A baptism of fire: the first 4 days

I write this from Supata, a small town down at a lowly 1700m, the lowest we’ve been since Amsterdam airport, where the air feels gloriously thick in comparison to our previous nights all spent above 2500m. This drop in altitude has been much needed – we’ve both been suffering with lingering colds from the journey over and at one point today, as we crested another 3000m+ climb, El had all but lost her voice! Safe to say, our first 4 days in Colombia have been a true baptism of fire.

Following on from the previous saga of my missing bike, my Stooge finally showed up at our Bogotá hotel 4 days late, which meant we hit the road only one day later than planned – no big deal when you’re planning to be away for 12 months, but still a lot of stress to deal with straight off the bat. Setting off up the famous Alto de Patios on Easter Friday, we got our first taste of Colombian cycling culture. The road was heaving with cyclists of all types, from serious-looking roadies on the latest Colnagos to families out on their supermarket mountain bikes. The one thing they seemed to have in common was that they were faster than us! We must have got passed by a hundred other riders, getting cheered on and schooled at the same time.

After a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice (one thing I could never tire of), we headed over the top and into a landscape far removed from the hustle and bustle of Bogotá on the other side of the hill. Fincas (farms) dotted all around, every available bit of land used to keep cows, sheep and chicken, and green, lots of green. Squint and it could almost have been mid-Wales, except somehow, it very much wasn’t.

We soon turned off the tarmac and with it, those lovely sub-10% gradients we had been enjoying. This was the Colombia I had read about – unrelentingly hilly and steep – yet still it was a shock with a bike loaded for 12 months on the road.

The skies that had been threatening all morning finally unleashed in the early afternoon, so we took shelter in a bus stop to eat our lunch of avocado (they are massive and perfect here) and mango.

Our enjoyment of our lunch was slightly tempered by the fact that we were in a metallic bus stop with lightening and thunder booming all around. Thankfully, the time between lightening flashes and thunder grew and grew, meaning we had to bite the bullet and brave the rain as it didn’t look to be going anywhere soon.

Our off-road shenanigans had severely harmed our average speed and with our target for the night Guasca still 30km away, we decided to drop down to the main road and get there the long, but paved, way.

We arrived in Guasca just as the sun was setting and tried in vain to find a hotel near the town centre. We’d seen a few on the road into town so we headed back that way, the tendrils of desperation starting to take root as it was really getting quite dark. We ended up at Hotel Finca El Recreo, a bit pricier than we were hoping for, but beggars can’t be choosers. Ultimately, it was worth it as we got to meet the lovely Angelica, who gave us lots of useful information about Colombia and a bag of feijoas straight from a tree out the back. Oh, and we also got to sleep in a bed in which Simon Bolivar also slept in (that could just be my poor Spanish translation).

Day 2 would take us from Guasca to Suesca, the centre of Colombian rock climbing.

Dropping down out of town towards the thermal springs (looks like a murky pool according to El), we came across a hillside covered in Black Vultures drying out their wings after a soggy night.

The rest of the day followed the pattern familiar from day one: relentlessly steep roads, torrential afternoon rain and a final stint on rather busy tarmac.

Suesca was a funny old town. Yes, the cliffs were impressive and it felt like you could be back in Bristol with the number of trendy looking people with rock shoes dangling from their rucksacks, but the whole place had a bit of a downtrodden feel to it.

In our original plan, we had considered taking a rest day here, but instead decided to pedal the 30 mostly flat kilometres to Zipaquira the following day. This turned out to be a good decision. The town was buzzing on Easter Sunday and we managed to find a great bike shop which straightened out El’s mech hanger, which had got bashed in a near disaster when the Tailfin Aeropack seat clamp popped open on a descent and the whole thing swung backwards into the ground, and tightened my cassette which had come slightly loose. I also bought myself a file to face my wonky front brake mounts which had been causing some horrific brake rub (it’s all training, I suppose).

Day 4 saw us pedalling back over 3000m on the climb out of Zipaquira, before a 1000m tarmac plunge on an incredibly sinuous road down into the bustling market town of Pacho, where a Menu du Dia was enjoyed on the town square (£5 for 2 course meal with drink for 2 people – so good). This was the first time we’d really got a sense of the scale of the hills here in Colombia, as the road seemed to drop away into infinity as it disappeared into the clouds below us.

From Pacho, there was another 400m climb on a mix of dirt and tarmac, before a muddy descent into Supata, our stop for the night. This section felt noticeably more rural – we’d managed to escape the day-trip radius of Bogotá. The patchwork of fields we’d been riding through on days one and two, mostly replaced by a denser tree cover at these altitudes.

Our next target is the town of Guaduas, which is hopefully a day and a bit away. From there, things are more uncertain. Our original plan had us crossing the Magdalena valley then heading up to Murillo and over to Manizales, but the increased threat level from the Nevado del Ruiz volcano is making us think twice about this. Although by all accounts, this section would be one of the highlights of Colombia, getting caught in a piroclastic flow is pretty far down our priority list.