I have been told that my good friend Tiberio “Tibi” of Medellin, Colombia has died of a heart attack. In a country full of wonderful people, Tibi was a standout. A person of tremendous generosity and love, he will be missed by many people.
(Tibi in the light blue shirt)

It was a long ride through the mountains from Popayan to reach Pasto. Pasto is a friendly city, although finding a hotel with parking was a problem. I eventually parked the bike in a lot near a hotel. I only stayed the night before heading for Ecuador the next morning. Somehow the few pictures I took in Pasto are missing.
The next morning I stopped to see the famouse church in Ipiales, before crossing the border. The church claims the most miracles but for me it was a miracle just to find the road that led to the church.



I crossed into Ecuador without a problem. One of the easiest border crossings to date, although Ecuadorian immigration was slow. Total cost 0!!!

I was in Otavalo well before dark.

I left Tierra Dentro around 11 am after an early morning exploring the main site. My goal was to arrive in Popayan before dark. Usually, I never leave so late because the day rarely goes as plans and everything becomes much more difficult at night. However, I really did not have the time for another night in Tierra Dentro because I needed to cross into Ecuador in two days.
I was happy to see the weather was clear because the most of the ride was going to be on dirt roads.

I stopped in Inza to get a little food and fluids before hitting the dirt roads. Just as I pulled in a soldier came over to talk to me and said it was about to rain really hard. I think he was also trying to tell me not to go to Popayan today because the road was bad but I really didn´t understand his Spanish.
I felt so sorry for this poor horse.

I don’t think those sandbags are to keep the soldiers dry.

The electricity went out but I managed to get some food and coffee while I waited for the rain to stop.

Then, it was back on the road.



Right about here I began to regret not trying harder to understand what that soldier was saying.



After this pass the road was not too bad but then I came upon this scene.


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From San Augustin I drove deeper into the Cauca Valley. My 2007 Footprint guidebook has the following warning:”Warning Valle del Cauca and Cauca regions have had guerrilla problems recently. There have been violent clashes between indigenous groups and the police (late 2005). Enquire locally before traveling on minor roads.”

I was a little concerned because there aren’t many towns out here. But my understanding is that the disputes in this area are more about local control. So, I didn’t really feel threaten.

However, I was beginning to feel like these guys would never let me leave.

I was told that the roads were good but I had to be careful because there were a lot of curves. Got that right!





Not surprised that this is one of the most accident prone roads in Colombia.







I’m probably the first foreign motorcycle to travel on this new pavement.

Not that there was much pavement yet.
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Early Sunday morning I headed out for the Cauca Department of Colombia to visit the archeological sites at San Augustin and Tierradentro.

It didn’t take long before the pavement stopped.





















It was around this time I was beginning to wonder if I had somehow missed a turn. The distance markers on the road gave me convidence that I was headed to a town but there was nothing in sight and I hadn’t passed anyone on the road for several hours.
I finally flagged down a guy on a little scooter who confirmed I was on the right road and said I would soon cross a steel bridge.

I was very happy to finally get a landmark I could locate on my map.



It was weird how there would be spots of deep mud. I’m glad this is supposedly the dry season.



I was cruising along thinking I was less than one hour from San Augustin when the bike gets unstable and I hear a big thud. My first thought was another chain problemm but when the bike settled down I looked in my mirror and saw one of my Caribou luggage cases bouncing down the road! Well, it’s better than the chain coming off the sprocket.

I got off the bike after coasting to a stop and looked down the road to see two little kids carrying my luggage up the road!!!

The Caribou rack had simply snapped and sent the case down the road. I was attempting to fix it with JB Weld but didn’t realize the stuff takes 6 hours to cure. I orginally bought a lot of the stuff for the trip but have found it useless. The only thing it has done is break open and get all over my tools. Seriously they need better packaging. And in 6 hours I can find a welder anywhere in Latin America. Eventually I had a jeep taxi haul my luggage into the next town as I followed behind him. This took some time because he drove very slowly and made a lot of stops for his passengers.

I eventually found a welder in San Jose de Isnos and it turned into a big event. I drove all around the town asking for a welder and then when I found one all the local boys came over to hang out and ask how much the motorcycle was worth.

Boys will be boys…



Someone has to work.

Sparks were flying!

The dam abs tube for my tools was always getting jammed. Just one more reason not to do any maintenance ).



I realized one piece was missing from the rack and decided to ride back about 15 kilometers to look for it. Upon arrival I was greeted by the family of the two kids and explained the situation. They then enlisted the whole family to search the roadside for this little piece of metal.

I was invited to sit down and have some home made cheese and coffee. I couldn’t resist because it was around 4 pm and I hadn’t eaten lunch.

