Goodbye Venezuela Hello Brazil

I had managed to get myself in quite a state of anxiety about exiting without the correct papers. A number of unpleasant intrigues were going through my mind (not least of which was the chap with his jeans round his ankles).

There was no need to rush as the Customs office didn't open until 8:00 and this was where I would have my trouble if any. I pulled up to the border post and was pointed in the direction of an office. It is a smart new building with Chavez's name all over it. Why they have built such a smart one I don't know as there is no one trying to cross the border and certainly not much commercial traffic.

I was early so I sat in the waiting area as no one was there yet. The cleaning ladies, who had arrived, showed me that Customs was to the left of the entrance and Immigration to the right. The immigration officer turned up and invited me in to sort out my passport (normally you have to go through Customs first). He got straight down it and my exit stamp was in my passport.in no time. I left his office and walked back to the waiting area to see that the Customs guy had still not arrived. I decided to keep walking. I was pretty sure the "Squaddies" at the barrier wouldn't know that I hadn't done the bikes paperwork. I went out to the bike, fired up and headed to the Brazilian border post. How easy was that? You have no idea what a relief that was!

The initial impressions of Brazil were a little disappointing (not that I cared having got through)!I  assumed the rich man of the continent would have a nice post but they don't. I must have been in a Zen like trance because I promptly dropped the bike in front of the border guard. He kindly helped me pick it up and I did my best not to show that I had whacked my shin. To make it seem perfectly normal I got the camera out and took a few pictures.Bloody flag wouldn't play ball.

The Immigration officer spoke excellent English and my passport was validated for 90 days, off to the Customs. There was a small gaggle of guys there. They turned out to be going to Venezuela just to get fuel and return to Brazil with their booty. I am glad they think it is worth it because the lady at Customs, whilst polite, her nickname most definitely wasn't "Spitfire". Once I got to the front I was told I needed photo copies of everything (which I had) except the new piece of paper from Immigration. she pointed to the border town and off I trudged, it was about 36 degrees and I was wearing my bike gear (there was nowhere to leave it whilst I walked in to town. I eventually found the Stationers (for bikers - go in to the main street in town, turn left, go all the way to the end & at the PARE sign turn left and it is just there on your right (a large pencil standing on the pavement). They are cheap (you will need Reals).

Back to see the lady and to cut a long story short; about 2 hours to get my papers. I certainly wasn't going to leave without them again. I managed to exchange my Bolivars for Reals with the money men but they wouldn't take my US Dollars! I only had $10 and $20 bills, they only dealt in $50 & $100 bills. I have no idea why. It wasn't a problem though as the town had an ATM and I got enough Reals for a few days.


It seems to be a rule that the first 10 kms of road, when entering a new country, have to be terrible. Pot holes you could lose a car in and tarmac that had been laid with a spoon. Anyway it soon improved and we shot along to Boa Vista. The scenery wasn't great. I don't know if this was rain forest that has been cleared for grazing or if it has always been as it is.

Boa Vista is a nice mixture, so you can get pretty much what you need, but not so modern you don't feel like you are somewhere off the beaten track. There is very little traffic on the roads and that reminded me of Patagonia - it is a good deal hotter though! The lady in reception at the Ferrari Palace Hotel (£30 a night kids so don't panic) had a fantastic Caribbean accent so I was very surprised when she said she was Brazilian. An early night as I didn't sleep well last night and I have another long day tomorrow. I am very happy to be in Brazil

Venezuela saved the best until last

Another early start but it is no hardship as I like being up early and seeing things in the morning light, also the traffic is less leaving towns. I was never a morning person so I am sure it will wear off.

It was a rather uninspiring ride for the first few hours. It was a bit concerning when I got to a big town and tried to get fuel. Neither or their stations had any. I could make the next town comfortably but it was smaller and would give me a problem if they had none. 

El Calloa did have some but only just! The station was tucked away in the town and took a bit of finding. When I got there the man said "no hay" which wasn't what I wanted to hear! By the way, in Spanish they drop their H's which, after a lifetime of being told not to, is quite difficult. As luck would have it, the tanker arrived right behind me. It took about an hour to get my fuel, by which time quite a crowd had gathered for fuel and to look at the bike. The usual questions of which one is "How much mister?" I find myself telling lies by saying it is a lot less than reality, I hope it makes it seem not so outrageous to them. Another 2 Bolivars and I was off - with a scooter escort back to the main road. Very nice of them.

