Colombia: from the East

First, I’d like to thank Ray for that witty and thoughtful contribution to my bike tour account. While there were no references to cycling, I appreciate that the group chose a physically demanding itinerary instead of sipping mojitos on the beaches of Cartagena. Good on you guys, er, girls?

Escape from Cartagena

After weeks of eating and drinking lavishly with Cait and family during the holidays, I had my doubts about Ryan’s physical ability when the time came to start riding again. But, he was up bright and early on our departure day. The problem was, our exit coincided with a one hour monsoon. So, after waiting for the sun, we said goodbye to our Airbnb and set off along with every city resident trying to get to work. All was going fine until we hit the flooded section. The coffee brown water came up to my hubs and quickly ruined the sense of cleanliness I had been feeling since Panama. Oh well, I thought, this is South America, so I better get used to the grit. And, even though the water is brown, I’m sure it’s relatively clean, right? Wrong. We subsequently rode directly into a bloated rat the size of a small cat, leaving it in our wake as we passed. At least it didn’t get caught up in the gears?

After Cartagena the riding was pleasant and flat. We cruised through friendly towns and catfish eateries. The highlight on this stretch was the wonderfully named town of Mompox. While it sounds like an incurable disease, it’s actually a charming riverside enclave that the rightfully famous Simon Bolivar used to frequent. They are so proud of his visits that they have a plaque commemorating each and every visit. What a rockstar.

When in doubt, take the dirt road

Despite his alleged adventure spirit, Ryan is a conservative rider. Unless there is an exotic surf spot to be charted, he tends to stick to the pavement. He likes his soft mattresses, roadside eateries, and personal safety, I suppose. But once we got into the Northern Andes, he transformed. I like to say he evolved.

It all started with a choice. From the town of San Gil, there were three western routes. Two were known entities and had been documented by other touring cyclists. The third was unknown. When Ryan asked the hotel receptionist about it, her response was alarmist: “oh no, you don’t want to go there, it’s extremely rough and solitary”. Unbeknownst to her, that’s exactly what we were looking for.

The route started off paved and wove down some deep river gorges with zero traffic. Then the pavement disappeared and we didn’t see it from the next three days. In those three days we camped on mountaintops, rode through rivers, and slowly ascended one beautiful mountain pass after another. All while seeing merely a handful of cars. For those readers unfamiliar, this is bike touring bliss.

From then on, Ryan has routed us on back roads whenever possible. Sure, it’s taken us much longer to cross Colombia, but it’s been worth every bumpy kilometer. And thanks to a thriving mountain bike culture, there’s even been good company along the way!

The riders

Colombia has two sports: Fútbol and Ciclismo. Depending on where you are in the country, the order of importance can flip flop. But, in the states of Santander and Boyacá, they are fanatical about all forms of cycling. Not once since we left Rhode Island have we experienced a warm and thriving bike culture like in Colombia. From bike tourist discounts at hotels to Sunday rides with 20 friendly locals, this is cycling Mecca.

Cycling solidarity was on full display in the town of Santa Rosa de Viterbo. At the base of a 750ft climb, we ran into a local lawyer. He was shocked to see a bicycle so laden down with gear. He invited us to breakfast to meet his mountain bike friends. Never turning down an opportunity to eat a second breakfast, Ryan happily consented. At breakfast we met Carlos Marlever. He’s a bit of a local legend and had just finished a high altitude ride to 12,500ft. Over eggs and hot chocolate, he and Ryan discussed gear, routes, and their mutual affection for all things cycling. Then when it came time to depart, Carlos asked if he could try a ride on me. Ryan had been eyeing Carlos’ carbon fiber mountain bike all morning and quickly granted permission. A little too quickly, I’d say. After a little saddle height adjustment, Carlos was off and we were rocketing up the hill! Ryan followed on the mountain bike and seemed to be in wonderment of such a light bicycle. What was proposed as a short ride around the block turned out to Carlos riding me all the way to the summit. Legs shaking, he handed me back off to Ryan with appreciation and a newfound respect for riding a 130lb bike uphill. Ryan and Carlos exchanged bikes, hugs, and then we were off down the hill on onto yet another dirt road. South America is off to one hell of a start.