The Eternal Slog Of the Pointless Kind

24 Oct 2018 / bens game / 2 Comments

After leaving Suesca we have started making terribly awful but fun decisions. The first was taking a tiny mountain road the locals said might not be advisable. We were warned as we camped at a horse ranch where we ate dinner the evening before, that even though the FARC situation was over, the road our satnav chose was an un-policed road and until a year or two ago was risky. But, was probably OK now. The owner of the ranch also admitted it would avoid all traffic and we would probably see no cars.

The road started with a climb to 9000 feet then plummeted down. Our presumption was we would be at 1200 feet before lunch with little to no pedaling. The dense cloud forest at the top was, I will be honest, scary. It was unpaved road with concrete at the steepest points on hairpin corners and some very large drops to the side. I quickly found going down such a steep road on a bike with a 50kg trailer is a terrifying ordeal where either my brakes were fully applied but the bike would accelerate into the whiteout with no idea if it was a cliff edge or road ahead, or my back wheel would lock up and trailer try to jack knife me. It had me ready to jump off the bike if needs be in a few places. The hideous squeal of straining brakes and fast repeating sound of spokes creaking and twinging under strain. I even put on my helmet in fear of a wipeout. After descending a few miles and settling into the descent as much as one could, there was a smell permeating its way through the air to us. It was not just a passing smell, it was strong and went on for miles. The forest stank of Cannabis. We didn’t see any people, but we couldn’t see much of anything. I remembered watching documentaries a few years ago about the remote mountain areas in Colombia and imagined just what was hidden up the hundreds of small mountain valleys departing the road side. The owner of the ranch may have been right about the road. But we descended down unhindered.

the picture doesn’t ever do justice .

At about 5000 feet and with great relief we were spat out onto a paved road above a town, and quickly joined a main road we could have taken around the mountains. We followed the road and expected to have brunch at around 3500 feet. Unknown to us, at some point on this road, for this day, the traffic was changed from two-way to one way. It was bizarre, one second we had cars going our way, we rounded a corner, patched a tube on our trailer and suddenly to our confusion the traffic was flying uphill in both lanes. We couldn’t work it out, all the signs were in our direction and we were told at the next town down the traffic would be normal again, but there was no other way to the valley bottom. It started raining heavily. We decided we were in as much danger trying to cycle up in the rain as cycle down so carried on down the narrow shoulder. The shoulder soon gave way to road works and excavations, a crazy barrier hopping operation ensued. We were sprinting from one gap to the next between zooming cars. The next town was less than a mile but in heavy traffic it took hours. On reaching the town it was chaos with officers trying to direct the overwhelming number of cars. We found out this redirection would last until 7pm. Deciding it was enough danger for the day we booked a hotel and rested. The next day was easy and far less scary.

A couple of easy days riding and 150miles brought us to the edge of the Tatacoa Desert. Ahhh, deserts, the hot dry places that support a disproportionate amount of flies and cause untold amounts of saddle sores. Fortunately this one is small, more a dry valley bottom, but at 32c (90f+) and Cacti about, I guess it qualifies as Colombia’s second. We had the option of a beautiful straight paved highway or a dirt road off to the side. Being bad at decision making we took the desert road. What could have been an easy mornings ride to town turned into a hilly sandy gravel slog. I am thankful this desert was not as big as Colombias’ Northern desert and would be over quick. A lot of the road was covered in small river stones on hard base, which cause a lot of wheel spin problems cycling uphill. Imagine a hill of marbles and a trailer trying to pull you backwards. This results in frustration and after grinding to a halt then attemping to push the pile of steel and climbing gear up hills, with feet then in turn slipping back down. There were some cool tunnels near the start of the road in which light did not shine and I presume gave the overhead bats a nice home. Towards evening we reached the touristy part of the desert (there is a paved road in from the south) and decided to reside the night at a mud bath and spring. This was a nice break but in the morning while we packed, I was eaten alive by tiny flies. My legs speckled all over like some form of chicken pox that went into over kill.