Alas, we never found the piece and I headed back to town and loaded up the bike. Then I had my first full meal of the day.

I thought this stuff was ice cream. However, it is made from cow hooves. I forget what they call it. It tastes a little like a mild taffy.

The lady in the back just keeps swirling the stuff around and when someone orders she squeezes some from her hand onto a cone.

A small crowd had gathered around my bike by the time I was ready to leave. I hate to admit this, but I get worried when people crowd around my bike. It is hard to see if anyone has their hands in my luggage or is breaking something. I never say anything because I want to maintain a friendly attitude. I just keep a careful watch out. One day I thought well, if these people think it is okay to claw all over my bike then I will at least get some pictures. In this case it just encouraged more people to run over and get in the picture as I was waiving people to get in close for the picture. This is one of my favorite pictures. What you don’t see is that behind me is another mob of people in the little zocalo, mostly women who were not interested in the bike, who were watching the whole scene.




I was tempted to spend the night in the little town but needed a full day in San Augustin and didn’t have many spare days before I needed to cross into Ecuador.


I arrived in San Augustin at 6 pm just as a regional bingo tournament was getting out.


The next day I took a jeep tour of the sites around San Augustin, but it was disappointing.









The little hospedaje called Posada Campesins (GPS N 01.53.656, W076.16.387) turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Fresh squeezed orange juice and locally grown coffee in a farmhouse where you can have dinner with the family.

The motorcycle was even given priority.
And the best breakfast I had in a long time!


Nothing like seeing the army patrol in the morning after a good breakfast.

I didn’t find much to do in Cali. If you are not a Salsa dancer there really is nothing to do in Cali, although I found the people very friendly.

Upon arriving in Popayan the first order of business was lunch.

Popayan is a pretty little city and it was very quiet this weekend because Friday was a holiday and everyone was away. Colombia has a lot of holidays!

It also has a lot of statutes.


And no city in Latin America would be complete without a big ornate church.

You can climb up to the lookout for some nice views.


The statute of Belalcazar, who founded Popayan, is not maintained well, however. Perhaps, this is because he was a Spanish conquistador.

Breakfast in the market was a disappointment.

Leaving Salento I headed up to Pereira to take the scenic route down to Cali along the Cauca river. But first I had to stop at Plaza de Bolivar in Pereira to see Betancur’s sculpture of a nude Simon Bolivar on a horse.


I then formed a committee to decide the very best route to travel out of town towards Cali.


It was one of those long hot rides that even the beautiful scenery could not make enjoyable. I didn’t get up for a long time once I found a nice place to eat in the shade.


Fortunately, it was a very friendly place and I had a good time telling everyone my story. I spent about two hours hanging out at this little roadside restaurant.




Then it was back on the road for Cali.


The Iguana Hostal has motorcycle parking but you have to move the beer bottles out of the way.

The next morning I departed without incident for Salento.

Climbing steadily up towards La Linea at around 3,500 meters before descending to 1,000 meters over a distance of a less than 100 kilometers.



Actually, it wasn’t so bad, just a lot of hairpin turns.






Once in Salento I went for a more relaxed ride to Acaime Natural Reserve.











Where you can see some really tall wax plam trees, the national tree of Colombia.

I drove from Medellin to Bogota early one morning to keep one last promise before starting the trip in earnest. The autopista from Medellin to Bogota is the road where Glen Heggstad claims to have been captured. My ride was less eventful although I passed a lot of solders on the road.

I was finally leaving Bogota and starting the trip again when I was pulled over by the police. As usual at first they asked for my documents but after a quick look at my passport we just talked abouit the motorcycle and my trip. I was just annoyed that they pulled me out of the middle of traffic for no reason. Then I noticed there was glass all over the area where they had pulled me over.

I was told the ride from Bogota to Salento would only take about five hours but then I hit this.





I guess if you have to be stuck in traffic this isn’t a bad spot.

I was baking in the mid-day heat, but eventually crawled to the front. They were clearing the earth from a landslide earlier in the day.



I was asking some truckers for water which they didn’t have but offered me a big piece of watermelon.

Once free it was clear sailing.

The loss of time from the police check and more so from the road closure meant I would not make Salento. To get to Salento from Bogota I would have to climb to 3,500 meters at La Linea before dropping down into the heart of Colombia’s coffee region.

The guidebook said there was good coffee in the town of Cajamarca, which sits at the beginning of the steep climb to La Linea. Real good coffee is hard to find because the good stuff is all exported so I opted to spend the night and get to Salento early the next day.

Later that evening I hear a lot of car honking and went out to see what could possibly be causing so much noise in this little town.

