We get up early with plans to hit the road before the heat builds up. As we pack, we get to talking to the Mexican rider, Manolo, and his wife, Fernanda, an Argentinian. Super nice people, who have a place in San Miguel de Alende, and give me their number and invite me to visit. Super nice!

We get on the road by 8am. This is our last day of riding. The weather is beautiful and the road twists and turns through a vivid green jungle like forest. About 150km from Medellin we start to climb, as the road now goes up into the mountains. We end up at about 9,000 feet during a couple of peaks. Interestingly, as the last day riding, both Chris and I manage to avoid a couple of close calls. After almost a month, 4200km and some crazy driving situations, this was the riskiest day, but we both got out of it unscathed.

We enter the city and traffic is light. Normally bumper to bumper and motorcycles have to lane split their way, we had smooth traffic all the way to our lodging, the Hotel Dorado 70, in the Laureles part of the city. We park the bikes in the parking garage and check in, loading all our stuff up to the rooms. Now about 3pm, we hop in a cab and go to an area where I had read some shops buy bikes. We didn’t ride, as we wanted to just get a feel for what we might be able to do with the bikes. We find a shop and start talking to the guy, He ends up indicating that if the bikes are good then he would pay 6 million for them (We bought them for 7.5 million). This is fantastic. About 10% more than our highest expectations, so we immediately cab it back to the hotel and bring the bikes in.

Showing the bikes, he still agrees on 6 million, which we both accept and minutes later are upstairs doing paperwork. After about 45 minutes there, we get sent of to a notary to authenticate the sale and upon our return with the notarized papers, we are paid 6 million. Not even 5pm and we are done. Sold the bikes in 2 hours. To put the price into perspective, we paid $2300USD for the bikes and sold them for $1850USD, so it was like renting for a month for $450. This price included insurance, plates and everything, so it was really very reasonable.

We say goodbye to our little steeds and head back to the hotel. We both spend an hour or sorting through our stuff and then head out onto the streets and find dinner. We then spend the last part of the evening wandering around near our hotel, in an active and fun part of the city, people watching and enjoying the culture.

We awake in our little room and head down to the beach below. The stairs are steep, almost more a ladder than stairs, which is going to be tricky with the luggage. Down below, we watch as Felix, the young man who hosts the hostel, preps everything for when the guests awake. Rake the sand, sweep the sand of of everything, spray the area down with something (hopefully not too nasty). The people here sure do work hard for their money. Felix is the last one to bed and the first one up at the hostel.

We eat breakfast and have coffee. Neither were particularly good but the scenery more than makes up for it. The showers weren’t looking that good either, so I just decided on a morning dip in the ocean, most refreshing. While floating in the warm waters, all by myself and just after sunrise, the thought came to me that most shark attacks are early morning. Seconds later I spot a disturbance in the water 20 meters or so away, so I scramble quickly to vacate. As the small log broke the surface and floated by, I was happy no one was there to witness my bravery.

As of 9 am, Felix took off down the beach and arranged for a boat to come bring us back to the parking area. I struggle with all my bags down the stairs-ladder, while Chris ends up with Felix bringing his down for him. Our boat arrived and Felix and the boat captain, Mateo, load our stuff into the launch. We say goodbye and get shuttled along the coastline to the parking. As we beach and our bags are unloaded, Mateo mentions he will bring the bags up the hill to the parking lot for a propina (tip). We agree to this and watch a skinny 45 year old man haul our two bags over his head and walk the steep, sandy/rocky path, barefoot to the parking lot. I tipped him 10,000 pesos (about $4), which I thought would be normal, but it must have been a lot, as Mateo was very happy and tried to stay and help me load the bike. Chris tipped him separately a minute later, so it must have been a decent haul. As we pulled away, he kept telling us to remember Mateo. If we come back, remember his name and look for Mateo.

Leaving the coast, we turn back inland for the last couple of days on the motorcycles. Now, back on the pan American highway, we run into 3 separate bikes all doing the entire route. First is a german couple, who are doing the route on a Colombian plated 200cc Chinese bike they has bought. Next, a young dutch guy who shipped his honda nighthawk to Halifax and then spend the next 8 months working his way to Colombia. Lastly, as we stopped for the day, a Mexican couple on a BMW, working their way down south America.

