December 18 – Cartagena

The taxi arrived at the Fly Site Hostel, Bucaramanga (Boo-car-ah-mahng-ah) at 6:45am. The taxi driver whisked Kathleen and I away and in about 30-minutes we were dropped off at Bucaramanga airport. Check-in and security was a breeze for our flight to Cartegana (Car-teh-hey-na), Colombia. We then sat in the terminal experiencing what non-English speaking people must go through in U.S. air terminals. “Did they call our flight?” “Could you make out what they were saying during that last announcement?”. Fortunately, none of the planes that pulled-up and departed had EasyFlight on the fuselage. Well, after our scheduled departure time, two EasyFlight planes arrived and we managed to understand that we were to board one of them.

The flight sure beat a 12-13 hour bus ride from Bucaramanga to Cartegana, Colombia. The price was nearly equal. We touched down and caught a taxi to the Hotel Villa Colonial. Within about twenty minutes we were taking what looked to be an alley which emptied on to a street where we found the hostel. Picture a movie scene depicting a slum area and you’ve got the location of the hostel which was the jewel amongst squalor.

After check-in we took a walk to the ‘walled city’. The wall was actually the wall of the old fort the Spanish had built back in the 1500’s. Cartegana was once the main sea port for South America from the 1500’s till the 1800’s. The British and Spanish banged away at each other over this time to claim the fort. And the French actually had a time or two as well. In fact one of the best conquerors of the fort, and subsequently the most well liked leader in the area was this French guy that waded into battles with one leg, arm, and eye. Somewhere in that is a . . . “If I were half the man he was . . . “ saying.

We noticed the heat was more pronounced than any other place we had visited in Colombia. We had been told by most people that Cartagena was going to be hot. They got that correct. Both Kathleen and I were sweating profusely. Yeah, you’re right, Kathleen was glowing instead. Another observation we made was the trash and filth on the streets. This was not so apparent within the fortress walls, however, step outside and the grime and the unpleasant smells were quite noticeable. Couple this with the streets being clogged with vendors and people trying to con us into exchanging money or taking us on ‘tours’ was something we had not experienced yet to this extent in Colombia. I even had guy trying to get me to exchange money grab my shirt and try to pull me around as I walked by. He let go, I kept walking. We spent the rest of the day beneath the ceiling fan in our room.

December 17 – Chicamocha Canyon

Slept pretty good at the Fly Site Hostel above Bucaramanga, Colombia. However, the military – militarar – camp down-hill from us began grenade practice about 7:30am. The series of booms lasted for a couple dozen explosions before surrendering to rifle fire. By 8:30am, everyone was trained-up and the place fell silent.

Today, Richi, owner of the Fly Site Hostel, was going to take Kathleen, Mark, myself, and a guy from Spain, whose name escapes us, to Chicamocha Canyon National Park where a tram, or gondola, would ship us from the one side of Chicamocha Canyon to the other via a trip down to the bottom and back up. Kathleen and I had passed this park on our way into Bucaramanga.

By mid-morning we were heading down to Florida Blanco. We stopped at a gas station and found most of the attendants were young women. Some wearing shorts, while others wore more conservative attire. All were easy on the eyes. Kathleen asked Richi if this was a marketing strategy to which he replied “We stopped for gas didn’t we?”.

We continued on up a mesa which topped out into farm land and gated communities. Richi said during the violent days of the drug cartels, places like mesas were considered safer than most other communities because only one road accessed the top. Many of the gated communities banded together and hired their own security forces. Indeed, we passed one guard who was very heavily armed and looked like he could handle himself quite well.

We traveled through gently rolling farm lands and went by some very nice houses. Richi said many people from the U.S. have vacation homes here and judging by the eclectic assortment of houses, Kathleen, Mark, and I concluded this was abundantly clear. Richi commented that since the drug cartels have become less of a nuisance, more people from the U.S., and other countries, have moved to Colombia, bought land, and built houses to use for 3-4 weeks a year.

We arrived at Chicamocha National Park around 11:30am. Richi sent the four of us off on the tram to the main attraction of the park. The gondola ride was actually quite impressive. Kathleen had read the tram was less than a year old. For the next 20-25 minutes we rode down into and up out of Chicamocha Canyon. The canyon is considered one of the largest and deepest on Earth. Vegetation on the canyon walls reminded Kathleen and I of habitats we encountered in Baja, Mexico. Tall cordon cacti among acacia, and all covering rocky dry slopes. The Chicamocha River had carved out the canyon over the course of several hundred-thousand years. Give or take a week or two. And, the work is still in progress.

We arrived at the main portion of the park. Kathleen and I have visited a number of national parks throughout the world. We have found that national parks in South America near metropolitan locales or main highways tented to be more, well, err, tourist trappish. Parque National Chicamocha Canyon was no exception. The gondola dropped us off at a well maintained set of buildings including shops, restaurants, a corral of ostriches and chickens, and a museum all dominated by this huge piece of art work.

