Badlanders MCC Website

First of all, as this is the first posting for weeks, Merry Christmas and a special thanks to all those friendly Christmas messages. To those who raised a glass to me....I’m truly honoured!

As you know, my journey through Ecuador couldn’t in any way shape or form be described as the best time of my trip. I just wanted to jump on a plane and come home. However, I knew that Colombia offered something better and I haven’t been disappointed. It is also the place where I was to find that magnificent South American hospitality and yet again “humanity in action”. Bearing in mind I had a my rear wheel had a split rim, which had a bodged repair which was some sort of metal clip hooked over either side of the rim....turns out from a local expert that a spoke had broken the rim after my bike had been pulled whilst my bike lock was attached to it... So it looks as if I was lucky that I didn’t lose more than a camera and baseball cap in Ecuador!! However it also meant that I only had a front brake, which was not going to be too useful on the downhill bits

The trip from Quito to Ibarra should have been one of the more exciting parts of trip through Ecuador as it is practically downhill all the way, followed by a very steep uphill climb, unfortunately I didn’t get the full joy of the downhill bit and was going about as fast downhill as I was uphill. Interestingly you start to note a distinct change in the living conditions north of Quito, with lots of luxury mansions on the way to the border. When I finally reached the border town of Tulcan, I was determined to get to Colombia, even if it meant cycling through the night. There was a great sense of joy at cycling downhill past hundreds of cars queuing to cross the border. You knew that the drivers were swearing as they saw you pass them, with one or two keen to prevent you passing by drawing as close to the side of the road as they could. I was helped on the route by a cyclist who showed me a short cut on a route that was being re-surfaced. I don’t think he realised that I was carrying a load that wouldn’t mount 2 foot high kerbs, with the result most of my bike was covered in tar deposits.

I left Ecuador and entered Colombia much the same way as I did Bolivia and Peru; very little fuss, and practically no queues despite the fact there were hundreds of cars being checked by police. As I climbed the steep hill into Ipiales, I was joined by a couple of guys who, whilst drunk, were walking faster than I was cycling! Well it was dark, I was tired and the hill was very steep! I got off the bike and we started to talk in my pigeon Spanish and their very slurred Spanish. They kept offering me some of their local hooch and I kept politely declining saying that I needed to get to Pasto. They offered to help push my bike, which I thought would be interesting! And it was! Fernando, thought I’d left a handbrake on as he tried hard to push it uphill before collapsing on top of the bike as I tried to rescue it. “Que peso?”, he asked. I said “solo 75 kilos”, which was 15 kilos lighter than the start of the trip! “Incredible’” was his response. I suppose that that was the defining moment for me. I had to lose all the cold weather gear and other superfluous material, such as a of few books I never read, and was never going to, given the number of miles I need to travel to Cartagena and the limited time I had to get there.

One immediate difference between Colombia and Ecuador was the Christmas decorations I saw as I entered into Colombia. Just about every house in city town or village was decorated in loud, and at times, gaudy Christmas lights. The other difference was the friendliness. You could feel the difference in attitude and I was grateful for it.

As I made my way downhill for Pasto, having checked the metal clip over my split rim (sounds painful, I know) was still holding firm, I was barely five miles into the journey when the front wheel and rear wheel hit a rut at speed which twisted the rim and practically took the tyre off. It was one of those time-to-come-home moments, when within a couple of minutes a guy in a jeep stopped to ask if I was ok. I explained the problem with the bike and Armando who was going to Cali, just over 300km away, said, “no problemo, and something which I took to mean “jump in”. He helped me get the bike and trailer in the back and we were off on the 4 hour journey. It would have been a hilly two or possibly even three day cycling trip in normal circumstances. It was also the city where my friend Eduardo, who I met with his friends in Cusco, was living, for a short while during his Ayurveda lecture tour of South America. It was also his place of birth. Though I’d very much wanted to visit Popoyan, it was likely that I would get a proper repair of the bike in Cali.

Now if someone has sprinkled thieving and angry dust all over Quito, Cali has almost certainly had beauty dust sprinkled over it. I have never seen so many beautiful people in one place. ( I know except for Morpeth Northumberland and the rest of the North East and Edinburgh, Kirkcaldy and the rest of Fife... of course oh and there’s London and East Sussex (have I missed anybody????). It is also famously the world capital of Salsa. Much as I wanted to learn how to Salsa Colombian style, with a broken bike, my job was firstly to find a hotel or hostel and a decent bike shop to get it repaired and pronto! As soon as I arrived I checked into a nice hotel that offered internet, breakfast...oooohhhh.... and the additional facilities of a spa and pool! (You can see I’m getting demob happy!) It was also close to the plush upmarket San Antonia area where Eduardo had his apartment.