After a nice but relatively uneventful day of travel, we stop in Caucasia for the night. A search of hotels on the drive through doesnt find much, so I head back to one we had stayed at 3 years ago. A nice hotel behind a gas station. Decent price and my phone still remembered the wifi password. We went to dinner at a little roadside place, “Sazon Y Sabor Asados”. I had the beef Hawaiian style, which means the beef takes the place of a crust, but has all the pizza toppings on top of it. Sounds weird, but it was really good. Chris had something similar, but not Hawaiian.

We call it a night and head back to the hotel.

The day had a little slower start to it. With the celebrations of the night before, the city was completely shut down in the morning. We relaxed for a few hours around the hotel before packing up our bikes and heading out. It was strange to be on the streets of this typically crazy city with very little traffic.

Heading south of the city, but towards North America, we cross a bridge and are now on Isla Baru. The Island is a former peninsula near cartagena, created when a canal was made. Now, due to it’s sandy beaches and wonderful water, it is mostly for tourists and summer homes.

Driving along the nicely paved road, we turn off onto a sand road and drive a couple more kilometres until reaching the parking lot. Here we have a
helper” show up and offer services, which we decide this time to take advantage of. Oscar helps us by arranging the parking and then also helps us by guiding us down to the water and carrying Chris’s bag. Then he arranges a boat (water taxi) to pick us up and bring us a couple kilometres down the beach to our eco hostel. ( “eco hostel” is the 2000’s way of saying a place has very few services IE: electricity, full water. A very common thing in these areas unless you want to spend a fortune on a Decameron resort!). Quite a fun and different way of reaching your accommodations.

Our little place is quite fine. 2 single beds raised from the floor on shipping pallets, right on the water with a million dollar view. I cant think of anywhere better to spend the night. A few beautiful husky type street dog roams the hostel. (As well as a couple more not so beautiful, but still cute in their own way). We spend the afternoon and evening here just relaxing, enjoying the water and the feel of the place. Wth not much option for food, we also eat at the hostel, which was definitely nothing special, but it was food and reasonably priced.

The sun sets over the ocean, which is weird to me. Atlantic ocean with the sun setting ? I thought it set in the west. I guess my directions are a little messed up.

Chris heads off to bed. I end up falling asleep 2 feet from the ocean in my lounge chair, listening to the waves. Later on I awaken and head off to the room.

With slightly overcast skies, the haze was making the day a fair bit cooler than usual. On my previous trip to the city, at times of the day the heat was almost too much to deal with, but this time at least 5 degrees cooler weather has been nice.

After breakfast, Chris goes off to find a mall for more prepaid cell minutes. I walk to the beaches at Boca Grande, a strip of land with premium hotels next to the old city area. I go for a swim in the ocean and then, looking for a spot to settle, get a message from Chris that he is nearby. We meet up and hire ourselves a couple of chairs for the day under an umbrella on a nice strip of beach. Moments after sitting, once vendor after another swarms us, as the new people and try to sell us their wares. We finally get through them all, including me managing to get a beachside massage lady to “come back later”, as she had come over and just told me how good the massage would be, and started rubbing my shoulders. Chris also managed the get a massage lady to quit.

After a nice swim and another hour in the sun, the massage lady comes back and reminds me that I had said “later”. She just starts massaging my shoulders again. This time, not really getting anywhere in the discussion, I agree of $16 for 45 minutes. Not sure what was more worthwhile, me getting the massage or watching all the massage people now try to get Chris to go for it. Anyways, it wasn’t a bad massage and fterwards I went for another swim.

After an afternoon on the beach, we went back to our hotel, this time by cab as the walk was probably 3 km or more there. Back at the hotel, we went for a decent coffee and then relaxed for a couple hours before heading out for new years eve and dinner.

