000 metres just 40 miles away.

It's an intense kind of landscape!

The descent is a dizzying series of rapid hairpins with spectacular emerald hills rearing up around us....

In 6 miles we loose around 3000 feet and the temperature is noticeably warmer. Towards the bottom we enter a sheer sided canyon and the sun struggles to penetrate down to road level. The air feels like it's trapped between the rock walls and is torpid and densely hot. We ride beneath the 'Devil's Nose' and along the fast flowing Sumapaz River towards the Magdelena....

Passing through Melgar I cannot resist snapping a helicopter mounted at the roadside....

Turns out to be a bad move as the guys on the gatehouse are not amused about tourist cameras around military bases. They call me over for a chat as Sue, unaware of the situation, rides off into the distance. Four of them surround me and it's all a bit intimidating, armed as they are with assault rifles and sub-machine guns. I show them my other photos to prove I'm not on a spying mission and try to explain that wearing coloured Lycra and riding a fully loaded touring bike is not the best way of going undercover.... luckily they see the funny side of it and don't shoot me!

It's beautiful easy riding, along smooth, flat tarmac past the ranks of crops that grow beneath the shadow of the Central range....

When disaster strikes.... The welded repair on my seat post from Costa Rica gives a brief 'Crack', then gives up the ghost depositing my seat in the road. That's not a good sign.... By now it's boiling and we are in the middle of nowhere. I ride on with the seat strapped to the back of the bike and remind myself, mantra like 'do not sit down! do not sit down! do not sit down!....'

Riding such a heavy bike standing up is exhausting! Worse than that, I can feel the frame flexing as all my weight is on the pedals. I'm just glad it's flat here, otherwise this would be a non-starter in this heat.

We reach the junction between 'Espinal' and 'Flandes' and a group of locals tell us Flandes is much the closer, but that they would not go there. We have no choice, but I can see what they meant as we hit the main square and it feels like the worst of Central America again. Litter strewn streets and the stink of stagnant water. Prostitutes and raggedy people hang out on street corners with nothing better to do than stare, blankly into the distance. For the first time in Colombia, this does not feel safe at all!

I enquire in a hotel which is obviously more used to renting by the hour and when I come out Sue is surrounded by maybe 15 guys. Looks bad, but appearances can be deceiving and they are as friendly as can be. Sue's already explained the problem and a couple of them jump on bikes and show us the way to a bike shop. They can't help as my seat post is a European size so the guys ride on to check with a local workshop and find us a slightly more upmarket (read slightly less seedy) hotel.

What follows is a bit of a trial for me and I'm sorry I didn't trust this place enough to take a camera....

Salt from the boat crossing from Panama has fixed the stump of my seat post solid and it will not budge from the frame. In a dingy, dimly lit back-street workshop not much wider than the door frame we get to work. This is not a high tech solution.... The bike, upside down on a bench with the post gripped in a vice tightened using a three foot pole, what follows may invalidate my bike's guarantee.

Three guys set about wrenching the bike backwards and forwards using the frame as a lever to rotate the post in the frame. You would not believe how much force this took. Standing on the bench, two of us were hauling the bike upwards while a third manfully rotated it using all his strength, the seat post stubbornly giving up a millimetre at a time. Ten hot, sweaty minutes later - the air full of curses in both Spanish and English, it finally came free.

Next job - to join the broken parts of the seat post together by driving a solid piece of bar into each half.... using a lump hammer so large it is normally only wielded by Thor the Norse God of Thunder.

I could not watch!

Seeing a 25lb lump hammer smashing repeatedly into bits of the trusty steed that has taken me from Argentina to Peru and from Canada all the way to this grim place of torture.... I think I wept a little....

But I have to hand it to them.... in true South American style.... we did finally get a solution.... all be it a temporary one.... and a very, very ugly looking one....

Anyway - that was how I spent my birthday.

It definitely felt good to leave Flandes and head to Espinal. Espinal is a bigger town and we're hopeful of getting a better fix as there's a bike factory and several shops there. Unfortunately it's Sunday and we kill a day waiting for everything to open. We book into somewhere more appropriate to belatedly celebrate a birthday....

