Watersports

September 27th to 1st October

San Gil is the adventure sports capital of Colombia set in a lovely valley on the banks of the River Fonce. It's pretty touristy and correspondingly expensive, with upmarket boutique hotels and just a couple of backpacker hostels. The hostels are really cashing in on the 'Lonely Planet' regulars knowing that they will pay however much just for some English speaking company. They charge even more than the nicer hotels so we can justify checking into a fantastic little family run place and convince ourselves that we are still saving money....

Esperanza, the owner notices it's Sue's birthday from her passport when we check in and makes a huge fuss, promising to cook us a traditional Colombian breakfast the next day to celebrate. She just couldn't be more welcoming and friendly offering us the use of her kitchen and full access to the contents of her fridge. This is a huge mistake; schoolboy error! She knows we are cyclists; but the glare I get from Sue has me promising not to abuse her trust and scoff the lot.

On the riverside is 'National Park Gallineral' which is probably best described as 'absolutely charming'. Trees seem to have been draped in decorative Spanish moss just for the occasion of Sue's birthday and it almost looks like a film set for 'Rivendell' in 'Lord of the Rings'....

They've really tidied up a bit of nature along the river Fonce and a couple of it's tributaries with rambling brick paths taking you off into what seems like a wilderness set right in the town centre. There's an outdoor pool but we don't feel like swimming as the skies turn grey and sprinkle us with cool rain. It adds a secret garden feel as the locals seek cover and the air develops hints of ozone and loam....

We shelter under a bridge while the river fills up....

Before heading back to town for a pizza dinner followed by huge chocolate ice cream deserts.

All that rain is good for 'Canotaque' or white water rafting, and now we've got all that romantic birthday duty stuff out of the way, we can crack on with what we really came here for! Rio Fonce is grade 3+ which means fun enough, but you (probably) won't die. Since Sue has never done this it's a good place to start and we head down to 'Exploracion Colombia Guides' to book a raft.

The guides are really cool guys who really slow down their instructions so we can follow along. Luckily we saw Ben Hur in Spanish a few days ago so words like 'oar' and 'rowing' are no problem - we got all that from when he was a galley slave. There are four of us in the boat with three guides, so they are really taking their safety seriously and it's all top notch equipment. It's about a half hour drive to the start and maybe an hour and a half in the boat for only US$18, a real bargain....

The river is a blast! All the recent rain sees the river in spate with good size rapids and we slam into them as the boat bucks and rolls. You have to work hard to drag the boat through to calmer water and it's a real laugh. At one point the guides capsize the boat and tip us into the drink so we can practice a rescue by tipping the raft right-side and hauling each other aboard. Away from roads and buildings on the flatter sections you have time to lazily watch the world go by and we see eagles perched in high trees watching us with glassy-eyed stares.

It's such a good day out, and the guides were so reassuring that Sue goes from novice to instant expert and wants to take on Rio Suarez - a grade 5+ monster! Grade 5 means "oh god... oh god we really could die here" - "I know - shut up and paddle you fool!!" etc etc. Well, it's big scary stuff anyway.

But.... You need a group and it's a bit expensive and Rio Suarez is a couple of hours away and my hair might get wet and..... well we change our minds - all that talk of death consequences for failure and stuff.... so we decide to abseil down an 80 metre waterfall instead.

Next day, same team, but no van. So the guides flag down a taxi and load ropes and harnesses into the boot. No worries.

It's a bit of a hike to the river through beautiful countryside and you can really see the valley that San Gil nestles within....

We edge along a dirt track and suddenly you can hear a quiet roaring sound that gets louder with every step. Suddenly we're on a ledge and the river is passing serenely by our side, blissfully unaware that it is about to make a brief, failed attempt at flight before swashing down onto jacked rocks below....

That "What the Hell was I thinking...." moment....

Hearts beating, hearts in mouths; hearts beating in mouths.... and over the edge....

Bravely I send Sue first.... just so I can keep an eye on her you understand....