Looking for dinner, at about 8pm, all of the restaurants were already closed or reservation only for New Years. We finally found a little bar/restaurant with seats available and went in. With a limited menu, both of us ended up with burgers. After an hour or so there, we wandered off to under the Walled City Clock Tower, perhaps the most famous part of Cartagena. This is where the fireworks are set off, and the streets had been taken over with tables and chairs in preparation for the crowd. We got very lucky, finding a table almost directly below the tower, and after some not so successful bartering on the price and location of a table, a Peruvian gentleman at the table next to us solved the issue for us. Telling the table vendor to just do what we asked, and suddenly he did. Sometimes it is amusing how tourists can be treated differently.

By midnight the streets had become so packed people filled more than a square kilometre. When the countdown happened, fireworks lit up the sky, not only from the clocktower area, but all over the city. For about 20 minutes non stop, the city was alive with colour.

We made our way back through the crowds and back to our hotel. A most interesting evening.

A short ride from Baranquilla, only about 2 hours on a wonderful highway, and we have arrived in Cartagena. At the hotel, check-in isn’t until 3pm but they take our bags off of us so we don’t have to worry about them.

Waiting for checkin, we cruise around the walled city portion of Cartagena. Originally a Spanish port in the Colonial times, the city built a wall to keep the pirates at bay. Today, the walled area of the city is a tourist mecca, with cobblestoned streets packed with tourists and lined with old Spanish Colonial buildings.

After coffee at a Juan Veldez coffee shop, we return to the hotel and complete our checkin before wandering around the streets a little more. The temperature is about 5 degrees lower than usual so it is quite pleasant out.

In one area I see a street vendor with a small pot on the street, burning wood in it while the smoke rises. As many women walk by they stop and stand over it, legs spread, and brush the smoke with their hands into their crotch, then walk away. I’m really not sure what this was all about, but I wasn’t going to go ask anyone about it.

As darkness falls the temperature reaches that perfect level. The streets, once packed with vendors, empty out in some areas and refill where the restaurants are. Chris and I go back to a square where the Panamerican trip guys had frequented and sit for dinner. A nicely treed square with restaurant seating on the sidewalk, as we eat we have different street performers come past to display their talents. Basically, they perform and then walk the crowd with a hat, collecting from those who enjoyed the performance. Once they are done, another arrives. I am sure it must be organized in some way because they are very efficient. One of the nicest ways to have dinner.

We end the evening walking the streets a little more, people watching and enjoying the vibe of the city.

Quick thought. Did nobody in Colombia have shoes a few months back and now they are trying to make up for lost time? Every second store in the cities seems to be a shoe store. Every 3rd or 4th street vendor sells shoes too. And socks. What is with the street vendors all selling socks? Do the regular stores not sell them? No judgments, just thoughts.

We left Santa Marta a little later and did our short 2 hour ride to Baranquilla, a larger port city where the Magdelena River meets the Atlantic. We spend quite some time riding on a long isthmus spanning a floodplain of the Magdelena delta. This was another area where some of the inequalities of Colombia show. Typically quite a clean country, some of the shanty villages had streets covered in garbage, homes made of mud, steel or bamboo, whatever may be available. Colombia is the 7th most iniquitous country in the world, and at times it shows. Still, a beautiful area and the people living there all seemed happy going about their day.

Arriving in Baranquilla, mostly just a stop for the night, we stay at the Atrium Plaza Hotel. A beautiful place for a reasonable price, but in the heart of the city, where few tourist spots or restaurants exist. We cruise the streets for a few hours, visit a mall (always interesting) and then search dinner. In the end, we settle for streetside pizza, which wasn’t too bad considering it’s price. Was quite something to watch the pizza maker going about his job while loads of people waited for a slice on the street.

We had one bar near us, which for some reason seemed to be the hot spot in. Baranquilla for a Sunday. Packed from about 4pm on, loud music, people dancing. Even congregating on the street surrounding it. It seemed like all of the activity for a couple blocks was concentrated around the one place.

Ended the night back in the hotel. I tuned in the Seahawks game in Spanish before heading off to sleep.

We woke and met upstairs of the hotel for out rooftop breakfast. The standard Colombian breakfast of scrambled eggs, orange juice, toast, fruit and coffee. All of it not bad except usually the coffee, which is really stunning considering the country.

