The Long Way South- A Pan American Adventure

[Deleted member 12023]

*DISCLAIMER- I have been debating posting this one on a public forum, but here it is anyway. In no way does this reflect on our feelings of the people of Colombia, or the country as a whole. We have had nothing short of a great experience in Colombia and would return in a heartbeat!*

THE DEVIL DRIVES A COROLLA
October 25, 2013 · by Nate

As we drove off the scales I could see it…real roads! I could almost taste that sweet dirty pavement. Just one last person/police officer to talk to and Truck was a free girl! Of course the officer wanted to ask a bunch of questions, tell me about what diesel to buy, and all about his Willy’s Jeep. It’s not that I didn’t care, but after two days of sitting in hell, I mean the Cartagena shipping port, I wanted out! Just one hitch, he told me I needed insurance to drive in Colombia.

Well they really get you with the paperwork and bull**** inside the port. You run around like a mad man for every piece of paperwork…and all said and done, you can’t buy insurance anywhere near the port. ******? I made a promise to the officer that I was headed directly to the insurance office, and he gave me the green light.

Free at last! Sarah hopped in Patrick’s car as the chief navigator and I was on a solo mission to follow them. We really didn’t have that far to go, but it is in one of the craziest cities I have driven in. This place makes Boston rush hour look like the open highways of the midwest.

Patrick was taking it slow so I didn’t lose them and so we didn’t miss any turns. I am not sure if you need a license to drive in Colombia or not? But I am sure as **** you don’t need to take a driver’s test to get one. Colombians (a complete generalization, I know) are the craziest drivers alive. It’s like they learned to drive by playing Grand Theft Auto.

At this point, I’d say we have driven about two miles when we hit a red light. Patrick and I had been separated by a bus, but I knew which direction to go. I sat peacefully in my designated lane waiting for the light to turn green. The bus took off and I followed suit in a nice straight line. That’s when I heard it. Cruuuunnnnncccchhhh. I didn’t feel a thing, but I got my butt off my seat and looked out the passenger side window. I hit a ************* Corolla. Well, technically she wedged her tiny little Toyota *** underneath my 35” tire and got run over. Not even fully processing what happened I sped up and signaled Patrick and Sarah to stop. I then proceeded to find a safe spot to pull to the side of the road.

I hopped out of the truck, windows open and truck still running, to be greeted by a dozen angry assed men. Patrick and Sarah weren’t even pulled over yet. I am not sure how the hell the men managed to get to me before the car that was directly behind me did? I assume they have teleporting powers when it comes to chasing someone down who was involved in an accident. They proceeded to inform me that I hit a car and were yelling at me. I’m not even really positive what they were saying since it was 12 different voices all ripping Spanish at me.

About a minute later, the Corolla pulls up, four-ways on, and parks in the middle of the street. She hops out of the car and says “That’s him, that’s him!”. When she finally zeros in on me, I tell her I am the driver. She then, with fully automatic machine gun Spanish, proceeded to ream me a, very giant, new *******. With her 12” finger waving in my face all I could focus on was her drawn on purple eyebrows. I barely heard a word..until the racial comments started. Gringo this, Gringo that, slit your throat this, idiot that. That’s right, she informed me that they would slit my throat for such an escapade. Patrick and Sarah at my side, I pondered what the following steps would be. Did I need to go into fight or flight mode, or would the next 5 minutes be handled civilly, like human beings?

Our options were slim. We were completely out numbered, were now drawing a crowd of people, and were lacking insurance so we could not involve the police. I guess we needed to take the high road and handle this as adults.

The woman, and angry men (I’m still not even sure where the **** they came from) demanded that I follow her to Toyota and pay for the damages to her car. Not wanting my throat slit, or to go to jail, I agreed. The woman then demanded that we give the equivalent of $25 to each man. “For what?” I asked. “For food.” she says. **** no. Again, where did they even come from? And they sure as **** didn’t help me any.

I declined her negotiations. One man with his hand out would not retreat. He proceeded to make it very inconvenient for me to get in the truck and demanded $25. Feeling panicked, I gave him $5 just to get rid of him. He then told the woman. What is this? You have a bunch of angry counterparts, and you go tell mommy that the gringo didn’t give you enough money for your bull**** bribe? She continued to yell for me to give more, from the seat of her car. I gave the guy another $5 and said “no more”. We hopped in the truck, shut the windows and locked the doors.