The ride began to get interesting as we reached the hills. Firstly the trees became denser and overhung the road so much that it was like riding through a tunnel at times. As nice as it was, it was a pain for spotting the pot holes (of which there are many) in the shadows. Then we began to climb and the temperature dropped below 30 degrees for the first time in days.

This area is the Canaima National Park and is the first impression of the "jungle". I saw my first Parrot or is it a Macaw, an orange/reddish one, fly right across in front of me. Lovely but not as nice as Blue Boobies

No sooner are you in it, than it is all change again. Next up is the Gran Sabana (Savannah to you and me). Rolling hills of tough short grass and a few trees.

In the distance you can see the sharp outline of Buttes and Messas. The flat topped mountains that inspired some chap called Burroughs (I thought it was Jules Vern but checked before sending this and found it wasn't)  to write "The land that time forgot". I remember Doug McClure being in the film. Why can I remember tosh like that but not anything important?!

They have a lot of clear rivers and waterfalls across the plains too. This is a rubbish picture as I managed to miss the biggest part of the waterfall!


I must have been through over 100 police and army check points (and that is not an exaggeration) whilst in Venezuela and always been waved through. In the National park I got stopped three times and had to show documents. The first was fine. The second were a few bored young soldiers who after an inconclusive look at my passport handed it back and asked if I had any cigarettes! I think that was all they wanted in the first place. I was genuinely sorry not to be able to give them some - they looked so fed up. The third was a bit more challenging!
I was pulled in by a National Guard (I am not sure how many different forces they have here) and they were more serious.
"Pull over and turn off your engine".
"Wait in that office".
I went in to see a guard and a guy in T shirt and jeans, to be more accurate - he was pulling up his jeans and buckling his belt! It was one of those moments when you stand and stare. The clink of his belt brought me out of my stupor and I went back outside with all sorts of things going through my mind!
I went back and stood next to the bike - I wasn't going to take even  my helmet off, despite melting in the heat.

Another guard came over; "Passport" - no problem, "Vehicle document" - no problem, Vehicle permit.............Ahhh. For those of you that may remember, this is the paper I asked for at the border, which they couldn't be arsed to complete so sent me on my way. I was dreading just this situation.

He was insistent and I tried to explain, I even got my camera out and showed him the picture of my bike at the border. I was desperate not to be invited back in to that office!

He huffed and puffed, scratched his head and went and saw the boss. After about 10 minutes of repetition (him asking for papers I haven't got and me explaining why) he tossed my passport at me and waved me away in despair. I think I was still climbing on the bike as we accelerated through 60 mph!

I wish I was making that up about the guy with his jeans at half mast but I am not!

The trouble is I have to get out of Venezuela and the customs post could be more difficult. I just hope it creates too much paperwork for them to bother about someone leaving the country with out papers.

I got to the border town Santa Elena and found a half decent hostel with secure parking. They know how to charge in Venezuela! It is not a cheap country apart from the fuel. As I was unpacking a tour bus turned up and disgorged a group coming up from Brazil. They of course loved the bike and many photos later - with me in some of them too! Remarkably a lot of them spoke really good English, one family in particular of grandmother, mother and daughter were very nice and wanted to know al about the tour. It is rather nice talking without having to muddle through.

I am leaving tomorrow (hopefully) so it was nice to leave having seen some nice scenery. Without that Venezuela would have been a disappointment. But it was not the dangerous crime rampage that I had been led to believe. It was the same with Bolivia but for some reason I expected it to be bad here.

Orinoco but no Wombles

It was another long slog to the next town, El Tigre, so I was up and out early, so early the hotel was locked and I had to wake someone up to let me and the bike out. It was 6:30 so I didn't feel I was being unreasonable.

There had been a Thunderstorm in the night which had cleared to leave a nice morning. The trouble was that it had brought down rocks, earth and trees on to the road. Also there was some muddy "lakes" across the road which were fun! Some locals stand by the piles with one shovel between about six of them. They like to give the impression that they are clearing it for you and rattle a cup at you for some cash.. The trouble is that it is not in their interests to clear it quickly to maximise the revenue.

Once down the hill there wasn't a lot to see but fairly flat green scrub, so not many picture opportunities. I did have a laugh with some locals when I stopped for a drink. Sunday seems to be a day when the men sit around in bars and drink beer. They keep score by keeping all the bottles in from of them.

This lady wanted me to throw away my tyres and come with me! To be fair, she would have been bringing her own spare tyres!


