A more than exiting taxi ride through heavy rain and never ending traffic jams brought us to the airport, it was a close call but as the flight was delayed we still had plenty of time to check in. To our surprise the staff wasn’t interested in our dogs, their main concern was that we didn’t have an onward ticket from Colombia. After a lengthy discussion with several supervisors we were all set and walked our dogs through security - no muzzle no nothing. The airport in Panama City even has a dog toilet and walking around with dogs seems completely normal. Boarding the plane was not much different and once seated the dogs simply laid at our feet - to the excitement of the stewardesses. You could tell that Mutlu and Posh didn’t really understand what was going on but being with us they simply observed all the strange noises and accelerations. A short one and a half hours later we touched down in Cartagena and a new chapter - South America - began.
Not knowing how long exactly we were going to have to wait for our home to arrive we rented a dog-friendly apartment on the western side of town, among the 30 floor high risers lining the beaches of modern Cartagena. Our assumption that the area would be quiet was quickly rebutted. Besides being really pretty, Cartagena is a popular party town and one aspect of this are “disco busses” - open busses with loud music and a bar that drive through town, let you jump off at popular bars and clubs and continue on, all while making sure that the whole neighbourhood knows that they are around. Of course these busses also passed in front of our building and being on the 14th floor didn’t help our sleep.
Walking the streets in the morning we saw plenty of breakfast places. Ladies were preparing corn dough paddies, open one side to put an egg in before deep frying it. First Berna refused to eat these Arepas (there are also less greasy variants) but after the first bite it became daily routine - needless to say that this wasn’t the healthiest diet…
The old town of Cartagena is beautiful. Impressive colonial buildings, a huge fortification around them and lots of colourful ladies trying to get you to take a photo for a small tip. On many corners young men would ask you if you need “anything” which of course meant if you want to buy cocaine. While many Colombians don’t like the association of their country with the white powder it is omnipresent. We don’t know if true but we were told that possessing a few grams is absolutely legal, especially if you receive them as a gift. So they give you the powder and you buy an (overpriced) coconut from them and everyone is happy.
Despite its beauty after a few days we had enough of the town, its tourists and noise. We also received the first indications that our ship from Panama was delayed and thus decided to rent a car and head north. Luckily we brought our kites and so we decided to make our way in direction of Riohacha in the famous province of La Guajira.
Our car, despite being new, wasn’t best quality but eventually we made it out of Cartagena and followed the coast north-east. Our first stop was at a small hotel, rather run down but with a great view. Berna’s father who is following us on Google Maps called in the morning and told us that there was a plane in our garden. We had a look and found a 4-engine turbo prop next to the hotel. A sight we were going to see many more times all over Colombia. After a couple of days we arrived in Mayapo, located about 40km north-east of Riohacha, and a famous kite spot. It is not as well known as Cabo de La Vela but Cabo can not be reached using a regular car without the risk of damaging it and so we decided to stay there.
The indigenous community of La Guajira is called Wayuu. They have their own language, customs and culture and live on both sides of the border in this arid landscape. While we were in Colombia the border between Venezuela and Colombia was still closed and whenever we asked locals if they cross the border from time to time they replied “which border?” - they simply drive through the desert back and forth between Venezuela and Colombia and don’t really care what the respective governments say and do.
As Mayapo is a pretty lost place with limited accommodation options we decided to stay in Riohacha where we found a small dog friendly hotel on the beach and drove most days to Mayapo for kiting. We had brought our kites but had to rent a board with Kite Addicts, the place that became our base for the next two weeks. By now it was clear that our Rouletout had to wait for the next ship from Colon to Cartagena as the one we were initially scheduled on simply didn’t stop in Colon.
To our surprise Martin, the owner of Kite Addicts, spoke perfect German. He spent a few years in Austria but then settled in this remote area of Colombia. He would run up and down on the beach with his baby on one arm and yell at his teachers and make sure that everyone was safe out on the water.