With an armed security guard in tow, the woman proceeded to take the most backwards way, down every side street, and every possible inconvenient turn she could make. It felt as though she was advertising what just happened. At one point she made a turn into a gas station, looped through the parking lot, and back into the street where we just came from. Honestly, it’s no wonder she got in an accident, she drives like a monkey.

Unfortunately, I realized we lost Patrick as we pulled into the gas station. But in a way I felt good that he was headed back to the hotel and to his wife. I didn’t want to drag him into our mess, especially after the past two days we just had together.

And round two begins: Woman aka Eyebrows aka Satan proceeded to ream us a little more in front of the men who work for Toyota. Normally I am not such a judgmental person, but frankly this woman was a complete and utter beotch! She was saying us Americanos think we can do what ever we want, the only thing we care about is cocaine, we’re so dumb. I bit my tongue the entire time. I even refrained as she walked around her car with the Toyota rep and his clipboard, marking every scratch and scuff on her car. At one point she even tried to say she needed a new set of tires. “What do you know? You don’t speak Spanish. You’re just a gringo and you can afford to pay it!” she said.

I pulled the poor Toyota rep aside and explained the situation to him. He agreed to only draw up the estimate for the damage actually caused.

From an overwhelming day, Sarah was feeling the stress. She became nauseous and went to rest in the waiting area. The woman proceeded to come into the building, after saying bye to her angry counterparts outside, and try to be friends with Sarah. She actually had the nerve to pull her seat up right next to Sarah after Sarah politely asked her to go away. She then spewed hate mixed with her life story to Sarah as Sarah tried to hold down her lunch.

The woman was thrilled with Sarah’s pain and anxiety, and even tried to bring me into the mix. I can tolerate some words being thrown my way, but I will not be your friend at the same time, sorry. At some point she called her husband for back up, and made it be known to us. Great!, we thought, more angry men to listen to. When he arrived, he asked who was going to pay for the damage. The woman pointed to us, and said “They will… todo, todo, todo!”

After what felt like an eternity I was given my bill; $1100.00 US to fix a car that jammed itself under my tire, too impatient to wait at a light. I was furious. I handed the paper to her and her husband and told them that in no way was I going to pay all of that. I tried to explain that it wasn’t even my fault to the husband. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to explain myself. Obviously he didn’t give a **** about me. It was a losing battle I was fighting, and I had no way out. I couldn’t call the police, I didn’t have insurance, and I was arguing with Mr. and Mrs. Devil.

I stepped out of the room to see if I could negotiate with Toyota. Nope. The price was firm, and it was only for the damage caused by my tire. Did I mention, that you couldn’t even tell that our truck was in an accident. Not even the slightest hint of a scuff. Nothing!

Now losing the battle from both ends, I went back to the waiting room to get Sarah only to find the man with his hands in her face, yelling at her. As I sit here writing this blog, with my blood pressure boiling, I wish I had laid him out right there in that waiting room. I had a moment of weakness, and I did not act. I instead signaled Sarah to come out to discuss. We quickly agreed to put the payment on a credit card and take care of it later.

I asked the guys at Toyota if I could leave my truck there until I bought insurance, and they said it was no problem.

With our tail between our legs, Sarah and I left that dealership, defeated, dehydrated, nauseous, completely spent, and $1100 poorer. We didn’t even make eye contact with her and her husband. They had won.

 

[Deleted member 12023]

COLOMBIA’S GEM
November 10, 2013

We woke up to a beautiful morning in the town of Villa de Leyva, Colombia. We had just spent about a week driving to get as far away from Cartagena as possible and needed to relax. We put the coffee on, set up our chairs and discussed what we would do for the day. It seemed as though we had marathon-drove our way to that point and were ready to relax. “Let’s go for a hike!” I exclaimed, eager to enjoy Colombia’s heart-stopping mountain views.

We packed a light bag and set off on the trail behind the hostel we were camped at. No more than five minutes went by when Nate stopped, turned around with his hands on his hips, and asked me in between breaths, “Is… it… just me….. or is…. it… really hard… to breathe…?” We were at about 8,000 feet. Much higher than we have hiked in a very long time. My response? Heck yes, it was hard to breathe!

As the trail emerged from the trees, we turned around and were rewarded with a stunning view of Villa de Leyva and the Boyaca region of Colombia.

