What a bloody nightmare trying to get the Land Rover out of the Colombian Port at Cartagena. Some knob, in some department, decided to have our container randomly xrayed.
For this little exercise we had to pay another US$450 in Port fees, just so they could see how many pairs of jocks I had in my top draw. What they thought two old farts like us would be trying to smuggle IN to Colombia is beyond me.
After finally clearing the truck from customs we left steamy Cartegena and started meandering up the Caribbean Coast in the general direction of Venezuela. We found a wild camping spot for a tropical night (read, stinking hot) amongst the coastal scrub. What didn’t become apparent until after dark was that this particular part of the coast has possibly the worlds smallest and most vicious species of sandfly.
You guest it! Gael was on the menu.
Traveling south towards the southern tip of South America one can take the coastal Pan American Hwy route, or as we will do, in the main, the inland route through the guts to Bucaramanga and on to Bogota, etc, etc. A good proportion of this road passes through small communities. Preceding and following each community are the mandatory speed humps where you are forced to slow, or suffer a concussive blow as your head strikes the cab roof. Locals try to sell refreshments as you slow to wipe the blood from your forehead.
These unique small towns are slowly being bypassed with dual carriageway, and whilst the constant head banging can be annoying, the journey as an experience will be diminished, and many livelyhoods that depend on the passing traffic will be lost, as the road works continue.
These unique small towns are slowly being bypassed with dual carriageway, and whilst the constant head banging can be annoying, the journey as an experience will be diminished, and many livelyhoods that depend on the passing traffic will be lost, as the road works continue.
Having spent a fair bit of time driving in different countries by now, and as a consequence observing driving styles around the world, I can at this point in time safely say that Colombian drivers are in a class of their own. The road toll here must be staggering.
The only thing that scares me more than a day behind the wheel is the possibility of a second term of Donald Trump, or the thought of being a passenger on a commuter tour coach as it overtakes a semi trailer, going up hill, across double lines, on a blind hairpin bend.
Perhaps the new dual carriage ways are a good idea!
Colombia is very pleasant. The colour green is dominant as the country side is lush, and in the deep valleys between the massive mountain ranges the weather is very tropical.
The people are generally warm and welcoming and we are often approached with an outstretched hand. Thereafter follows a faltering explanation in Anglospanish, incorporating over exaggerated hand signals, of how the vehicle got here, and our reason for being in the country. Gringos are still very much an oddity here, particularly driving a RHD Landrover Camper from Australia.
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Cartagena old walled city.
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Street after street of great old colonial houses.
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Still exploring old city waiting for the truck to be released by customs.
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View from our apartment in Boca Grande, Cartagena. Our Hilton camp (shown below) is at the end of the peninsula behind the Hilton.
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Our first free beach camp after picking up the truck in front of the Cartagena Hilton. Whilst the guests at the Hilton played tennis and grunted at their exertions, we got some rest in the camper. A couple of locals even less fortunate than us slept on cardboard under the shelter for the night.
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Tayrona NP on Caribbean coast is hot and humid. A French couple at the end of their South American adventure shared the campsite prior to shipping their vehicle back to Europe. The couple (he about our age and she a little younger) spent the entire trip of six months sleeping in the back of their mid sized Toyota.
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At last a Blue Macaw, even if it was tame, was still a thrill. The young girl, her parents and older sister, from Bulgaria have been traveling through North, Central and now South America for several years in their camper. The parents Peter and Lucy do their home schooling on the road. What an education!
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San Gil camp by the river. Reasonably quiet given there were no barking dogs for a change. The road was a little to close so we slept with the roof down anyway.
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Camp at Paragliding site overlooking Bucaramanga.
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This campsite a little south of Bucaramanga was on the edge of the most stunning Canyon del Chioamococha (try saying that with a mouth full of marbles).
Only cold showers, but no road noise, and they locked their dogs up at night. Yes, yes, yes, peace and bloody quiet.
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Didn't see any of these.
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Loading sugar cane for the mill Colombian style.
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Villa de Leyva old colonial town in the cool highlands. A real tourist town and we happened to be there on a long weekend. Great places to eat at reasonable prices. All the Bogota high flyers flock to the place.
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Great colourful pottery wish we could take some home. More Mexican than Colombian though I think.
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Incredibly fine beaded hummingbird necklace. All the Colombian art we have seen here is mind-blowing as well. Just a shame we don't have the room to take some home! Could happily fill the house with it.
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The whole town has wonderful colonial style buildings. This one has had a full reno, but the whole town was very neat and tidy with all the buildings following a similar architectural style.
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Tempting but we didn't eat here.
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Our Villa de Leyva camp ground was not bad. Toilets with seats, hot water for the showers for a change, and mainly family camping clients. The barking dogs were a pain in the neck again though. On dusk the bloody things start up and take most of the night to settle down. So down with the roof again, and on with my newest continuous looping iTunes tape of a gently flowing mountain stream. What a bloody great idea for a "dog noise pollution solution".
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