Medellin – Amagá – Hispania – Jardín – Las Cruces – La Virginia – Pereira

6 days   |   323 kilometers   |   5.594 meters elevation gain

I have my last delicious and typical breakfast at Casa Luis with arepa, cheese, and scrambled eggs before I say my last thank you’s to him and start pedaling toward downtown Medellin. Well, honestly I don’t have to pedal much to get into the city since it’s only downhill. I first make a stop at the bike shop of which I already have 3 receipts. My derailleur still feels a bit odd and I want to address the problem. It’s funny, every time I go down to the bike shop I end up having to spend money. I first went down there for a new cassette and chain. After that, my drivetrain felt odd and I went back and they told me I needed a new rear derailleur. Today they tell me my drivetrain feels odd because the teeth on my crank are worn out and I need a new crankset. Unfortunately, they don’t have them in my size and we end up putting everything back. I guess I’ll have to deal with it and maybe fix it in the next big city. After the bike shop, I cycle further south of the city to say goodbye to a friend. All in all I really start pedaling and letting loose of this beautiful city around 3PM.

I really found myself having trouble leaving the warm nest and comfort that I experienced in Medellin. I really had to tell myself tomorrow we’re going to cycle again. Another factor that played a role in this is the fact that my knee still feels odd after I twisted it in a silly tumble a few weeks ago. So today is quite exciting because I don’t know what pushing a 50kg bike up a hill will do with my knee.

When the city starts falling apart in suburbs and little villages I notice that there are so many cyclists on the road. Not only villagers going to the other side of town but also MTBers and road cyclists. Everybody waves happily to me when they see this strange bird passing by. After a rain-stop with coffee I continue uphill. In the descent I get treated to a beautiful view on a green valley sprinkled with little mountainside villages. And then I feel it again. That ecstatic feeling of the freedom on the bike, the feeling that the world is waiting for me to be explored. I scream out a “Yahoooo” while bombing down the mountain.

I end up in a little village called Amagá and make my way to the firebrigade. Unfortunately they tell me that I cannot put my tent there for the night, but luckily the police officer in the building next door is a bit more welcoming. He introduces me to the night guard and tells me that I can spend the night. The guard, John, is super friendly and shows me the toilets, showers and where to get some dinner. At night me and John watch the Copa Libertadores on a very old television and both Colombian teams (Nacionál from Medellin and Deportivo from Pereira) win.

My knee does not feel very good, nor it feels very bad. Let’s get some more days in before I draw any conclusions.

In the morning I’ve been awakened by the new female guard that apparently has taken over the shift from John early in the morning. While I zip out my tent there are a bunch of workmen already gathered around my tent that immediately start rambling on to me in very fast-paced Spanish. Guys, guys, guys, I just woke up! I can feel my brain is only working at 50% capacity so I smile the conversations away. I first need to sit down and maybe have some coffee before I can start having conversations in Spanish.

I pack up and go the central park to have some breakfast. It rains which does not make me want to go cycling yet. I can feel that my knee hurts a bit more than yesterday and its safe to say that I’m concerned. However I remind myself of one other time that I almost canceled on a bicycle holiday because of knee problems. In the end I went anyway and the problems disappeared automatically whilst on the bike. I hope this time it will be just like that.

The rain stops and a beautiful day follows, along beautiful valleys and rivers. In the meantime I descended quite a bit and I can feel it’s getting warmer again. I really have to restrain myself from putting in too much effort concerning my knee. I take a left turn into another valley and I know that from here it will be around 2500 meters up and over a mountain range.

I will spread this out over two and a half days and today I will only do a short bit of it.