We spent about a week in the beautiful, tranquilo town full of pristine white buildings, a ginormous town square and some of the nicest people we have met thus far on the trip. It was very easy to get tripped up (literally) walking on the uneven cobblestone streets, peeking into each doorway to see what lay behind it and admiring the way the locals greeted each and every person they walked past with a giant smile and a salutation.

We noticed that there was an ostrich farm not too far away from our camp spot, so decided to rent bikes one day and make the trek over to see these mysteriously large birds. We both had never seen ostriches in real life before so we thought, what the heck! While I ran away from the gigantic birds, squinting my eyes so I didn’t see them following my every step, Nate got pecked away at by several different birds. Unsure of what to do, he stood there, watching the untrustworthy bird as it cocked it’s head to the side, looking curiously for the next best spot to peck.

Knowing that we had tall mountains and a freezing cold climate waiting for us in El Cocuy, we tore ourselves away from our peaceful, easy life in Villa de Leyva. But not before going out to pizza with Heather and Scott, who we camped next to the past week. These two have really figured it out. They have worked their little butts off and have saved enough money to never have to work again! Ever! We had a great time getting to know them, asking them too many questions and enjoying a glass… orrr two or three… of wine with them.

The next morning, we hopped in the truck at 7am, knowing we had at least an eight hour drive ahead of us. We zipped our way down the highway, paying more in tolls than we have since Mexico! Meet a ‘peaje’, the death of our bank account.

At one point, our ‘not-so-trusty-lately’ GPS decided it wanted us to take a shortcut. The pavement slowly dissipated, leaving us with a pot-holey, dirt road that zigzagged its way straight up the side of a mountain. We contemplated continuing on this mysterious road, but time being of the essence, we decided to hightail it back to the main highway. An hour lost, we were getting a little nervous we wouldn’t make it to the park that night. We spent the last two hours of our trip seesawing back and forth on the crazy mountain roads getting stuck behind big rigs doing 7mph. We pulled into the town of El Cocuy around 5pm, with an hour and a half left to make it to our camp spot that night. Exhausted, hungry, and not willing to drive into the park at night, we decided to get a hotel room. On our search, we couldn’t help but notice that everything was painted teal and white. Every building, house, part of the church, sidewalk… everything. We found a hotel blended into the peculiar scene and paid for a room. For the first time on the trip, we parked the truck in the road overnight. We triple checked that it was a safe area, being beside the police station helped ease our anxiety, and flopped down into bed.

The next morning, we were ready to head into the park. As we walked out the door of the hotel, we were surprised to find about six or seven schoolchildren standing on their tippy-toes, peering into the windows of the truck. One little boy was even standing in front of the truck measuring the top of his head to the height of the bumper. When he turned around to see how tall he was compared to the truck his mouth dropped in awe. At one point, a few of the boys disappeared, only to return with their teacher so she could check out the crazy monster truck outside. With approximately sixteen eyeballs on us, we packed the truck up and headed out to get our permit to enter the park.

Permit in hand, we couldn’t ignore the rumbling of our bellies. We found a little corner store selling tinto (very sweet, black coffee) and empanadas. I don’t know if it was my hunger talking or not, but those were the best empanadas I have had to date. Filled with chicken, pork, beef, egg and a spicy rice then deep fried, they definitely hit the spot. After inhaling our empanadas, we picked up our empty basket and made our way to the counter. Feeling like Oliver Twist, we extended our arms with our empty baskets in the palms of our hands. We looked at the woman and said, “Dos mas por favor!”

Knowing that we would be in the park for three or four days with no facilities, we stocked up on food, water, fuel, the works. We spent our first night getting rained on and shivering our way through making dinner. We pulled out the awning but it was no match against the side swiping wind. We ate beans and hot dogs in the front of the truck, played a game of Skip-Bo and called it a night. We ended up sleeping inside of our 20 degree sleeping bags, under the down comforter as well. It got down to the high 20s at night- the coldest we have seen on the whole trip! The next morning we hiked our way to a series of lakes deep in the mountain village. We took a break at the final lake and ate a snack while staring up at our very first glacier we have ever seen. We sat in silence for about twenty minutes, soaking in the breathtaking views.