La Guajira is a hot and dry place. So we bought a styrofoam box and filled it every morning with ice that we bought from an old lady and made our way to Mayapo. On the road - as everywhere in La Guajira - young kids try to stop you using a rope they pull across the street. They let you pass if you don’t stop but they also sell cactus fruit that they collect and prepare for consumption and are really happy if you just give them a small bottle of water. Water is scarce in the region.
Back at the hotel we would take the typical cold shower - only few places seem to have hot water in Colombia - and then stroll on the beach for sunset, watching the fishermen.
One night we decided to explore nightlife in Riohacha. Our hotel hosts were a bit worried and organised a taxi for us to bring us to a nice beach bar. We however wanted to see the more authentic nightlife with all the clubs and bars we had seen in town. Loud music greeted us and when we tried to order a drink we learned that you have two choices, either order a bottle of Whiskey or a bottle of Aguardiente, the typical Colombian anis based spirit. The choice was clear and the Aguardiente came in a bucket full of ice and with plenty of plastic cups, no way for two people to finish it so we decided to hand it out to random people passing and dancing on the sidewalk…
Our time in Riohacha came to an end and we had one more adventure planned before heading back to Cartagena, visiting La Ciudad Perdida (Lost City) an ancient city in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta predating the more famous Machu Picchu by 650 years. Visiting these ruins involves a 3-day trek of about 60km through the mostly muddy slopes of the Sierra Nevada, the highest coastal mountain range in the world with peaks reaching 5700m.
As most of the trek runs through indigenous territory and many areas are off limits (including all the summits) you have to book the trek through an agency in Santa Marta. Unfortunately Berna had left her trekking shoes in Rouletout and had to do the hike with some shoes we bought locally resulting in a bit of a nightmare for her feet.
We ended up in a group of 15 and quickly became friends with the young Neha (also a climber) and Charly from England. Mutlu and Posh became the mascot of our group and also gave it the name “hot dogs”. The muddy and hilly terrain made the hike sometimes difficult and due to her shoes Berna had a lot of pain and blisters. Our guide Sarah was always taking care of her and the two spent a lot of time chatting. She was one of the many victims of the drug cartel war, spending her childhood in another city of Colombia. They had a home, a sustainable life, but the cartel war took everything from them and so they decided to move to Santa Marta.
While there are different indigenous groups living in the Sierra Nevada the only ones allowing passage by tourists are the Kogis. The groups have a high level of independence from Colombian government and apply their own rules and laws. They have their own “passports” called poporo that they receive when they come of age. A poporo is a small, hollow gourd filled with a powder of heated and crushed shells. As the men continuously chew coca leaves they suck on the powder in their poporos, which they extract with a stick, and rub the mixture on the gourd with the stick to form a hardened layer or crust. The size of this layer obviously depends on the age of the man but also acts as “identification” and is used in many rituals.
Their respective leaders can be male or female and in general the roles between male and female are very well defined. Before a Kogi gets married they have to sleep with the leader to learn what to do in the first night. It is also very difficult for a Kogi to leave their society. If they get caught, the community comes together and punishes them with a stick, not hard but rather symbolic. And then they are put into “prison”, which is made of bamboo sticks, for a few days and not given any food.
The nights in the camps were quite fun, food was good and there was plenty of beer, helping Berna to forget about her pain. On the last day before reaching Ciudad Perdida our group set out very early. Following a wild river we approached the small manual cable car for the final river crossing. One of the guides put Ulf, Mutlu and Posh on the small wooden platform but not anticipating the hard push, Mutlu fell off and into the wild river below. Posh, in complete desperation, decided to jump after him. We were not sure if we would ever see our dogs again but Mutlu somehow got lucky and didn’t hit any rocks and made it to the other side while Posh swam back to Berna. We were really lucky that they didn’t get hurt, three days away from any civilisation this would have been a disaster.
