Columbia

Quito treated us very well with some lovely old buildings and grand churches, all in the old town, even if one of the churches was a bit obscene with it’s seven tons of gold leaf work inside. Being a Sunday we could only see through the front door. We spent a full day in the old town as well as the biggest artisan market, much to Annette’s joy.


With the bike having had a blood transfusion at KTM Ecuador and a general check over it was time to make our way to Colombia, but not before a visit to the equator line. Well its not really the true equator but it is the true equator for the sun, and very accurate it is too. Having been worked out by the ancients many thousands of years ago. Amazing what you can do with some hills, a stick and a lot of time to watch the sun and moon’s movements, for a whole year. This is my first time in the northern hemisphere so everything should be down hill from here, so to speak.

While we were there, two other bikers pulled in on their way south. One from the States and one from Belgium. Speaking English again was a bit of a treat not to be missed and so we all rabbited on for a while longer before realising we had to move on.

That night we stayed in the border town of Tulcan . A typical grotty border town of not much and our hotel was one of those comfort hotels for wayward locals, so not much sleep was had, with people coming at all hours and arguing about the price in the early hours of the morning. So we were not that quiet when leaving the next morning. It probably wasn’t even noticed by the other guests, as South Americans live amongst noise as the norm.

Once at the border crossing it was the usual paperwork, but with a slight difference. Into migration for the exit stamp from Ecuador and all was going ok until one of the border officials had a stand up argument with his superior officer. Being Latino it became real heated. Stand up and in each others face, arms flying, all on. To make matters worse their work mates all started laughing. Then the back room officials all come in to see what is up. Soon they see the locals waiting in line all laughing, all this time the two guys are still at it. Then in comes the Big Cheese with all the shoulder stripes. He looks at the locals then spies me standing in line. Oops this is not a good look in front of a gringo and an order is given. One solder goes over and gets the young guy in a head lock and three soldiers proceed to march him out of the room. Big Cheese gives me a quick smile, leaves and its back to work a usual. That’s entertainment.

Next it was into Colombia. No problem there. Stamps on passport and you’re in. Customs for the bike, now that’s a problem. They were only processing one at a time, so I ended up waiting for an hour to get my turn. Then it was simple paperwork, the dizzy girls doing the job were too busy on their cell phones and wandering round the office trying to look good. To finish off when the office jock came out to check the chassis number he was convinced that there should be a stamp into the metal of the frame somewhere. KTM use a sticker stuck onto the frame for that purpose. No, not good enough, there has to be a stamp. Maybe its under the sticker, so he tries to peal it off. This cooked my lid. “Listen chappy, touch that and your day will go down hill fast. Just stop right there and I will show you what is what.” With that I got out the owner’s manual and took it to his superior to prove my case. A phone call to his boss and all is ok. Next he wanted the engine number off the bike. Try as he might, he couldn’t get his sticky tape to stick over the number to get an imprint. They gave up and signed the papers. After two hours we were on our way.

Next official thing was SOAT insurance, which is compulsory in Colombia. For this we had to stop in the first town and purchase. Needless to say it was another official time wasting exercise. Two hours later we had our piece of paper and could now proceed past go. For all of that, the people are friendly and the countryside magic. Very green and clean Magnificent hills and valleys, surrounded by volcanos and covered in fruits and livestock. Many cattle farms in this area with Brahman cattle being the main.

We spent one night in Pasto and are currently in Popayan for a couple of days. A lovely town that is a UNESSCO heritage town, as it is the only one left in Colombia that has not been modified since the day it was founded. The odd earthquake has done damage but all has been restored to original condition. It is known as the White City of Colombia. Very hard to walk around here without your sunnies on when the sun is out.
 Our hotel is over two centuries old in a converted hacienda so is shady and cool, just a delight.

Pasto to Popayan was interesting. Moving from high mountains through to hot dry valleys and back into lush mountains again all on twisty switchbacks, some of the best riding since riding the Cusco to Nasca road in Peru. But what we did have in Colombia that we didn’t in Peru was soldiers, and lots of them, all fully tooled up with the latest of shooters, some in full combat gear. Now we felt like we were adventure riding, none of this prissy Ruta 40 stuff.

Every tunnel and major bridge had armed guards, as well as check points in the middle of nowhere. All nice guys and only wanting to know where we were going and coming from. Turns out that this south west area is still active, although suppressed at the moment, for guerrilla activity, hence the protection of major highway installations.

Tomorrow we leave to taste the delights of the coffee growing region of Colombia.