I climb and I climb and I enjoy it. Cows and horses in the meadows next to the road gaze at me. I’ve been seeing some signs next to the road about a certain mirador/bar and decide to check it out. It’s around 3PM when I arrive there and I am greeted by friendly people. The place has a beautiful view over the valley. I order a beer and inform if I might be allowed to put up my tent here tonight. Yes sure, no problem! Boom, settled. It’s 3PM, the place for the night is arranged and I’m sipping on a cold beer: time to relax. I get to put my tent on a flat piece of grass with the best view over the valley. I hang around and talk with the friendly owner. He is dieing to improve his English because his sister has moved to the UK and he would like to be able to talk to his nephew and niece. He takes me to his house and to the little town to drink a beer. In the night I talk to the staff and eat at the bar. When I crawl into my tent it starts raining really hard and I wonder if the inside is going to stay dry since I had an accident with it and had to patch it up with tape a few months ago.

Although it rains all night, luckily the tent passes the test and I stay dry.

I wake up, the sun is shining and when I open my zipper I get treated to one of the most amazing morning views of the last months. Javier told me yesterday that the restaurant will open again at 11AM and that I had to wait for him. So that’s what I do. I break down the tent and leave everything to dry in the weak morning sun. When Javier and his wife come we have a coffee, take a picture and say our goodbyes.

Today is going to be all climbing and I look forward to it. I ascend further and deeper into the valley and along the river. Once again I’m treated to beautiful vistas, misty clouds are kissing the foreheads of the green mountains. Everywhere the eye meets I can see fields of plantains, bananas, and coffee.

I have lunch in another beautiful colonial town named Andes and I wonder how many more towns with this name I will encounter on my way down the Andes mountain range that spans all the way to Argentina. When I continue climbing up I suddenly feel a sharp pain in my knee. Damn, you see, my knee is getting worse. It’s only after 5 minutes of worrying and doubting that I figure out that the sharp pain is coming from my good knee. I guess my bad knee is not as bad as I think…

After 36 kilometers of climbing, I end the day in the beautiful town of Jardín. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen other gringos and that must mean that the big public has found its way to this picturesque town as well. I treat myself to a warm shower and a bed in a dormitory in a hostel.

My raincoat has found a new home at the top of my bag. In the past year, I’ve experienced less rain than I’ve encountered in Colombia just this week. Rain showers persist daily, but luckily they aren’t too intense. Also today it’s drizzling all day, but it never gets to a full pour.

In the morning I first check out this village a bit more and find a local cafe that is broadcasting the decisive time trial in the Giro d’Italia. Sipping on a tinto, Colombian black coffee, and discussing our favorites for the win with other locals we watch in excitement how Roglic is victorious and wins this edition of the Italian race. In the meantime, I prepare myself for what is going to be a big day for me as well as I have to climb up to 2900 meters.

I set off from the hostel and soon the road turns into gravel and mud, making the ascent quite demanding. It’s cold, rainy, and misty, but the magnificent vistas make up for the challenging weather. Friendly locals greet me everywhere, and a bus driver even stops to check if I’m okay. I’m actually pretty amazed to see a line bus on this muddy gravel road. I make it to the top where I have a short break before starting my descent.

I didn’t prepare myself well enough and soon realize that I don’t have enough food with me and that I’m starting to get really hungry. So when I finally see a restaurant again I order chocolate milk, a plate with arepa and cheese and an empanada. The empanada turns out to be the best I’ve had so far so I order two more. I change into some dry clothes and hop back on the bike for some more tricky downhill. Riding downhill on gravel can be just as arduous as going uphill—constant steering, balancing, and focusing on the road to find the path with the fewest sharp stones.

My hands cramp from braking, and my shoulders and arms ache from steering. Suddenly, I notice I’m riding on my rim. I feel my tire and discover that I have a flat. To make matters worse, darkness is setting in and I’m still 15 kilometers away from asphalt and civilization. I spot a house with a flat grassy area and decide to use the flat area to unload my bags, flip my bike over, and change the tube. As I’m working on the tire, a woman comes out of the house and asks if everything is okay. “Yes, I’ll be on my way soon, sorry to bother you”. She tells me that it is no problem and that I may also come inside if I want. Later when I’m finished she comes outside again and I ask if I can wash my hands at her place. We talk some more. She tells me it’s getting dark and that it can be dangerous outside. She proposes that I put the bike inside and that I stay the night. I cannot resist this hospitality any longer and I agree to stay the night.