The Daunting Task Ahead

9 Oct 20189 Oct 2018 / bens game / 1 Comment

We are getting ready to depart Suesca and set off South. I’m nervous.

Its great fun picking challenges and seeing them fall. But sat here I’m feeling so small. We are about one tenth of the way into the ride miles wise. But The climbs ahead are huge. The mountains even bigger. To a terrifying point. As a bike ride alone, its big. With the huge weight being hauled, its colossal. While in the hostel this morning I was talking to a french man who was backpacking and hiking about the country. He said he and his friends left the climbing gear at home but hire it where they can because its awkward hauling it around. An easier way to do it, and a fun way.

A couple of years ago I was hiking the CDT southbound in the States. After tearing away at the trail for a month, I sat down at the top of a mountain alone, off in the distance all I could see were more mountains and ridgelines after all the peaks and ranges I had already covered. I tore away at that trail with every ounce I had, from dawn till dusk a burning fire inside. I covered about 1000 miles and had barely chipped at it. I sat there feeling so small. It was wonderful. I had so little but it was brilliant. I accepted that it couldn’t be bullied into submission, It made me so content. I woke each day with bloodied toes blisters, painful plantar fascia(the bottom of the foot being strained too much), a slow hobble start to each day. Wet half frozen shoes and river crossings to make the blisters burn. Meadows up to my chest covered in dew soaking me through. Its sounds awful, but it was beautiful. Once it was accepted it became easy.

The point I’m trying to poorly make is, I don’t think anybody could call hauling a trailer up a few thousand feet enjoyable, but there is joy to be had in some far off places when the suffering is accepted . Karli was just looking at the ascent we have to do to the Ecuador border- according to Gaia GPS 73,000ft of ascent. I can hope its wrong. We have to cycle up Everest twice and it still will rise 15,000 more feet. Just to get across Colombia. Ouch.

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours”. – Henry David Thoreau

Doing the average things can be nice and comfortable. But trying for something more, facing insurmountable odds, even if it were to fail will bring more joy and emotion than you could ever know before setting off. Old Henry is right. Viva la expedición.

Eposide 3- The Pollo (chicken) Strikes Back

30 Aug 201831 Aug 2018 / bens game / Leave a comment

We spent three days in Santa Marta in a small hotel not daring to venture more than a few feet from the toilet. It seems the roadside chicken we’d eaten the previous day had been seasoned with E coli. Food poisoning doesn’t give the nicest day of riding so we decided to be smart and stay still.

The hotel in which we stayed was down a small corridor between two buildings protected by a sliding steel gate. Down the corridor was Guille, the owner, a happy man who seemed excited to see us. We explained we weren’t well and would be staying a few days. The rooms in the hotel were up a spiral staircase that seemed to be grasping on to the broken concrete mounts at the top for dear life. Into the room the walls were painted a mixture of yellow, blue, white, and the cutting of the paint giving a good 2 inch overlap where the roller had been extra zealous. we paid an extra dollar (totaling $15 per night for two of us) for air conditioning and found the hotel would run out of water each morning for a hour or two. If the toilet was used before the water came back on, it was a case of ‘do not go in there’. It was painful being this early into a tour and being so sick, but we still have a year ahead of us.

Dosing up on pepto-bismol we began convincing ourselves we were feeling better, and, three days after it started agreed the following morning we would chance roadside diarrhea, depart early and cycle up the pass that would take us along the coast.

leaving the mountains the scrub begins

banana plantations

coastal views

climbing the pass

The road would slowly rise up through thick tropic forest giving way to views down the valley. From sea level to 1300 feet, it was early, cloudy and nice and cool so progress was easy. I was ahead of Karli by a couple of hundred yards and had a short but interesting conversation at the top with two locals in which they asked me something, and I not understanding either nodded or shrugged my shoulders until her arrival. On coming down the other side we started hitting the tourist trail hard. Bus loads of backpackers were dispersing on their exciting adventures, signs were appearing written in English. Meals that would normally cost three dollars were costing ten. This was my worst nightmare, but with an advantage of knowing there would be accommodation in every town. We cycled round 40 miles with some beautiful coastline to the next tourist town. Again the nightmare hit, locals greeting us in English, shops selling trinkets for twenty dollars. We pulled up to a hostel that had no A/C and took a room in the back , in a more traditional style hut with a thatched leaf roof and rather large spring in the floor right were the bed was centered. Everywhere we go the locals are amazed by one; the fact we are cycling from one town to the next, and two; the bright yellow trailer on tow the likes of which they have never seen, but think is so cool.