It turned out to be a demonstration against the kidnappings by the FARC. The FARC had just killed 11 political prisoners that had be hostage for 5 years. It is unclear exactly how it happened as the FARC claim they were killed in the crossfire during a confrontation with the Colombian Army. In any case, the issue of political kidnapping was a hot issue. I later was told that the father of a young boy who was kindnapped was walking across the country to Bogota in protest.



There is the father in white.









“Held hostage for 10 years.”

It was a fairly big protest especially given the size of the town. Cajamarca is an interesting town because it is located right on the principal road between Colombia’s main port of Buenaventura and Bogota. All the traffic must pass through the mountain pass at La Linea and cross the bridge at Cajamarce. Take out either of those and there would be a whole lot of trouble.

The next morning I got up early for my ride to Salento but it was not to be. I had a flat tire which I attribute to the police stop in Bogota. I had practiced fixing a flat in Medellin but I just took the tire off and brought it to a tire shop down, or rather up, the road.

This little guy was my supervisor.

Another Sunday ride took us around Santa Fe Antioqua, the old capital of the Antioquia, and the search for a newly paved road. But first, another good breakfast.



Maybe we need to cut back on these breakfast because before we even pulled out of the parking lot there was a flat tire. Nick and Lesley Poole are riding around the world from England are were well prepared for the job.





But we were shortly back on the road and crosing the Cauca river over the El Puente Colgante de Occidente (Western Bridge).














It seems the road was not paved yet although it was marked as paved on the map. Roads need to get funded many times before they actual get finished rather than finish the house for the local wiseguy.





Here I am in action.

Carlos is always happy when he is going for a ride.

Now these are mountainside roads.





Fearless, Tiberio of Darien Moto Tours, goes all out for the shot.



We didn’t actually stay to long in the town of Santa Fe Antioquia. It looked a little too cute, anyway.

We made it home before a summer downpour.

Medellin is a huge motorcycle city. As the “Eternal Spring” city riding is possible all year. The city is also home to the manufacturing plant for AKT motorcycles which are the number one selling brand in the city. Most bike are no bigger than 200cc, however. I was able to join in several Sunday rides during my stay in Medellin, although I usually don’t like to ride much once I stop in a city.
Well, sometimes even in the “Eternal Spring” city it rains.



The rain didn’t prevent us from having a good turnout for the ride.

Afterall, we have our priorities. First stop is always a big breakfast to add some griping weight for our tires.





The first stop on this ride was to one of the dam sites where there is a dramatic cable car ride down to the base. It just so happened that one of the riders was from the Swiss town that built the cable car system.











The views were impressive but I headed back up quickly to take a nap, because I had a late night.

I was resting in the grass by the bikes when I heard several women talking about the bikes. This was enough to motivate me to get up and chat. They lived in the town below and used the cable car like a commuter bus to come into town.


I was able to take a little nap before the rest of the group arrived. Before taking off we posed for the obligatory group shots using ten different cameras…..






We then headed back towards Medellin winding through small villages where we were likely the first foreign motorcyclists.





Carlos from Moto Angel was always up for a ride.

Finally, we had lunch. Actually, the reason for the big breakfast was that we never knew when we would have lunch.

A little dirt riding before home.

This bridge marks the geographic center of the city.

Not finding paradise I was left for Bucaramanga, a long 660+ km ride. I was feeling good and persisted on to Bucaramanga through the evening darkness. I was punished for this over confidence with a road that was in the process of major repairs, with major ruts, rain and complete darkness driving to Bucaramanga via a dramatic mountain road the climbs from well below 500 meters to 1500 meters over a distance of less than 100 kilometers.





I was riding slowly through the patches of road construction with deep ruts when I caught the lip of a rut and was thrown straight down sideways. Fortunately, I was driving slowly but it was a hard fall and I was hurting. Also, the bike was in the middle of the mountain road and I couldn’t pick it up. Several people actually drove by me but finally a guy on a little scooter stopped and helped me get the bike off the road. I also noticed my luggage racks were broken. I later realized my helmet cracked. The scooter guy escorted me to Bucaramanga all the way to my desired hotel.





The next day I took it easy and played tourist in Bucaramanga. My ribs were hurting and I had some difficulty breathing but even if the ribs were cracked they wouldn’t be much that could be done. The city is known as the “City of Parks” for its many little parks. It is also historicallyimportant as a major staging point in Simon Bolivar quest for a united Gran Colombia including modern day Colombia, Venezuela, Panama, Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador.





Simon Bolivar museum.






The next day I was feeling a little better but took another day to rest and played tourist in the neighboring town of Giron. The guidebook promoted Giron enthusiastically. I walked around the main square but didn’t find much. I came upon a tourist police office and asked for a map or something to help me find the sites. There was some prolonged discussion and soon a woman appeared who offered a free tour of the city.