After that excitement we climbed the last stairs to the lost city where we enjoyed magnificent views in the morning sun, talked to a daughter of the local chief and received her blessings. Having taken in the views it was time to head back and after another one and a half days hiking we said good bye to our group.
Still waiting for our home to arrive we rented a beautiful place in Taganga where we relaxed, took care of Berna’s feet and digested all the many impressions from our trip. Throughout all our travels we found that part to be really important, otherwise our soul gets overwhelmed by all the impressions and can’t catch up.
We finally received confirmation that Rouletout was about to be loaded in Panama and decided to head back to Cartagena. Once again we rented a place, this time a bit outside of town, and started preparing. But first we enjoyed the nightlife of Cartagena one more time. We met up with Neha and Charly once more and drank and danced until the morning.
A good month had passed without Rouletout and we really missed it. When we finally picked it up in the harbour we were all really happy but the happiest was probably Mutlu.
We quickly left Cartagena and headed back north along the coast, this time with destination Cabo de la vela, the famous kite spot in La Guajira and very close to the northernmost point of South America. We were told that it was quite easy to get stuck, especially after the rain in this deserted area and so we decided to wait for a dry day for our final stretch. Rouletout wasn’t sure so it decided to loose our exhaust on the rough roads but locals quickly welded everything back together and we made it to Cabo safe and sound.
We found a nice spot near a kite school and all excited Berna directly went kiting. Cabo is quite special, strong thermal winds pick up late morning but often the winds are also offshore. She struggled a bit at first but soon we got our routine back, kited, hiked and explored the barren landscapes of northern La Guajira. The shy locals became interested in our truck (and Mutlu) and started to visit us, just sitting in our home. Most of them barely speak Spanish so communication was difficult but there was some kind of trust that seemed to be enough for all of us.
Just a couple of days before we prepared to leave two caravans showed up. A Swiss couple (Rafa and Corina, whom we would meet so many times more) and a German solo traveler in a big truck (Markus). We enjoyed the company but finally had to leave. On our way out of the desert we hit a small stub of ironwood that exploded one of our tires. Local kids showed up and watched our efforts to lift the truck high enough in the soft sand. There was a lot of digging involved but finally we made it out. We also helped two more passenger cars that got stuck on their way but luckily made it to a decent road before dark.
Our next destination was further south, the famous climbing area of La Mojarra not far from Bucaramanga. We passed Valledupar and slowly headed up towards Bucaramanga and the high plateau of Los Santos, framed by kilometres of red sand stone cliffs. It seemed quite hard to find a good spot for our home in walking distance of the climbing but while exploring the area we ran into Jairo and his family in front of their big house. We asked them if they would know of any place and they simply invited us to stay on their land. “We only use the house on weekends so you are free to stay here, use water and electricity and look after our plants” they said. We ended up staying four weeks in this perfect location. Our friends Rosella and Adam whom we had met in Mexico were also in the area and after a while Kara and Jason - whom we met in Panama City while preparing our shipping - contacted us as they were approaching Bucaramanga. We told them about our perfect spot and Jairo agreed to have them park on his land as well. Kara spoiled us with delicious sushi and we spent many nights together exchanging travel stories and finishing half empty bottles. Jason is an avid YouTuber and filmed us climbing the steep sandstone routes. The climbing was quite interesting, long moves, steep and technical routes and sometimes strange grades to say the least. As La Mojarra is on private land you have to pass an entry exam on your first day of climbing, proving that you know how to do a knot and how to clean an anchor. It was our first climbing exam in 20 or more years.
Our visitors decided to move on but we agreed to meet up in El Cocuy, the famous national park in eastern Colombia and one of the many spots that we got recommended by Carolina and Francisco, a Spanish-Colombian couple we had met in Turkey, for some high altitude hikes. We also packed up, said good bye to Rosella and Adam and Jairo and his family and slowly headed towards El Cocuy. The emphasis is on slowly. The roads are winding and steep, many are destroyed by landslides, the Colombian Andes are no easy terrain but eventually we made it to Cocuy where Kara and Jason were already waiting for us at a breathtaking spot with all the big summits in clear view.
