Diese Diashow benötigt JavaScript.

Early in the morning, before 6 o´clock on the road again, with many ciclistas on the opposite direction coming from Barranquilla, friendly greating. One of them turns to accompany me for a while. With its farewell the urgent advice: the next 50km you don´t stop, you don´t buy anything along the street, you simply go on. Even with only two bottles of water for the long way to Ciénaga, I had no appeal to break his counsel when traversing the wooden shacks of the southern suburbs to avoid the traffic of the industrial town: dark figures burning garbage in front of their homes. What then came, was one of the finest landscapes I´ve ever seen: for about 40km, the Ruta 90 divides the marsh land of good old Río Magdalena, the largest colombian river, I´ve met the first time a long and rich month ago, from the sea. On the right hand side sweet water lagunas with cactus and scattered huts, on the left hand side the breaking of sea waves with white spray behind a sandy belt of palms. I felt that it was a godsend to be riding here and could not see enough from all these deep colors of red, yellow, ocher, brown, dark green and bright blue.
Later on, the right side opened up to a larger lake with stilt houses of fishermen.
The remaining 30km to Santa Marta were a mere tedious exercise in the afternoon with forty-one degrees Celsius, but I was vastly remunerated by the warm welcome in the Casa del Ritmo, a beautiful, individually designed hostal, led by the young entrepreneurial couple Ivonne and Giovanni.

Cartagena – Santa Marta: a greatly rewarding way of about 265km with only 1000 accumulated altitude meters at an average speed of 18,8kph.

Diese Diashow benötigt JavaScript.

Time to leave. I enjoyed riding the bicycle again, listening to the sharp clicks of its precise gear change, admiring its sophisticatedly straight functionality, e.g. of the automatic alignment of the pedals. Following the coast line, I crossed the suburbs with their huts surrounded by garbage along the street and in the more and more marshy fields until the landscape changed to dusty areas of savanna. The temperature mounted to unbelievable but dry 42ºC. It was a surreal atmosphere with dark clouds and thunder on the right hand side and the blue sky on the coast. For a while, everything was perfect, but then the street turned ever more to the right and into the lightning… Seeking shelter, I could not find a single tree, only a lonely booth selling mango. Crowded together with the friendly lady under the tiny roof, we had a lively conversation on family and our lives during the heavy rain which turned the dry earth around into mud. After the rain, her children coming back from school joined us and by and by the whole family was assembled asking, taking pictures and joking. How grateful I was for this rain!

But with the prolonged break I had accumulated a considerable delay and after two more hours of travelling along, it became clear that, once again, darkness would catch me on the way to the next village still about 30km away. In this situation I decided to follow a small route not in the map but with the promising indication playas de Bocatocino. Soonly, the road was blank earth crossed by cattle now and then. Half an hour later, it led to a beach with some lonely houses and wonderful dunes. A perfect occasion to camp out for a first night! After a friendly talk with one older resident, I easily built up the tent and took a bath in the sunset. Shortly later, in the darkness, two policemen were knocking on the entrance alarmed by a neighbour mistaking me for a guerillero. After a detailed control of my luggage, the two young man were only worried about my one safety: together we moved the tent down to one courtyard where I packed it again and passed the night in a hammock under a palm roof with two fishermen.

I woke up at five o´clock with tremors down my backbone and after a nice swim in the calm sea, I left for a bath in the highest mud volcano of Colombia just along the way, Volcán del Totumo. The only problem now was the water supply after this unforeseen night outside: milde 38°C for two hours until I reached rather dehydrated Santa Veronica. At noon, a stiff breeze came up, but alas!, from the wrong direction and slowed me down to 12kph. After a decent struggle, I settled in the coast village Puero Colombia in the afternoon – which should become a stay for three days.

Diese Diashow benötigt JavaScript.

El Poblado is the modern business quarter of the city with clinker skyscrapers and proper sidewalks. Wandering around at night in the streets, I couId not find any of the typical chariots vending food, only expensive fast food restaurants. My hostel was overcrowded with drunken american backpackers hanging around in the pool. After the first night I decided to move to a more authentic place, to the simple and, despite its location in the red light district, clean and friendly hospedaje La Odéon in the very heart of the city, near Parque Bolívar and just about 10min walk distance from the famous Parque Berrio with the corpulent sculptures of Botero.

Medellín is the only city in Colombia with a metro infrastructure, a rail system of various lines covering the main axes of the city. I used it frequently on the way to the lovely Jardín Botánico, to the Parque Explora, somehow the „Deutsches Museum“ of the country, with a variety of interactive exhibits in natural sciences, and to the Biblioteca España in the quarter Santo Domingo. Formerly, this quarter was a no-go slum with gang warfares and dealers, now it can be visited from the teleférico which connects the metro with the library. When I was there, the library was well-attended by youngsters on the many internet computers and by adults reading worn-out books in the ample reading halls. A successful example of an extraordinary development plan.

One day, I undertook an excursion by bus to the barrage of Guatapé where they produce one third of Colombia´s electricity consumption. The lake can be viewed from the erratic boulder El Peñol, after climbing the 750 steps of the intertwined staircase, whereas the lovely village is known for the zócalos, emblems of casted cement along the houses.

Diese Diashow benötigt JavaScript.

It was a sad goodbye during some days from the whole family Llanos. In such a short time, sharing their lives, I had nearly become a member of this great family and they’d become my second home in Colombia. Who knows when we will see us again?

Alexander escorted me to the outer frontier of Pereira and I was left alone on the road with my memories and thoughts. On the distant horizon droning tempests (truenos y rayos) fitting with my mood. I passed the puente helicoidal, the only serious ascend this day. In Chinchiná, I had lunch surrounded by the whole friendly and curious kitchen staff. I seemed to be the first stranger on a bike in their lives. When I asked for the way to a hostel, a man insisted to accompany me to the central hotel.

The next day, after a tasty juice of Chontaduro (will I ever come to an exhaustive description of these fruits here?) was an easy trip along the Río Cauca to La Pintada, a bald transit village along the road. I found an hospedaje for only 4 Euros, suspicious at first, but proper and without una mujer vieja y gorda during the hot but quiet night. After the day on the bicycle, I was rather hungry that evening but run out of cash. What a chance that on the abandoned table nearby someone had forgotten half of its patacón con guiso! I had just eaten it, when my neighbour came back from a phone call. Many excuses!

But I needed the power for the last stage to Medellín: only 75km but with 2000 never ending altitude meters to a pass at 2570m. The landscape was definitely worth the pain: a road on the mountain ridge between St. Barbara and Terminales with a marvellous view to both sides. Unfortunately, the descent was in heavy rain. Rather frozen, I arrived Medellín in the afternoon traffic and went straight to the closest hostel in the modern barrio El Poblado.

In total 240km with 3960 altitude meters.