At first glance you’d think the art work was a depiction of turmoil and reckoning after the Earth was struck by an asteroid. Well, actually, the bronze figurines among the fondue’d rocks were depicting the uprising of the peasants toward the Spanish and the ensuing revolt towards taxation and the Crown. Sound familiar? In the U.S. we just had a bunch of guys dressed as Native Americans chuckin’ boxes of tea off a ship into Boston Harbor.

We all four had lunch in one of the restaurants and wandered about a bit. Mark and the Spaniard headed back via the gondola. Kathleen and I went to the upper most part of the park for some photo opportunities of the canyon before our gondola ride back.

We arrived back at the other side of the canyon and Richi hauled us about the mesa some more before heading off back to the Fly Site Hostel. We arrived back at the hostel where Kathleen and I followed Richi’s suggestion, while he harrassed his cat, Camila, that we arrange to fly to Cartegana rather than take a bus. The bus ride would take 12-hours and cost about $120 USD for each of us. Using the internet and following Mark’s suggestion about a cheap airline –EasyFly – Richi got us a flight from Bucaramanga direct to Cartegana for a shade more than the bus ride. We would arrive in Cartegana an hour after take-off.

Kathleen, Mark, and I spent another pleasant evening sitting by the fire looking over Bucaramanga and Florida Blanco, Colombia.

December 16 – Up, up, and away

Y’know that band that started up around 8:30pm as we enjoyed a campfire at the Fly Site Hostel? Well, they continued through 3am this morning. We enjoyed a respite until 5am when someone started shooting off fireworks in Bucaramanga or Florida Blanco – turns out they have 4am church mass followed by fireworks around these parts of South America. By 6am the band from the night before started up again and went until around 7am. They stopped, and the military installation down-hill from us started rifle marksmanship. We’re going to vacation on Jupiter next year!!

Fortunately, as the morning continued, things calmed down and by mid-morning the surroundings were pretty quiet. Breakfast over-looking the city was rather pleasant. Mark, who we had met the day before, said Latin America will be celebrating each of the nine days before Christmas. Oh, they need a reason!?

By late morning Richi hauled Kathleen and I down to the Jardin Botanical Gardens in Florida Blanco. Kathleen and I wandered about these gardens for a while searching for birds and other critters. The place was closed so we walked in anyway and toured about for free. We have found botanical gardens to be a nice and relatively quiet place to walk around. We noticed a number of tortoises strolling over the grounds feeding on the fruits fallen from the trees.

We then walked into town and hoped a cab after some snack shopping. The cabby took us up to the Fly Site for about $3 USD. Shortly after our arrival, Russell, Richi’s partner from Alaska, took Kathleen and I each up for a 15- 30 minute paraglide ride. We found gliding about with the Black Vultures quite exhilarating. Kathleen may have found a new hobby. She would have liked to stay up longer than 30-minutes if the up slope winds held. Each and every day the winds come from the north and up the masa where Fly Site is located. This makes for a great paragliding – parapente – location. In fact, people from around the world come here to learn paragliding as the winds are so consistent they can learn within a week and a half for less than half of what lessons would cost in the U.S. Hummmm.

After a spaghetti dinner Kathleen, Mark, and I relaxed again around the campfire. Another establishment down the road had a band going. Hey, they had a search-light casting back ‘n forth over the skies, too! Periodically we would hear what has now become a trademark firework of Colombia. A series of 6-8 small pops followed by one load bang.

We went to bed around mid-night to the thump of music down the street.

December 15 – Fly Site

Kasa Guane, Bucaramanga, Colombia was fairly quiet. A few rabble-rousers created some unwanted noise around 10pm. The fan at full-throttle helped attenuate much of the noise. Overall, the experience was not bad.

I spent the morning up-dating the blog site and soon Kathleen came down stairs for breakfast. We were told that later in the day we would take a ride up to the Fly Site which is where Richi has another hostel and teaches paragliding. The Fly Site hostel was said to be out of town and actually looked over the city of Bucaramanga and Florida Blanco. We were all for spending time out of town.

We went back to the market we had visited the night before and stocked up on food as we were going to spend a few nights at the Fly Site Hostel. They had monster avacados and mango. We then went out for lunch and found a place that served hamburgers. Yeah, well I’ll say they made hamburgers. Jeepers, we both got these humongous burgers. Kathleen saved much of her two patties for the spaghetti we were going to have one of the nights at the Fly Site.

By late afternoon we were off to the Fly Site. We were going to be staying at the hostel with Mark and Arnot. Mark sold his house and art exposition business in the States and had been living all over Latin America since 2002. Arnot was from France and was just living abroad because he’s young and energetic. Both Arnot and Mark were taking paragliding lessons at the Fly Site. We arrived at the hostel and sure enough, we took a liking to the view and quiet surroundings. No sooner was Arnot out of the truck, he was strapping on his harness for a flight. The winds were great.

