Pedaling Panther : EQUADOR & COLOMBIA

My decision of what to do after arriving in Panama city was a difficult one. I was at a crossroads and had had a mini dilemma in my head for months. On the one hand I massively wanted to continue to Colombia and cycle all the way to the southern tip of the continent, the bottom of the world and the worlds southern most city, Ushuaia. I had come a long way and it would feel like a job half done to quit now. Crossing over the Panama canal to reach Panama city and the end of the road for North America had felt incredible, I could only imagine the sensation of reaching the tip of South America where the longest road in the world, the Pan-American highway, stopped and all that lay beneath was the Ocean to Antarctica. I had done 14000km since leaving Alaska and the same distance remained in South America. It is what I had set out to do. On the other hand, South America was a place I had been several times before and I had already cycled solo from Lima to Buenos Aires and on a purple tandem from Belem, Brazil, through the Guineas and Venezuela. I was itching to take the path less travelled and explore new raw, exciting and wild place and push my limits. In particular, Central Asia, Mongolia and Pakistan interested me, as well as cycling the whole of Africa (Cairo to Cape Town) and I came very close to booking a flight out of Panama to somewhere completely different.

The more I did my research though, the more it made rational sense to continue South. Pakistan and Mongolia needed a visa which could only be applied for in the UK, Iran would mean taking a big chance as Brits are not allowed without a guide and I risked arrest and jail if caught and central Asia was heading into winter. South America on the other hand was approaching spring, I had hit the half way mark, Panama city, in perfect time, it had taken just under 4 months and by the time I would land in Cartagena, Colombia it would leave me the same amount of time to get to Ushuaia. It would be a big push considering the mountainous nature of the whole continent but it was achievable. I was due back at the fire station on the 27th December. In the meantime I had applied for a 6 month sabbatical extension from the Fire Brigade. I felt no way near ready to return to a normal life. If I can get the extension and have my cake and eat it, my big plan is to get down to Ushuaia and come home for Christmas (or just after) and then cycle overland to Delhi (hopefully hitting turkey, Georgia, Iran, Central Asia and Pakistan along the way) where the big trip began. This would make 2 big continuous lines around the world, from the top to the bottom (Alaska to Argentina) and west to east (London to Lao) where I broke my foot earlier this year. There’s some good alliteration there and it has a good ring to it! For me that’s cycling the world ticked off and would be enough to call it a day! Big plans, let’s see what happens! In the meantime, I had a flight to Colombia to catch!!!

1st day..leaving Cartagena

Colombia! After being made to waste my money and book a return flight to Panama city to prove I didn’t intent to stay I was finally there. PS I’ve never understood the theory behind that, if I wanted to stay in Colombia I simply wouldn’t get on the plane back to Panama! Anyway, immigration In Colombia greeted me with a big smile, I doubt Colombians get such luck arriving in the UK! I even managed to get my bike on the plane for free by saying it was camping gear and not a bicycle. Here I was, the land of beautiful women, butt and boob jobs, apparently the happiest people in the world, an insanely diverse geography and of the hugely controversial Pablo Escobar’s Cocaine empire. Leaving the airport the first thing that hit me was the intense heat and incredible humidity.
It was gone midnight by the time I reached my accommodation in Cartagena and I was drenched in sweat. Cartagena is a beautiful walled port city dating back to 1533, with lots of nice old colonial buildings. I had been here briefly about 8 years ago as a backpacker and Its the only place in the world anyone has ever pulled a knife on me, though it seemed to have come a long way since then, it still had a dodgy feel at night but the historic centre was now doted with boutique hotels and restaurants. It was also the time and place to get my hammered bike sorted. Absolutely everything I owned was in holes and the bike was no exception, it was completely wrecked. One tyre was the original one I left Delhi with and was worn right through to the puncture protection, my bars were bend from the crash with the cat, brakes none existent, wheel bent from a huge pothole and beyond repair... In fact it would be easier to say everything needed fixing. Anyway, for about 120 dollars it was all done. Pretty reasonable to say the least!