There are two drops and the first one is handled OK. The second one is right through the heart of all that heavily plunging water. We rope up again and step off backwards into a void trusting to nothing but the ropes and the guide's expertise.

Down a bit.... down a bit....

and SLAAAAM!!

The water hits you full in the face and smashes against your chest ripping the breath away. It's freezing cold and massively heavy and the rope gives a bit under the new strain. Hit the brakes and bounce on this gently stretching piece of string that suddenly looks a lot thinner than the thick rope I started with.

It's 50 more metres down through rushing, thundering water and you try to catch short, panicky breaths of air between gob-fulls of cold spluttery liquid determined to choke you. All the while your ears adjust to the din and you rock and spin on the rope buffeted by violent noise. It's like being assaulted from several different directions at once....

And finally you descend into a calm, chilly pool and swim out past the raging torrent, before looking back at the route you just took....

It's a rapid, crazy, surprisingly draining experience and we trudge down a narrow track back to the road not quite sure what just hit us!

That punch drunk feeling refuses to go away as our guides take us to a cafe for coffee and cakes while we await our return taxi. Am I still groggy or am I really sharing this place with a herd of goats??!?

Baaaaaaahhh cake!!

San Gil is fantastic, Esperanza couldn't have been more friendly. She fed us and invited us to meet family and friends and also to join in with her bible reading and choir circles (maybe a step too far). We over stay once more and "lose" more time to this wonderful country.

Next leg - more climbing, and on towards the central highlands and the capital - Bogota....

Into the Abyss

Sept 25th to 27th

San Gil is a mere 94 kilometers (59 miles) away - child's play.... except that the 'Chicamocha Canyon' lies between us and it. Chicamocha is a beast - a vertically walled, 1500 metre (one mile) chasm in the earth resembling the scar from a mighty axe swung on a godly scale. The road to San Gil drops dramatically from top to bottom and then winds tortuously up the other side.

Initially we climb away from Bucaramanga from around 1100 metres (3650 feet) up to the canyon rim at around 1500 metres (5,000 feet). At this kind of altitude, the temperature has become more comfortable and you can attack the climbs with a bit more energy. That said, we know we have to drop to a more tropical 550m (1800ft) and then climb back out of the abyss. That is a job for the cool of morning so we decide to make it a two day ride; stopping on the canyon floor.

Our first view of the drop before the road loops back on itself and heads off into that cleft....

Watching the suicidal overtaking by coaches and wagons on totally blind bends is sobering and I vow to just ride faster than anything else on the road to stay out of trouble. Annoyingly it starts to pour with rain at this point - ensuring that my brakes are too wet to work and I now have no choice....

So follow 10 miles of continuous downhill through stinging rain. It all gets a bit lively lining up the bends and trying to scrub off speed with waterlogged, useless brakes. The weight of our bags just conspire with gravity to keep on pushing and it's a hair raising descent!

It's all over in a blur of speed! Then the gradient shallows and the rock walls rear up around us and we are suddenly close to the bottom....

By chance there is a newly built hotel just before the bridge that crosses the Chicamocha river and we have dropped 1000m (3300ft) in the blink of an eye. It is noticeably warmer on the canyon floor and we have the treat of an early stop in an air conditioned room for just US$12. In contrast to much of Central America, Colombia has been a pleasant surprise in that there seems to be a certain pride in finishing buildings off. There are far less protruding bits of steel and wire to gouge or incinerate yourself on and some things even get painted. It's funny what you get used to, but that kind of stuff feels like a luxury!

Disappointing as it was to see the canyon under grey skies for the descent, we are fortunate to wake up to clear blue skies for the climb.

Atmospheric tendrils of water vapour rise up from the river as the day begins to heat up and the dawn sun just clips the top of a rock wall two thirds of a mile above us. It's 6am and there is a full moon in the blue sky and it's a perfect day to ride....