Kathleen and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching Mark and a gentleman from Spain learn how to control the paraglider. As the sun went down, so did the winds. End of paragliding for the day.

We enjoyed a relaxing evening by a camp fire until . . . yep, if you were going to say load music began, you would be correct. A house up the road from the Fly Site struck-up a live band around 8:30pm.

We sat by the fire and watched firework shows in Bucaramanga and Florida Blanco. We could also hear other bands playing throughout the city. Kathleen, Mark, and myself turned in for the night. Arnot stumbled in from town some time later.

December 14 – A quarter second faster

Kathleen and I checked out of the Hotel Corata, Barichara this morning for our trip Bucaramanga, Colombia. We were to hook up with Richi who we had met in Bogota after deciding to send out motorcycles back to California after they only got as far as Miami in over two weeks. Richi had been quite helpful in providing ideas for places to visit and things to see sans motorcycles. He owned a few hostels in Bucaramanga, and we planned to stay at them for a day or two.

After breakfast, we walked to the plaza in Barichara and boarded a bus bound for San Gil. Kathleen and I tried to guess how many times the bus would stop in town to take on and drop off people, and then how many times the bus would stop between Barichara and San Gil. Surprisingly, the bus didn’t stop all that many times in either case.

We arrived in San Gil and went to the main terminal just outside of town. We bought tickets to Bucaramanga. The terminal was nearly empty and we placed our packs and helmets on the seats. I went to an internet shop to see if we had any word from Richi about our arrival. I went into the internet shop and was besieged with a salvo of questions. All I wanted to do was use a computer. I was not able to comprehend the inquisition and extracted myself from the shop. As I walked over to Kathleen she was having a verbal altercation with a little man who was apparently upset over something we had done. As I arrived, the scruffy looking man had a hand truck and was gesturing to Kathleen about our luggage and saying something to Kathleen in an angry tone. Kathleen thought he was saying something about our packs being on the seats and other people wouldn’t be able to sit. Upon further terse discussion the little man looked at our packs and his hand truck and again had a verbal exchange with Kathleen before looking at me and walking off. Within a minute he was standing nearby glaring at Kathleen. I walked toward him and stood between him and Kathleen, and looked menacing. I had about 90-pounds on him. The little man looked at me and made a gesture about drinking. What?! I continued to stare at him. He walked off never to be seen by us again. After mulling over the interaction, Kathleen concluded that he was upset that we didn’t have him use his hand truck to haul our packs from the taxi into the terminal. I also think that, coupled with the fact that he was none too happy having a woman talk back at him.

So, with that we soon found out that an accident either between San Gil and Bucaramanga, or Bogota and San Gil had delayed bus traffic. Indeed, the news channel, shown on the big screens in the bus terminal, were interviewing people who were being delayed, or had their luggage stolen from buses parked along the street terminals. Kathleen went and checked with our carrier and found our bus was delayed for two hours. Super! Hurry up! Let’s wait!

I went back to the internet shop. This time I was well prepared to handle the inquisition as I had Kathleen as backup. We entered the shop and instantly we were shown to a computer. A young boy offered up his chair to Kathleen. We sat down, and within a few minutes had completed our internet needs. What happened earlier?!

After an hour or so our bus arrived. We boarded and took off. Within a few miles of our trip we quickly concluded this bus driver was like none we’d had before. The road to Bucaramanga was twisty and frequently congested with traffic in both directions as most of the route is in to and out of Chicamocha Canyon – again, wider and deeper than Grand Canyon in the U.S. Our driver was heavy footed, often stood on the breaks, and attempted to accomplish many a curve on two wheels. At one point we rounded a curve as a Daihatsu sedan was trying to pass two on-coming trucks. Our driver broke hard and swerved as the driver of the sedan drove between the two trucks. Kathleen couldn’t see as she sat directly behind the driver and his coat blocked her forward view. Good thing, because if we were a quarter-second faster we would have struck the sedan on the driver’s side as he turned in between the trucks.

Interestingly, as we drove into Bucaramanga our driver was more sedate and less aggressive; actually driving slower than most of the surrounding traffic. And, hardly made any stops till we arrived at the central terminal.

We took a taxi to Kasa Guane which was one of Richi’s hostels. Our taxi driver tooled along almost overly cautious compared to previous cabbies. Bucaramanga was a more modern looking town than Bogota and Kathleen and I quickly concluded we liked this big city over Bogota.