After trailing round all the cycle shops in Espinal (there are six of them) I am now convinced that you can't get a replacement part of this size anywhere in the Americas. It seems strange that Thorn chose such a non-standard size when building a bike designed to travel the world, especially when their bikes are obviously so well thought out. It's a minor criticism of an otherwise, near perfect machine, but.... could do better.

Reluctantly I have to ride to Ibague and hope for a better solution there. I know this repair will not last long and I'm not even sure it will get us the 60kms (40 miles) to Ibague.

We roll out along the flat valley that is just perfect for big agriculture. With a 12 month growing season of high rainfall and strong sunlight the land here is just a food making machine.... with the help of some real machines on an industrial scale....

I guess the only fly in the ointment are the voracious insects and a couple of small airfields provide defence from the air. The sky drones with ever present crop sprayers that rain down chemical death....

After crossing the valley of food, the road attacks the Cordillera Central head on....

Ibague sits at around 1500m (5,000ft) so the day soon changes to that upwards grind we know so well. This route forms part of a training run the racers take from Espinal through Ibague and on to the much revered 'La Linea' topping out at 3200m (10,600ft). Cyclists being a sadistic lot, they always choose the nastiest, steepest sections of road to race on, and that's our route too. The road does get pretty steep in places as it hugs the mountain side....

We meet one such cyclist 'Cristhian' on the last few miles into Ibague and he slows down to ride alongside us. Typically Colombian, he is friendly enough to sacrifice his hare pace and slow down to our tortoise speed.... until a phone call from his dad lets him know he is late for lunch and he rides off to meet the family. Adios Cristhian, con mucho gusto amigo....

Riding into the city centre, a guy in a car stops me to check everything is OK.

And so we meet Omar!

And that's a whole chapter in itself....

The Pan American Highway

August 4th to 14th

We make full use of the hotel facilities before heading out. Normally we have to carry the bikes and kit down flights of stairs....

With some trepidation, we leave David; Panama's second city. The next 450kms (280 miles) of our journey will take us along the notorious Pan-American highway – there are simply no other roads across Panama. Reports from previous cyclists talk of the dizzying heat, the noisy monotonous traffic, narrow sections of nasty pot-holed road surface and above all, the chaotic driving - all horn's blaring as you are physically driven off the road.

Sounds like fun....

We head out past rows of depressingly Americanised strip malls and burger joints - “where convenience meets global blandness”. Once past the city limits though, things become authentically Central American once more.... except maybe, for the baseball cap and Wellington boots that is....

The Pacific coast has a reputation for being hotter than the Caribbean side and I can vouch for that. It's an airless and boiling heat that bounces like an invisible force from the black Tarmac. It rolls in torrid waves from the overheated engines that often pass too close to us. Ironically, only the biggest lorries give us space to breathe as we cross one of a hundred similar river bridges....

This is the kind of riding we try to avoid when we can by taking the more scenic, less trafficked back roads. This is hamster-wheel cycle-touring - just turning the pedals and getting the job done. In addition to the heat and traffic, the land refuses to lie flat and it's a never ending sequence of short frustrating ups and downs that drain energy and rhythm. We overnight in San Felix that provides a cheaper alternative to the tourist beaches of Las Lucas.
It's raining anyway.

Next morning we rise at 5am to do battle once more and slip into the routine we repeat for the next few days. Dawn start, hamster wheel dash, traffic, heat, rolling terrain and endless blaring horns. Towards the end of the day, skies darken and the heat of the day is beaten back by an avalanche of rain that often arrives, then stops as if by the flick of a switch.

Looking back as the clouds recede like a drawn curtain of black velvet, or a stage prop on wheels being removed....

Incredibly there are no hotels on the Pan-am highway outside of major towns. We cover 125kms from San Felix to Santiago and feel char-broiled by the time we arrive after 10 hours in the saddle.