A 500 foot long bridge crosses the choppy brown water of the Chicamocha and then the road angles sharply upwards. The canyon rim above us on this side is at 1850m (6,200ft) and it's gonna be a long haul. Here the canyon runs North-South and we climb the eastern wall - meaning we are going to be in deep shadow until we crawl out into the sunlight at the top....

This is great news as it's pretty hot in direct sunlight. It also creates some dramatic lighting that changes throughout the climb - this is shaping up to be a good day!

Again it's a bizarre combination of hardy cactus more suited to the long, parched dry season happily growing alongside large-leaf plants suited to a seasonal rain forest. Each type of vegetation represents the extremes of Colombia's annual cycle.

I love a proper climb! None of that wishy-washy, indecisive undulation rubbish. If you're going to climb, you just want to go up! I hate all that up-a-bit, down-a-bit messing around. Chicamocha is a proper climb, complete with 'high penalty for failure' drops off the edge over a (very) low wall....

Contrary to the insane overtaking we saw on the descent, the climb is treated with respect and trucks and cars for once, give us, and each other a bit of space.

We chug away - bottom gear grinding and the river falls away turning from a wide torrent into a distant trickle....

Higher still and the road starts to look like a narrow track and we look down on the clouds....

21 kilometers (13 miles) later and 1400m (4600ft) higher we finally drag ourselves from this deep rift in the land. Sue seems rather pleased with herself....

And why not - you can just make out 'Pescadero' village where we overnighted waaaaay down below her arm and we are even looking down on the five foot wing span of black vultures....

The gradient evens out a little and you can feel the change as different leg muscles begin to get used. It's been a reasonably tough climb, but just jaw droppingly spectacular. That changes as we round a corner and it's suddenly all gone a bit 'Disney Does Nature' as we hit the entrance to Chicamocha National Park....

We stop in the car park for a water break and a sandwich. Locals stepping off the gondola that rises in smooth mechanical luxury up from the valley floor stare at us like we just landed from Mars, but in keeping with most Colombians we have met so far, they are keen to chat and are warm, open and friendly.

Everyone here is either a keen cyclist or knows someone who is - most people cycle for leisure or transport. We play guess the weight of the bike and a couple of the blokes always try and pick mine up - usually without success. People are always cool when you say that you cycled all the way from Canada, but stare in open amazement when you tell them you are going to Bogota next - just 200 miles away.

We think it's all over but there are more climbs to do yet....

And there are other stunning gorges to ride past....

A two day ride turns into three when we see another place to stay right at the top of yet another awesome ravine....

I can't imagine what it would cost to stay overlooking this in Europe, but again we get a private room for what is becoming the standard price in Colombia - US$12. Food in the restaurant next door is more expensive than normal - US$5 for soup and a steak dinner!

It's only 20 miles or so into San Gil, so we break the next day up with a couple of stops. It's great that you can even think to stop and look at stuff on the way. In the torrid lowlands, we were always clock watching and fearing to delay as the temperatures soared. Altitude has it's benefits. First stop is at the 'quaint' little colonial village of Curiti where we haul our bikes into the back room of a restaurant for some lunch....

The second is at 'Pozol Azul', a lovely series of babbling water falls for coffee....

The ride from Bucaramanga to San Gil must go down as one of the more spectacular rides we have done, probably since Guatemala..... well, maybe with the exception of the tougher crossing of the Continental divide in Panama. We are starting to feel that we are getting to the Andes proper now and this is just a taste of what's to come....

Can't wait!

An Aborted Attempt at Flight

Sept 16 to 24th

Bucaramanga is supposed to be a great city - the incredibly friendly locals, the bustling street markets, the night life....

Wouldn't know.... I just spent five days in bed groaning with liquid insides.

The only thing I saw.... apart from the bathroom (which is not a nice photo for the blog) is this view from my window....

South America is not being kind to me so far. Contrast 2 bouts of illness and three punctures in just three weeks on this trip with zero illnesses and zero punctures in six months on my last trip. I must have offended the cycle gods somehow, but I know not what I have done. I resolve to clean my bike... grease some bearings, lubricate all cables and sprinkle copious amounts of holy water on my tyres.... if only I could just stop running to the bathroom for long enough.