We arrived at Kasa Guane and checked-in. We were shown to a room with double beds and we would share the bathroom. Our room had a fan. Great! I went up to the roof and sent a Spot message, before we set out to find a place to eat. We were approaching dinner time, so we knew that we would be served a slab of meat and a potato and that would be all. I can’t emphasize enough: The lunches are your better deal! El Tony was recommended to us, and sure enough, Kathleen had the slab of pork and I had the slab of beef. On the way back to the hostel we stopped at a market for some fruit and sundries. We were floored when we found some items from the U.S. and the cost to Colombians. The Welch’s here would be about $10 USD! We found a can of Old El Paso chili for $6 USD. Yowzer!!

As we settled in for the night, the pest control came on duty.

December 13 – Salto del Mico

We had another good nights’ sleep in Barichara. Today, we were going to hike to Salto del Mico (falls) which is just south of town as if you were going to take the road to Guane (Who-awn-ay). We set out and noticed the temperature was climbing steadily.

We hiked along the edge of the great canyon enjoying the views. Barichara is on the edge of a mesa that gives way to a canyon that appears wider and deeper than the Grande Canyon of the U.S. This canyon is heavily wooded and dotted with red-roofed houses and a few small villages.

By 11:30am we were looking out off the edge of the falls. The Spanish moss – actually a lichen – hung down over the creek feeding the falls. Kathleen and I spent some time walking up and down the creek enjoying the scenery. Peering over the edge of the falls we saw three green iguanas basking in the sun on tree branches jutting from the cliff face. Obviously, they’re not afraid of heights.

Kathleen enjoying the falls and wildlife

As we did not want to miss the lunch time meal deals, we headed back up the trail to Barichara. You don’t want to miss the lunch deals as you’ll pay considerably more for quite less during dinner.

We had a wonderful and filling lunch just before the tourists got the same idea. Bus and truck-loads of people were shipping into Barichara. Being Sunday, this was a ritual we have noticed. A sleepy little town becomes the hub of activity.

We spent the rest of the day planning where our next destinations would be. We’ll head to Bucaramanga next.

December 12 - Resolve

During our first night in Barichara, the heavy rain must have knocked out the power. We had a fan going in our room and when the breeze was curtailed, the heat became problematic. Kathleen opened the windows above our beds. The room was similar to the one we had in San Gil. Remember? The horse stall. However, this one had windows which required some climbing to access.


Around 5am the power came back on. The cathedral started chiming. And chiming. As the bells rang-in 40 o’clock I was good and awake. Kathleen grumbled something about how much longer this was going to continue. Fortunately, the chiming ceased.

Today we hiked to Guane (Who-awn-ay) along the old Camino Real linking this town with Barichara. Barichara sits on the edge of a mesa, and Guane is down slope on the edge of another mesa. Both sites are on the edge of a deep canyon carved by the Rio Suarez. By 11am we were hiking off to Guane.

Spot-breasted woodpecker

Kathleen hiking Camino Real to Guane

For the next 5 hours Kathleen and I birded along the Camino – the walk was to take only 2 hours. The hike was by far some of the best wildlife viewing we’d had since being in Colombia. The grand vistas of landscape reminded us of being in some African savanna or some places we had been in south Texas down near Brownsville. These habitats would give way to lush green jungle-like areas which were near streams or canyons. All this coupled with a huge canyon with little red-roofed villages poking though.


As we walked along Kathleen and I came to the resolve that we were going to attempt our motorcycle ride of South America again. We had been contemplating our decision, and after seeing some the sights and roads about Colombia, we wanted to fulfill our dream to ride south to Ushuaia and on to Buenos Aires. We could experience these South American countries with greater freedom than taxis, buses, and planes could afford us. Having our own wheels would increase our enjoyment of such an adventure. We’re going to do this trip again by motorcycle.

Bicoloured Wren, along Camino Real to Guane, Colombia


We arrived in Guane in time to see a funeral procession walk a casket from the plaza to the cemetery. The padre was singing through a bull-horn to lead the hymns. We’ve seen this activity at least once a week, now.




Guane was a small village of maybe 1,500 people. We wanted to visit the archeological museum they had on the plaza, however the place was locked up. We bought a couple of juice drinks and sat on the plaza watching the funeral. Kathleen went and asked a few people when the bus would leave for Barichara. Six o’clock and would cost nearly $7 USD per person to go 6 miles. Obviously, she received the gringo rate as by now we were savvy to how much such a trip should cost. Roughly $2 USD each. Being only 4pm, we decided to hike back up rather than wait till 6 for the bus. We headed up and in an hour and a half topped out at Barichara.


We were both hungry and searched about for some place to have a good we rounded meal. That turned out to be difficult as the main meal of the day is usually during lunch, and any meal after that would be a lesser deal. We found a place up near another church where I had meat balls and Kathleen had spaghetti. That’s all. No bread or anything else except water. One plate cost double what a noon day meal for two would cost. Keep that in mind when you come down here.