1000 Miles of Mountains - Colombia

Medellin

My first day on the road in South America! What surprised me looking at my map, is that despite having to fly from Panama City to Cartagena (from North America to South) where the Pan-American highway discontinues for a short section replaced by the Darien Gap, is that Cartagena is significantly more north than Panama city. It was definitely no short cut! The new continent was dramatically different from the North American plate I had left. The Bears and Moose of Alaska were long gone and within 24 hours I had seen a monkey, Iguana, 2 Parrots and a dead Snake. Leaving Cartagena the road passed small villages made from mud huts and at times hugged the coastline. It began quite flat, though that did not last long! After passing through the city of Monteria, the mountains began. The road twisted and climbed up and down until reaching a small plateau at over 2000 metres before dropping down into the valley in which the city of Medellin lies, creeping up the mountainside in all directions with shanty towns on the outskirts and impressive shiny skyscrapers in the centre. Colombia’s second largest city (2.5 Million) is its most sexy, unlike its big brother, Bogota, it is the only city to have an underground, well sky train, and is dotted with glitzy apartment buildings, bars and restaurant and an epidemic of extremely good looking women. They were everywhere and it was becoming painful to look at, it was a good job I was no longer wearing my tight fitting cycle shorts.

I’m not a big fan of tours but I was told whilst in Medellin I must go on the Pablo Escobar tour, so I did. This stated with a jeep ride to the remains of Pablo’s 2nd biggest house (he had 600) about an hour an a half outside Medellin. The guide, who looked mental and was clearly a coke addict himself explained that Pablo Escobar started life illegally selling cigarettes and alcohol before becoming the biggest drug baron in history. At the time his net worth made him the 7th richest man in the world, though the people conducting the survey were unaware he was earning 60 million dollars a day from selling coke, yes 60 million a day! There was so much cash he spent 20k dollars a month on elastic bands. Apparently his biggest mistake came when he decided to run for presidency. At this time he was not known to be a criminal or drug dealer, though when the opposition party accused Pablo of this, his response was, “ let’s see what happens in the next 24 hours”. The next day, whilst making a speech the opposition leader was shot dead. Needless to say it was obvious who was behind it. This led to the demise of Pablo Escobar. At first he was sentenced to a prison sentence, his response was to build his own prison, a luxurious house complete with a night club, from which he ran his cocaine business.

Former house of Escobar (bombed by the Goverment)

Following his release from luxury and with the FBI and Colombian government wanting him dead, he began to behave very erratically, planting bombs throughout the city and offering a gun and 2000 dollars to anyone who shot a copper. Colombian people were terrified and afraid to leave there homes. Pablo died in 1993 after breaking his own rule and phoning his family who were hiding in Europe. This enabled the police to locate his whereabouts and he was, according to the record books, killed by police, however it is supposedly a known fact he put the gun In his ear to shoot himself knowing his impending fate. A mixture of celebration and tears followed on the streets of Medellin. I had always thought he had been seen as a hero though it appeared more hated than loved him for the amount of terror, fear and murder he had caused. Medellin at that time was the most dangerous city in the world, tourism in Colombia has since risen from 5000 to 5 million tourists per year.

The house we visited was owned by the senior bodyguard of Pablo’s second ring of protection. Whilst most of Pablo’s men were either imprisoned or killed, they could no prove this man was guilty and he proved to the government that he had nowhere else to live, entitling him to the former house of Pablo. He seemed such a kind placid man, it was amazing to think he had killed many people in his life. The tour finished with a game of paintball in Pablos house (I persume the tour company pay Pablos bodyguard for the privaledge which keeps him sweet) and a trip to a huge rock, a very huge rock -pic below. Other tours available in the area include the Cannabis tour and tour to make your own Cocaine in the jungle, really! The latter may have helped me get over those mountains though I didn't put my name down for that one!

