Big Sur

During our last few days in Cartagena we met Raul and Marta, fellow cyclists from Spain and Poland, who are doing the same north-south route as us. It was great to share food, experiences and ideas – we hope to meet them again somewhere along the road in South America…

A trip to the market in Cartagena with Raul and Marta before we all left was an education. They're far better acquainted with the delicious but baffling tropical fruits of Colombia and they introduced us to some new sweet treats such as granadilla and pitahaya.

…then it was time for us to leave too. Our home for ten days had been in a beautiful old colonial house with five Colombian university students. Initially they thought we were very odd; even more so when the lycra came out.

The first 150km out of Cartagena, along a very busy flat road, couldn't be counted as a highlight of our trip…

…especially when we found oursevles staying in shabby roadside hotels instead of camping as we had hoped. The rooms were cheap enough but often not dissimilar to a concrete cattle stall, and definitely inferior to spending the night in our tent.

Happily, we reached the end of the busy road and the pace slowed considerably. The only sensible way to reach Mompos is by a slow river ferry across the Río Magdalena, the largest river in Colombia.

We enjoyed a freshly squeezed orange juice before getting on…

…and then hungrily eyed up this jeep filled with plantains. Fried and squashed and then fried again, plantains become patacones, a starchy, filling staple which appeals to the ravenous cyclist.

Our arrival on the other side of the river in La Bodega caught the attention of some local taxi drivers who insisted on knowing where we were going….

…and so we stopped for a big breakfast, a chat and the obligatory café tinto. Served from a thermos flask with added sugar, tinto comes in small shots and never costs more than about 15 US cents. It's pleasing to see that Colombians drink their own coffee (some of the best in the world) instead of sending it all for export like may of the Central American countries we've passed through.

After breakfast, a short ride through the wetlands and we were in Mompos, a sleepy town that's stuck in a colonial time warp. Sun baked streets…

…and restored colonial houses – this is our hostel.

Authentic road signage….

…leads to one of many town squares where the locals come to relax.

Around every corner, there was a grand church – this one was adjacent to our hostel.

After a blissfully relaxed rest day in Mompos and a big thunderstorm we set off toward El Banco through lots and lots of sticky red mud.

The buffalo didn't seem to mind it though…

…and the school bus managed just fine.

We made it through the mud but suffered another snapped spoke for James – the third in three days. The grin on expert mechanic Eliseo's face as he trues the wheel is a stark contrast to the disgruntled frown that James wears when he tries the same repair out on the road.

Leaving El Banco, the moody skies rolled in and the birds flew out…

…as we chased across the flatlands to escape the rain.

All too soon we were back on the main road. Heaving with trucks on just two lanes, this was some of the scariest riding we had done on the entire trip and renewed our commitment to finding quiet back roads and dirt tracks whenever we can.

Another interested group in another town. This time it's watching James change as puncture that draws a crowd; at times there were up to fifteen men looking on!

After a long afternoon on the busy road we looked around for a place to stay and wanting to avoid another shabby hotel, we opted to ask at a finca. And so instead of a cow stall style room, we actually did stay in a cow stall. Joanna, daughter of one of the farm workers, was keen to learn some English words and help us with our packing.

Back on the busy road for the day and we were relieved to find some stretches of new carriageway not yet open to traffic but perfect for cycling…sadly we didn't spot any ant eaters along the way.

Another snapped spoke and then two punctures left us stuck in a lay-by for the best part of two hours. This long stretch of road is full of construction crews and we happened to stop next to one and swear and sigh with frustration at James' mechanical problems. They looked on amused and then took pity, gifting us two leftover lunches. As always with free food, the stress fizzled away and we gratefully tucked into fish, soup and rice.

The incredibly kind construction crew sent us on our way with even more goodies. On the afternoon dash to San Alberto, feeling tired, sweaty and filthy, their gift of banana cake and apples, along with a cold bottle of Malta, made the nasty road seem a bit more palatable.

Thankful for less traffic the following day, we got stuck into the first proper climbing we had done for months; passing more friendly workers along the way…

…and we arrived in Floridablanca near Bucaramanga to the most hospitable of Colombian welcomes from Julian (right) and his family and friends. He and his friend, also called Julian, spent hours in the kitchen making delicious veggie burgers…

…which though beautifully presented were tragically devoured by us all too quickly.

Julian convinced us to take an extra day off and took us out into the countryside to see the Cañon de las Iguanas, a place we could never have accessed by bike.

Just a few simple adobe farmhouses punctuated the hour long descent to the swimming hole.

These three brothers acted as our guides down into the canyon and then spent the afternoon lazing, swimming and chatting with us….

….and taking the risky jump into the water in the afternoon sun that the three of us didn't feel energetic enough to try.