Pereira – Salento – Cocora – Uribe – Buga – Cali
5 days | 356 kilometers | 4.270 meters elevation gain
I leave the warm nest of another family that was willing to share their house and their life with me. They are absolutely amazing and will have a place in my heart for the rest of my life. We leave early in the morning since Patricia and Hector have to go to work and Andres to school. I’m on the bike around 6 just when the sun is waking up too. I want to take some backroads, but these turn out to be a real pain in the ass. I’m beating myself up over little gravel roads that either incline 25% up or down. I’m completely exhausted and my bike computer tells me I’ve only covered 8 kilometers. If at one point my navigation sends me over a slippery pedestrian staircase I convince myself quite easily that it’s time to navigate back to tarmac. I take for granted that that means I’ll have to skip the nice little town of Filandia. I have lunch alongside the road and by now I’ve learned to look for the restaurant where the most trucks stopped since it means the food is good and fresh. I have a big plate of red beans, rice, eggs, plantain and arepa’s for around 1.5 Euro. After lunch I meet two other pair of bikepackers, one couple from France on the road and a German older couple when I reach the town of Salento. With the German couple I talk for a long time. They tell me they’ve had a not-so-nice encounter with FARC guerillas when they took a backroad south of Cali. They tell me they were approached by a guy with a gun telling to follow them. After a while they were allowed to follow their route but it’s safe to say that they were really shook up by the event. They told me where exactly this happened and I’m glad our paths crossed because exactly this road I was also planning on taking.
Salento is one of these super cute and well mainted towns that is flooded with tourists. It’s easy to see why, the bright-colored houses, picturesque alleyways and colonional central park make it worth visiting. I have lunch, take some pictures and hop back on the bike. My plan is to take a dirtroad mountain pass up and over 3.400 meters and for tonight camp somewhere along the way in the mountains. The road begins nice: good gravel and beautiful views. But further up the road the excessive rain of lately has made the dirtroad into one big mud pool. I try to cycle on, here and there slipping and sliding but managing to stay on my bike. But a bit further up the road the conditions become too bad. The mud sticks to my tires and is messing up my drive-train: mud on my chain, mud on my casette, mud between my brake pads. No bueno papi. My thoughts go back to North Canada where me and Jacko had the same conditions, we decided to stubbornly paddle on which ended in a crash, broken bike, pain and blood.
Back then we should’ve decided to stop and turn around and that’s exactly what I decide to do now. Proud of this steep learning curve and this very grown-up decision I turn around and make my way back to Salento. I find a bench on the main square to order my thoughts a bit. I have to make some changes to my plan. Not being able to take this road changes my route big time. It’s a pity I cannot make it over the mountain pass because from my fellow-biketourist-network I heard it’s supposed to be a beautiful ride. Instead I decide I will overnight in Salento, visit the world famous Cocora valley tomorrow and make my way down south via a different route.
I ask around villagers where I can clean my bike and they point me towards the Bomberos. When I make it there they are really helpful and hand me a big bucket of water and some bristles. I also ask if I can pitch my tent with them but unfortunately it’s not possible. I book a cheap hostel and take a well-deserved shower.
In the hostel I meet two girls from Basque country and immediately fall in love with one of them. I know this sounds exaggarated, but I really just drown in her eyes. There is a kind of mystical and beautiful aura hanging around her. When she talks to me I find it hard to concentrate on the words. The only thing I can think about is damn, she is beautiful. When I go to bed that night I have nothing in my mind but her. No routes, no bicycle, no Colombia, no nothing. Just her.
Since my last relationship ended back in 2019 I haven’t felt like this anymore. That’s almost 5 years of no butterflies, not feeling that crazy love for anyone. I seriously was afraid that my heart turned into a stone rock after 2019. Of course there were girls that I was seeing, that I was caring for, that I respected, that I wished all the best. But neither of them sparked that crazy fire in my heart. Probably also the reason that none of these turned into a relationship. But now I was feeling that puberescent feeling again. I was ready to catch bullets for this lady. I would walk a hundred miles for her. Or better, cycle a millon miles.
