Hot and getting hotter

From Popayan we decided to give Cali a miss and head for the coffee growing region of Colombia. This meant turning East and moving back into the hills. From the lowlands we passed massive areas of sugar cane before moving into very lush areas of dairy farming in the highlands. But as we moved into the dryer parts to the east we started seeing whole hillsides covered in coffee bushes. All I could think of was who and how many does it take to get all these coffee beans off, as some of this country was straight up and down. It seems that it takes more than a good bean to make a good cup of coffee.

For our nights rest we found a lovely country hostel on the road to Park National Café. The place looked like it had come out of Africa, with outdoor eating and large verandas on our rooms. It had what we needed, and now with this hot climate the necessary swimming pool. What bliss.

The owners were so nice that we had a private tour of their banana and coffee plantation. With more money in coffee the bananas are coming out and this seems to be happening all over this region.

It was a great place to catch up on some wildlife and sitting outside that evening I had my first sighting of bats flying through the trees. Very silent, inky black and fast. Annette is sure they were vampires!!

A lovely English speaking family from Cali filled in all the missing information on Colombia as we ate dinner together that night.

Next day was to Medellin and this involved more twisty mountain roads. Moving from valleys to high mountain passes with mighty drop offs into the abyss, not made too easy when the mountain mist starts rolling in from the valley floor. More army check points, and there are lots of them, but they didn’t bother us in any way, only wanting to know where we were going. It was the small pickups they were searching. I think that in these poorer mountain communities that it is more a recruiting exercise by the army and police than anything else.

Medellin is a big city and somehow we ended up in the motorcycle repair part of the city. Was very interesting talking to other moto riders but the taxi driver when he picked up Annette was worried for us as to him it was a bad part of town. Same thing happened leaving the city the next morning. We were on the motorway north and next thing you’re in a hillside slum. Shit, where did we take the wrong turn? Not a place to stop and ask directions, so it was turn around and get down the hill fast to a clear roadside and stop and ask a fellow moto rider. “Follow me,” and we are soon shown the right route. You needed to be a local to figure it out

This day was going to be a long one in the saddle and already we had had a bad start.

It turned out to be a brilliant days riding, but we could not find anywhere with accommodation until we arrived at Sincelejo 500 kms later.

The town was packed. This is a Monday, not the weekend. What’s on?

As it was the start of bull fighting week we managed, with the help of a local moto rider, to find the last room in the last hotel in town, so you could tell what happened to the room rate. Needs must. The whole town was in celebration mode, loud music, partying, horse riders trotting up and down the main street in their country duds along with the odd slow donkey rider on the side, total madness. At this stage a thought should be spared for the twenty bulls who would meet their end over the next week. I got in early and ordered a steak for dinner.

After a big day and an air conditioning unit in our room sleep was early arriving. Partying outside notwithstanding.

Having ridden a big day previous meant a shorter 200km day to Cartagena where we are now. It needed to be short as it was slow going. This road was a total mess. Humps, hollows, tar snakes everywhere. A road in total need of replacing. Even the army checkpoint soldiers warned us to take extreme care on the thing.

So now we are baking in a hot Caribbean sun with an ever so slight sea breeze at a Cartagena hostel in the old part of the city and the boy from the deep south is melting faster than a double scoop rum and raisin. The old Spanish fort that protected the place from gold hungry pirates is just a few blocks away, so we will wait till it cools before we venture out for a look.

While we are here we will look at the possibility of sailing the bike and ourselves to Panama on a yacht or we may decide to ride back to Bogota and fly. The next blog will tell all.