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.