Pablos Bodyguard

After a couple of late nights out I left Medellin feeling very worse for wear. Trying to mix boozing and cycling continents is not a good idea! As with most cities in the Andes mountains, you climb and drop into them and consequently have a steep climb getting out, Medellin was no exception. Climbing with a killer hangover and 3 hours sleep was not ideal, but was a very effective way of sweating out the toxins. As I climbed the mountain I saw an older guy on a road bike behind me, determined not to let him overtake me I moved up a gear and accelerated up the mountain, stopping for lunch just before the top of the pass. Despite the hangover it was a great day in which the Colombian people showed huge hospitality and kindness. Firstly, I chatted with a bloke on a motorbike whilst eating my lunch in a cheap roadside cafeteria, he was on his way to visit his parents and left before I had finished my meal. On going to pay the lady told me he had paid for my meal! Next, the bloke on the race bike caught up with me whilst eating my grub and stopped to have a nice chat and wished me the best. And finally, later that day on a coffee/cake stop to help recharge my alcohol abused batteries , the boss of the restaurant (who was a keen motorcyclist) wouldn’t allow me to pay either! In fact, everyone had been very welcoming, the Colombians are an extremely patriotic nation and cycling seemed to be the latest buzz with one of there riders doing well in this years Vuelta a Espana bicycle race. People would often shout, "FROOM!" to me, from their cars.....I suppose we are both white and ride bicycles. To me it was on par with shouting, "Tiger Woods!" to a black guy on a golf course, though I admire their passion and it made me smile.

The mountainous roads took me first to the gorgeous town of Salento, which is surrounded by lush coffee plantations and then downhill and south west towards the city of Cali, where Salsa dancing was found. I admittedly will never be the worlds best dancer. These Latin people have hips and there’s something in the blood. I’d rather Sit and watch than be that cringe worthy ginger gringo stumbling around the salsa hall with 2 left feet. So that’s what I did, a trip to the most famous Salsa Club in Cali. I had a few beers there with an Irish guy I met in the hostel and we decided to walk back at around 1am when the club closed, it was a short walk back of around 5 blocks. Colombia is one of those places that changes dramatically at night time. When the shop shutters are pulled down at sunset a place can change from being perfectly safe to a no-go area, and walking back to the hostel felt that way. We were about half way back when out the corner of my eye I saw a very scruffy man power marching erratically behind me. I can only describe him as an extremely intimidating scary looking tramp intoxicated with drugs. My concerns were such that I darted out of the way and ran into the middle of the main road as he approached. The Irish guy (Patrick), who had drank considerably more than me, (as I said, he was Irish) didn’t notice him coming. What happened next is still a bit of a blur to me, but I won’t forget. The tramp grabbed hold of Patrick and put a huge black pirate-style old knife butt up right against his chest. Out of nowhere another man appeared and the next thing I remember was Blood gushing down Patrick’s head whilst one man dragged him down and held him and the other ripped his jeans apart looking for his valuables. I thought he had been stabbed. I’d like to say I was the hero and went to help him, but I wont lie, as I walked over the bloke looked up at me and I just froze not knowing what to do. I felt massively guilty, just standing there watching while this 6 and a half foot lanky Irish guy was being terrorised. I always thought if that sort or thing happened I would run over and kick the tramp in the head, or throw a brick, but I didn’t. I just stood there and shouted at Patrick to give them his money. I guess when shock kicks in you never know how you will react.

The 2 men finally scampered away with Patricks phone. Blood was pouring down his neck and face and his T-shirt had literally changed from white to red. Luckily it was not the knife that had caused the blood, as he had been pulled down to the ground he had obviously smashed his head on the concrete. Despite the enormous quantities of blood, inspecting the injury with the light on my phone it was nowhere near as bad as I thought it might. Head injuries bleed a lot, and once a scab had formed, it quickly stopped. Looking back now, despite being disappointed with myself for being chickens shit, it may have been the best cause of action. This is a country where people kill to steal mobile phones, and had I gone over, he may well have used that knife. A drug induced tramp is probably not that rational, and if its a phone or money they want, its probably best to just give it to them! We got back to the hostel at around 1:30am, as we did someone had arrived late and was just checking in. He looked up at Patrick, a 6.5 foot 35 year old bloke, jeans ripped to shreds, topless, shirt soaked to the core in blood and being used a mop by now and blood trickling down his face and round his neck and body. A real life horror movie. I chuckled to myself when I saw his reaction, it was if to say, “Where the F have I just arrived to!!!!”. The police were called, but were barely interested, I guess this is pretty routine stuff for them here in Cali, which not surprisingly is consistently ranked in the top 10 of the worlds most dangerous cities. I have been involved in 2 knife incidents in my life, both in Colombia, and both in the early hours of the morning, I think that’s more than coincidental!