Further on I stopped again. The guys were well in to their beers by the afternoon. They liked the bike but were really interested in the map on my saddle bag. I assume they had never seen their town on a map before.


I got in to El Tigre and was a bit dumbfounded. On the internet I was amazed to find only very expensive hotels so I wanted to find something cheaper when I got here. Turns out I must have been looking at a different El Tigre (are there two?). Not only were there no expensive hotels, I was lucky to find one at all! It was cheap but clean. You wouldn't want to spend two nights there.

It was about time I had a short trek and today was the day, about three hours to Ciudada Guayana. My morning check of the oil and tyres revealed a nail in my, fairly new, rear tyre. It was bound to happen sooner or later and I was lucky that it must have happened late yesterday. There was enough pressure to drive around town to find somewhere to change the tyre (for the one I had bought in Medellin) and luckily, repair the damaged one, which has still got some life in it. I was regretting not buying a new front as well. It is ok and the spare is has a little life left in it but I would be happier with a new one to see me to the end.

Ciudad Guayana is on the Orinocco, a big lazy river and another large concrete bridge (not my picture again) to get to it. It is a smart modern town with some nice buildings. 

Too many shopping malls for my taste. I don't understand Venezuela - desperately poor on the West (where the oil is) but clearly a lot of money here in the East. The Malls have all the brands and I didn't see any empty shop unit. Also the cars are modern over here. A pity as I rather liked the 70's Americana burbling around.

I have taken an extra day here to have a break from long days (the next section will be a long one). Although this hotel has a pool, it is just too hot to be outside for very long. I was out there long enough to chat to two daughters of the the hotel manager. In a stuttering conversation it transpired that the 23 year old likes Dutch guys. I showed her a picture of Rick (a colleague). she was smitten and asked me to send her picture to him! So even when Rick is thousands of miles away he can still pull the girls! Tomorrow should get me near to the Brazilian border. 

No I didn't leave the gas on again.

First there was the Weather Station in Antarctica and now a Refinery in Amuay. I was in Corro (about 70 kms away) when the thing went bang but I was tucked up in bed and didn't hear a thing. So you can't lay that one at my door either but if you have something you would like jinxed, just let me know.

No I didn't take this picture from my bedroom window but it is so much more exciting than my snaps.

I looked at the map and noticed that Corro is as far North as I will get on this trip so from here it is just East and South. It is beginning to feel like the last chapter or two with "only" Brazil left to do and perhaps a quick look at Paraguay and Uruguay.

It was a rather long, fairly uninteresting slog to get to La Victoria but, contrary to the forecast, it was dry. You can get fed up of seeing Chavez's picture on every lamp post and bill board. Is it only dictators that go in for such self aggrandisement? One thing I forgot to do was change the time on my watch.Chavez, in his infinite wisdom, has moved Venezuelan time by 30 mins! It is not now on the same time zone as anyone else. So if it is 4:00 in Colombia it is 4:30 in Venezuela!!! How stupid can you get?

At La Victoria I turned north to the funny old town of Colonial Tovar. It is a precipitous climb with some sharp hairpins and large pot holes thrown in for good measure. It is, however very pretty.

Mary-Ann and I had visited it 24 years ago to the month (pure coincidence). It was settled by Germans back in 1843, the Germans were keen to form colonies (not having created much of an empire over the years) and so sent boat loads around the world to see what they could do. The story we were told last time was that a boat load of sick Germans had arrived and the locals had taken them up in the hills to die. They survived and created this mini Bavaria (it is a much better story shame it isn't true).

What I don't remember is the place being so big. All I can remember is a small town centre but now there are black and white buildings with red roofs all over the hillsides.

I am not so very far from Caracas and the quick route East is through the city. I am not going to tempt fate and will take a longer route, skirting to the south but hopefully a safer one too.

Insane Fuel prices

Up and at them bright and early this morning. The sunrise was lovely and I was tempted to stay for another day but I really wanted to get going too.

I assumed that I would be able to get fuel at the border town Maicao but nope! The only thing on offer were the coke bottle vendors! I still had enough to get me to Maracaibo so I gave them a wave and carried on. I still couldn't work out why all these Petrol Stations had no fuel. I would say at Roahacha and Maicao there were about 25 stations and not one was open..

