Colombia

After about four months and 11,000 miles of riding, I finally made it to Colombia; the land of Shakira, the FARC, amazing fruit, great scenery and fantastic motorcycling.  Once upon a time, when I described the trip I was about to take to people at home, they usually looked at me with horror when the word Colombia was mentioned.  Basically, the only things that these people knew about Colombia, or South America for that matter, was what they had heard on the evening news.  Many of these people were more than happy to share their expert knowledge, which they gained sometime between the weather program and a clip about which purses were hot this season.  According to these folks, which again, had generally never traveled to South America, I was simply crazy to think of going to this terrible place.  The lesson that I’ve since learned is to disregard travel advice from people who haven’t traveled much.

True enough, Colombia has had a violent past.  The FARC, paramilitaries and a handful of other groups have caused the country considerable pain.  The illegal drug industry was such a powerful force, thanks to the western world’s cocaine habits, that during the 80′s and 90′s it virtually controlled the country.  In the 80′s, Pablo Escobar was listed as the 7th richest man in the world.  But, a lot has changed since then.  Mounting world pressure and eight years of president Uribe seem to have really turned the country around.  From what I saw, Colombian cities seem to be some of the most developed in all of South America.

Getting into Colombia was like all of my other South American border crossings; no big deal.  The border was very busy, but I was able to ride around the long line of trucks.  Getting out of Ecuador proved to be the most difficult part of the day.  First, the office seemed to be hidden.  Then, all the immigration folks appeared to be either tired or on some sort of three hour long lunch break.  After I finished exiting Ecuador, Colombia was pretty easy.  Some Colombians, who happened to be money changers, guided me around and the whole event went quickly.  At the Adauana office, the customs people were very professional and friendly.  From the sound of things, I’m going to miss reasonably well functioning South American borders in Central America.  As I was leaving the border area, I met three Brazilians who were riding Harley’s to Alaska.  Friendly guys!

One of the things I needed to do upon entry in Colombia was buy an insurance policy.  I stopped in the first city I came to, as it seemed to follow the directions given to me by a soldier at the border.  I started asking around for “seguro para moto” and began a two hour adventure.  In about two minutes, I managed to find a couple who ran an insurance business.  After considerable conversational effort, I discovered that their business was in the next town.  So, as they were finishing up their lunch break, they offered to lead me there.  Colombian’s drive fast.  Some may say like lunatics.  So, let’s say it was a very exciting ride to the office.  After I got there, I discovered that the shortest policy one can get in Colombia is for three months.  This cost something like $100.  Then, I needed to find an ATM to get some local currency.  That was back in the other direction.  Finally, after two trips, lots of waiting and an incredible amount of typing on a computer, I had my policy.  A second thing needed for motorcyclists in Colombia is a sticker with the bike’s license plate number on your helmet and a reflective vest with the same numbers.  I got the helmet sticker but didn’t really want  to wear another piece of clothing.  So, I put a sticker on my jacket.  This lasted about two days.  I found out that with my day-glow green jacket 1) I look like a police officer and 2) the police really don’t care about the number on the jacket for gringos.

From Ipiales, the border town where I purchased the insurance, I decided to continue to the town of Pasto.  The road, like most roads in the region, was incredibly twisty (which is why I don’t have many photos).  With all the trucks, traffic, speed bumps and corners, the fifty miles ended up taking me about two hours.  I made it to Pasto before sunset, which was nice.  Apparently, the town of Pasto is the brunt of many Colombian jokes.  For whatever reason, the people have acquired a reputation throughout the rest of Colombia for being stupid.  The first thing I found was a town full of motorcycles.  Hundreds of 125s and 250s raced around town, unlike anyplace I’ve been before.  Next, I found a secure parking lot and a hotel in the middle of what seemed to be the motorcycle district.  It was very noisy, and a bit run down, but the people were incredibly friendly and everyone in the area showed up to check out the American who just rode in on the big bike.  I’m not sure how the people of Pasto got their unfavorable reputation, but what I found was a mid-sized city, that was a bit economically depressed, but full of very friendly people (but bad restaurants).

The next morning, I left Pasto and headed north to Cali.  I had about 200 miles of twisty roads to travel, which took up pretty much the whole day.  A very bad accident, something that unfortunately seems to be very common in South America, delayed me for a bit.  The road took me through a fantastic green landscape, with mountains, rivers, waterfalls, farms and small towns.  I was looking forward to getting to Cali and the Casa Blanca, a hostel run by a Danish/Colombian couple and recommended by many motorcycle travelers.  Mike, who runs Casa Blanca, has a well regarded motorbike repair shop just down the street, as well as secure parking.  For anyone making a similar trip, I’d highly recommend stopping at this shop for services or repairs.  The mechanics at the shop are familiar with big motorcycles, which you won’t find in significant numbers south of Colombia.  Second, parts, like chains, brake pads and pretty much anything else one might need for a bigger bike, are very easy to get in Colombia.  Also, if needed, one can get a FedEx package from the U.S. in two days.  By contrast, motorcycle parts for large bikes are very difficult to get in Argentina, Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador and in South America, outside of Colombia, international shipping seems to be difficult and expensive.

Because of a holiday, I stayed at Casa Blanca for five days.  As I had been constantly moving since leaving Manorca, Peru, it was nice to stay put in one place for a few days. Cali surprised me by how modern it was.  Down the street, there was a shopping mall that rivaled anything in California.  In the other direction, there were dealerships for Mercedes, BMW, KTM, Kawasaki and most other makes of cars and motorcycles.  There was also a crop of restaurants and bars in the area, again, most of which were very modern.  The weather was surprisingly hot and muggy, but I gladly payed up for air conditioning.  Plus, I ended up hanging out with three other motorcyclists.  Vincent, a great guy from San Diego was riding south on a KTM 990 on a two year sabbatical.  The other two guys were riding together.  Robert, from Los Angeles was on a Harley and Rick, a British guy was on a BMW F650.  It was a blast hanging out with other riders, which have been oddly absent for much of my trip due to my non standard direction and timing.

After the holiday, the shop got to work on my bike, checking the valves, cleaning the carburetor, lubing the brake pad pins and changing the chain, front sprocket and rear brake pads.  The shop also welded the two fractures in my luggage rack from the crash I had a few weeks back in Peru.  My KLR likes being clean and I was excited that it was ready for the rest of my trip (I hope).

In the future, I’ll try to take more pictures.