From the Caribbean to the Andes.(Colombia)

Guerillas and narco-traffickers, Pablo Escobar and the FARC, the violence and kidnappings, and more recently Shakira, are probably the best Colombian “exports”. But beyond this image imposed to the world by the media, there is a country with an amazing human diversity and enough biodiversity to satisfy the most avid nature lover. Its true that problematic areas exist, but as long as one excludes them from the itinerary, the few fortunate that visit the country, wonder why all those headlines when traveling in Colombia is simply so….normal!



The trek to the lost city although pretty, took its tool on our legs. Veronica complained from knee pain and we decided to spent 2 days rest in the Tayrona national park, just a days cycling from Santa Marta. The park is another oasis of peace in this troubled country. Its also one of the most visited in Colombia, and for good reasons. It encloses an area of 15.000 hectares of coastal tropical forest. Idyllic beaches backed by the green slopes of sierra de Santa Marta.

Due to its protected status, human presence and development is limited to controlled tourism and to some Kogui aboriginals and fisherman who make their living from the sea. The access to many of the beaches, like Arrecifes and Cabo de San Juan, is only possible on foot or horseback, and the lodging in these bays are limited to hammock dormitories, camping and some more upscale ecological huts. I haven’t been in such organized national park since the united sates.

Unfortunately not all the Colombian national parks are managed this way, and national park Tayrona is more the exception then the rule. Quite often, the cocaine croppers use the national parks to cultivate the plant, taking advantage of its remote locations and to the status of natural reserve that will guarantee them that their crops will not be air sprayed with chemicals. A method used in other parts of the country under the so called “Plan Colombia” heavily financed by the united states.








The transparent waters of the Caribbean and the shade of the coconuts invited for a few more days doing just nothing. But with less then a week for veronica’s return to Spain, we had to continue.

In only 2 days of cycling, the coastal road took us from the hilly and lush costal forest around Santa Marta, to almost the opposite. The forest and the cultivated areas slowly started to give away to acacias and cactus. We just have entered the barren plains of La Guarija peninsula. The differences of landscape in such a short distance were surprising. An absolutely plain road cut through the barren and hot landscape. The ample blue sky filled the air and hugged the land, in all directions with a suffocating vehemence increased by the burning heat.

But here, in this inhospitable land of the north of Colombia, inhabited by the Wayuù aboriginals, it also rains during a short period of the year. At that time, the vast scrub and dry plains give away to marshy land of submerged acacias and cactus, and something strange happens. The flooded desert opens canals for the fish that "run away" from the rivers, the sea and "cienagas" and the Wayuù aboriginals take advantage to launch the nets into the flooded desert.




Rioacha, the capital of the province of La Guajira, was the end of trip for Veronica. It was not a happy end. Both of us suffer from intestinal disarrangement with something that we eat (I think it was from a soup of chibo, offered by a very welcoming lady Wayuù, in the village of Mayapo, somewhere in the deserted coast).

Whatever the reason, I spent 3 or 4 days with diarrhea, vomits and in recovery, followed of more 3 or 4 days to try to fight back the cycling laziness that possessed me.

But before these solitary days of convalescence, I return Cartagena with Veronica, covering by bus, the 500 km or so that we had cycled along the coast. I take her to the airport and return Rioacha and to the company of my “Burra” and my stomach discomfort.
Once again I had that nostalgic felling from the separation of plus another excellent fellow traveler in the Pan-American. Over the months, meeting other cyclists and friends have created an effect of assortment energy and given me a unquestioned fulfilling to my soul. Without those encounters, probably it would not be possible to endure the almost two years of this solitary trip.

I can not explain why I spent one week in this uninteresting city-beach. I planned to follow the desert until Cabo de la Vela, in the northern tip of the peninsula, and spend a few more days cycling trough Wayuù villages, trying to understand a bit more of their culture.




But I changed my plans!
It’s enough of sea, uncomfortable heat, flat roads, mosquitoes and noisy hotel fans. Its time to head to the mountains.

I woke up before sunrise (very unusual!) had breakfast, and at 5.45 was on the road. I cycled to the waterfront to farewell the sea. I would not see the Atlantic again until my return to Portugal. Turn around and start cycling directly south. Destination: The Andes!
It was time to face the giant...
I gave a challenge to myself of reaching the mountains in 5 days.

By following the coast since I disembark in Colombia, I moved away from the pan American highway more then 800 km. Now I cycle directly south for the first time in many weeks, following the Venezuelan border just 80 km to the east, along the eastern cordillera both to my left. To the west, the vast plains of northern Colombia. The road was plain and very monotonous, crossing farm lands and small country villages and towns. I turn on my MP3, head down, foot on the pedals, and add on kilometers.




I added more then 650 km in 5 days between the coast and the mountains, that is, between Rioacha and Bucaramanga. Making on the first day 139 km, followed by 146 km, 136 km, and on the fifth day – already in the mountains – only 90 km, but with an accumulated climb of 2042 meters.
As I came closer to the foot of the Andes, the flat land gave way to rolling hills, gaining elevation with each valley crossed. The plains have disappeared completely and I cycle now on high mountain terrain.



Bucaramanga is a pleasant, modern, and sophisticated mountain city. With innumerable parks and green areas, and soft temperatures. Its also a doubly important landmark on my trip on the pan American highway. Not only I’ve entered the Andean mountain range, but also marked the “middle point” of my journey. Even if I’ve covered two thirds of the kilometers already. Confusing? I explain:
Inuvik (the beginning of the trip) is at latitude 68.36243°N, while Ushuaia, the final goal, is at latitude 54.79156°S. The middle point between the two – according to GPS indications sent by email by Jeff Kruys - is 6.785435°N. That is, about 40 km to the south of Bucaramanga.

But while the variation of longitude in the northern section of the continent was about 65 degrees, between the most Western point, Dawson City, Canada (139.4166667°W), and the most Eastern point, Baracoa, Cuba(74.4958333°W), in South America the longitude variation will be only of 13 or 14 degrees. With the point more the West being probably Sullana or Negritos in Peru, and the more Eastern point that will coincide with the final goal, that is Ushuaia. This means that from now on I will cycle more "straight” south covering "more" longitude in less kilometers.

I spent one day in Bucaramanga and in the following morning I hit the mountains. In the first 40 km the road oscillated between the 700 meters and 1300 meters of altitude, later "falling" vertiginously into a canyon descending deep into the valley at about 550 meters of altitude. After crossing an enormous river I start the long climb on the south slope of the Canyon of Chicamocha going up near to the 2000 meters mark. I spent some good four hours on that climb. In the ascent I pass through that "middle point" of the trip. The landscape that surrounded me was the prettiest in a very long time.






On the other side of the pass the road drops down to 1100 meters through another valley, this one narrower, greener and populated, dotted with small colonial villages and towns. I’m in one of them now, San Gil, known in all Colombia as the "capital" of radical sports. Rappel, rafting, paragliding are only some of the adrenalin packages offered by the many tour agencies found around this pleasant mountain town. San Gil is the first colonial town in a circuit that I have planed on my way to Bogotá. I’ve finally arrived in the Andes. From today on - and during the next few months - I will be cycling “on top of the mountains”- few exceptions aside!

Nuno Brilhante
In san Gil, Colombia.