Five minutes later I’m inside, sipping on a warm Aguapanela while my hosts are preparing a bed for me. The woman is called Monica (45) and she lives together with her mom (73), her daughter (18), her son (20) and her husband. It’s Saturday night and they tell me that her son and husband are out drinking beers in the city. I and the ladies have dinner together, share stories and have a laugh. Exhausted I find my way to the guest bed. In the house, maybe barn is the better word here, the entire family sleeps in the same room, with beds pushed together. My room is separated from theirs by a wall consisting of wooden planks with 5cm gaps between them, which makes me directly stare into the eyes of the person lying next to me in the other room. I cannot fully stretch in the small bed and the mattress consists of some blankets stapled together, but I sleep like a baby anyway.

So yesterday when I was preparing to go to sleep, Monica approached me and told me that “when my husband drinks he can be a bit loud“. I tell her it’s no problem but I wonder what her intentions are with the remark. So around midnight, I wake up by the sound of the men coming home. Lights flick on and voices grow louder. I have a suspicion that they are talking about me and maybe about what that bicycle is doing here. I really hope that mr. husband is not making a big deal about me sleeping in the guest room. A feeling creeps up to me that any time now the light in my room can flick on and that a drunk husband will kick me out of his house. I anxiously await my eviction under my way too comfortable covers. Thankfully the commotion subsides, the voices die out, the lights go out and I am able to peacefully fall back asleep again.

In the morning I first meet the twenty-year-old. Casually dressed wearing a cowboy hat, playing billiard at the side of the house. We talk, make jokes and play loud music. After that, I meet his dad. Mustache, cowboy hat, jeans and checkered shirt. He tells me to sit down. I’m a bit intimidated. He signs something to his son with two fingers in the air and not much later his son arrives with two cold beers in his hand. It is nine o’clock in the morning! I laugh about the beers, but Dad seems to be dead serious about the beers and I don’t want to be rude so I start sipping.

We chat, I tell my story and how I ended up here. I feel that I gain his trust and confidence. The atmosphere relaxes. After we finish the beer he signals for new beers and his son brings them. Damn, I thought this beer-thing was only a test and that I passed the test and that we could cut the crap now. Well then. We finish our second, third, fourth and fifth beer. I didn’t even have breakfast yet. To my surprise I discover that I am a strong morning drinker, feeling no effects whatsoever. Meanwhile, Dad sitting across the table from me grows increasingly animated and begins rambling. He enthusiastically shows me his collection of sombreros and traditional shoulder bags.

Monica swings by to tell her husband that he shouldn’t drink more. He doesn’t seem to care. In the meantime I start worrying because I still have to cycle down a mountain and how many beers do I still have to accept to keep my courteousness? I get saved by two friends of Dad that swing by to go and look at the cows. He gives me a hand and waddles after his friends.

I have breakfast, pack up my stuff, make one last picture with the ladies of the house and say goodbye.

The rocky road down the mountain seems even harsher than yesterday and it’s hard to find a rhythm. My bike is shaking as never before and just like always I pray that nothing breaks. Even with five beers lingering in my system I make it down safely back to asphalt. Once again I promise myself that I will stick to asphalt for a while. I stop at a car wash to rid my mud-covered bike of its filth.

In the afternoon, I am caught off guard by a sudden downpour, and I seek refuge in a nearby restaurant. The rain brought together a diverse group of travelers seeking shelter and we engage in animated conversations. The owner of the restaurant offers me to set up my tent under her roof for the night. I friendly decline. It’s still early and I feel like cycling a bit more. Moreover, the application on my phone is promising me lots of descending and I can’t wait. When the rain stops I wave goodbye and start pedaling. Sixty kilometers of descending and flat terrain later the sun is setting and I drive into the town of La Virginia. I find the cheapest hotel in town, take a cold shower, hang my clothes to dry all over the room and walk into town.