I called Eduardo and explained that, incredibly, I’d arrived in Cali, explained the details of the broken bike and that I was in a hotel very close to San Antonio having breakfast. It turns out that his apartment was in a block very close to the hotel. Though he was in the middle of packing his cases in preparation for his flight back to England, he was around at the hotel in seconds and within minutes had my bike on top of a taxi on its way to a bike shop, the “Bike House” which was within a few metres of his apartment. We booked the bike in and he then took me on a tour of a rather nice part of the city and for a bite of lunch, but not before I was introduced to his delightful mother who though didn’t speak English, talked to me for almost half an hour, whilst Eduardo finished some emails. I noted that his mother was originally from Italy and had been an Italian Beauty queen! It was a big family re-union day for him and though I was invited to join them, I politely declined as I felt that this was a day for him to be with his mother and the rest of the family.

We spoke on the phone the next morning and he said that he was going to pop down to the bike shop to see that everything was progressing well. I decided to go and make good use of the facilities (Turkish bath and pool) and said that I would pop around and see him and his mother before he left at lunch-time! Firstly I visited the bike shop where I was delighted to see my bike repaired with new rear wheel, re-spoked etc. I then went around to Eduardo’s apartment. There I found that he had spent the whole morning not simply chivvying the shop, but driving them everywhere to get the necessary parts to repair the bike. If he hadn’t, the guys in the shop reckoned it might be a few weeks until they could get it repaired, what with Christmas and all that!!!!! This had taken all morning, when he had barely 20 minutes left to catch a taxi so that he could make his 2pm flight! Once again...humanity in action! I thanked him for his hospitality and help.

After bidding farewell to Eduardo, his mother and sister, I went back to the hotel, hooked up the trailer and was off north en-route to Bogota. I was pleased to be cycling on the flat again, and in particular for the breeze that was keeping me cool in a scorching 28 degrees. I was also pleased that I had decent roads to cycle on and whilst I was hoping that day to be reaching Tulua, given that it was after 2pm when I left I knew that’d be unlikely. I made good time into Buga, where I decided to stop for the night, whilst it was still light. The Valle de Cauca is pleasant and as it says... a valley! I can tell you I was enjoying a much easier cycle through the bottom rather than over the hills and mountains on either side. I wanted an early night so that I could try and get to Armenia in one day the next day and Buga seemed the best place to stop. I stayed the night in a little hotel in Buga. However, I wandered to this rather grand hotel called the Hotel Guadalajarra for something to eat and witnessed one of the more bizarre moments of my trip. As I sat at the L shaped pool beside the hotel having dinner and enjoying a beer, I was mesmerised by this bird. It looked like a Azarra’s spinetail (hope you’re impressed Trevor!!!), ....but it could have been a crow; and was doing circuits of the pool flying within a few inches of the surface. It kept this up for 40 minutes before stopping for a rest. And you’ll recall my night with the frog in my room......well this time I shared the room with a couple of geckos!

Anyway, I pondered on the fact that I had no video evidence of the bird last night and visited the large Carrefour store in Buga in the morning, having decided to give in and buy a camera to replace my trusty and not very old, but stolen, Samsung. I managed to find another Samsung, which though not having the zoom and wide angled capability, would do for a record of some of the nice places I was travelling through.

It was a full day of cycling to Armenia and for the first time I was forced to cross some of the hills, albeit smallish hills compared to the cordillera that stretched for miles in front of me, which I still had to face!

I arrived in Armenia at about 5pm after 8 hours of cycling. I tried a rather run down hostel which wanted £5, but offered no breakfast. I decided to cycle a bit further and found the cafe Real Hotel. At £16 for a room, which seemed extravagant I know, I got a breakfast and access to a spa pool and sauna. Now I really am getting demob happy!

Anyway, will sign out for now and will write about the mammoth trip to Bogota, and the steepest climb of the trip so far, the dreaded 3300 La Linea from Armenia to Ibaque. The Colombians reckon this gets steeper and steeper until you are actually upside down! Impossible, I know, but when you hear about my struggle up the mountain and through the clouds, you will quickly find out that this was the most inhuman of climbs! Trucks barely managed 5mph and some just got stuck on the corners bringing traffic to a standstill!