The passage of time

Firstly I should apologise for the lack of updates recently. Sorry. I spent six days in Medellin with a jaw that looked like I was sucking a watermelon, some sort of gum infection I think.

Aside from looking pretty at night from the mountains, Medellin was one of the most picturesque cities I've ever visited. It lies in a natural bowl and is completely surrounded by tall mountains, the view from the fifteenth floor of my hotel was outstanding. Unfortunately I didn't get to see a great deal of the city, I just spent the time on a diet of liquids and ibuprofen which seemed to help the swelling. A couple of times I managed to get out and was taken aback by the variety of bird life in such a big city, bright yellows, reds and blues were on display everywhere. People put birdfeeders out for Hummingbirds!

I have been amazed by how slowly the time seems to pass nowadays. The furious march of days in London has been checked and suddenly I am aware of my environment, have time to think, and can do as I please most of the time. Odd then, that I should suddenly realise as the date ticked over into November that I only have seven weeks to get home if I am to keep my promise to my eldest niece that I will be home for Christmas. Seven weeks may seem a lot but in that time I have to get to Cape Horn, and then almost half way back up the continent to Buenos Aires, in order to get home. I had a slight panic, and decided I need to head south rapidly.

The swelling had subsided enough for me to put my crash helmet on without pain so on Wednesday I decided to try to make Cali from Medellin, which was a long day given the road conditions. My experiences with the journey from Bogota to Medellin made me get up much earlier, and by complete chance I bumped into a couple in the elevator as I was leaving breakfast. He looked every bit the gringo, but a lot more relaxed than I was. She was latin American. He looked at me:
"Are you American?"
"Noooooo"
"Ah, Australian?" (grrrrr)
"No I'm English mate"
Turned out he was from Haywards Heath. There I was in an elevator half the world away, with a guy from down the road. We chatted whilst I had my foot jammed in the door and he explained how he was living in Panama now, but Colombia was much nicer. I was inclined to agree, I'd been in Colombia a week and no one had tried to fleece me, let alone the cops :) It was nice to have a bit of conversation before getting on the road again.

Heading out I was pretty familiar with the layout of Medellin so I managed to find the road south to Cali without too much trouble. My map indicated that the road followed a river so I was hopeful for an easier time, but of course being surrounded by mountains, the road immediately climbed and twisted, it was potholed and the traffic was hideous. More or less just how I remembered it from the previous ride! However this time the road flattened out after 50Km or so, and the ride became struggle over some mountains, and then be rewarded by a stretch of straightish flat road. That went on until Cartago when the road became quite well surfaced, straight and easy to ride. Suddenly Cali didn't seem quite as far.

However my rush to get as far south as I could meant that my planned visit to Saliento was toast. Arriving in Cali I found an hotel just before dark, and then found that my cash cards wouldn't work in any local ATMs. That's the second time that has occurred (the first was in Prince George in Canada). I had about enough cash on me for a Colombian equivalent McChicken sandwich. So that was dinner :)

After having to leave my earplugs in to get any sleep, as the hotel was on a main road opposite a disco, Thursday saw me heading south again with Pasto as my intended goal. That would leave me just short of the border with Ecuador. I pulled into a garage to fuel the bike and started to get a lot of questions from the curious pump attendant. I took my helmet off to chat and that seemed to bring everyone else over too, I had four young pump attendants firing all sorts of questions that I only really understood when they pantomimed them :) I got the impression I was being chatted up by one of them (a girl, I hasten to add) but it is difficult enough to know these things for sure when you do speak the language ;)

The road to Pasto was similar at first to the previous day's riding, following the river valley south with mountain ranges either side providing the view. Easy riding, until finally the road began to climb into the mountains again. My pump attendant friends had warned me that Pasto was high up, and cold. I wasn't so worried about that as the state of the roads... I think the climb to Pasto was the worst road I have ridden on. It wasn't gravelly or muddy like the Dalton Highway, but it was cratered to oblivion. Added to that were suicidal drivers on my side of the road (which I was starting to get accustomed to) and long shadows cast by trees that all but hid the craters. The scenery, however, made up for any hardship in spades. The surrounding mountains plunged away as the road climbed, not grand snow capped rocky peaks like Canada but green, shimmering green mountains that looked different every time a cloud crossed the sun. About 30Km short of Pasto I was stopped for the first time by the police, and still buzzing from the scenery I took my helmet off with a big grin and sat chatting to the cops. The five of them were fiddling with switches, trying on my gloves, and asking all sorts of questions (and laughing that I was in Colombia and didn't speak much Spanish). After they'd checked my documents they all shook my hand and welcomed me to Colombia, I think that was the first time I've ever enjoyed being stopped by the police :) I'd been worried for several days as it is law in Colombia for bikers to wear vests and helmets displaying the bike's licence plate. Obviously doesn't apply to tourists!

As I got to Pasto and found an hotel for the evening, I mused on the sad lack of photographs of the beautiful road. There is simply nowhere to stop for a picture. In Canada or the States, there would be turnouts or pull-ins, signs to tell you what was what, and little "this is a viewpoint" symbols. In Colombia it is just the view, as you jink around the millionth pothole ;)

More imminently :)

Frase.