We used the time of acclimatisation to fix a few things at our trucks and then moved towards Ritacubo, the first hike we had planned to do. As the hike is in a national park and on indigenous territory you require a permit and a guide. You are also not allowed to enter the snow, meaning that the last few hundred meters to the respective summits are off limit. The beautiful hike took us to 4930m to Divino Niño (just where the snow starts) just below the summit of Ritacuba Blanco with 5330m. Along the way we busy chewed coca leaves and drank coca tea as all locals do in order to avoid any signs of altitude sickness.
The next day we decided to drive as high as we can in direction of Laguna Grande. We passed 4200m and Rouletout had a tough time. We lacked power and were smoking like hell but I couldn’t find the reason. We decided to continue and went to the trail head of our second hike, the Púlpito del Diablo. Kara and Jason decided to stay near the trail head and we went with our guide Carlos up to the huge cuboid near the summit at almost 5000m. It was again a beautiful hike despite the heavy rain on the way down. Luckily we were greeted with delicious food by Kara and Jason and a small fox that stayed near our cars almost all day.
On the next day we had planned to drive down to El Cocuy. Rouletout still didn’t behave but we made slow progress. The road was badly affected by heavy rain and extremely narrow at places. Jason got stuck once in a hole but we were able to pull him out, then it was his turn to pull us up a hill as we didn’t have enough power to climb it by ourselves. Down in Cocuy I found a mechanic who quickly identified a blocked diesel pre-filter as source of our troubles. The diesel from the coast was not made for the temperatures we encountered at this altitude and decided to freeze. Being at lower altitude and thus warmer temperatures luckily solved our problem.
We continued together for two more days, when Kara and Jason broke down. Their gas pedal stopped working and it took us a good day to get it back to work provisorily after which we headed to Villa de la Leyva. Villa de la Leyva is a beautiful colonial town, great restaurants along cobble stone roads and lots of history. We enjoyed the city life after our time in the mountains but it was time to move on. Two more climbing spots awaited us, first the famous Suesca where we unfortunately had a lot of rain and wet rock and then the steep overhangs of Macheta. We had a great spot there to stay among coffee plantations and quickly got tired as all routes are extremely steep there. After a good week we decided to head to the capital, Bogota.
The goal was to visit the city but foremost also to have Rouletout undergo a serious health check. We had heard of a Bosch and Detroit Diesel work shop with fancy laboratories that revises and maintains diesel engines from all over the world, from submarine engines to car engines. The friendly owners let us stay in the workshop and quickly went to work. They dismantled the turbo, ripped out the injectors and refurbished all of it, it looked better than new. The intercooler was cleaned as well as the diesel tanks and we found a few more minor issues that got fixed and so the days passed. We visited the town, the famous gold museum and enjoyed the excellent choice of restaurants. Bogota can probably not be considered a beautiful town but it has certain charming areas. Surprising is the closeness of “good” and “bad” neighbourhoods. We were stopped more than once by locals or the police that told us to better walk on this side of the road or turn left around the next block and not right in order to avoid trouble. Despite or maybe because of that we enjoyed our time in Bogota and always felt safe.
While Berna was walking the dogs she heard barking from a passing truck. She realised that it was a dog school truck. All over Bogota you see plenty of dog walkers with sometimes a dozen dogs and vets and dog supplies everywhere. Colombians are really crazy about their dogs.
On the weekend we decided to leave the workshop and drive up the steep road towards Choachi, high above Bogota. It is an amazing climbing area with impressive rock but the drive to get there is quite something, especially on a weekend. Colombians are bicycle fanatics. On the weekends the center of Bogota is blocked for regular traffic, only bicycles are allowed and the road up to Choachi is a preferred training ground. Bicycles have priority and it is almost impossible to pass them with a truck while hundreds drive down at the same time. There are mobile repair shops, food stalls, energy drink vendors, you name it. You see even bicycles on the highways and it is completely normal to have a few riders just centimetres behind you in the wind shadow of your truck.