Time is awasting and after five days staring at the walls, I am strong enough to ride again.

We still haven't managed to get the hang of all this Spanish signage as we head out on the motorway....

The lost days are a real shame as we had arranged to meet two couples from the Stahlratte crew for a para-gliding course on the outskirts of Bucaramanga. They are travelling much more sensibly than us using the internal combustion engine and so, arrived days in advance of us. After my malingering they are now almost finished. Only the legendary inefficiency of South American countries and a badly organised course has delayed them sufficiently for us to meet them at all!

The paragliding school is located at the top of a steep climb.... obviously! You need a steep sided hill to get airborne, otherwise the whole thing just becomes some silly running around with a big kite. I climb the hill on weak rubbery legs, but the views back over the city are well worth the effort....

As we near the summit we can see distant paragliding wings in the air. A couple of soaring birds seem to confer and debate over clumsy human efforts to ride the airways that they master so effortlessly....

By the time we finally arrive Robert, Madeline and Mark have over 20 flights under their belts and are really getting the hang of the tricky launches and landings. They are becoming expert flyers and are close to qualifying. Robert might have been better taking a basic course in knots though....

Watching them inflate these big wings and launch themselves towards the sheer edge is stirring stuff....

Legs pumping the colourful sails bulge and inflate, then begin to gain loft; suddenly they are running on air as they float and then soar off the ground with the stunning cityscape as a backdrop....

We sign up for a tandem flight to whet our appetite before taking the course and watch the experts until late in the day....

The school has accommodation right by the launch zone and it's a perfect place to hang out and catch up with friends. It's still very much the rainy season in Colombia but it's warm enough to hang out on the balcony. The evenings sound slick with the fizz of water on leaves.

All that rain makes the ground heavy with mud and a beer and food run in Mark's car turns into a fiasco when the car bogs down. Luckily, with extra muscle power on hand, we manage to push the car clear, but Sue needs to make a note not to stand behind spinning wheels....

Unfortunately we do quite a lot of hanging about.... Inexplicably it takes two days to get our tandem flights as instructors promise to arrive at 9am which in Colombia translates to 1pm and there is no chance to get our flights in.

Sue kills time in 'The Nest'....

While I check out the local wildlife. A two inch deadly looking waspy-anty thing that apparently packs a mean punch with that nasty stinger....

Even worse is this viper that hides in the grass. We only spot it when we see the resident cat stalking and stamping with it foreleg trying to draw it out. Brave cat - there is only one winner in that fight. He's coiled, agitated - ready to strike and does so as we crowd round to look. Fortunately no-one gets bitten....

Moving onto safer pursuits, Sue finally does get airborne....

When in South America you have to lose that western mania for efficient organisation and time keeping. These are just false expectations and lead to increases in stress levels. Nah... you just have to chillax and roll with that whole 'mañana' thing. Things are definitely done differently here.... I get that. but here it's taken to the extreme!

The course should include transportation - a small matter of getting yourself and a now useless wing thing back up that big hill after landing. Sadly the van has not been purchased yet and the guys are hitching rides with locals or taking taxis which can waste a couple of hours a day. On one of the days, only a single instructor turns up and he mans the landing site, meaning there is no-one at the top to check equipment before launch. Inexperienced students are forced to check each other's safety harnesses and gear. Given that a rooky crashed into a tree the previous day it would have been nice for some extra tuition and reassurance before his next flight!!

Sadly I cannot recommend the school - there are just too many safety concerns and the lack of organisation was taking it's toll on the guys who were promised a 10 day course which was now running up to three weeks due to delays. My tandem pilot was taking a phone call during my launch and only noticed my harness was not attached properly when I asked him to check it. He was clipping me in and preparing to launch at the time!!

Shame 'cos the flight was awesome and I cannot think of a better location to fly....