I figured I couldn’t go wrong with free and was told more than I ever wanted to know of Giron. The guide later offered to take me to her home and meet her family. This got a little to “familar” and I made my way out for a bus home before it got dark after promising to call her when I got the hotel, when I got back to Medellin and when I return to Bucaramanga to study Spanish while living with her family. Seriously, it got pretty weird.





Simon Bolivar was here.


Giron main square.


View of Giron.


Street food.

I gave myself a couple of days to get back to Medellin slowly and explore the towns along the way. However, the towns started to look the same and I was back in Medellin before dinner.

Don’t go wide on these turns.

A few weeks in the same hostel was becoming a bit like high school. This is not to say I didn’t like the hostel, Hostel Medellin, but rather we around each other so much it felt really good to be on the road again. At this time, my friend Tom finally arrived in Medellin and wanted to go up to Cartegena. A little fast talking with the administration at my language school and I had a week to go play.


It felt really good to get out and ride without having to do anything else. We made good time up over the mountains surrounding Medellin and onto the hot lowlands near sea level towards Cartegena over 600 kilometes from Medellin.

Now, in Colombia motorcycles are not charged a toll and have a narrow by-pass lane to the far right. I didn’t know this before coming to Colombia. The first toll both I hit outside of Bogota I went through the regular toll lane. The toll both person just explained that I didn’t have to pay and lifted the gate for me to pass. I still didn’t realize motorcycles had to pass through the by-pass lane, however. At the next next toll both they made me back my bike up and go through the motorcycle lane. I thought that was a case of someone with a little bit of power thinking they are actually important. This was a big effort with the wieght of the bike, speed bumps and on coming traffic. I felt it was a case of someone with a little bit of power thinking they are actually important. I was determined not to let that happen again.

As we approached one toll booth Tom didn’t see the motorcycle lane and was headed for the toll gate. At this moment the toll booth lady and the security guard came running out to stop Tom. I hit the gas passing Tom as the security guard tried to grabb my jacket to stop me, almost successfully, and I drove pass the hysterical toll both lady and the closed toll gate. I continued on but there was no sight of Tom and when I stopped on the side of the road the next bus driver told me the were holding Tom. So, I went back to find out what was going on.

There is Tom still on the other side of the toll. He had backed up and was going to go through the motorcycle lane but they were holding him responsible two toll charges because I fled the scene.





It seems they considered our actions very serious. And I say our because Tom also went beyond a certain point where the vehicle is counted and must be charged a toll. Or at least that is what they said. I still do not believe it because I know I was waived right through a toll back in Bogota. Anyway, we tried to talk our way out of it, get a two for one toll price and tried to get a few laughs, but they were not having any of it.


A guy on a scooter stopped and said that if the police arrived they would just take the bikes until the tolls are paid. We called it quits when the guy offered to pay the toll for us. I paid the two tolls and then bought Tom a second breakfast and was all smiles again, although there was no way we would make Cartagena in one day.









We stopped for the night in Sincelejo where we were the only foreigners and had a good time exploring the city. The next morning it was a short ride to Cartegena but it took us several hours to find a hotel. Fortunately the one we chose was excellent. It was nice to sleep on a comfortable bed after a couple of weeks on rock hard bed in the hostel.







The next day we played tourist.












We both felt Cartegena did not live up to its hype and after two days we move on for Santa Marta. On the way I passed 40,000 miles on the bike after 3 years of ownership.






We made it to Santa Marta without a problem but had a hard time finding the hotel district. This frustration didn´t stop us from taking the time to enjoy some fresh sugar cane juice. It was the first time we had ever seen a contraption like this. I thought it was a home made invention when the lady said her husband built it for her. However, I would later see many more of the exact same machines all over.

I was invited on a Sunday ride. But first we had a nice heavy traditional breakfast.
We then hoisted our bloated bodies onto the machines and got on with the ride. They call it the “milk run” because it goes through the heart of Medellin’s dairy region.




Although Colombia is a much safer country than it once, the police are particularly vigilagent about motorcycles because they were often used against the police. Up in the mountains the police had set up a check point and pulled over every motorcycle to inspect everyone’s paperwork. We waited around for a while but eventually someone convinced them to let us pass through.



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The cleaning of the garage at Hostal Medellin turned into a great photo opp for the moto-guests.

Medellin is a huge motorcycle city, although most of the are under 200cc. There are many motorcycle shops including a BMW dealer.


However, one independent shop is very special. The place is called Moto Angel. They know their stuff almost give away their services to travelers and are just good people. It was nice to see some of my friends of the wall also.




The guys at Moto Angel even gave me a free manual tire change lesson to replace the rear tire that got slashed in the Darien.