Coming back from the mountains we decided to stay a bit outside of Bogota at the end of a farm road before heading back to the workshop. After a few hours I recognised a car waiting in front and watching us. It felt a bit strange so I went to talk to the guy. He had already alerted police as he thought we were cattle thieves. After a short discussion he called them off in his role as “neighbourhood watcher” and invited us to his house. He had three rescue dogs a huge house and garden. He ordered pizza for all of us and later his wife came home and we spent a lovely evening that ended with an invitation for a big paella party for the next day. Daniel had invited about 20 friends and two of them competed in the preparation of the best paella. Sadly enough Berna had to stay home with stomach pain but as a paella lover it was a real treat. Of course a party in Colombia involves also a certain amount of alcohol, singing and dancing and so another day passed by quickly. Berna’s stomach pain became so intense that we went to the local hospital the next day but the diagnosis simply was “too much gas”, glad it was nothing serious we continued to our workshop to finish the last small details and then move on towards another small but amazing climbing spot, Payende.
Payende is located at much lower elevation right at a beautiful small river that invites you for swimming and chilling. We were warned about mosquitos but really didn’t see any at first. The next day I was covered in red points, the jejenes (sandflies) got me. You don’t feel their bite but it itches for days. Later the locals explained to us that there are three types of mosquitos there and that all of them are active at different times of the day. Now we understood why the climbers were all wearing long sleeves and used tons of repellent, even eat vitamin B pills before coming to Payande. For us it was too late, it was already itching so we continued to enjoy the climbing on the river and after a couple of days we moved on. Next destination was the mini-desert of Tatacoa, highly recommended by many Colombians and formed by a specific micro-climate.
While on our morning hike to our surprise we ran into a familiar car, it was Corina and Rafa whom we had met in Cabo de la Vela. They decided to join us at our remote spot out in the desert (which is really small but beautiful) and so we cooked together, chatted and partied. We toured the desert with our bike and after a couple of days moved on to San Agustín, a small village in the mountains famous for its pre-Columbian carved stone figures and tombs at various locations. Not too much is known about their origin but we enjoyed the three main locations. For a change we got stuck in the mud at our camp site but eventually and with the help of some locals made it out.
You might remember the story about our new electric equipment that we missed in Panama. Well by now it had arrived in Panama and with the help of Kara and Jason and the Overland Embassy in Panama City we found fellow travellers with a big truck who were willing to load it, bring it to Cartagena for us in their truck and ship it from there to southern Colombia for us - thanks a lot to Jeff & Kathy!
Our time in Colombia slowly came to an end. We headed further south to Macao and took the Trampolin de la Muerte (the Colombian death road) to cross over the mountains towards Pasto. We stopped at Laguna de La Cocha and arrived in Pasto where we stayed at a small public area outside of town and waited for our electrical equipment to arrive. One morning we wanted to drive to town but our clutch had died - no movement at all. I took our motorbike and went to find a mechanic. It didn’t take long and a team of two showed up at our spot and dismantled the clutch, refurbished the disk and on the next day everything was back in order.
While we were at our spot in Pasto - on top of our clutch action - the local fire brigade started a multi day exercise next to us with big fires, burning cars and all sorts of equipment so we were well entertained. One night they got one of their trucks stuck in the mud and we tried to help but it was simply too heavy for us. Never mind, we bonded over this exercise and when it was our turn to leave we got stuck under the cheering of the fire brigade. It didn’t take long, they brought their trucks and pulled us out. We took some pictures together and embarked on our last stretch towards the border.
Ecuador and our friends were waiting for us, to celebrate Christmas, install our new electrical equipment and so much more. But as always more about that in our next blog post.
Thank you Colombia, it was an amazing time!
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