After ten days in the mountains in peaceful Cestillal, getting well fed and spoiled, we got back on the bike to tackle the coast road to the Caribbean. It is a notoriously poor road, so we left early, expecting a long day of bumpy riding, leaving the cool mountains and descending into the flat hot farmlands of the northern-most part of Antioquia. The optimistic 5 hour estimate to drive the 200 km journey was of course in Colombian hours, which I have not yet found the translation for, something like double it, add an hour then you are still 20 min away...
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| Coming down the mountains |
The first part of the trip in the early morning was wonderfully cool and the forests were alive with many colourful birds and butterflies. We descended through a spectacular lush canyon, densely forested mountains falling steeply into a river gorge, sharing the road with many large trucks overloaded with platanos, cows or boxes of bananas. The main road was mostly unsealed, full of holes and mud with frequently dodging of horses, dogs and children through the villages. At our very welcome stop for lunch we unpacked our lunch of rice, lentils, and platano, wrapped of course in leaves. As we chatted with the woman at the road-side kiosk and ate, one of the many cattle trucks pulled up abruptly, the workers cursing. The men proceeded to connect an electric wand to the battery of the truck and began shocking and shouting at the cows. One poor creature was obviously exhausted or sick and lying down on the floor of the truck. After fifteen minutes of poking, electrocuting and manouvering the poor animals, now frenzied and injuring themselves and each other, all the poor cows were standing and ready to continue their miserable journey. I sat with tears in my eyes, feeling very sad for the poor animals and very glad I wasn't eating a steak for lunch.
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| Llarona Canyon |
Continuing towards
Turbo, the mountain range marched on to the right of us, with mountains slowly
becoming hills. To the left, the wet plains south of the gulf opened up with
mile after mile of cattle ranches and banana farms, with blue bags over the
bunches of fruit, almost ready for export around the world. This region was
historically one of conflict and the presence of the military remains. Nearly
every small village and bridge was manned by a few soldiers, most fortunately just
sitting around looking bored. It is clear they spend a hell of a lot of money
on the military (sad for such a poor country), there is no lack of soldiers, and
they seem well equipped, even with very modern heavy duty tanks. I had to laugh
to see a soldier in full fatigues wearing a tiny hot-pink Barbie backpack, maybe
helping a kid, or just in need of a bag.
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| Fruit stall in a busy town | The dusty chaotic streets of Turbo |
The villages became
towns with the flavor of the Caribbean, mostly noisy, dusty, and miserable. A
clear landmark of the coastal culture is the ear-splitting music at all hours
of the day and night. Every café, bar and shop has its own (usually crappy)
music being pumped out onto the street. Finally in Turbo I glimpsed by first
sight of the Caribbean, this part is the gulf separating the northern part of
Antioquia from the region of Chocó, which joins the Darien national park at the
frontier with Panama. It is also the place where Columbus first landed and
began European occupation of South America. From Turbo to Necoclí we
suffered more horrendous roads, but arrived safe and sound bar sore bums and
treated ourselves to two nights of relative luxury in a very nice place on the
beach, and fell asleep to the sound of the waves for the first time in many
years.
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| View from our hotel terrace to the beach | Watching the sun set over the water |
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