shade under a tree in the heat, it was a mistake to wheel the trailer this far, note the big thorns in the foreground

leaving the mountains the scrub begins

a toll booth with cycle lanes beside

Yesterday we cycled 56 miles into Riohacha. A terrible days cycling, which started on rolling hills with a headwind. This soon changed as we hit the flat lands, the temperature climbed to 95F and the headwind steadily rose to 18-20 mph with gusts undoubtedly beyond. It was rather like trying to cycle into into a giant loud hairdryer the whole day. There was no visible sweat, just crisp dryness and a lot of heat. It would be bad enough on a day out ride, but with the panniers and a trailer between us; aerodynamics weren’t great, this was little fun. We took breaks every 15 miles under the shade of the odd tree sitting carefully between the two inch thorny growths and cacti. (this gave the first of the trailer flat tires, carelessness on my part). Things are beginning to get barren, and as the land becomes barren, the homes and roadside shops stop. As we cycled my eyes were fixed on the paved surface looking for steel-hard thorns being blown in clusters by wind. There weren’t many locals cycling this road. Towards the end of the ride entering the town was a small shop selling cool bottles of pop.

The last leg of our northbound journey is towards Punto Gallinas (northern most point) with headwinds up to 26mph. Which will be a true grind test. It is nice knowing the prevailing wind will make the ride back South easier. This is averaging the smallest mile per day tour I have done. Normally 60 to 110 miles a day is pleasant- we are currently averaging 25 mile per day (though cycling around 45), but considering the heat, the lost days to food poisoning and the daily headwind dragging us down, it’s not too bad. Soon we turn south west and the wind should be behind us for a couple of months.

little puppy i fed

breakfast

me having an early afternoon nap after discovering spare time

We do have the option of turning south right were we are now and going straight to Bogota, but what’s a tour without a little suffering? 😉

one last break in the shade with 10 miles to go

the thorns i pulled out my shoes in the hotel room

our little hut complete with a holey mosquito net

Always Pee with a View!!

24 Jul 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / 1 Comment

A couple of days ago a friend offered me a camping pad after I explained my goes down after a couple of hours use which i believed to be the valve leaking slightly. This is good when I wish to get up in a couple of hours but not so good when i want to sleep, its resulted in an upsetting wake up and blow up the pad night shift every night so far. I said I would persist with my pad and set off on a 115 mile ride. That night while pitching up next to a river up a cold cold pass (near Copper Mountain), the whole valve ejected itself from the sleeping pad. This left me feeling rather deflated. I took a few plasters out of my pack, kind of re-inflated the pad and taped the valve into place. It wasn’t perfect but hey, I got some sleep. The next day I woke to police lights 20 meters from where I was camped, there was a bike race crossing the main road, I packed up and rolled onto the path like I was racing. After climbing over the last few hundred feet of pass I rolled down to Leadville where I purchased some solvent glue hoping to make a more permanent solution to my camping pad troubles. I still have not tested it.

I carried on out of Leadville to Twin Lakes where I have based myself for climbing 14ers (peaks about 14,000 feet). There is a nice small hostel, like an old village hall, with bunks down the sides, a big table in the middle, and sofas and a coffee station at one end. A lovely cosy place. The hostel owner informed me of some free wine left in the fridge going spare and food in the hiker box and I was sold. Around 7 other people stopped in the hostel, mainly CT hikers and the owner joined us for the evening. This hostel also comes with free pancakes with strawberry and rubarb in the morning, but my mind was set on an early summit.

