Around Nov 25, 2016, Colombia

After over a week or being a highway hero and riding downhill tires on the pavement it was time to hit the dirt. As is, I only had 12 days to reach Cali, leaving no time for some of the more adventurous routes but it's probably a good thing as Deadhorse is overloaded with all my extra stuff, winter gear and even laptop.

The clouds bring out great colors in the endless hills, house after house, pastures and milking stations. But what strikes me as unusual are the dogs. Well fed Colombian pups roaming these dirt roads, not following and not running. Some look at me funny, others ignore me. Some bark and others stop for some play. Who are these dogs and why do they roam the countryside?

I looked at the route I sketched quickly before I left, why do twice the distance and climb over a mountain when the pavement follows the valley? A big rock catches my eye from the distance so I take the long way. 270 degrees around the rock assures me that it is unclimbable but yet there is a jesus on top, they must have flown the statue up there.

the endless hills and pastures of colombia

roads here are surprisingly rough and yet surprisingly rideable

It rains everyday now and at 2800m it can be quite cold. I wait out most of it under a small shrine and wonder about camping. It is all ranch land, cows, potatoes and onions, your best bet is to ask at a house to camp. At the edge of the valley I get a peak into Medellin but the smelly pig farms nearby make sleeping here undesirable.

A steep road goes to the valley bottom and a noisy and dusty bikepath next to the highway leads to Giradota. My plan was to get a cheap room here but the town center is just too busy. After some time in the mountains and the quiet this is too much. I just make a loop and leave in the dark I have not felt so out of place and scared for a while.

I asked Carlos if I can camp in his yard but he said no, there is a room in the house. Over coca cola we spoke Spanish and a little bit of English. He rents out his land for farming and has a small plant for making soil fertilizer from the more fertile land of Cali. His son had ridden a motorbike from here to Argentina.
"It's beautiful down there" he said.

In the morning I continued onto the misty climb out of the valley. Overloaded horses going down with the sugar cane payload and the constant hacking and slashing from the plantations by the road. A german shepherd walked up with me for half an hour until some other dogs scared him away. People and animals were giving me strange looks, why was this gringo here and not on the highway?

At the top the clouds lifted but the impending rain was always looming over me. With towns never too far apart it's easy to carry little food. Meals are cheap here, a $4 gets you a full meal with soup and lemonade but $2 at a small store nets you all the veggies you need for a soup, plus the store owners might just load you up with other fruits.

Day 4, same as usual dirt, mud and rocks. Loading up on free veggies from farms on the way and one or two stops in towns. Camping is scarce but that just makes it more rewarding. At night the hills light up for miles and the ocassional moto buzzing in the distance overtakes the breeze and the moo-ing of the cows.

The dogs keep on their quest to explore the hills. Alone, with friends and in packs they are the dirt road warriors of Colombia. But the real question is who let them out?

Day 5. Under google maps's guidance I descend down a hill so steep that I walk down few sections. I wave a man down from the field and with some spanish and sign language he says that there is a bridge. Further down it's obvious that I cannot go back up even if I wanted to, a horse looks at me as if he has never seen a bicycle before. After the bridge I spent half an hour lugging the mud bike up to the road.

the look on his face says it all, "you're going the wrong way!"

Instead of riding it, I push to the nearest house. The chain and drivetrain are already too worn and rusty and mud might be lethal for them. There I ask if I can clean the bike and we all laugh as I try to pick it up after leaning it on the electric fence.
"I have never met anybody from another country," says the woman and invites me to stay. I get to set first impressions for the rest of the world for this family, bad news. They will think everybody is crazy!

the gang at the ranch, not in photo: 2 dogs, 1 cat, 1 horse, ~7 calves, the chickens, 18 milk cows and undetermined amount of pigs.

Another town, internet, bread butter and cheese at the plaza. The Colombian backroads can sometimes be surprisingly rough but yet no matter where you go or how badass you think you are, chances are one of these large busses has already been there - loaded to the roof.

I find a good spot, past a fence and 500m up the hill but with a great view. When the clouds clear you can see mountains in every direction making you wish you can be there, maybe there you can see the setting sun. Forget flat ground, forget level ground and all the cowshit. If you can sleep on the edge, it's worth it (unless you tend to roll over at night...)

The morning scene at a sleepy town. My question about drinking water is answered by leading me to the fridge and plastic bottles of water. I still keep that 6L plastic bag I had to buy to remind me and continue on.

It was a brake burning, hand numbing descend. Far from smooth the road bounced up and down. I passed a heavy loaded ricketry pickup filled with sacs of coffee.

At the bottom my request for water is a shaking head and a water bottle. I fill muddy water from the river and while wondering if I should filter it the pickup pulls up. Hm. Yeah. Why not. It's all paved to Aguadas anyway and any town with "agua" in its name should have drinking water! I throw coffee beans at unsuspecting dogs on the way up it's payback time for all that barking.

Pacora. Day um, not sure. Even if I wanted to, I could not go up some of the streets, freshly slick from the rain. I don't think people drive them either.

The last two months before Colombia have been different. The bushwack to Kemano, The Canol trail, The Mackenzie river and paddling around The Darien gap. How could I possibly beat that. But in its own, subtle way the Colombian backcountry has been just what I needed. Beautiful, interesting but sadly a little too easy.

Right before I got to Colombia I was invited to speak at a travel festival in Dubai, I figured it would be a good thing to see the middle east. Things were finally falling in place and I had the tickets. The final stretch into the valley of Cali was flat and after a long time I really appreciated the tarmac. Tractor packs and truck trains ran along the endless cane fields. Crazy eyed goats snuck out of pastures and the mountains stood tall with the promise of adventure.

Half of the day of the flight was spent fixing flats. In the heat the self adhersive patchkits did not hold, i made the finishline by pumping up every few kilometers and got to meet a friend from france.

There was a little problem. Gabor who had borrowed my packraft was running a little late. I had planned to take the raft to Dubai for some floating in the Indian Ocean but that may not happen.
At the check in counter we ask about the baggage deadline.
25 minutes left, they are still on the bus. No way this was happening, I began thinking about other options...

The bus will drop them at the junction and there is a taxi waiting.
"My friend has yellow shirt and shorts he will wait at the departures drop off"
"Can he take off his shirt so its easy to see?"
3 minutes before the deadline my friend comes in running, Rubber Duckie is going to Dubai!