It's a local beauty spot attracting loads of Colombians to enjoy the view....

At night, it really really takes your breath away....

It was great catching up with the guys from the boat, but I think we will leave the para-gliding for somewhere else. Tomorrow we head on to San Gil - another extreme sports destination and maybe we can find some thing dangerous to do there....

Of Cattle, Cargo and Climbs

September 5th to 16th

Teganga is a strange mix. It used to be a tiny fishing village until it was discovered and the hoteliers and restaurateurs moved in en masse. Now it is an odd mix of gringo hostels, scuba diving schools, traditional fishing and rubble strewn street. The whole thing is surrounded by crumpled, emerald green mountains and the beautiful bay is dotted with tiny boats. Picture perfect....

We manage to secure an air conditioned apartment for a steal at US$18 and meet up with our Stahlratte shipmates to sink a couple of beers.

We finally leave after 4 days and hit the road. It's 565kms (350 miles) to our next stop, 'Bucaramanga' and the going is flat for the majority. We do have to backtrack and re-run the gauntlet of Santa Marta traffic first though, and inevitably we get lost. Following an early, 6am start it's a little frustrating to lose time, and the day heats up savagely. After an hour lost battling insane driving and slowly going mad to the sound of constantly blaring horns we finally emerge onto the right road.

Accommodation is once again scarce. We were lead to expect rooms at petrol stations every few kilometers, but we saw just two places in 300kms between Cartegena and Teganga. The road to Bucaramange begins in similar fashion, so after just 60kms in nearly six hours when we do finally spot something, the temptation to stop proves too strong. A bird in the hand and all that.... and risking another 60kms in this heat to find something else would be crazy.

The 'hotel' is a trucker's stop with a huge cleared patch of dirt for the 24 wheelers and there is a restaurant attached. It's an absolute bargain at $12 for a western standard motel room with air conditioning. The restaurant is similarly good value at $4 for a two course soup and steak dinner. Cyclista heaven!

The ride is strangely dull - flat pasture land with cattle grazing for mile after mile. You could be forgiven for thinking you were back in England such is the lack of anything 'tropical'. Once this whole area would have been rain forest, but it has all been cleared for Colombia's huge dairy and beef industries....

We do see one 'island' of trees with a family of howler monkeys and a couple of blue gold macaws but otherwise the only thing tropical is the heat. Once again we slip into the routine of dawn starts and midday finishes.

Once we are a couple of hours drive out from the ports of Baranquila and Santa Marta we do begin to encounter Colombia's fabled oversupply of accommodation and the number of truck-stop hotels multiplies. Unfortunately so does the volume of traffic. This is the main route between those entry ports, and Colombia's capital 'Bogota' and the sheer amount of building supplies and consumer products on-route hints at a different Colombia beyond these cattle ranches.

We are yet to see it and the days merge into endless miles of the same; occasionally broken up by the geometric regularity of the palm oil plantations. Mercifully there is a screen of trees along the road side which shields us from the intense heat of the sun...

The only other distractions are the frequent toll booths. Travel is expensive with petrol close to US$4 a gallon and toll prices high. Costs are in COP (Colombian Pesos at around 1800 to the dollar)....

Motorbikes and cycles pass through on their own lane, unmolested and uncharged.

In common with the ride along the coast, much of the lower lying land is waterlogged from tropical storms and heavy afternoon showers. The same musical accompaniment of a frog's chorus follows us for hundreds of mile inland....

Huge dragonflies zig and zag in displays of incredible showmanship. They hover just before your nose, matching pace with our moving bikes before twisting and zipping off at speed. In bright colours of vivid crimson, apricot and cobalt they resemble gaudy bi-planes, dog-fighting in miniature. They are far too slick to catch on the wing and I snoop around their landing zones to capture them in repose....

Another dawn, another cattle ranch swathed in the mists of last night's rain storm....

Another day of that sweltering thin line of grey tarmac vanishing off into the distance....