The next morning, we hit the road on our way to Ritacuba Blanco where Patagonia or Bust told us there was a beautiful hike. On our way, we spotted two people with heavy packs, thumbs jetted out hoping for a ride. They were going to the same place we were, so we all crammed into the front of Truck, packs and all, and bumped along to the other side of the national park.

The two hitchhikers were from Spain, completing a three week trip throughout Colombia. They were serious climbers and invited us to tag along with them while they hiked to their camp on the mountain that night. We decided to make a day trip of it and made it to 15,000 feet!! The highest either of us has ever been!

The trail started off as a tight, muddy path that wove itself alongside the surrounding mountains. Soon it crossed over a small, raging river and ascended up a scree covered slope. With slow, careful steps, we followed each other in single file while chatting about previous climbs, trips we have been on and trips we would like to endeavor.

The conversation only lacked when we would be scrambling our way up a steep section of rock or once we made it to about 14,000 feet. The lung collapsing altitude was taking it’s toll but we pushed on, hoping to make it to our goal of 15,000 feet. And that we did.

After taking a few pictures, we said our goodbyes to the Spaniards and hit the trail going back down to the truck. The weather was getting pretty nasty and it was becoming difficult to see more than 20 feet ahead. Every now and then, we stop and squint our eyes, trying to figure out where the trail was. About 3/4 of the way down, it started to rain and then quickly turned into sleet. We threw on our raincoats and picked up the pace. Once reunited with the truck, we changed our clothes and relaxed in the front, trying to warm up while waiting for the rain to stop. Nate tried his hardest to find a comfortable way to take a nap with no luck.

Since the place we were camping was closed during the week, we were able to set up shop to make dinner under a roof of one of the cabanas. We warmed up with a big pot of soup and watched the clouds roll over the mountain tops.

After freezing our butts off for the last four nights, we made our way out of the gorgeous park and back to Villa de Leyva. El Cocuy has topped our list as one of the most beautiful parks we have ever been to. It is right up there with Yellowstone.

Back at Villa de Leyva, we thawed out, restocked on groceries, and had the poor people at the hostel do our wet, muddy laundry. We visited the famous Saturday market where you can buy everything from fruits and veggies to your very own pig head. Having to tear ourselves away from Villa de Leyva again was hard but we knew it was time to move on. We said our goodbyes to our new friends, packed up the truck and hit the road…. South, of course

 

[Rugy]

Thanks for sharing your adventure with us.
Looks like things are getting better since the previous post and am keeping my fingers crossed for you both.
The pictures are awesome and really capture the flavour of your trip.
All the best and good luck, and oh yeah keep the posts coming.
Mike

 

[Deleted member 12023]

DON’T GO “BRAKING” MY HEART
November 12, 2013 · by Nate

Leaving Villa de Leyva was a bittersweet feeling. On one hand, we were leaving such a relaxed town and the beautiful Hostel Renacer but on the other hand, we were in for more adventure. Browsing the map, we spotted a little town on Laguna Guatavita which would make a good stop for a night or two before heading through Bogota.

Unfortunately, we went out on the town that evening sin camera so we do not have any pictures. However, I will tell you that Guatavita is an unusual surprise. Hidden from the main street, the town opens up into an upscale village of white houses with red roofs perched on the side of the lake. The cobblestone streets are packed with delicious looking restaurants, artesian gift shops and playing children. It was a very safe and very relaxed town to spend the night.

Since the both of us hate driving in cities, we opted to spend another night before departing to Bogota. We have a famous phrase of “Ok, maybe just one more night” usually followed with a big evil grin. This phrase has a tendency to come up in conversation very frequently, especially when we find a relaxing place to camp. This time we actually decided to move up the road slightly to a lake just north of Zipaquira.

We crawled up the windy mountain road to Embalse de Nuesa only to find out that the camping was closed during the week. The security guard said that if we follow the dirt road to the other side of the lake we should be able to find some camping. Skeptical about the guard’s suggestion, we followed the road anyway. This turned out to be a dream come true! We paid up at the ranger station and pulled down into the campground. Cresting the hill we could see the lake and the campsites. We had the entire place to ourselves! Not a soul in sight!

As we parked the truck and hopped out, a fox-like dog came bounding at us, full speed, down the lake front. She greeted us with whimpers and wiggles. In fact, she was so full of wiggles and noises that we first thought there might be something wrong with her. We instantly fell in love with her and we’d like to think she fell in love with us back. Eventually we were greeted by four other stray dogs as well. These dogs were not your typical strays, however. They were all well mannered, healthy looking and respectful.

