Colombia, que chimba!

"Colombia is like someone has taken the beautiful rolling English hills, bunched them up into mountains and sprinkled dancing chicas all over them."

Dave Bailey 2014

After the long bus ride from Lima, we crossed the border into Ipiales for our final set of adventures. Adjusting to the heat and higher altitude we rolled out from Ipiales, transfixed by the surrounding lush green.
What ensued was a sudden unforgiving snap back to reality. Our last 5 days had been at sea level, on flat roads and with a slight tail wind. Here at the border we were 2900m up and immediately flew downhill. All the memories of difficult cycling disappeared with the wind through our back wheels and the landscape unfolded into our first of many beautiful valleys. If only it could had lasted.

The first valley down from Ipiales. A sign of things to come

Instead, we engineered a commonly used phrase in Colombia, "what goes down must come up." As after the descent we began a 24km, 1500m climb. Starting abruptly and finishing without haste, it was four hours of pedal bashing in significant heat. From our haircuts in Pasto to Popayan and our venue for the Brazil vs Colombia game. Two Brits surrounded by 5000 dancing, cheering Colombians. Que chimba!

No roads on a flat surface, all built into the mountains

A sharp Colombian haircut. Beard trimming included.

The next few days provided some of the most up and down cycling I have ever experienced. Long climbs 8-12km) at least twice a day, sometimes thrice. Every climb just served as a platform to descend into the next valley, down to the next river bed and then up to the next mountain-top village. Each of them had Dave's quote replaying in my head, 'someone has just folded this country up into mountains.’ 'Bastards,' we thought, 'It's completely ridiculous that people even live in this terrain.'

A standard day in the mountains

Both this extreme topography and the degree of peoples' warmth were equally emotive. At first sceptical, 'are they trying to rob/rape/kill us?', but after a few meetings that scepticism was shunned and replaced with a reflection of their warmth, enjoying the interaction with the friendly locals. We grew accustomed to rolling into a plaza and being quickly surrounded. People asking us what we needed and helping us find accomodation and food with no desire for anything themselves, just eager to ask what we thought about the country and for us to spread the news of its quality.
I've heard a few theories for the reasons for this warmth: 1. It was a successful World Cup fro the Colombians; 2. Cycling along with football is the national sport; 3. People are trying to reverse the bad image gained over the last few decades; and my favourite 4. It is just their culture. Whatever the reason, they managed to produce one of the warmest and most welcoming environments I have ever experienced.

The road that just climbs and climbs round the corner

We headed North with a large detour, off the main route to Medellin, hanging to the side of the mountains through the coffee country and beyond into the villages past Manizales. The roads lined with coffee plantations, banana trees and pinapple plants. At this point I started to notice a real change in my ability to keep up with Dave, the first time there had been a real difference in our speed since the depths of knee pain back in Chile. Strangely, sleep became less restful and each day saw my legs produce less power than previously. After 4.5 months, a variant of exhaustion seemed to be catching up with me.

A pinapple plant, who knew it grew so weirdly

The view from Salento, dubbed as one of the best in Colombia

Thankfully we made it from Salento to Medellin but a scheduled 3 day trip took 5 as the World Cup finals and my legs conspired to shorten our days. Unfortunately this also happened to include some of the best terrain and nicest towns we encountered in Colombia, a joy to cycle for Dave. Tired or not, it was undoubtably a great advert for the red spokes cycle tour taking that route.

Coming out of the mountains on the way to La Pintada

Ditto

Medellin gave us our first glimpse of big city Colombia, filled with music, alcohol and never ending dancing, a treat after the exhaustion of the bike. Medellin was also the location of our separation. Dave showed his loyalty to Colombia then took his flight home, and with a week extra, I planned to bomb on to Cartagena and the Caribbean Coast.

Vamos Colombia

What at first seemed just like another 5 days cycling turned into a fearsome battle with the tropical climate and with a continued weakness in my legs. Getting out of bed at 5 so I could miss the midday sun and the 35degree temperatures, I still emptied my blood vessels of fluid onto my skin and would watch my electrolytes drain into my socks. The tiredness did not abate and unfortunately not at one point during those 5 days did my legs feel good or feel that I had any sort of 'form'.
Such was the intense heat and humidity that I spent the 650km to Cartagena drinking water, being red/white from my sunburn/suncream combo and squelching as I walked. Despite my constant sweating and spidery white salt lines on all of my clothes, I still managed to find a few marriage proposals from fathers for their young daughters along the way.
Rolling into Cartagena at midday on the 5th day was a difficult end to the trip. Devastating hot, dehydrated, alone and no arrival band, I wanted to run around and tell everyone I was a champion but everyone just seemed to be busy partying. I took stock of the situation: 6500km cycled, exhausted and sunburnt. I cracked open a nice cold beer, started chatting to a chica and decided, 'if you can't beat them, join them.'

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Kyle

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