I assumed that there would be a lot of hustle and bustle at this border as it is the major crossing in the North but no! There were not many vehicles or people and it then dawned on me that I had passed very few trucks on the way here. The border formalities of getting out of Colombia were orchestrated by the Money Exchange man, not that I needed his help but they like to get close to you. He gave me a rate of 8 to the $ (which is what I was told to expect) - which is double the official rate so I changed some $'s with him. He also took my Colombian Pesos which was handy.

I then rode the 20 meters to the Venezuelan immigration post. The stamp went in my passport in about one minute. I asked for the Customs and was told that is about 5 kms down the road.

The first impression of Venezuela is awful, The road is a mess and it looks as poor as anywhere I have seen so far. The other major difference is that everyone drives 1970's American cars. The wings and doors are hanging off but they shuffle them along pretty quickly.

I got to the Customs post (having already gone through two police controls) and was met by a small group border guards. They liked the bike and one of them spoke good English which he was keen to demonstrate. They asked me to open the panniers and got bored after I opened one. They said I could go but I asked about the Temporary Import Papers - "nahhhhhh you don't need those" and then waved me on.. I said "won't I have problems with the police and when I exit the country. "Nahhhhh you will be fine".

I had expected to be given a hard time and it seemed odd to be pressing them for documentation. There wasn't even a hint of a full page stamp in my passport. I would rather have them than not.

The roads and housing improves as you get further in to the country. The first big town is Maracaibo. The heart of their oil industry. I finally found a petrol station that was open. I knew it was open because the queue was huge and back on to the road. I slipped up the side of the queue and asked a pump attendant if it was ok to wait here. He waved me round to the front of the queue. I was expecting to get lynched but not a bit of it. I just got a bigger crowd than normal - to see the bike not me.

I didn't see the pump but, judging by the fuel gauge I must have taken about 30 litres. The price 2 Bolivars........not per litre not even per Gallon but for the tank full! That is a total cost of 15 pence OR 0.5p per litre .
The German guys said it was cheap and they had worked out - it is cheaper to buy fuel and boil tap water rather than buy bottled water! It is just madness but it does clarify why the petrol stations are all closed near the border. They closed them to reduce the smuggling. I say reduce because the road side is filled with people selling full from plastic bottles.

Maracaibo looks quite a nice town with some smart buildings and tidy parks. I was doing well with my hand drawn map but I did check with a few people along the way. One was a bus driver. He didn't try to tell me he just said "follow me". Great I thought until we started to take some pretty small roads. Then he stopped and let some people off...............it didn't occur to me he was carrying passengers (the windows had the reflective plastic on them) and that he was taking me on a tour! I tapped on is window again "no problem we are nearly there". So I stuck with him and about 5 mins later he pulled over and waved me onwards - he had taken me right to the bridge! I am not sure what his passengers thought about it but he certainly upheld the honour of the Venezuelans for being kind and friendly.
 
 The bridge is the largest concrete bridge in the world (for what that's worth). There are no spots to take a picture so I pinched this from the Internet. Another curious thing is the Peage's. Bikes rarely have to pay at them but in Venezuela no one pays, not even on this bridge.

Once across the bridge it was a rather plain ride through uninteresting green scrub land but it was Hot. It got to 36 degrees, that is until the thunderstorm. It tipped down and I was soaked in minutes as i had all my air vents open. The rain was so hard you couldn't see the road, I just had to follow the rear lights of the car in front. Luckily it stopped raining about 30 minutes from Coro. It wasn't soon enough to arrive dry but at least I wasn't dripping on their floor in reception.

The weather forecast is pretty bloody awful for the next few days with Thunderstorms predicted for just where I want to go. Such is life.
.

German Movie

On my last day in Cartagena a few fellow riders arrived so I went over to see them, share some stories and some beer.
Werner & Claudia have been on the road for about 6 years and are slowly working their way back to Germany. There were also another German couple Kurt and Heidi (?) who have done just about the whole world! Plus a Belgian couple - Ills & her husband who was asleep I think.

Meeting these people, who have travelled so extensively in some pretty wild places makes me realise how little I have done in my few months. They are great fun and it seems likely that they will never stop travelling.

 There is a bike festival about to start in Germany so they wanted to do a video to send back for their friends. I was Cubby Brocolli for the moment. It took 7 takes as they either forgot what they were going to say or got the giggles. I have to say I think it has got the Best Cameraman Oscar written all over it. There seemed to be quite a few beer bottles in the way though.

Werner & Claudia have just come through Venezuela with a few more stories that were not exactly comforting. I think I will be heading through their a bit quicker than I had originally planned.