As the sun went down we said goodbye to our dog pack…all but one. The fox-like dog, eventually dubbed the name Winnie by Sarah, never left. She didn’t leave our side for the four days we were there. If we went to the bathroom, she went to the bathroom. If we went to bed, she went to bed under the truck. If we walked to the ranger station, she walked to the ranger station.

After the first 24 hours more and more of the pack stuck around. Eventually we couldn’t go anywhere without five dogs in tow. One by one each dog received a fitting name by us. There was Titties, who must have had puppies somewhere because she would periodically disappear. Dopey, who was by far the laziest of the bunch. Samantha, the German Shepard, given the name because we used to live next to a German Shepard named Samantha. Male Dog, Dopey’s brother and the alpha male of the group, who was always looking off into the distance. And Winnie, the one-eyed dog with a striking resemblance to a red fox who decided to be our guardian at Embalse de Neusa

Over the next several days…yup we got stuck again…we lazed around the truck reading, relaxing, eating, poking and prodding the truck, enjoying the clouds as they rolled in over the mountains across the lake and hanging out with our new dog pack.

This may sound strange but I even enjoyed the sound of the chainsaws as the loggers worked on the other side of the lake. During my childhood, the fall meant I would be listening to the sounds of the chainsaw as my step-father, Andy, would be cutting the wood for the coming winter’s heat. The smell of leaves would be filling the outside and the smell of food would be filling the inside as my mother slaved away canning and jarring the late summer’s harvest. The cool mountain air, chainsaws and smells of wood stoves in the distance brought us home for a few days.

On day three I made a bit of a mistake. As always I was crawling around the truck, greasing steering/suspension, checking fluids, and doing a once-over of all systems. The back passenger brake line was looking awfully corroded so I went in for a better look. With just my fingernail I scratched at a bit of the corrosion when it began to drip. Yup, that’s right! The only thing holding that line together was a bit of dirt and rust. Thinking back it’s probably good that things unfolded the way they did because we could have lost that brake line in city traffic or on a steep mountain pass causing a repeat of Costa Rica. Slightly panicked since we were a good distance from civilization, we walked to the ranger station guided by our five dogs. We asked if there was a bus to Zipaquira in the morning. He assured us that we could catch a bus to town at 7am the following morning.

We got up bright and early, packed a bag for the day and headed up the hill to catch a bus. As it turns out, there’s no bus. Flustered, we asked the ranger’s opinion of what we should do. At one point, a ranger walked out into the street and flagged down a guy on a motorcycle. Sarah and I thought it must have been his friend or something. Just as we prepared to start walking the 10 miles to the highway the motorcycle pulled up to the ranger station, the guard handed me a helmet and said “Get on!

Sarah and I looked at each other with concern, shrugged our shoulders and I strapped on the helmet. The man, whom I still never caught his name, decided it was best to take me on the motorcycle ride of my life. Now, I’m no stranger to motorcycles (having had my license since I was 19) or the term “ride it like you stole it”, but he took it to the extreme. Two grown men on a 250cc motorcycle should not be leaning so hard into corners that we are almost dragging pegs or hitting speed bumps and catching air. We bombed down that mountain pass like we were running from the cops, passing dump trucks, weaving in between cows, and dodging every pothole with precision. He must have been riding that road everyday for his entire life because he knew where every pothole was long before we got there.

At one point we were headed for a 90 degree turn down a steep section of road. That little 250 motor was screaming. I looked over the man’s shoulder to see the speedometer reading 100 kph. There’s no way we are making this turn, I thought to myself. I’m a little ashamed to admit this, but as we barreled toward that turn with no guardrail protecting us against a massive drop-off, I closed my eyes. I had no choice but put my full trust in this man’s riding abilities. As we leaned into that turn I’m pretty sure I could have put my knee down on that pavement. As we came out of the turn I opened my eyes….we made it it to live another day! Phew!

We got some crazy looks as we barreled down the streets. I’m not sure if it was because we were riding like mad men, or if it was because this guy was riding two-up with a gringo on the back with his flannel shirt flapping in the wind. That guy turned out to be our savior. He brought me to the brake shop, told them exactly what I needed, had the line made, and brought me to go buy some brake fluid. I didn’t do anything. I encouraged him to go run his errands in town while I did the shopping but it turned out he didn’t have anything to do. He was just bringing me on the 40 mile trip to and from town to help out.