But what now? I already learned that she was traveling north, which is exactly the opposite direction from where I’m going. Also, does she like me? I have no clue. Still I feel like I should tell her I like her, because who knows what might happen? Moreover, if I won’t tell her I am afraid I will regret it for the rest of my life! I promise myself that I will have to tell her about my feelings the next day. I’m both afraid and excited to tell her. It’s hard to fall asleep.











I’ve been thinking about writing a book about my adventures on the bike from Canada to Patagonia. The funny thing is that probably I can already write one book just about today. Ready?
I wake up late and find out the Basque girls already left to hike around the Cocora Valley. My plan is to bike down into the valley, do some hiking myself and I just hope I will bump into the girls. I have breakfast, leave my bags at the reception and only take some water and my front-bag with me on the bike. It’s around 15 kilometer to the little village of Cocora of which the first couple are pretty steep downhill. I’m flying down when I suddenly hear that my bike is making a rattling noise. With 40/45 km/h I look down to see what is making that sound. When I look back up I realize that the course that I was making in my head differs a lot from reality: I’m coasting straight for the verge of the road. There’s no time left anymore to steer away so the only thing that I can still do is brace myself and hope for a not-so-bad outcome. I crash hard into the bushes on the side of the road. Thank god I don’t crash onto concrete, asphalt or a tree. I hit the ground and for seconds I cannot breath. I crawl back onto two feet and quickly check for blood or fractures. It doesn’t seem like I’ve broken anything. A car stops and asks if he needs to call an ambulance. Still without air in my lungs I answer him that I’m fine. I find my bike tens of meters away on the road. Other than my front bag being broken I find my bike in a surprisingly good condition. I quickly check for any damage to my body but I seem to be walking away from this only with scratches and bruises. My ankle hurts the most and the complete right side of my body is aching, but other than that nothing serious. This could have turned out much, much worse.
I make my way down the valley, lock my bike against a tree and start hiking a trail leading further into the valley. My ankle and body hurts but I guess the walking is a good way to not get stiff. It’s beautiful down here. Waterfalls seem to crash down right out of a hole of a thick and lush green wall of jungle. Everywhere the eye meets tall wax palms that characterize the area and shoot right into the air. I hike past cute farms. Horses and cows chew on an abundance of grass. I finish the hike. No sign of any Basque ladie. I return to the hotel and see them. The young lady it’s all about doesn’t seem to be eager to talk to me. The longer I wait telling her the bigger the doubt grows and more of a thing it becomes. I’m struggling with the assignment that I imposed on myself. I cannot find the right moment because she is always together with her Basque friend. Because my body hurts and because of the Basque-issue I decide to stay another night in the hostel.
However when I inform at the reception they tell me they’re fully booked for tonight. Damnit! That’s the moment I decide to throw in the towel. I will cancel my mission of telling her and start cycling again. I failed. I tell my Basque friends that there is no room for me for tonight and that I will start cycling again. And then out of nowhere the young lady, the one that makes me drown in her eyes, tells me that they have a spare bed in their room and immediately asks the guy from the hostel whether I can take that bed for tonight. No problem, he says. Seems like I am staying another night anyway. Mission Stepping Out Of My Comfort Zone And Telling A Lady I Have Feelings For Her is still on. Actually now that I think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever told someone I had feelings for them.