The Thunderstorm started right on cue at about 3.00 but very little rain this time so I headed back to my hotel to pack. I was up early for the six hour trip up to Riohacha. It started as a rather dull ride, not least of which because it was raining hard., but also because the scenery was a little ordinary.

The good news was that the scenery changed about half way. The cloud shrouded hills, dense tree cover and lots of rivers to cross was a nice change.

Then just when you have got used to this, it changes again. Taking only one bend to go from the "jungle" to the coast.

It was quite a surprise and uplifting to see a fresh view.

Getting close to Riohacha I wanted to fill up with fuel to use up my Peso's but despite there being 6 or 7 petrol stations, none of them had any fuel and I was waved away. However there were loads of guys with fuel in coke bottles and all manner of containers. I wasn't so desperate that I needed to risk it. I should have enough to get me a decent way in to Venezuela tomorrow.

Riohaccha is nice and unassuming. I had approached the hotel with some trepidation as the on line comments were dreadful but I couldn't find anywhere else. I don't know what happened when they were here but the hotel is right on the coast, the staff are friendly and the room is clean and has a great view.

 If I was going to invest in property in one town in South America - this would be it. This place doesn't appear to have been really discovered yet. Being only a few hours north of Cartagena with much nicer water and beaches  and a nicer climate so it surely must be a holiday spot of the future.

Not sure about the painted palm trees though.

I will head off to the border with Venezuela tomorrow and I am a little nervous of what I may find. Hopefully it will be like Bolivar where the stories were not my experience.

Cartagena or Silicon Valley?

Cartagena is a city of two or even three sides.  I had ridden in through the urban sprawl that is the commercial area and that held little attraction. You then pass the stone/coral walls of the old town (the bit you see in the pictures and even the films as Romancing the Stone was filmed here) on the way north to the string of hotels. You have to make a choice of staying in the old town or out on the beach. I chose the beach as I would prefer to be there and visit the town rather than vice versa. the beaches are lined with tall, white/glass hotels and apartment blocks. there is a lot of building still going on and there will not be room to park a bike between the buildings soon.

As you can see the beaches are not the yellow or white sand of the eastern Caribbean. Neither is the water turquoise. It is murky but not unclean.

They take their beach football seriously, to the point of having a referee. Curiously both teams were both wearing Barcelona shirts.If not stopping to watch the football you can walk along the beach past little open tents which people hire for the day. The ladies seem to have an appetite for the largest silicon implants they can get. It reminded me of an old TV program called Eurotrash (which was quite funny) and a woman on there had some of these mountains of silicon fitted. I didn't take photos for two reasons -1) I am sure I would get punched and 2) they are really not attractive. It is not just the old birds either, even the young girls have had it done.

The old town is very attractive. there are so many street that look like this one, you could take hundreds of nice picture. They know they have a little gem here and are doing a good job of keeping it well maintained.

It is a fairly small area but it is hot and humid so walking soon has you dripping with sweat, no matter the time of day or night. The little gardens dotted around the town are shaded by trees and give you a chance to stop leaking. 

There are several museums I only visited two. The gold museum which had lots of artifacts from the various tribes (the bits the Spanish didn't find and expropriate) and the Naval Museum. I went in to the Naval museum and was greeted by the concierge who, on hearing my accent, started speaking in English. He had been on British merchantmen for many years and knew Liverpool. I was tempted to say "don't hold that against us".
 I.had seen quite a few exhibits without mention of the British, which was a bit concerning, but all was not lost. Most of Europe were having a pop at Spain's territories and eventually we got to Francis Drake (not yet a Sir) with his fleet he quickly took the city in 1574 and then managed to ransom it back to the Spaniards for $200 million |(in today's money). Not only that he had destroyed a quarter of the city as well! After this the Spanish lavished time (the next 60 years) and money fortifying the town - to the tune of $2 trillion (in today's money again). It shows you how much they were making from their South American outings. A part of the rebuilding included a seat of the Inquisition (which is still here).  So you couldn't even get away from the sadistic Catholic priests with there torture equipment over here.

The French then had a go and dealt it another blow (they got about twice the ransom Drake did). The walls and forts were adapted over the years as a succession of Europeans attempted to retake the port. There are 11 kms of walls, most of which you can walk on.

The British under Admiral Vernon with American colonial troops (including George Washington's brother) had another go in 1741.  Despite a massive fleet the siege was broken off due to the start of the rainy season (and heavy casualties). Washington was so impressed with Vernon that Mount Vernon is named after him.