After cashing out at the store we hopped on the bike and bombed back up the mountain. This time with a 4’ piece of brake line in my hand, we leaned back and forth all the way back to the campground. I still do not know your name crazy motorcycle madman, but I owe you big time! Thank You!

Back at the campsite I quickly swapped the brake line and had Sarah push the pedal as I bled the system. Success! Truck drives again!

That night we enjoyed a delicious dinner next to a raging fire with our dogs. We began to have feelings of sadness thinking about leaving this place and our pups. With the chilly night, bed time came early and we had a big day ahead of us. I tossed another log on the fire for Winnie as she hunkered in uncomfortably close the the fire. She stayed there the entire night. Periodically we would peek out the window to see her fluffy red fur all curled up next to the coals. She didn’t move an inch until we woke up the following morning.

After breakfast I could see the look on Sarah’s face. She wasn’t ready to leave her dog but we needed to move on. We talked about taking her with us but for one, we have a dog who is waiting patiently at home and two, that was her home and she was better off with her pack.

We packed up the truck and said our goodbyes. It was really quite sad saying goodbye. Sarah shed a tear as we drove up the dirt road to the exit while watching the dogs chase after us in the mirrors.

 

[gringorick]

Are you guys still planning on bringing your dog Brady back to join the adventure ay some point?

 

[UK4X4]

Some nice pics !


A note to all in regards to Colombian insurance

The name is SOAT- they sell it everywhere, gas stations, tool shops, supermarkets, even car washes

dont bother trying to find a big sign called seguros, they are rare and far between

Cost is aprox 260usd for a year- they won't sell you just a month

Accidents in Colombia- you are meant to stop your truck where they hit you ! hence the issues with the locals

yes they drive like idiots, constantly, red lights are optional, illegal turns common place, no one will let you in, yellow hatched junctions are just a failed experiment.

Roundabouts.......no rules whatsoever !

The people however are friendly, the scenary is excellent and Colombia is not a country to miss.

Interactions with FARC is rare usually friendly, they just want money and maybe your GPS, stick to the main routes and there won't be any issues.

Yep i hate the tolls too !

 

[Deleted member 12023]

Some nice pics !


A note to all in regards to Colombian insurance

The name is SOAT- they sell it everywhere, gas stations, tool shops, supermarkets, even car washes

dont bother trying to find a big sign called seguros, they are rare and far between

Cost is aprox 260usd for a year- they won't sell you just a month

Accidents in Colombia- you are meant to stop your truck where they hit you ! hence the issues with the locals

yes they drive like idiots, constantly, red lights are optional, illegal turns common place, no one will let you in, yellow hatched junctions are just a failed experiment.

Roundabouts.......no rules whatsoever !

The people however are friendly, the scenary is excellent and Colombia is not a country to miss.

Interactions with FARC is rare usually friendly, they just want money and maybe your GPS, stick to the main routes and there won't be any issues.

Yep i hate the tolls too !

Thanks UK! Actually we were not able to buy SOAT with a US registered vehicle. We had to find a specific insurance company and they were able to sell us two months for $70 US. And in order to buy insurance in Colombia from a Seguro place you need to first have your vehicle import permit. Ecuador is very similar with the foreign vehicle policy except for the fact you do not need a vehicle import permit to purchase it.

 

[Deleted member 12023]

Are you guys still planning on bringing your dog Brady back to join the adventure ay some point?

Gringorick,

We were trying to have him sent to Quito but pet safe was giving us the run around. Brady would have needed to spend the night in his crate in the cargo facility before we could pick him up. That equalled a total of 26 hours in the crate...we did not want to put him through that. So as of right now he is sleeping on the couch at home near the wood stove while we work out other options. Maybe Peru

 

[gringorick]

We were running into similar issues making for a ridiculously long crate time for our dogs trying to fly them to SA. Ultimately we have decided that we are just going to drive the whole way and not ship the vehicles. I wish you luck in getting him back quickly and safely.

 

[concretejungle]

I wanted to chime in one more time here and thank you for your posts! Most of us are at work, offices, concrete jungles and read your posts daydreaming. It brings me inspiration, as cheesy as it sounds. It pushes me to at least take every opportunity I have to travel at least locally and visit places that I may have never visited. Some or most of us will never be able to make the leap and travel like you have, but at least we can pretend by reading your posts and living through you. Thanks!

