On his motorbike, Mario and his girlfriend escorted me to the end of the village, a short embracement, and I was on the road again. The journey started well with a long descent of 20km down into the tropical valley of the Río Magdalena. But this time I knew that I would have to suffer for every meter downwards when climbing up on the other side of the valley.

And indeed, it became a long day of about seven hours on the bike for 128,5km crossing the canyon and green fields with cattle on initially rather plane terrain surrounded by mountains on the horizon.

During afternoon the temperature display on my board computer reached 34°C and the street steepened. In the humid climate, riding became a torture and I used up all my water reserves. Rather exhausted I stopped at one of the numerous boothes selling fruits along the street and asked for a fresh mango. When nestling with my wallet, the shop girl insisted with emphasis that she won´t take any money from me: cyclists here seem to be a symbol of national pride. I felt very flattered by this friendly encounter: certainly, it was the best mango of my life.

Invigorated again, I climbed the remaining 1300 altitude meters up to Ibagué where I found a little hostel to give my bones their well-deserved rest.

With all the luggage, biking is suddenly another experience. My bike changes its caliber from a versatile hopper to a camión which imperturbable follows its well-set way.

Despite the increased attraction the packed bike creates, I stop only once in the heavy traffic crossing the barrios del Sur: to replace a little screw in my shoe at a little garage. While I stand waiting barefooted and just as the questions of the three mechanicians concerning the value of the bike and my exact route become somehow obtrusive, a fast sequence of gun-shots nearby interrupt our talk. Surprisingly enough, the people around do not hide away but after a second of shock run to the source -a cab in the middle of the road- to calm down the conflict. After 30km more, I am glad to see the shabby facades of the suburb giving way to lower barracks and then to some meager green along the road. I am finally out of Bogotá!

Following the Ruta 40 via Sibaté and Granada I have to ascend by 300m to a pass at 2840m for two hours while the rest of the day is pure delight: a long and steady descent of 1000m at 20km into the valley of the Río Magdalena.
With ‚the leaving daylights‘ (and mine as well) I arrive Fasugasuga.

Today, I went for a first ride with the bike 112km back and forth to Zipaquirá, a rather touristic destination near Bogotá, known for its cathedral in a former salt mine, about 100m under ground. Although I started at 7 o’clock in the morning, there was already a lot of traffic on the streets of the awakening suburbs and I was rather occupied by keeping the track. I certainly would not have survived in this street chaos without my strong brakes.

My cautiously elaborated plan of taking the less frequented side ways was maculature after the first crossroads so I just headed northwards until I got out of town. Surprisingly, there were parts with perfect bicycle lanes along the road, which I really enjoyed as a counterbalance to the autopista norte where the cars kept passing me at a distance of 20cm.

After the rather flat way through nice green mountainsides, I arrived Zipaquirá for some breakfast in town and a guided visit of the famous cathedral.

While this church is said to receive 3000 visitors for worship on sundays, it was not overcrowded but nicely illuminated by some coloured light effects.

I took the same way back but arrived only in darkness in Bogotá where I had no luck with the streets: sometimes four or five lanes where any reasonable biker keeps on the very right side, but then joins another street with two lanes from the right… I was just grateful for my strong lamps!