As I mentioned previously this is a 3 day weekend in Colombia so the hotel, town and beaches were mobbed but the shops were closed. This was a minor crisis as I had left my iphone charger in  the last stop so I had to sit on my sun lounger with just my kindle (Hemmingway "For whom the bell tolls") and no music. And you think you have it tough!

Come lunchtime on Monday, the place emptied and becomes a pleasant, quietish backwater. Oh and do they have thunder storms? Unfortunately they tend to be in the afternoon. I would like to see one at night as the lightening is pretty spectacular.

Breakfast by the Pacifc and Lunch by the Carribean

Having got my new tyre, freshly delivered from Bogota (at a reasonable price too), I was glad to be moving on the next day, I seem to get fidgety after a few days in any one place.

I had one more nice dinner at the park/restaurant district. I would imagine on a Friday & Saturday night it must be heaving with all the pretty young things from town. My company for the night was Alice (of Wonderland fame) Pepys (of diary fame) - his notes are all well and good but there is only so much of a diary you can read at one sitting so I broke it up with a bit of nonsense about Tarts (jam variety). Pepys seems to spend his time eating and drinking, visiting the office to find there is no work to be done and then organising more socialising. Sounds vaguely familiar. I am sure he must get stuck in to work later on as he is credited with creating the modern British Navy.

I didn't book an hotel further up country until I had my tyre, when I went to book in to the town of choice, there were no rooms available! First time that has happened on tour. I imagined that it is because it is the weekend and it is a coastal town but I found out later that there is a National holiday on Monday (Bank Holiday to you and me). As such I had to book somewhere 2 hours further north. Google told me that would be 9 hours 30 minutes! Looking at the wibbly wobbly way through the hills I could believe it.

I was out of the hotel by 6.30 am and found my way out of Medellin without getting lost, which was nice. The road was a classic winding road with lots of lumbering lorries to overtake. The scenery was "alpine" in nature and very green. Things were going pretty well as most of the road surface was good. It is the steep sharp turns that seem to suffer and leave gaping holes ready to catch the unsuspecting motorist.

I overtook a lorry, being a little bit naughty on slightly blind bend/hill. There was nothing coming (otherwise I wouldn't be writing this) but there was a police check point just ahead.........Ahhh!

I was waved to the side of the road and one or two cars (previously overtaken) gave a toot! I am not sure if it was cheerful acknowledgement or "that's the one Officer, bang him up for 30 years". After a review of my paperwork which seemed to allow just about every lorry this side of the Andes back past me, he gave them back, told me to slow down a bit and waved me on my way, which was very decent of him.

These are the 20 wheel beasts you have to get past on a regular basis and in the space of about 100 yards between bends.Once out of sight, I lost no time in making up for lost time! Naughty I know, but the bike encouraged me to do it Officer!

After the hills you drop down on to lush, green rolling pasture.You exchange the Alpine chill for the heat & humidity. You also lose the clear waterfalls splashing down the rocks and gain large, lazy, brown rivers.

In the hills you see small family farms, dairy for the most part, with the cows not only giving the milk but then made to carry the milk churns on their backs.

 

 Down here you see large well fenced and manicured fields with plenty of cattle and horses. The horses look of some quality too. The Farmhouses are tucked away but you can see that there are some serious Haciendas. The countryside in Colombia is not that dissimilar to what we have in the UK (on a muggy summers day), allowing for the exotic, waxy leaf plants and the funny looking cattle.

I arrived at my hotel - a bit "Butlitz" but with Palm trees. The receptionist suggested I put my bike under cover. About 10 minutes later the thunder, lightening and torrential rain started. She is much better than Michael Fish and prettier. It also knocked out the internet so I couldn't update the blog at the time..

Over dinner I was thinking whether to stay a few nights as I had ridden for nearly 10 hours and there was a beach, even if it was only 5 yards wide. The Mosquitos introduced themselves at dinner, so I started popping pills. As luck would have it I didn't commit to another night, preferring to sleep on it.

I was woken at about 6 am by a herd of young children and, clearly excited to be at the beach. I thought it was odd as there was no one else here when I went to bed. I got up, left my room and nearly banged my nose on the 50 seat coach that was parked outside my door. They had obviously travelled over night and were settling in for the weekend. I started to pack.


A slightly soppy reason for coming to the coast was to see the Pacific one last time. The next port of call will be Cartagena on the Caribbean so I thought I would give myself bragging rights by paddling in both on the same day!