Still not being able to have found the right moment I decide to go for a beer in town. After a few beers and some empanadas I return to the hostel. On my way back my eye suddenly catches a beautiful full moon and an even more astonishing deck of clouds creating a true spectacle. I meet the girls back in the hostel and tell them they have to come up to the roof terrace to see the moon. Only the one Basque girl follows me to the roof terrace. The most important one. Seconds later we are on the roof terrace looking at an amazing full moon. I cannot help but think this could be the beginning of a love story as you will only find them in books or movies. This is the moment. One thing I forgot to tell you is that these girls don’t speak English, so I’ll have to do this in Spanish. I’ve been practising my sentences all day. There we go. “Listen I need to tell you something. Ever since we met I’ve been having butterflies in my stomach and I just wanted you to know. I know we are traveling in different directions and that this is very far-fetched, but I am afraid that if I don’t tell you I will regret it for the rest of my life.” Okay, honestly it wasn’t in fluent Spanish like I’ve translated it in English above, but it was kind of like that. Her answer? A big smile like she is flattered. And silence. There is nothing she can give me in return. I notice right away and I tell her it’s alright. I tell her I didn’t expect anything in return and that I just wanted to know that I didn’t miss a chance on something beautiful. She gives me a hug and goes down the stairs. I stay on the terrace, find a chair and look at the moon for an hour longer. Many emotions are flowing through my body at this point. I am relieved that I finally found the balls to tell her. That I made this big leap out of my comfortzone. It feels like a victory over myself. Ofcourse I am disappointed of the outcome. Honestly I didn’t expect much of it, but still my heart has broken a little bit.
I go to bed. I sleep right next to her. Easy to say it’s hard to fall asleep again that night.











I have breakfast in the hostel and prepare for departure. I say goodbye to my Big Basque Love and her friend.
I take a gravel road out of Salento following a river, but after 5 kilometers I have to turn around because the road has been washed away by a landslide.
Back on tarmac a very sad feeling hangs like a dark cloud over my head. The crash, the unanswered love, spending time again socializing with other travellers in the hostel. And then boom!, I’m all alone on the road again. It weighs heavy on me this time. I cry for about half an hour. It feels good to let my emotions go. I’m climbing a mountain in the meantime and oncoming traffic looks at me like are your legs burning that much from climbing that mountain that you are crying over it? I miss my family, I miss my friends. It’s good to mention in this blog as well that it’s not only beds of roses on a long trip like this. There are good days and bad days. Most of them luckily are from the first category. After an hour of sobbing and sniffling the dark cloud vanishes.
In the meantime I’m mostly descending and on my way to the city of Armenia. It’s saturday and I’m sharing the road with a lot of other cyclists. They wave and shout. Not much later I pass a group of middle-aged mountainbikers. Where I’m from and where I’m going? We cycle past a café and they invite me for a cup of coffee. Not much later back on the road I get invited by two mountain bikers for lunch at their house. They serve me the best coffee from the region and we get to share stories.
Tato (52) tells me that he and his wife both served in the Army for 23 years. That means they’ve been witnessing the madness and tyranny against guerillas, paramilitaries and narcotraffickers from the first row. He shows me a stitched-up hole in his leg from a bullet. They’re both retired now and enjoying life. He shows me his collection of banknotes from all around the world. I realize I still have a banknote from Cuba that he does not have in his collection and I’m super happy to give it to him.
I say goodbye, thank everybody for a great lunch and hop back on the bike. Ever since I got back to a somewhat lower altitude the sun has been back and it has not rained for a couple of days now. It’s hot and I like it. I move on southward. I take a road that people told me that would be quiet because there is a bridge further up the road that has collapsed. When I reach the bridge I can see the steel structure laying in the water. Pedestrians and (motor)bikes can still make it to the other side using the railroad bridge. With homemade little carts on wheels motorbikes are being pushed over the railroad. Pretty funny to see. Once we reach the other side it’s business as usual. There are zero cars and trucks on the road in the beginning which makes it a super chill ride. I cycle past really pretty green mountains.
On iOverlander (an app for campingspots and more) I find a note about a roadhouse with a shower, overnight surveillance and the possibility to pitch a tent on the parking lot. When I reach the place it’s just like advertised. It’s not a very nice spot to camp , but at least it’s safe and pretty quiet.



