May 17th 2024 – Guatapé, Colombia

The day after we picked up the bikes, we relocated to another place in Bogota. We did it to save money and to get our own kitchen. I was a bit under the weather. It was nice not to have to leave the house to get something to eat. 

The main reason for us to extend our stay in Bogota was to allow us time to investigate what Colombia had to offer. Prior to our arrival we had prepared jack shit. 
We enjoyed a couple of relaxing days. Much of the time we just stayed home reading and writing – often while the rain was pouring down outside. An interesting French MotoGP spiced up the weekend.

Between the showers we explored the neighborhood on foot. One of our excursions took us to Bogotá’s botanical garden.

There was an interesting little shop a few blocks from our place. They had specialized in rebuilding/restoring old Toyota Land Cruisers (FJ40 and FJ45). They did everything in-house and a build took around 5 months. It was up to the customer to decide if he wanted a restored stock vehicle or a modified one. The price tag was around US$ 50.000 either way. It seemed like a bargain.

I also managed to squeeze in an oil change on Katrine’s bike. It had done 1.000 km since the engine rebuild in Costa Rica. Chuta had told me that a break-in oil change wasn’t necessary, but I had a good place to work on the bike and found the oil I wanted, so I couldn’t help myself.

After a week in Bogota we had placed some pins in the map and were ready to set sails.
It was great to be on the move again. The bikes were purring as the cityscape was replaced with rolling hills and green mountains. We stopped at Sisga Lake for a bite and a cup of coffee.

We rolled into Villa de Leyva around noon. The small town is characterized by its whitewashed colonial buildings, cobbled streets and the vast Plaza Mayor where you can find The House of the First Congress of the United Provinces, where new laws were drafted after Colombia’s independence in 1812.
We had rented a room and spent the rest of the day playing tourists.

After a good night’s sleep it was time to take it up a notch.
The weather and the scenery was glorious as we made our way further into the mountains. At some point we ran out of tarmac. The rainy season made it a muddy affair. At one point we had to tread our way around a truck that was stuck axle deep. A couple of hours of this delivered us to a very basic guest house on the outskirts of Florian with a view to the spectacular waterfall “Ventanas de Tisquizoque”.

The Waterfall was what had lured us in. It was time to have a closer look. With the bikes tucked away at the guest house we backtracked to the trailhead we had passed on our way in.

The trail to and through the cave from where the river exits the mountain was spectacular. It was like a Lord of The Rings meets Indiana Jones backdrop. The only other person we encountered during the entire hike was an extremely dirty, old hobbit of a man trodding cautiously along with his cane.

In the evening we had dinner at a very authentic establishment in Florian followed by a cup of coffee and something sweet at the village bakery. Katrine called it a day when we returned to the guest house. It was still a bit early for me, so I chilled on the porch for a while. A light drizzle made the two dogs living on the property keep me company. The drizzle had turned into a downpour by the time I hit the sack. It continued to pound the roof while I drifted off to sleep. It was an ominous sound considering our plans for the next day…

The rain had stopped during the night but we were inside the clouds and everything was damp as we embarked on what should turn out to be a day out of the ordinary.

We had arrived to Florian from the east the previous day. Now we left the town heading south. It was the shortest route by far to where we were going, but it should be both steeper and rougher. We had decided to give it a go.

As soon as we left Florian the road turned into slick mud. After a brief powwow we decided to venture on hoping the conditions would improve. They did but only slowly. The first hour or so was pure survival with the bikes sliding wherever gravity dictated. At least we were surrounded by stunning scenery.

Eventually the road conditions improved and the riding became more enjoyable. The highlight was a proper river crossing.

Both Katrine and I were jubilant when we reached the tarmac of hwy 60. We stopped for lunch to celebrate that the day’s challenge was over and it would be smooth sailing from there. Oh boy were we wrong.

A short while later the traffic was stopped because of road construction. No one but us continued onwards when a short break in the digging allowed traffic to pass. We quickly learned why. The heavy machinery had churned up the ground and turned it into deep mud. The only way to navigate it was at speed with fingers crossed. Katrine wasn’t going fast enough and got stuck. One of the construction workers took pity on her and got her going with a push.

This was the start of a 50 kilometers section of hwy 60 without tarmac – but also without traffic. The riding was much easier than what we had done in the morning, but the increasing temperatures as we descended the mountains added to the challenge. A number of water crossing rinsed off the worst of the mud.

In several places they were preparing the road to be surfaced. As a result we had to navigate sections with deep sand.
Katrine was worn down when we finally reached tarmac again – almost 10 hours after we set out in the morning.

We arrived in Doradal with an hour’s daylight to spare. The small town’s claim to fame is Hacienda Nápoles. The estate was built and owned by Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar and covered about 20 km2 (7.7 sq mi) of land.

In its heyday the estate included a Spanish colonial house, a sculpture park and a zoo with many kinds of animals such as antelope, elephants, exotic birds, giraffes, hippopotamuses, ostriches, and ponies. The ranch also boasted a large collection of cars and bikes, a private airport, a brothel, and even a Formula 1 racetrack.

Today the place is a small zoo and an amusement park. Almost nothing from Pablo Escobar’s time remains. 
The only reminder is his hippoes that escaped many years ago, became feral and multiplied. They now  live in the surrounding lakes and rivers and have become something of a headache for the locals.

We spent the night at a nice small hotel in town. We could only afford the broom closet, but it sported a bed, AC and a private bathroom so we were happy. Only when the secure parking they had promised turned out to be a gravel lot next to the hotel without a gate did Katrine raise an eyebrow. It made our host organize secure parking at a hotel across the street free of charge.

We got on the bikes early in the morning to escape the heat and continued west on hwy 60. Contrary to the day before, it behaved and supplied us with smooth twisty tarmac. The views were still great. We stopped for brunch as soon as we had gained enough altitude for the temperatures to become pleasant.

It was a relaxing and enjoyable ride. When the GPS suggested a dirt shortcut the last 30 kilometers to our destination, we politely turned down the offer. We needed a day without struggle. When we got hit by a thunderstorm a bit later, we really appreciated not being on a dirt road.

Early afternoon we arrived in Guatapé. A small town in the mountains surrounded by lakes and with the giant rock “La Piedra del Peñol” as its trademark. We had booked a room for 3 nights on the outskirts of town.

Our host was also a rider. When he saw our muddy bikes he offered that I could use his stuff to clean them.
It was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon while the showers continued. Eventually the bikes were clean and dry enough to cover up.

The weather dried up around sundown allowing us a pleasant stroll out for dinner at our host’s mother’s Italian restaurant downtown. Guatapé seems to be a charming little town with much to offer.