The drive up to Cartagena was only about 4 hours so I took it easy and enjoyed the run. It was odd to think that just a few miles to my left was Panama. They still "thatch" a lot of property with palm leaves and some still use boats carved from trees. I still can't work out their road building. You can fly along smooth tarmac for miles and then without warning suddenly come across a few miles of gravel/dirt roads. Then for no apparent reason you return to tarmac. This goes on time and time again. They must have driven over the gravel road with their machinery to lay the tarmac further along, why not just start at one end?! There were no towns or anything to suggest these bits of road are more deserving.

I had been told great things about how old and beautiful Cartagena is, so I was pretty surprised to crest a hill and see a regiment of high rise buildings in the distance. Not only that, the traffic was terrible & certainly the worst I have seen in the last 8 months (much worse than the queue for the border). Road junctions without traffic lights, of which there are many, became a free for all with cars, buses, trucks and bikes all trying to occupy the same space. When you came across the inevitable accidents the protagonists just stayed in the middle of the road and hurled abuse at each other. It was so bad the bike was over heating so I had to pull over and let her cool down. I was "glowing" a little myself!

hopelessly lost I stopped next to a guy on a scooter picking is girlfriend up from work. I asked for directions and without hesitating he just told me to follow him. I am not sure whether his girl was too pleased as I bet she just wanted to put her feet up. He whizzed through the traffic and I struggled to get through the gaps he could, at one point whacking a wing mirror on a car - luckily it sprang back in to place.

They kindly delivered me to my hotel and wouldn't accept anything but my thanks for their help although it took about 20 minutes. Another vote for the good nature and kindness of the Colombians.

And so I managed to dip my toes in both the Pacific and Caribbean on the same day.

Can't finish without saying Well Done to Rosie - she has just got straight A's in her A levels!!! I am sure it was all the help Wilks had given her.

There is something about Colombia

There is something about just being in Colombia that makes you feel like you are doing something naughty, especially by being in the home towns of the notorious drug cartels. There isn't a museum to their crimes but I have been reading about their antics:


The Cartel's were formed in the early 70's by the Rodriguez brothers (Cali) who were considered the upper class of the drug traffickers of the time, hence the nickname "Cali's Gentlemen." Not exactly like the British upper class thief Raffles! The group originally assembled as a ring of kidnappers to fund their entry in to drug trafficking. A bit later dear old Pablo Escobar (Medellin) got stuck in too.

They started off with marijuana but it wasn't sufficiently profitable for the amount of infrastructure required and soon moved in to cocaine, setting up a distribution network in the USA. One reason they were so successful was that the US authorities didn't consider cocaine as a material problem compared to heroin. This left the door open to the them to amass incredible wealth. In order to launder the money they invested heavily into legitimate business ventures including Banks, one of which one of the brothers became Chairman - and we get angry with Bob Diamond at Barclays! They then went international with a bank in Panama where they had the nerve to admit laundering drug money but that is was all perfectly legal under Panamanian law. This is when the US got seriously bent out of shape!

The Medellin Cartel led by Pablo Escobar was independent of the Cali cartel but they did share some resources. During the height of its operations, the cartels brought in more than $60 million per day that's $22 billion a year - it accounted for 30% of the Colombian GDP and was more than their coffee exports!.


They also became pseudo "cleansers of society". They obviously didn't like the beggars and street children or poor farmers making the place look untidy so had them murdered and dumped in the river. So many dead that it bankrupted the local municipality from having to retrieve so many bodies and the postmortems that followed. Now wonder the river is such a mess.

The left wing paramilitary and FARC got stuck in during the 80's and 90's and it all got very nasty up until 95 when most of the drug bosses were arrested and sent to the USA for trial or assassinated Apparently the Cartel had an impressive counter intelligence network - so good that they tapped the US intelligence service! They even had 5000 taxi drivers on the payroll to tell them who was coming in  and out of the airports and where they were going!

But the best (or should I say most frightening) bit of information I have read is of a bank in St Petersburg (SPAG). This bank has been implicit in helping the drug barons and the Russian mafia. Who was one of the advisers to this bank, for about 20 years, until he became President...................................Vladimir Putin!


Heaven help us.


Anyway it is all lovely and peaceful now (?)

From Cali to Medellin took about eight hours, As it happened it was raining when I left Cali and rained for about three hours. 

They have some very nice petrol stations, they even give you a cup of coffee, the only shame is that they heap loads of sugar in to it. It is a thing they do in Colombia, do have the coffee but remember to order "sin sucre" unless you want to ruin your teeth and waistline.