When I wake up I notice I have a really swollen and painful lymph node on the right side of my throat. What the hell? A quick Google-search tells me I either have lymph node cancer or an inflamation somewhere that’s making my lymf node work hard and produce a lot of white blood cells. Since I’m not really feeling like I have cancer I go with the latter. It should vanish on its own after a few days.
I only woke up at 8:30 and was sleeping around 10PM yesterday, which means I slept a lot. I guess I needed it. I have breakfast in a panaderia in a town with the beautiful name of Buyamagrande. I don’t go to these bakeries for the bread. I recently discovered that these bakeries can make you a real nice dish in the morning or afternoon for not so much money. Rice, arepas, plantain and eggs are soon brought to me. They call this ‘calentado’ and means something like re-heated. Luis told me that in the old days, they would reheat the dinner of yesterday and serve it as breakfast. Of course accompanied by a ‘tinto‘, black coffee, as well.
I choose a nice gravel road to cycle towards the carretera 23, which is supposed to be a more beautiful road going south than the 40 I’m currently on. The gravel road ends at the filthy brown river Cauca. There we have to wait for the captain of the cable ferry until he thinks there are enough people waiting. Also he has to finish his beer first. It is 11.00 in the morning for crying out loud! But soon I’ll find myself sipping on a beer as well as the couple that I’m chatting with while waiting for the captain offers me one. It really seems like drinking in the morning for Colombians is no problem at all.
As soon as enough people have gathered for the cable ferry, the captian waddles towards the little ferry and everybody follows him. He manages to make the round trip and soon he is reunited with his friends on the other side ordering a new beer.
The 23 is pretty flat and I manage to put some kilometres in with a descent speed. The only thing I did not oversee was that this road is pretty desolate. When hunger kicks in I cannot seem to find any place for food. Not a little tienda, no little stand with empanadas, nothing. I cycle past a clean river coming from the mountains and see some people enjoying their sunday off with their families enjoying a picknick along the river. I grab my last remainings out of my food bag and start digging into some dry granola. Not much later I get offered a plate of typical sancocho, soup with chicken and yuca, and juice by the family. Much appreciated!
I wanted to reach Lago Calima today, since it seemed like a nice place to camp, but my navigation app tells me that’s another 850 meters of climbing. I have 75 kilometers on the clock and I’m already pretty tired so I decide not to go. Plan B is a nature reserve that pops up on my map, but when I ask to fill my water bottles at a restaurant they tell me I should not do that with very firm words. They mumble something about narcos. I can’t help but always think that this is exaggarated, but still a statement like that sticks in your head and kills the mood. I decide for the not-so-romantic Plan C, which is putting my tent up on a piece of grass next to the gas station.



I have the biggest trouble making a decision about whether I’m still going to the lake or just make my way to the city of Cali today. I seem to be indecisive. I pack up my stuff and cycle to the city of Buga where I have breakfast at the local panaderia. Here I spend another hour being indecisive. After all I decide just cycling to the city today.
The day is flat, hot and filled with dust and soot coming from the cars and trucks making their way to the big city in the south of Colombia.
In Cali I can stay with Paula. I know her from the time that she lived in the Netherlands 5 years ago. She’s been following my journey intensively and has been offering a place to stay in Cali for a long time. Super nice.
When I reach the city I drop off my camera at a repair company. For a long time now the display of my camera has not been working and I want to get it fixed. After that I circle back to the north of the city towards the location that Paula has send me. I later find out that this is the wrong location and that the house she is living in is still 20 kilometers to the south! I take the bus lane and fly down to the south.
Paula and her friend Catalina live in Catalina’s parents house in a really fancy neighborhood in the south of Cali. The house has 7 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms a nice terrace and lots of grass. It’s huge. I am welcomed by Paula, Catalina and their friend Steve. Catalina is working and Paula and Steven have been daydrinking. It’s safe to say that the vibe is somewhat exstatic. I join the drinking squad and we end up on the roof with way too much liquor in our bodies.
