Continued…

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.

The clouds parted, the rain cleared and a very minor fender bender involving a cattle truck and two cars halted all traffic for miles in both directions. It felt as if we had passed a test – If you’re willing to work hard and conquer your fears, doors will open that you didn’t know existed. We neared the corona happily pushing past the trucks that had passed us during the preceding hours. We reached the top dripping wet, but with clear skies, and spent a glorious hour flying downhill past all the stalled vehicles in the tiny town of Versalles, and finally coasting into the outskirts of Santa Barbara.

We pulled into the first hostel we could find; the worst we’ve stayed in, but the one I was most grateful for thus far. We dined in an open air kitchen with many of the stranded truckers and purchased 2 bags of M&Ms to celebrate the ending of this worst of days. It took a world of trouble, it took a world of tears, it took a long time to get to here. Looking forward to my birthday and the downhill descent of the following day, we let this one fade into memory with the dimming daylight and the onset of our well-earned dreams.

Day 17

Everything we owned was soaked, yet we awoke happy and ready to travel. It was my 33rd birthday, and I could not have wished for a better one. Trucks were few and far between on the autopista as we wound our way down, clothes flying behind us, yesterday’s rain evaporating in the tropical breeze. The surrounding countryside glistened as we passed exotic fruit stands and machete wielding farmers with fresh soil on their boots who inquired of our route with hearty waves and smiles of approval.

From Santa Barbara to La Pintada, we made excellent time. As we neared altitudes closer to those back home, we began to realize the gripping heat of the low lands of Colombia, the most intense we have experienced so far, and were glad the day was nearing its end as we drew close to our stopping point.

When road construction crews halted traffic again, only bicicletas were allowed to travel the mountain pass. We spannned a monstrous canary yellow bridge that seemed out of place in the traffic free town, and easily found our campground which resembled something of a fairytale; our tent the only one in the place. Candles on birthday cake were replaced by sparkling fireflies near a whispering river. We fell asleep to the sounds of nature, along with the cracks and cheers of a bar playing Trejo, and nearby roosters; what night would be complete without them.

As we looked forward to the next day’s trip to Salento, we talked of the great possibilities of the year to come and felt truly blessed.

Same gallery, new pics at the bottom. Click to check it!