After breakfast we went our separate ways for most of the day. Chris wandered around finding out about rentals, and ended up with our wonderful hotel hosts driving him around and showing him areas. I wandered the city.

At first, I ended up at a Juan Valdez coffee shop. I enjoyed people watching. In particular watching the sixty something American dude who is now living here in Colombia trying to work his moves on an early 20’s british backpacker. At first he was just quite friendly while they ordered the coffee, but also pushy for them to sit together and talk further. At that point I decided to sit next to them, just for my own entertainment. He carried most of the conversation and then, once he shifted to the higher flirt stage, I watched her suddenly realize she was missing her bus and she bolted.

I walked around town for quite some time, including the beach and malecon. Santa Marta is a beautiful city and overall one of the best spots I have seen in Colombia. The only real down side is the Venezuelan issues. I completely understand the situation these poor people are in, and sympathize with what they are going through, but when you walk the streets by yourself as a very noticeable foreigner it can get quite overboard. Many people suddenly see you and put their hand out, “gringo – dinero”. I politely said no but multiple times had people actually get angry with me for not giving them money. I also watched how they would walk through a crowd of 20 people straight to me and ask me alone. Apparently, not unlike other places, this is really hurting the tourism of the city and I hope a solution that works for all is figured out sometime soon.

I spend the later part of the afternoon in the little pool on our hotel roof. In the 35 degree heat it was very nice. As the afternoon was ending, Chris and I went off for coffee before wandering the streets for a while and sitting down or dinner in a steak house. The steak was great, not quite the same atmosphere as the cool outdoor eateries where we had been the night before, but fantastic cooking. After dinner, we walked back to the main tourist zone and people watched for a bit. I ended up buying a small purse made from Venezuelan money (since it isn’t worth anything they weave it into souvenirs). I thought this was quite a cool thing to pickup since I had seen news articles on these being made. In addition, it is a way of giving money without just handing it out, which only makes the problems worse.

We woke and had breakfast, then saying goodbye to our hosts at the Casa D Mer hotel. It is family run, by an older couple and their 30ish year old son. 9 rooms, beautiful rooftop deck and a very comfortable stay. If I was ever back in Taganga, I would totally return.

We drive in to Santa Marta and find our small hotel in the heart of the historic Centro district. Again, a smaller boutique hotel that is family run and the hosts seem very nice. We cruise around the town checking things out, including the shore and malecon as well as the parks with many historic figures represented in statues. Santa Marta is where Simon Bolivar (Liberator of the upper half of South America and more important that Washington in these parts) passed away and is buried.

The narrow streets come alive shortly after dark when the temperature cools a little bit. We walked to an area with some restaurants surrounding a square and it was jam packed with people eating, street performers coming by and street vendors trying to sell their wares. We have dinner and watch all the activity, then walk the streets and a market by the pier for a couple hours before returning to the hotel. Although touristy, Santa Marta also has a very authentic feel to it.

We stayed in Taganga for an extra day, since we were already a day ahead. After breakfast we took a ride out to the park, but discovering that our previous day’s pass was no longer valid and we would need to pay again to enter (about $35 for foreigners), we decided to go back to our hotel and take a water taxi to the nearby beach, Playa Grande. Not really suiting it’s name, Playa Grande is a relatively small beach with multiple restaurants and chairs set up on the beach. One cool thing was that trees are growing out of the sand right on the shore, so the trees are used as shade for sitting on the beach. Most of the people visiting this beach would be the more well off Colombians, and you could get a bit of a vibe of that. We spent about 4 hours there, relaxing in our chairs, and in my case, swimming a couple of times to cool off. Especially fun for me was when I was leaving the water the second time. I had swam close to shore and when I stood I was surprised to be in only slightly higher than knee deep water. I took another step towards the shore and tumbled in to the water as I was on a large rock at the time. Righting myself from a totally goofy splash I look at the water and three girls about 10-12 years old are just cackling at me. I just laughed with them and made my way to shore.

We returned to Taganga arriving at about 4pm. I relaxed on the hotel patio while Chris took a walk along the boardwalk. I spend a little bit of time researching our next couple of stops, before crashing in the hammock and enjoying the breeze that had started up. A few hours later we walked through town to the far end of the boardwalk and had dinner. Hamburgers. Only the second time this trip that we have had them. We had another live band playing at the restaurant, but this one wasn’t as good as a few in the past. The previous night we had a jazz saxophone player, which had been quite fantastic.