Back on the bike I headed south west towards the beautiful white painted city of Popayan and onto Pasto, Colombians second highest city and only about 50 miles from the Ecuadorian border. This stretch of road is known to be a particularly dangerous one with a high risk of high jacking, though I didn’t have any problems. It was remarkable to see the difference between affluent city life and how basic and poor people lived in rural areas along this road. Pasto was a simple but nice mountain city with an outdoor market and cool temperatures, it seemed to be in a bit of a time warp and I can’t imagine it looked any different 30 years ago. Colombian cities have very different flavours, its hard to believe a mountain city like Pasto is in the same country as the more glamorous Medellin or tropical Cartagena. Leaving Pasto, my final day in Colombia took me to the border town of Ipiales, though before crossing the border I was told I must visit the Cathedral 5 miles away at Las Lajas. Unfortunately this was at the bottom of a valley...meaning I was going to have to climb back up, it was only a 10 mile detour, but after a day in the saddle on mountain roads it felt triple that! Built on a bridge spanning the valley, as Cathedral’s go it was in the 1st division and worth the detour. To get down to it you had to walk the last 200 metres down a steep cobble stone path. My cycle shoes where so worn the indented metal cleat now protruded from the base of my shoe. I looked like Bamby on ice trying to walk back up the hill until an old over weight bloke grabbed my bike from me and kindly started pushing it. I thought he was going to have a heart attack his breathing was so heavy, though he made it up alive.

Pasto

View from the Rock

Beautiful Cathedral at Las Lajas

Cui!!!!!!!! - Ipiales, border town in Colombia a stones throw from Ecuador

All that was left that day was to cross the border. I felt as though I had arrived already when I saw a few restaurants cooking cui (Guiney pigs - the name “Cui” is a nickname taken from the sound they make) on huge bbqs before I had even crossed the border. These giant rats are traditional food from Ecuador and look disgusting. Its nice to share cuisine with your neighbours.... but I don’t know what the Colombians were thinking with this one!! Anyway, an hour or so later I crossed the border just before sunset, as I turned back to look at Colombia a rainbow has appeared. A 1000 miles of mountains and an incredible country were over, thank you Colombia.

ECUADOR.......

If the mountains in Colombia were brutal, in ECUADOR they were about to get Savage. No sooner had my passport been stamped the road climbed like a roller coaster being winched into the sky. As the sun set I arrived at the town of Tulcan, only about 5 miles into Ecuador and at a dizzyingly high height of 2980 metres. It immediately felt different to Colombia, from the food to the clothes people wore. It felt good to be there...the tiny gem of a country named after the equator itself, home of the Galapagos (made famous by Charles Darwin), and probably the only country in the world you can have breakfast on the beach, lunch in the Andes mountains and dinner in the Amazon Rainforest! Though unfortunately not all of those claims to fame maybe true for much longer....apparently Ecuador has been in big financial trouble since the former president decided to ditch there currency in favour of the US dollar. To keep them afloat they took a huge loan from China, the penalty for not paying back the loan on time.....Ecuador will have to forfeit the Galapagos Island! The country that eats everything owning the Galapagos would surely be a disaster, apparently Chinese fishermen have already been caught catching endangered sharks off the island!