Every evening in Colombia is like a food truck festival. The streets are lined with various vendors offering all kinds of food. From pizzas, hotdogs, hamburgers, to more Colombian food like cheese arepas, patacones and morcilla. You spend a few pesos here and a few pesos there to assemble your own three or four-course menus. I like it.

By now, I’ve built a network of cycling friends, many of whom are currently in Colombia and a bit further south than me. It’s incredibly convenient because I can learn about beautiful routes from them and get inspiration for my own journey. This morning I text some friends to learn about the routes they took to start assembling my own route towards Cali.

Yesterday I suddenly figured out I am only 36 kilometers away from the house of Patricia and Hector. I promised them I would keep them up-to-date about my whereabouts so they would know when I was going to pass by. But my last text dates from almost a week ago. So I texted them yesterday night:

Hi Patricia and Hector. How are you doing? I’m doing great and apparently I’ve been cycling hard the last few days and not paying too much attention to where I am. I just discovered that I am close to Pereira already and could make it to your house tomorrow. I know this is late notice so don’t worry if it does not suit you. But in case I’m still welcome tomorrow, let me know 🙂

Followed by the following reaction:

Hi Marijn you are welcome tomorrow don’t worry about it.

So let me first explain how I know Patricia and Hector. Well, actually I don’t even know these people. But back in June last year when Jacko and I were riding the Great Divide trail in Montana we met two cyclists from Minnesota that we bounded with really well. Their names are Matt and Renee and we only camped together for two nights but it was enough to form a friendship. We still keep in touch and a few weeks ago when Matt realized I was in Colombia he gave me the phone number of Patricia and Hector to me with the accompanying words “You have a place to stay near Pereira, they are like family to us, so just reach out to them”.

So I texted them and indeed they told me I was welcome.

Cool, so tonight I have a place to stay and it’s only 40 kilometers away. I take it easy and roam around the streets of La Virginia to find some breakfast. I score a delicious Avena drink with a papa relleno and orange juice. Back in the hotel I decide to check out my brake pads since yesterday I felt it was maybe time for replacement. And yes, my rear brake pads are nearly finished and were almost rubbing steel on steel. Just in time. I know I still have two sets of spare pads and I get them out, but then come to the discovery that these are the wrong size and don’t fit. Ay caramba! I also know that these type of brake pads are pretty rare since my bike is 20 years old. I walk around town and find three bike shops but all of them pull painful faces when they see this type of brake pad. They tell me to try in Pereira, the biggest city in this area. Luckily my route today was passing through Pereira anyway.

I continue with only my front brake pads. Today should be only asphalt and nothing too crazy so I guess I will survive with only one brake.

When I make it to Pereira neither of the bike shops have this type as well. I do find a type of brake pad that to my eye should maybe fit, so the owner lets me try it out. To my excitement, they fit and seem to work well. I immediately order some new brake pads online and let them ship to an address I have in Cali. I don’t want to run out of brake pads again in the future.

I continue my way to the outskirts of Pereira where I meet Patricia, Hector and their son Andreas. All of them speak English very well, so I am not limited to Spanish. Patricia is a doctor in the hospital of Pereira and Hector works for Nestlé in marketing. Their house is beautiful and amidst nature and tranquility.

I decide to stay two days. Hector and Patricia are super relaxed and make me feel at home right away. I can let my knee rest a bit and plan my future routes. I really don’t do much these days and I also cannot do much. Pereira is a bit too far away for a day trip with the bike and around the house is nothing much to do. But that’s fine because also I don’t feel like doing much. I take the dogs out for a walk in the afternoon and enjoy Patricia’s cooking and having meals together.

Next up:
A crash with my bike and an unanswered love making my way south towards Cali.

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One Reply to “Colombia III: Five Beers Before Breakfast in the Mountains”

  1. Meteen je boeiend verhaal achter in de auto gelezen op weg naar huis vanaf Harderwijk na een gezellige familiedag waarop we
    jouw aanwezigheid natuurlijk misten
    Fijn dat je extra remblokjes hebt kunnen scoren , toch een lekker gevoel !

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