The street dogs wander in and out of the restaurant. Taganga has quite a few of them. Interestingly, the puebla has a decent number of street cats too. In our restaurant, while a couple of dogs looked on in jealousy, this one cat was getting the royal treatment from a dude who was eating there. Eventually, he had a few cats under his table sharing his fish. One of the cats even stretched up and pawed his arm when he wanted more (something our house is too familiar with)

Tomorrow we make the long trek into Santa Marta, our next stop. It will take us at least 30 minutes to go the 15km. For the next week, most of the rides are short, as we are spending a fair bit of time along the coast.

I awoke at sunrise and took a few minutes to walk the beach in the orange glow. After enjoying the rising sun, I retreated back to my tent for another hour or so of sleep.

Awaking for the second time, Chris is now up. He shows me a picture of a giant palm branch that fell from the tree above his tent and flattened it. Luckily he had just got up moments before or he would have had a headache. It certainly wasn’t the cocoanut I was expecting.

We packed up our stuff and prepared to leave the campground. I went into the ocean again for a few minutes and then had a cold, outdoor shower while Chris passed on it. Not sure if it was the temperature or not wanting to stand naked in the middle of the campground.

The campground driveway is incredibly steep, with chunks of strips of pavement missing and some pretty large holes. Going down in to the campground was a tricky ride, but getting back out was really tough. I had done it the night before and almost not made it up the hill, so I was happy to make it up this time without incident. I dismount the bike and go to the top of the hill to help guide Chris up, but when I get there I see he has already crashed exactly on the part that tried to bite my tires the day before. Because of the hill and how the bike landed, we have to get two of the campground guys to give us a hand pushing the bike up the hill. Chris, for the most part none the worse for wear, straightens things out and we are on our way.

We head down the road to Tayrona National Park. An oceanside park where the jungle meets the sea. At the entrance, we have breakfast, before paying our entrance and heading in. We are surprised to see virtually everything is open on Christmas day, but I guess days off in developing nations are a luxury few can afford.

The park is gorgeous. We walk quite a ways through the various jungle paths before reaching the ocean. We pass on the hike to the main beach as it is 5km each way in the jungle heat. We pass an area with alligator warnings, so I stay ahead of Chris and ready to bolt at the sight of one. We don’t see much wildlife in the end, except some lizards and quite a few birds.

After leaving the park we head on to the beach town of Taganga, a small village right next to the large city of Santa Marta. The town is packed. Lots of people go to the beach for Christmas day here. It’s an affordable option for some family time, if they are the lucky ones who aren’t still working for the day. We find ourselves a nice little hotel with a friendly host and unload our bikes before waking around town. We settle in for our Christmas dinner and Chris has a large plate of fish while I settle for the pizza. We are a day ahead of our original plans, so we are considering a full day in the town. Maybe a boat ride to a remote beach.

Overall, not a bad day for Christmas. It is always very tough travelling in particular on Christmas day, as you miss family and would love to spend the day with them. I for one am very lucky. I have a wonderful spouse (who lets me bolt off on trips like this) and 2 kids I couldn’t be prouder off what they have grown up to be. I am also blessed (no, I don’t like that word, too religious, let’s go with grateful ) that both my parents and Carolyn’s parents are here to share not only Christmas, but also our lives with us, so I with I was there with them all at least for this day.

At the same time, you also realize how privileged we are to be able to travel and see the world. Only about 5% of the world’s population can afford to travel, and less than half of that statistic even take advantage of the opportunity. Most people in the world may only ever know of an area a few hundred kilometres from where they live, so we are truly lucky to have been born where we were, and with all the benefits that came with it, earned or not. TTheyjeggoal

The goal when using this privilege should be to always leave a positive mark on all you come across. A smile and a little respect go a long way towards making yourself an unofficial ambassador of Canada, or motorcycles, or whatever you may represent. Each of your actions also affect how people will treat the next traveller, so wear it well.