Ruta Caribbean

It was with more than a little bit of anxiety mixed with excitement when we pedalled away from the comforts of our hotel room in Cartagena 5 days ago.  While we had done an overnighter a few months ago back home to test out some of our new gear, this was it, game day, and quite literally when the rubber finally hits the pavement.  Time to see if the seemingly mountainous amount of stuff we have will all fit nicely into our panniers, and the bikes would roll down the highway, and most of all, to see if our bodies where up to the challenges given our previous weeks of near-zero physical activity.  Nothing you do back home can really prepare you for it though, you just gotta get out there do it.  32 feels like 48....ha!


Our direction was northeast out of town towards the beach towns of Santa Marta and Tangaga.  Looking at our maps, we knew that Santa Marta was beyond one day’s ride, and particularly, the first day on the road – which we were hoping would be easy (but wasn’t).  The challenge was that we didn’t know what was between us and Santa Marta, and if anything would present itself as a stopover for the night.  About 6 hours in after a 7 am start, we were really feeling the heat and our tender unaccustomed butts were real sore.  With nothing in sight, we stopped to quiz a uniformed security guard sitting in a hut on the side of the highway (no idea what he was guarding), in my best gringo travel spanish.  What I got out of his response was “cinco kilometros”, “Santa Veronica” and “izquierda”, which I surmised meant: in about 5 kms take the next left to a town called Santa Veronica.  Hmmm, not on any of our maps, but hey, any port in a storm.

And so it was, the first of our pleasant surprises, and a reminder why cycle touring is such a rewarding experience.  A short roll off the highway we spotted a hammock-filled, cool-looking place with a tire beside the road painted with the words “welcome aboard”.  Hernan was the guy’s name, and welcome aboard it was!  20 bucks for the night, have a cerveza, go for a swim in the ocean, then pick a hammock and lick yer wounds.  Perfecto!

Hernan, and wife Margarita, turned out to be perfect hosts and imparted endless advice and knowledge of Columbia on us.  The place was so chill, we decided to spend another night to max out the hammock time.  Great little town.  From a breakfast swim in the ocean to a sunset dinner on the beach.  Again, easy to get used to that, but the dream must be kept alive, and with a “ciao amigo” we were off the next day into the wilds of Colombia. 

Day 2 on the bikes was a bit more grueling, simply due to the distance and lack of anywhere to call home for the night.  But alas, at km 119 for the day, in the middle of the midday heat and Amy getting a little delirious, another gift from the heavens presented itself in the form of a high-end hotel on the ocean, room with balcony overlooking said ocean, and a pool with bar – all for 25 bucks.  Within 5 minutes of checking in, we were poolside sipping cervezas.  What a difference 10 minutes makes.

Next day, a quick jump in the ocean, and we were off towards Taganga, with a bypass of Santa Marta (just another big city we’re thinking).  Although, arrival in Taganga was irritatingly delayed by our missing the turn-off.   An extra hour of unnecessary pedalling in the middle of the day is about as welcome as having a pin stuck in your eye. However, with zero signage to this place, and another lost couple in a car asking us where the road to Taganga is, we didn’t blame ourselves too hard.  Suffice it say, we were more than delighted to just get out of the sun, find a comfortable hostel, have the mandatory celebratory cerveza, clean up, then chill in a hammock for the afternoon.

Problema: Taganga is not the cool beach town we were hoping it would be, and/or reported to be.  Wistfully passing the days on a post-card, white-sand, palm-treed beach is not going to happen here.  While it might have resembled that one day in the past, Taganga has now evolved into a backpacker ghetto town complete with inadequate water and sewage facilities, and a beach scene complete with scraggily clad travelers hawking cheap jewelry, ear-popping latino top-40 blasted from every corner, and of course, muggings and robberies. 

OK, plan B it is.  With a rest day today, we’re setting our sights on a beach about 70 km up the coast called Palomino.  We’re just looking for a picture-postcard, white-sand, palm-treed beach that is completely uninhabited, yet has all the facilities at cheap prices that we need to stay for a week or so.  Is that too much to ask?  :-)