This slogan is pasted across trucks and dotted on walls in many Colombian towns. It could not better sum up what Colombia is all about. From the moment Windfleet, the boat that carried us from Panama, rounded the point into Sapzuro bay the vitality of Colombian life sprang out at you: from the colour splashed across every building, to the people laughing and joking with each other in the streets. Every person you meet is immediately engaging and lively, from bums still pissed from the night before, through other cyclists (and there are a lot of these) to Finca owners, everyone wants to talk and there is never a dull moment. In every town I've passed through, the streets have been teeming with people chatting and doing buisness.
For the first four days of cycling in Colombia I was with Binya, a czech cyclist who had also come over from Panama on Windfleet. Binya claimed he was more of a traveller by bike than a cyclist but this was now his second long tour and his pace was almost identical to mine. This, his laid back attitude and love of lunch time beer made him the perfect travelling companion for me. Those four days took us across snooker table farm land, up and down and up jungled river valleys and then the climb into the highlands. This turned out to be in fact three climbs and to reach Medellin (1500 m) we climbed somewhere between 5000 and 6000 m. This was also the most spectacular scenery I had encountered since Guatemala and included my favorite road so far. I'm not going to say exactly where it is because as soon as the word, that Ed Herbert sage of cycling lore has determined the "Best Road between Vancouver and Medellin", gets out the place will be teeming with lycra clad thighs and the streets will echo with the clip-clop of cleats on cobbles. Let it suffice to say that the road passed up from the busy main road into the Alps-like mountains, through a beautiful village clinging onto the steep valley sides before snaking its way ever upwards to a pass at 2400 m about 800 m above the lorries left far below. Along this road in 2 hours I tallied: 4 motor bikes, 2 cars, 3 trucks, 1 pot hole, it doesn't get much better.
So considering this I should probably quit now, I mean if this is the best then its all going to be downhill from here, surely? Well I quite want to go past active volcano's in the north of Colombia, cycle among snow capped mountains and eat guinea pig in Ecuador, climb through passes of upto (and maybe over) 5000m, visit Manchu Pichu and colonial cities in Peru, pass through the salt plains in Bolovia, cycle through vineyards and beef country, and watch the junior rugby world cup in Argentina. So probably now is not the best time to stop, plenty more to see and do.
My stay in Medellin was one of the most amazing in my trip. I met Eduardo and his brother on a road perched above Medellin, with the city lying snuggling in its broad mountain valley below. They had spent the day up in the mountains and were now on their way back home, they invited me to stay and so I did. The descent down into the Barrio of Blancazal was exhilirating, following the boys on their motorbike while dodging the buses coming in and out of every side road. Blancazal is surely one of the poorest Barrios in Medellin but the Colombian vitality and passion is as alive here as anywhere else and Eduardos huge family (Mum, Dad, Uncle, four brothers and sisters (all with espoza(o)), and countless cousins) welcomed me in like another member of the family. I have never met people with so much kindness and giving about them: over the two days I spent with them they cared for me so well: cleaning my bike while I was asleep, washing and mending my rag-like excuses for clothes, shopwing me the city, sharing their food with me (it was an uphill battle convincing them to let me contribute) but most of all they opened themselves up and truely let me into their lives with their laughter and caring. When I left they insisted on carrying my panniers to the top of the hill for me, I thought this meant to the top of the steep hill fust outside the house (maybe 200m). At the top of this hill I stopped to retrieve my things, I was told no, they were going to take my bags to the top of the pass out of town and before I could protest they had set off. 2 hours, 1000 m of climb and 42 km later we arrived at the top of the pass and our final goodbye, there were tears.
Although Eduardo's family is the most amazing display of the Colombian spirit, its essence has been echoed many times both before and since. From people sharing their time or some fruit (or a Antioquia cycle club water bottle), to people that have taken me into their homes and shared their lives with me, I have been truely stunned by this fantastic country. Colmbia truely is passion.
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