 

[UK4X4]

"Actually we were not able to buy SOAT with a US registered vehicle. We had to find a specific insurance company and they were able to sell us two months for $70 US. And in order to buy insurance in Colombia from a Seguro place you need to first have your vehicle import permit. Ecuador is very similar with the foreign vehicle policy except for the fact you do not need a vehicle import permit to purchase it."

OK I stand corrected !

but I have a local car

Dog wise ------you have to shop around ! its worse than shipping past the darian

I have presently 2 weimies

Diesel has done 5 International flights including 2 transatlantics, the other is Colombian

Shipping on their own will cost you two months travelling

Some airlines only accept them as freight.............big bill

Some airlines have a fixed price..........................small bill as long as someone accompanies them

For example


Petsafe --United charge for my dog size 1100usd per dog

AA to and from latin america charge 175 USD


we are presently moving to the UK from Colombia

petsafe - United 1100usd plus 700 USD for Customs
AA- refused
Iberia- refused
Lufthansa - only by freight 2k usd plus customs

Air france to Paris - 200USD

So guess where we are flying too ! and wasting 2 days driving backwards and forwards from the UK

Country to country, and airline to airline diferential is huge

paperwork for colombia for example is easy peasy- vet cert and your in- use AA and its 175USD....we quoted Miami and Denver at that price as per their website and speaking to their local office

UK still has an issue about plague and rabies !!!!

So if someone can accompany them - they basicly travel as an expencive extra bag !

Sorry BA but your charges suck !!!!!!!!!!!! to embarrasing to quote !

 

[Deleted member 12023]

I wanted to chime in one more time here and thank you for your posts! Most of us are at work, offices, concrete jungles and read your posts daydreaming. It brings me inspiration, as cheesy as it sounds. It pushes me to at least take every opportunity I have to travel at least locally and visit places that I may have never visited. Some or most of us will never be able to make the leap and travel like you have, but at least we can pretend by reading your posts and living through you. Thanks!

Thanks Concretejungle! We love having people follow along with us and love hearing that we are inspiration to others. Travel is truly one of the most rewarding things a person can experience whether it be on the other side of the world or in one's backyard. I applaud you for getting out there! So many people out there have no drive left in them and it's unfortunate. Keep on keeping on and maybe we'll see you on the road one of these days!

-Nate

 

[Deleted member 12023]

TATACOA TO LAS LAJAS
November 25, 2013 · by Sarah

After a two day drive from Zipaquira, we ended up in the mysteriously beautiful Desierto Tatacoa. Stopping for a roadside lunch of strawberries and ham & cheese sandwiches, we enjoyed the dry, warm air and talked about where we would camp for the night.

We found a perfect little campsite towards the end of the road. We parked the truck and walked around, observing the unique landscape that surrounded us. The beginning of the road in the dessert offered views of red rock formations and interestingly eroded canyons. As we got closer to the end of the road, the earth slowly turned into a silver-ish gray color.

That night, after dinner, we sat in our chairs with our heads pointed up at the sky. We had heard that the stargazing was unreal there, but that was an understatement. It was absolutely breathtaking. I felt like a little kid in a movie theater with my neck cranked backwards and my mouth hanging open, pointing to all the new constellations and stars I was spotting.

Next on our list was San Agustin. There, we visited the San Agustin Archaeological Park where we were able to see the only place in the world that holds over 500 stone statues which were used as spiritual resemblances during funerary ceremonies.

The statues were impressive, some towering over ten feet tall. We strolled through the park, admiring not only all the work that went into chiseling these rocks into perfect formations, but also admiring all the work that went into discovering these massive works of art and the hidden tombs surrounding them. They were so intricate, each crevasse giving the monolithic sculpture character and meaning.

Walking around the beautifully laid stone pathways, Nate and I talked about the extensive ceremonies that took place in honor of the dead. “Can you image being buried in a clay pot, only to be dug up years later for research?” In a way, it seemed wrong. But then again, had these burial grounds never been found, we would not have the chance to visit and learn about the culture from 3000 years ago.

We walked around the park, completely involved in conversation, when BAM! A coral snake slivered its way along the pathway and then darted into the jungle. Nate tried his best to capture a shot of the poisonous reptile before it disappeared.