I packed my bag in the evening, put my bike in a corner and preped. At 3.30am my phone vibrated followed by me sitting up drowsily, why do I do this to myself?? I slipped out into the night. It felt frosty and crisp. I turned on my head torch and started walking. I think it was about a one hour walk to the trailhead to go up Black Cloud Creek. Perfect darkness, I could see the Milkyway. I started climbing the 5500ft to the summit. Through dense Aspen trees I wondered if a bear would hear me coming. Would it be small enough for me to fight it if startled and aggressive? As I cleared the treeline the sky began to lighten. I hurried to the ridge line that would take me to the summit. Just as I arrived on the ridge the sun came over the horizon, It was worth the racing up and early start. Morning light and evening light always seem best for photos. I did plan on going fast today and possibly doing a second peak, but I decided to enjoy it. The biggest mountain in Colorado to myself. I took photos getting as creative as possible. (see pics) then jogged up the ridge to the summit. Arriving on the summit at 7.15am I decided to mess with my camera and the brilliant photo op the American Flag gave me. After which i sat and ate a few energy bars. I descended fast, running past other hikers from around half way up. When I arrived back at Twin Lakes, I decided that was enough for one day, and so, I chill.

The forecast for the next few days is grim, but, there is movie theatre in Salida about 50 miles down the road that could kill a few hours indoors and i do quite fancy a movie.

Later

Benjamin

classic pose

searching dramitc???

ridgeline up

always pee with a view

hostel

Helena to Butte – Lava Mountain

4 Jul 201728 Jan 2018 / bens game / Leave a comment

The Boring Bits- Distances , So……. from Ovander to Lincoln was 27miles by road, followed by 54miles offroad/gravel to get me to the pass at Helena leaving a downhill into town in the morning. I started this day at 9.30am. In Lincoln I caught the parade for a hour or so. I was finished by around 8-8.30pm. 81miles without pushing myself too hard, nice breaks through the day

Helena To Butte

54 off road with some rough terrain after Park Lake going up Lava Mountain followed by 30miles on an Interstate sprinting to Butte for fireworks, this did miss a section of trail by taking the Inter Alternate but C’mon!!! Fireworks!!!!. I started this day at about noon or just after (i was waiting for route maps to download, as good as the maps are, they require a odometer for getting the right turnings, which upto Helena, i did not have). By 4pm and through baking 90 degree heat i reached Park lake and chucked myself straight in. I am currently sat in Starbucks probably smelling like bad lake water, can’t smell how bad i smell so not too concerned. lol. Lava mountain was hard , steep and rocky, a couple of northbound cyclists I met at the lake said it was the hardest section for them. My skimpy 40mm gravel tyres were skittering about, struggling for traction, but it was brilliant fun. I did have to push the bike up a few gruelling sections towards the top which reminded me just how heavy the loaded panniers are. The reward of the downhill was immense though, all fear of buckling the wheels out the window, this was too much fun; it seemed to last hours, I passed a few more divide riders heading north, with proper mountain bikes. Pfffff, I though; who needs that setup, then I came across a 50meter steep rock garden; this humbled me, I got off the bike and wimped my way around this before remounting. It was hard enough walking down, never mind riding. The single track widened and soon became a gravel road, which i hurtled down . At 7 pm I emerged at the interstate. 30 miles to cover by 9 pm when it would start to get dark, I have no bike lights so it was kind of a make or break thing, I plunged onto the interstate boldly; to be greeted with a head wind and a gentle but punishing climb. Reaching a sign saying ‘snow chain area 1/2 mile ahead’ the road kept climbing. I was committed, pushing as hard as I could, my legs building lactic fast. The sun disappeared behind the ridge to my right, I was running out of time and staring at the map couldn’t work out how far i had come but felt there were about 6miles to go. Time was up. I came to the continental divide crossing and the view over the other side was glorious, Butte still shining in the sun. I flew downhill to a layby I could see cars backing up into; I realised they were setting up for the fire work display. I made it. Being the showboating idiot I sometimes am I locked the back wheel and skidded to a halt. I felt like Lance armstrong for a second (before we all found out he cheated).