The next day everybody except for Catalina is hungover. Still we manage to go into the city and check out the nice neighborhood of San Antonio and pick up some stuff from the old apartment of Catalina.
The next days fill automatically. Me and Paula walk her dog Pancho. I clean my clothes, bike and do some needed repairs. Ofcourse we have to go for a salsa class in the World Capital of Salsa. We play Tejo, an ancient Colombian game where you have to throw a big rock on a target with gunpowder: if you make a little firework show you get points! I meet a lot of friends of friends whilst discovering the nightlife of Cali. I’m amazed by all the fake boobs, but even more by the fake asses that I see in the streets: the Colombian beauty ideal hits different.
On sunday I join Paula and her brother and we spend time in a restaurant along the river Pance. We don’t seem like the only one with that idea: it’s bustling. The river is dottes with families having picknicks and enjoying cold dips in the river on a hot day like this.
After a week in Cali it’s time to go again. The package I was waiting for never arrived, but I’m thinking to have it send to cities further in the south if it still arrives. I am forever grateful to Paula and her friends to have welcomed me into their city, showed me around and offered me a bed.
I’ve been planning my last Colombian stage. It’s another 650 kilometers to Ipiales, a city that’s close to the Ecuadorean border. I will cross the Central Cordillera one more time which makes it another 15.000 height meters.
After that I’ll cross into Ecuador. I can’t wait.

Genoten van jou reis in Colombia Marijn. Misschien ook een land voor ons om eens te bezoeken. De kleurige mensen en huizen, de prachtige natuur en de aardige mensen klinken als een leuk land om te bezoeken. Geniet nog van de etappes in dit land.
Heel veel groetjes van ons.
Karin en Ans
Zeker een aanrader voor jullie Ans, precies zoals je zegt!
Wat super om het weer allemaal gelezen te hebben. Ben weer helemaal bij! Wat heb ik weer genoten met alles wat jij meemaakt. Alleen die onbeantwoorde liefde vond ik minder leuk…..dat had ik je van harte gegund
Super dat jullie me nog steeds op de voet volgen!! Dikke kus!
Wat een imponerend verhaal Marijn! Je gaat van hoogte- naar dieptepunten en knap hoe je jezelf telkens weet te herpakken. Ik heb te doen met je onbeantwoorde liefde. Het had zo mooi kunnen zijn maar het had je reis ook flink kunnen doorkruisen. Wie weet wat er nog op je pad komt.
Goede reis 👍👍👍
Ook de dieptepunten horen erbij en horen beschreven te worden! Dankjewel voor de woorden Kees:)
Met een lach ( van herkenning) en een traan (van een moederhart) heb ik je 4de verhaal van Colombia gelezen . Ups en downs maar je weet je heel knap te herpakken . Wat ben je mentaal en fysiek sterk Marijn, om trots op te zijn, want het is niet niks om dit in je eentje te doen . Ook stiekem wel fijn om te lezen dat je ons hier in Nederland ook mist 😉 Hopelijk wordt je hart niet nog eens gebroken maar je liefde op een dag beantwoord ! Een mooie en veilige reis verder want wat kom je op prachtige plekken zeg en KIJK GOED UIT XXX
Wat stoer dat je je emoties en ervaringen zo met ons deelt Marijn! Jammer dat het niks geworden is maar koester die vlinders, de beste natural high die er is toch?
Thanks MAZU! Ik deel mijn gedachtes heel graag met iedereen 🙂 Heel leuk deze reacties, dat motiveert heel erg.
Prachtig verhaal Marijn van jouw verliefdheid!!
Mooi je gevoelens omschreven. Wie weet wat je nog tegenkomt tijdens hè prachtige fietstochten.Nog veel fietsplezier!
Groetjes Bep en Hans Hoppenbrouwers
Ha! De ouwe buurtjes! Wat leuk dat jullie mijn verhalen lezen. Er zwemmen nog veel meer vissen in de zee, ik moet alleen ergens aan een hengel zien te komen! Groetjes!