 

Oh (seeing the back of the bike reminded me) one difference between Ecuador and Colombia - the first shop I asked for a Colombian flag for my bike & he had one! Little things please little minds etc....


The good news is that the rain was warm and it stopped about an hour from Medellin - so I had dried out by the time I got to the hotel. The Art Hotel (if ever you find yourself in town) is the place to stay. Very smart, great staff, next to small parks and lots of bars and restaurants. All that for the price of the Premier Inn at Skegness. (I have never actually been to Skegness so I don't even know if they have a Premier Inn).

This is the park/bar area next to the hotel. I told you there are pretty girls here - this is one of their traffic wardens! If we had traffic wardens like this in the UK we would all be parking on double yellow lines.

 Given the notoriety of these two towns I wasn't too sure what to expect, well Cali had some signs of wealth that belied the farming communities but the drive through Medellin had an altogether much wealthier feel. 

Though be fair it is an industrial town so I am sure a lot of money has been made through honest endeavour. It is not the cheapest city in South America.

I was looking at my maps and from here there may be a problem getting tyres in the towns I am proposing to visit (and I am sure to need another rear before I get to Rio). So I wandered around town to find one in the many bike shops here. No one had one but a guy phoned a wholesaler in Bogota and ordered one for me. It will take two days to get here but it is worth hanging around to wait for it. I may not get another chance later.



On my walk I also found a seamstress who will put on my latest badges (one of which has Boobies on it) and re-apply the Chile flag - the correct way up!



One last thing - I want to thank you all for taking the time and trouble to read this nonsense and share the experience. You have collectively visited the Blog over 20,000 times! The only reason I started it was because Rosie set it up for me. I am sure it will be fun to look back in years to come as the memory fades (from what wasn't a great memory at the best of times).

http://www.horizonsunlimited.com

Colombian Security for you

The hotel in Pasto was nice but very noisy so I was awake early and headed off on what was a short ride in distance but long in time. More twisty roads through the hills avoiding trucks where ever possible.

I was surprised that the countryside was so brown but it is their dry season. i stopped to take this picture in the middle of nowhere and out of the hedge popped a lady with many years but few teeth. She talked away and I think was saying that she was standing in all she had in the world. I gave her 10,000 pesos and she broke in to a gummy smile - amazing what you can do with £3.

 The Army is in evidence at most strategic places like the bridges and any decent size village. I stopped for a swig of water and a chat with these guys. From what I could gather they all have to do 2 years National Service and had been left here to guard the bridge all day! Sorry to disappoint Wilks but not a rubber glove in sight!

It only occurred to me afterwards that, if they wanted to keep my bike there wasn't anything I could do about it!

I stopped halfway at Popayan for fuel and some lunch. I also tried to get some cash but my bloody bank card has stopped working again. I have spent so much time (and money) waiting on the phone to sort this out with the bank - "your call is important to us" my arse! I will also incur their bloody charges for using my credit card for getting cash out!
I did remember to take a picture of their fruit stalls (although I think those in Ecuador were slightly better.

Cali is a large, low rise urban sprawl but with a lot of green spaces but a very grotty river running through it. Perhaps it cleans itself up a bit in the rainy season.

I was a bit disheartened when i got a map from the hotel which included the top 20 attractions................ 

 This sculpture is one of them!

It has some nice tree lined avenues and with a backdrop of the hills it is not all bad. I wasn't too sure how far one could wander in the neighbourhood but the other limiting factor was the heat, 2 hours outside was enough for me. I have probably seen more beggars in this town than any other on the tour.

If I was unsure of the streets in the day time I certainly wasn't wandering around on my own at night.

At the hotel, I kept bumping in to a US pilot with his impossibly gorgeous Colombian girlfriend. He is on secondment to help with drug crime, flying a "mini AWAC" plane around the area. He was meant to be elsewhere but it was easy to see why he had skipped down to Cali for a few days! The reason we chatted was that he has a Ducati 848 as well. It seems bikers will always find each other in a crowd.

I would concur with the often made comment that the Colombian women are the most attractive. Whilst not all are models they certainly seem to be a very attractive race. Someone told me that they have had more Miss Worlds than any other country. Another Pub Quiz winner for you!

One last word on the Olympics - the sports and news coverage has been very positive with glowing reports of just how good it was. So it is not just the Brits who think it was brilliant.