It was the best of times, it was the worst…

Day 15-16

Thankful for the city shade we guided our bikes southerly, planning for the first time to traverse the Pan-American Highway, a route most often touted by traveling bike tourists. We left Medellín in our rearview, and hit the open road which in this case was home to some of the worst pollution we’d seen in Colombia. With covered mouth and labored breath we biked our winding way slightly uphill toward Caldas, passing only a few sleeping cities and even fewer places in which I felt safe to rest before reaching the tiny town as the sun started to sink.

Our timing afforded us a stop for delicious fruit and postres, or baked goods, to regain expended energy. Walking back to the main square via a side street, we ran into a duo of English speaking locals who inquired about our bikes and our destination. Matt formerly of Dallas, meet Matt formerly of Houston – Caldas resident and entrepreneur of three years. He and his friend Carlos invited us for drinks in their local bar, Pub Springfield, which sat in the center of a traditional Colombian town and as implied by the name was themed all things Simpsons. Fortunately, they introduced us to a chef from Spain who ran a restaurant where we would later dine on one of the best meals of our journey thus far. They also advised against camping telling us of the potential to run into unsavory characters in town. We gladly accepted their hotel recommendation along with their open invitation after partaking in a fantastic lemon-asparagus fettuccine next door.

We fully intended to have a single beer at Pub Springfield and hit the pillow after our long day of riding, but Carlos would not hear of it. A fellow cyclist and a proud bartender with an appreciation for fine whiskey, he poured “gratis” his top shelf happily joining in the tastings and continuously issuing “just one more” until we firmly declared a final-final round and called it a night. Sad to say goodbye to our new friend but eager for rest, we circled through the celebrating town and found our home for the night.

A slight headache and brooding clouds foretold of a difficult day, but we rode on anyway, confident but not really sure what the Pan-American Highway would hold in store.

On the rain-slick road, a drainage channel suddenly overtook the shoulder causing my bike to slide out from under me, spilling myself, my panniers, and the contents of my purse into the gushing torrent. Matt was off his bike before I realized what happened offering one hand to me while dragging my bike up with the other. With a fortunate break in traffic we limped across the highway to asses the situation: soaked phone, wet clothes, stinging hand, swollen knee, bent handlebars and wounded psyche, but no real physical damage. I was ready to sleep at the gas station if it meant not getting back out in the steady stream of trucks and rain, but with convincing from Matt, I knew we had to move on.

And so the day drug on: slowly, steeply, soaking, through bouts of doubt and anger at a cold, rain soaked mountain highway. “I chose this!?”

The beveled byway wrapped the mountainside, ever-rising in altitude without gaining the distance desired. To my surprise, as we approached a particular corner that seemed tighter than others the front end of a passing semi sharply cut the shoulder. This time my body acted before my mind could think. I leapt off the bike, hurled it toward the upward slope, and flattened myself against the frame just as the rear of the truck sliced through the air precious inches from my body. Death by 18-wheeler was not a fate I planned to face. I wanted to quit, I wanted to be home in a warm bed with dry clothes and out of the rain, anywhere but there. Looking up and down the highway it seemed there was no escaping the trucks, the blind curves, or the hill. The tears I had been holding back since my fall that morning had nowhere to go but down.

Drained of energy and heavy with rain, we felt as if our shoes and bags were made of lead. It was all we could do to push our bikes upward and pray that the peak would come soon. Fortunately, the series of events that would unravel next would turn this day around.

To be continued…

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