Vamos!?!

Dear future me,

Sure, the answer to my last blog is to fly. This Nennie can’t sit around and just wait, I need adventure! And maybe some more luck too, I don’t know what happened but normally my natural karma somehow always makes things turn my way. I guess I left that item at home. But I won’t mention too many of my misfortunes or maybe some readers of this story think I’m really sad. In contrary, flying to Bogotá was the best thing! I finally found my biker adventurous spirit again. Although, I used it to tour on the city bus and to test my feet. For me Bogotá was my new (temporary) home. As a true tourist, I visited all the exciting places and got more and more comfortable with the lack of unsafety. In contrary, I found that many young people roam the streets of Bogotá and therefore making it a vibrant city. Okay, I do see the homeless Venezuelans on the street, but still the mass of the people has good intentions. So at first, this thoroughly warned lady made sure she was back in the hotel at 18.00 when it got dark, but later on relaxed into the city girl she has always been.

I had so much fun exploring the city, that I even took the bus for a 1,5 hour up and 3 hours down to the salt cathedral of Zipaquirá. I still can’t pronounce that city with the right flow of stress marks, but I managed to get there! I just got into this habit to repeat all the words that raises question marks in the eyes of my fellow Colombians. Over and over again with different stress marks. Until they finally understand me. Thus, part one of the language barrier is taken. Still, I got no clue what they say when they talk back, but the words Si and Gracias seem to work as correct answers. And body language helps as well, I’ve enough body length to use it in my advantage.

After a week of waiting, I was joined by Keith who just arrived from Panama and his bike would be in Bogotá on the next day. I think someone pitied me and decided to send my bike over as well. On Thursday the 1st of September I had to rush to the airport to collect my preciouszzzz. Uhm. That was the idea. Everybody at the airport, other bikers from Panama including Keith, left the airport that same evening on their bikes after a long wait. Most of them were stressed because they found that this was the worst border crossing ever. I just sat back and relaxed. I had my handler and he was doing fine, except getting me on time to the warehouse once I received my temporary import permission. So I had to get back the next morning, when I finally got reunited with my bike. I was happy to see him. He wasn’t happy with me though after being locked up in a crate for 3 weeks. So, he refused to start. The only solution was to get some more gasoline (as the tank has to be near empty when you fly it over). Problem: they wouldn’t allow gasoline at the secured airport area and they wouldn’t allow me to roll the bike out of the gate. In the end my handler did his convincing tactics and they let me through. And he was so sweet to get me the fuel to pamper my bike.

Hence…..the adventure begins! Vamos! Me and Keith were set to leave Bogotá on Saturday and ride up together for a day. It became half a day, because my KLR650 from 2013 is still angry with me that I left it idle for 3 years and throws a tantrum at me in the mornings. It took an hour to get started, another 2 hours to get out of the city. But then the Colombian outer city space unraveled itself in front of our eyes. Heading for the mountains (we are already high up at 2640 meters) the first stop was Villa del Leyva. A rustic little village with cobblestones that scared the hell out of Keith. But the landing beers and the fine dining made it all up. It was our last evening together, as I have so much more time on my hands than Keith who wants to make it to Ushuaia before Christmas. So, the next morning, after the daily bike tantrums, we rode up on a small off-road and drank our goodbye coffees. From there on it was me, myself and I. I even got another habit out of this. Because I can’t speak normal full Spanish sentences, I just start to talk to myself in Dutch to have some sort of a conversation. It makes people’s head turn, but it could also be that there is at least one meter difference between me and the average Colombian.

Since Keith and I parted I swung my bike to Mongui, another old village that has embraced the traditional look and feel. Not only the lovely small streets are impressive, but also the steepness of those stone paved streets. Too bad you can’t tell on the video’s I shot. But it was a good practice for the serious mountains that I have seen in the last days. From Mongui I had a long exhausting day to El Cocuy. Famous for its Sierra Nevada National Park with views on snowy mountains. I had my share of heights on that day, where I was riding above the clouds in this amazing late afternoon sunshine. Yes, late afternoon. My promise to my self to get to my destination before dark hasn’t hold up. The distances in hours (not km) are just too much.  From El Cocuy to Pamplona was another full day of exciting motor trails. Leading me into this river valley with multiple cactuses. So much to see and so much to ride. I do find it very exhausting; my 46 years are coming down on me, which makes it necessary to cut in a resting day here in Pamplona.

To end this blog. The question in my last blog was to fly or not to fly. The answer: to fly. Unfortunately, my bike wants to answer this as well with a confirmative ‘to fly’. One of my bags took this too literately. Now it is on a short leash to keep it close.

See ya later,

Annemieke