We spent about a week wandering around the town. One morning, while making breakfast, we were approached by an odd looking pheasant-type bird. Unsure of what it was, Nate grabbed the camera to try to snap a few photos. These birds were particularly feisty, trying to get as close to our food as possible. While I had one begging for pancake batter at my feet, I heard Nate squeal like a little girl and come popping out from the other side of the truck. He had bent down to get a closer shot of the spunky bird when it lunged at him, aggressively pecking at him.

We would walk into town once a day to find internet (which is harder to find in that town than one would think) and get necessary groceries at the local store. At night, the town square filled with people playing music and chatting the night away, with the church lit up with black lights as a beautiful backdrop.

Upon making dinner one evening, we couldn’t find our chef knife for the life of us. We tore apart the back of the truck, even looking in between the sheets “just to make sure” to no avail. We stood there, stumped, wondering where the heck our second favorite (the cast iron pan being the first) piece of our kitchen could have run off to. We remembered using it in the desert the night before and have succumbed to the fact that we must have left it on the tailgate, tire or bumper and it fell off as we drove away. I picture it smacking against the sand and screaming for us to come back for it, and then shedding a tear as it watched the back of Truck bounce happily along the dirt road farther and farther away. The next morning, I went to grab my bath towel from the fence that I strategically placed it on the night before. To me, it was a good spot because it could air dry while being sheltered under a small roof so that it wouldn’t get wet if it rained. As I walked over to the fence, there was no towel in sight. I kid you not, someone stole my nasty, smelly, unwashed towel sometime during the night. Unfortunately for Nate, we are now sharing one towel until further notice RIP Green Bath Towel and Wonderful Chef Knife, we hope you guys are livin’ it up without us!

Our main form of “route making” is by word of mouth, whether it be meeting other travelers, talking with locals or reading stories online. While in San Agustin, we met a couple who had mentioned hot springs to us. Not needing to hear much more, we packed the truck up and headed west towards Popayan. Just before the town, off a windy dirt path, we found the hot springs we were looking for. We pulled in to find a closed gate and no one in sight. I slid between the gate and searched for the owner while Nate stayed with the truck. Once found, the owner graciously opened the gate and told us where we could park to camp for the night. After finding an almost perfectly level spot, we threw on our swimsuits and hopped in the murky, thermal waters.

For the next couple hours, we hopped to and from a few different pools feeling their temperature difference and soaking in the beautiful sights that surrounded us. The waters are said to have healing properties because of the high level of mineral content along with the temperature of the water. The springs were located in the valley of two mountain ranges and you were able to see the houses that dotted the hillside with cows balancing on a narrow path that zigzagged its way all around the lot. We watched the sun set over the hills, trying to gain the courage to step out into the cool air. Once it got dark, we dried off with our shared towel and made some dinner before slipping away into a blissful sleep.

Our last couple of days in Colombia were filled with long drives, too many gas station empanadas and being run off the road by buses overloaded with crops.

We spent the night before crossing into Ecuador with a fantastic view of Santuario de Las Lajas, a beautifully constructed church precariously situated in a valley above the Guáitara River. Before dinner, we took a stroll down the hill to check it out up close. It truly was magnificent. Its ornate and intricate design reminds you more of fairy-tale European castle than a Colombian church on the border of Ecuador. Built in the early 1990’s, it isn’t very old and is a centerpiece for locals to come bounding down the hills for a daily mass.

Once dark out, we made our way to the restaurant next to our hotel to enjoy one last Aguila, a hot bowl of soup and a heaping plate of chicken and rice; all while helping a little girl with her English homework.

 

[redruby]

Love to read your reports, reminds me of mine when we are traveling. I do have one question and that is why do you guys seem to have a lot of 8-12 hour days of driving, is there no where to pull off and spend the night? When we travel , we brake camp at 10 am and set up by 5pm the latest. We always manage to find a place to spend the night.

 

[Deleted member 12023]

Hey Redruby,

We try to keep our driving days around 4 hours or less but for some reason in Colombia, simple 150mi drives were turning into 6-8hr marathons with construction and heavy traffic. Also sometimes we'll just throw down a long day to get where we want to be, then we can hang out in that town for 3 days instead of spending 3 days getting there. Im actually not so sure we have ever done a 12 hour day aside from being stuck in traffic in Mexico, where did you see that?