Fortunately, as we get nearer Panama City there are more and more towns and we are able to drop short in Aguadulce the next day rather than tackle another 125kms to Penonome in the heat. The short day gives us time feed and water ourselves and to give the bikes some much needed attention.

Sue is becoming an ace mechanic....

After another hot, uneventful day we reach Penonome and Sue is not feeling too well. Lukily I manage to strike a fantastic deal in a hotel that looks way too good for us – they even have an aquarium in the lobby. We get a huge air conditioned room for $25 which is a steal at around half normal price and we hole up for three days of groaning at the luxurious Hotel Guacamaya....

We had planned to climb into the mountains to El Valle which is described as a quaint little mountain getaway with serene walks and fine views. We're a bit surprised when we start seeing giant billboards advertising the place every mile or so for 20 miles before the turn off. Me thinks it is not so undiscovered and pristine as they had lead us to believe. Prices are also rising fast as we get closer as we find out at a small dingy hotel above a petrol station asking $33 for a room nothing like Guacamaya. Rooms 2kms off the highway by the surf beaches are going for $65 – we paid less than that is San Francisco, California!

Camping sounds like a better option at $10 until we learn we can't pitch the tent until 6pm and must pay a $15 day entry fee. It is starting to look like El Valle was once a quiet little mountain town, but the whole area is now big business - an impression that is not dissuaded by the huge billboards offering credit at the road junction....

We ride on looking for better deals, when we hit the biggest storm so far!

It's torrential! Massive raindrop sting the face and eyes and we are struggling to see anything through a wall of water. Within minutes our front tyres are pushing a bow wave before us and the roads are 6 inches deep and flowing fast. Even car drivers are starting to pull over as water logged windscreens cannot be cleared fast enough. Obstacles and pot holes are invisible beneath the moving liquid surface; a point I prove in spectacular fashion, by pulling off the road and hitting a submerged kerbstone. The bike and I land in a river of water a foot deep and my bags fly off the bike and float away. Skin is removed from knees and elbows and worst of all my handlebar bag flies open and scoops us a giant gob of water. Luckily my passport and maps also float! My camera, Mp3 player and wallet do not.

The storm is in for the day and we get a very large slice of luck on hearing there is a hotel just 200m up the road. We trudge up to the gate and our hearts sink as it's an amazing old house, lovingly renovated; obviously by a ex-pat. This is going to cost us but we have no choice as the roads are chaos and it's waaaaay too dangerous to carry on.

The drunken owner staggers to the gate and drags us in offering us a beer. She's a smiling Canadian, obviously amused at our bedraggled state and happy to have new drinking buddies. The place is amazing with gardens, a restaurant and bar area, views of the mountains from our balcony and a (quite unnecessary) swimming pool. The owner 'Lily' normally charges $45 but she takes pity on us and charges just $35. We're really grateful as she could have said $70 and we'd have had to pay it. Thanks Lily....

Apparently we've passed some invisible line in Panama where it all becomes retirement places and condos by the sea and it costs serious money! We inspect the damage left by the river in my handlebar bag and somehow the camera and MP3 player have survived. My passport looks a little more colourful now where all the inks have run but it's still intact.

Finally we climb over the last set of hills past 'Capira' and reach the outskirts of Panama City.

Amazing steel statues welded from scrap at a roadside artisan's workshop....

It's the final mad dash as traffic reaches attack speed down the hill as it filters towards the 'Bridge of the Americas' over the Pacific entrance to the Panama Canal. Officially we are not allowed to cycle on the bridge, so we run the gauntlet of traffic fully expecting to be stopped by the police. What happens after that we don't know, but as it turns out, we never find out.

For once I can understand why cyclists are discouraged from crossing. The bridge is narrow, there is nowhere to go to get away from traffic, the edge of the road is strewn with debris, traffic moves at blistering speed and the whole thing shakes under the weight of it all.

We get our first glimpse of the dazzling sky-scrapers of the new city of Panama that is springing up around the bay. Panama is a city of contrasts – old colonialism rubbing shoulders with modern glass and steel and entering by bicycle over the famous canal is a major landmark for this tour....