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.