The road to the capital, Quito (South Americas second highest capital at 2800 metres) was gruelling. I would climb the most ridiculous of gradients in thin air for hours.... and just as I thought I’d gained all the altitude needed....the road was descend spiralling downhill for 30 miles losing all that altitude! 5 hours of climbing were deleted in less than an hour and the process would start all over again! The difference in temperature from the top to the bottom of the descent’s was massive. It was pretty annoying to say the least! And just in case you think I’m exaggerating how steep the roads were, I have a new top speed.... 49.6 MPh!!! (80 KHPH)

Ps Yes I do realise going for a downhill speed record on a knackered 15 year old touring bike with no helmet and panniers strapped to the back on South American roads is stupid and dangerous! ...but my only regret was that I kept lifting my head to see how fast I was going, had I known my speedo recorded the “max speed” I would have remained in the tuck position and smashed the 50 MPH barrier! Anyway, the road to Quito was a tease to the bitter last, even when I hit the city limit I had 2 massive hills and a tunnel to deal with....the city is stretched out in a valley and is 50 KM long! Arriving in the old part of the city was spectacular though and worth the hard effort (see pic below).

I spent one night in a hostel and the other with the family of an Ecuadorian girl I used to date in London 5 years ago. I told her I would be arriving in Quito on my bike and she immediately called her family to tell them I would be staying with them...so that’s what I did! Arriving at Stephanie’s house her 21 year old Cousin Andy (Andres) was waiting outside for me.....with a fag in his mouth, cast on his face for a broken nose, earing and tattoos (including the Joker) on his arm....he looked like trouble to say the least! Though I’ve learnt in life you should never judge a book by its cover, and he turned out to be one of the nicest people I’ve met on my trip.
He immediately gave me a beer, showed me the view of Quito from there rooftop. His Grandma, who had a huge zest for life, suggested we should go to visit El Panecillo,a huge angel on a hill occupied by a very sketchy neighbourhood that towers over the city. I had to laugh, the hostel had told me I shouldn’t go there, especially at night, and here I was with Andy and his Grandma, who raced up the hill like she was a formula one driver, what a legend. We then went to a bar to drink local spirits and a huge fried thing drenched in sugar, grandma was leading the way. The next morning she took me to visit the equator, just an hours drive north of Quito, gave me a big hug and I was on my way!

The most direct route to the Peruvian border would have been to remain in the Andes mountains, though I fancied a change from the brutal climbs and headed west for the coast road (known as the Ruta del Sol). Beaches aren't something which springs to mind when I think of Ecuador,so I was keen to see what they were all about. I managed to do an easy 130 mile day, losing 3000 metres of altitude, followed by a hard 125 miler the following day to get from Quito to the tiny fishing village of Puerto Cayo in 2 days. It was the first time I'd seen the Pacific Ocean since Central America, and it was definetly a good pick me up energy wise having the Ocean breeze wafting in my face. The old hotel in Puerto Cayo was full so the owner suggests staying with the Fishermen next door, so I did. Basic, but for 6 dollars there was no complaints! I remained on the Ruta del Sol, (which coincidentally had no sun whatsoever!) via the vibrant town of Montanita and looping all the way back to Ecuador's largest city, Guayaquil. I'd always thought being on the Equator that there were no seasons in Ecuador, though apparently its been overcast on the coast for weeks which is pretty normal this time of year, it makes for cooler, faster cycling and less skin cancer anyway!

Arriving at the Pacific Ocean, Puerto Cayo

The final piece of road to the Peruvian border was in stark contrast to how my journey in Ecuador had began, the tarmac was as flat as a Pancake meandering through Banana Trees before becoming an express lane highway....Peru was visiable on the horizon.

In other parts of the world, Canada had declared a state of national emergency after huge forest fires had burnt uncontrollably thougout the summer in British Colombia, my trip would have been over before it began had I started a couple of months later. Puebla, Mexico, a city I and passed through only a couple of months back has just been hit by a massive earthquake measuring 7.2 on the Richter scale. Finally, the Syrian plastic surgeon I mentioned earlier in my blog had been captured by police attempting to climb a mountain to sneak over the border from Mexico to the US. He texted me out the blue to say he had spent 2 months in a US detention centre but was now free to app!y for asylum, good on him!