Bucaramanga is getting closer, but that is the only thing that does seem to change.

Over dinner in one of our regular truck stops we get chatting to a driver delivering a consignment of huge steel pipes for the petroleum industry. He explains about deadlines and distances. It's about a thousand kilometres (625 miles) to Bogota and hauliers are expected to make the journey in 28 hours. It's a tall order when you consider that 600 kilometers are through the mountains and Bogota is 2800 metres above the sea level ports. Many of the hotels charge in four hour blocks - time for drivers to catch a quick nap before racing back along the route. Clearly drained, with red rimmed, tired eyes he explains how drivers try and get ahead of the game on this 400km stretch of flat, straight road. It explains some of the near misses we have had with wagons passing within inches of us at warp speed.

Insane overtaking is the norm and we see several results of when the gamble doesn't pay off.

Patched up wagons get straight back in the game so as not to lose time. We see a coach with it's entire front end missing on one side - still happily carrying passengers. There are several cars crabbing along sideways, their chassis clearly bent with tyres squealing in protest. We are lucky to have just missed this one as the traffic suddenly stops in front of us.....

The sign reads 'No more stars on the road' and ironically there is one right in front of it. Each marks the spot of a fatality and they are a several-times-daily sight. Some have the tiny white outlines of bodies painted inside, representing the number killed and are a grisly reminder.

Mostly we ride under the blazing sun, occasionally we ride in the rain. One massive overnight storms fails to let up with torrential rain and inches of standing water still on the road by morning. Visibility is down to nothing and we lose a day.

Another dawn....

Another cattle ranch....

And finally after Aguachica, we start to climb and the land changes. With 160kms (100 miles) to go we leave the flat pasture behind and the air mercifully cools a degree or two. Now there are bends in the roads and the traffic is forced to slow down around us. No longer are the wagons roaring past us: now they are grinding up the hills as laboriously as us and they give us plenty of room as if their straining engines makes them appreciate our efforts. We have finally earned our place on the road!

It has taken us nine days, but at last Bucaramanga is in sight. We also are in the sights of a long lens as I spot a photographer at the road side. He flags us down and shows us credentials - a reporter from 'La Vanguardia'. We conduct an impromptu interview at the roadside and he promises that 'maybe' we'll make the following day's paper.

We only go and make the front page....

Fame at last! In this cycle crazy country, interest is high in all things bici and there is a buzz around the hotel staff as word of our exploits spreads. I have never experienced (very minor) celebrity status before. Sue considers dark glasses and a fake mustache if she is ever to walk the streets anonymously again....

Siege Mentality

October 1st

I don't normally 'skip ahead' or write about places where I am not.... but today's events deserve a bit of a mention...

It's disappointing, but this is the second time, after Honduras I have been just one country away from a military coup!

Picture courtesy of 'Voice Of America News'

http://www.voanews.com/english/news/Ecuador-in-State-of-Siege-104156224.html

Today sees Ecuadorian president Rafael Correa hospitalised after being attacked by his own police force!

After Correa threatened to reduce police benefits, the cops promptly turned robbers and make good use of all that (previously 'anti') riot gear that Correa has so generously provided them with.

After seizing control of the main International airport and closing several major highways, police trapped the president in a hospital until the army (still loyal to the president and presumably now looking to increase their benefits package) restored control.

Currently flights are suspended and the border is closed. Several of the people we met aboard Stahlratte are in Ecuador and report tyres burning in the streets, shops being looted and some roads blockaded. A friend (Rachel Pook) reports a local as saying it's a regular occurrence and nothing to worry about....

Kind of puts British Airways strike action following their industrial dispute into context. They definitely do things differently in South America!!

As we are currently in San Gil just north of Bogota and Ecuador is our next destination, we now have an excellent excuse to travel even more slowly and spend a bit more time in Colombia which is turning out to be one of our favourite countries so far....

This does seem to be an isolated incident and hopefully things are calming down a little now.... May you live in interesting times....