18 April - 6 May 2024

• 18-24 April - Exploring Cartagena

• 25 April - Cartagena to Malagana (38.2 mi, 61.5 km)

• 26 April - Malagana to San Onofre (39.1 mi, 63.0 km)

• 27 April - Rest day in San Onofre

• 28 April - San Onofre to Coveñas (33.1 mi, 53.3 km)

• 29 April - Layover in Coveñas

• 30 April - Coveñas to Cereté (45.0 mi, 72.4 km)

• 1 May - Cereté to Montería (10.0 mi, 16.1 km)

• 2-3 May - Layover in Montería

• 4 May - Montería to Planeta Rica (35.0 mi, 56.3 km)

• 5 May - Planeta Rica to Caucasia (41.5 mi, 66.8 km)

• 6 May - Rest day in Caucasia

Flying Across the Darien Gap

After 17 months of bicycle travel, it was finally time to say goodbye to North and Central America. We had reached the end of the continent in Panama. But like all southbound travelers, we then faced a dilemma. How should we bypass the Darien Gap and arrive in South America?

The Darien Gap is a roadless, lawless stretch of jungle criss-crossed by rivers and treacherous mountains that straddles the border between Panama and Colombia. Crossing the Darien Gap by land is theoretically possible (and every so often an intrepid traveler will do it). But it’s certainly not recommended, or even legal to do so. The challenges include a confusing and unmapped tangle of jungle paths, hostile local authorities who are not amused by ‘tourists’ entering an area where they might need to be rescued, and - worst of all - the prevalence of criminal gangs that make money by smuggling desperate migrants from around the world through the Gap, on their way to the USA. It is not a safe place. Therefore, crossing by land was not a realistic option for us.

Most travelers choose to cross from Panama to Colombia either by airplane or by boat. Crossing by boat definitely holds some allure, but for us the hassles of dealing with salt water (which can do serious damage to bicycles and gear), and the risk of miserable seasickness tipped the scales in favor of flying. 

We booked a flight from Panama City to Cartagena, Colombia, departing at the very civilized hour of 1pm, and landing just over an hour later. However, traveling with bicycles can be tricky. Our three biggest concerns were: 1) whether the vehicle scheduled to take us to the airport would be big enough to fit two bike boxes and all of our gear; 2) how bad the traffic might be on the way to the airport (creating delays); and 3) whether we would have any trouble getting our panniers ‘plastic wrapped’ at the airport so that we would each have only one piece of checked luggage (besides the bikes). So to ensure that we had plenty of time to handle any difficulties that might arise, we scheduled our pickup at the hotel for 7:30am.

Our first concern was quickly dispatched when our driver showed up promptly at 7:15am, with a minivan that easily accommodated both of our bike boxes. We were all loaded up and on the road to the airport right on schedule.

Our second concern evaporated when the traffic to the airport was very light. Before we knew it, we were unloading our gear at the airport at 8:00am. 

Our third concern melted away when we found the guys who wrap luggage stationed right next to the entry door of the airport. Within a few minutes, our panniers were wrapped tightly in shiny, blue, cellophane - and it was only 8:30am. We still had 4.5 hours to go before our flight.

We headed over to a bank of seats to finish off some drinks we had brought with us, marveling at how well things were going. Everything had been so easy, we should have known something would go wrong…

Stuck In The Airport

About 3.5 hours before our scheduled departure, we headed over to the check-in counter. That’s when our trip ran off the rails (so to speak). After checking our flight status, the lady behind the counter casually informed us that we had been involuntarily bumped from our flight - even though we had paid extra to the airline to guarantee advance seat assignments. Our reservation included assigned seat numbers - but those seats had been given away to someone else who had already checked in for the flight. There was nothing she could do, we were told. The flight was fully checked in, and all the seats were gone. We would have to go on a different flight.

Worse, the flight they re-booked us on required a layover and transfer in Medellín, Colombia. Basically, they had oversold the very desirable flight we had booked, knowing that they would just bump people as needed to other, less popular flights. Not only would the new flight take more than twice as long to get us to Cartagena, but it also posed a risk to our bikes and luggage. We had specifically chosen a nonstop flight to reduce the dangers that arise from the extra handling (and potential damage to our equipment) that comes with airline flight transfers. We refused the rebooking on the flight through Medellín, and asked to be put on the next direct flight.

After a lot of haggling and escalating our case to a manager (for decisions our check-in lady did not have the authority to make), we were booked on the next direct flight to Cartagena. But it would not depart Panama City until 9:45pm. Our only consolations were that Copa Airlines upgraded our tickets to business class, and they agreed to arrange/pay for transportation from the Cartagena Airport to our AirBNB (since we would be landing in the middle of the night and it would be hard to secure transportation for all our gear at that hour). The ‘business class’ upgrade wasn’t a lot to get excited about, because the flight was very short. But at least we could spend the 12 hour wait at the Panama City airport in the airline’s VIP lounge, with free finger food and unlimited wifi. It was better than nothing, although our original flight would have been much preferred.

Arrival In Cartagena

We did our best to stave off boredom for the rest of the day. Fortunately, our new flight departed on time, and passing through immigration/customs upon arrival in Colombia was painless. Even better, all of our bags - including the bikes - arrived safely. 

Once we had collected all our luggage, it took us some time to figure out how to connect with the right person from Copa Airlines to help us arrange ground transportation. At first, no one in the luggage carousel area seemed to be aware that Copa had agreed to pay for the transport to our AirBNB. But eventually we were taken under the wing of a lady with a handheld radio who proceeded to try and find a ride for us.

That turned out to be challenging. By that time it was close to 11pm, and the taxi selection outside the airport had dwindled. The first vehicle that showed up for us was a small SUV that would have been a tight squeeze under any circumstances. However, it also had some kind of tank installed in the cargo area (maybe an extra gas tank?) that made it impossible for us to get our bike boxes inside. 

The lady helping us kept talking into her handset, but it took a long time for another vehicle to show up - and that one was even smaller than the first. We couldn’t help but notice that there were some other taxis around that looked like they would be big enough, but the lady with the radio ignored them. Maybe the airline only worked with specific transportation companies, and those other taxis weren’t on the list. Whatever the reason, time ticked by as we waited for the whole situation to be sorted out.

Eventually, a really big bus arrived. It struck us as a bit odd that they couldn’t come up with something in a more appropriate size (in between the little taxis and the 20-seat bus). Fortunately we didn’t have to worry about how much it cost. The bus had more than enough space to accommodate all of our gear and we were the only passengers. So we loaded everything into the aisle, and finally headed towards our AirBNB.

After a couple of more hiccups - like the fact that our driver didn’t really know how to find our address, and some difficulty operating the keypad to open the door to our apartment - we collapsed in the comfort of our beds. By that time we had been awake and traveling for more than 20 hours - all to take a 1+ hour flight. Maybe the boat would have been easier after all.

Cartagena de Indias - the Pearl of the Caribbean

Due to its abundant natural resources, the area around Cartagena has been continuously occupied for more than 6,000 years. After the arrival of the Spaniards, its cluster of islands, jetties and protected bays also made it an attractive location for a seaport. In the early years, much of the gold and silver plundered from throughout the Andes made its way to Europe through the port of Cartagena. 

The city’s modern culture is a direct reflection of these historic influences. Although Cartagena is not a big industrial or financial center, it remains among South America’s top five seaports by shipping volume. The thick, stone walls that were built to protect the old city from pirates still stand, encompassing a colonial-style center lined with narrow streets connecting intimate plazas, all overlooked by picturesque balconies and colorful facades. The heady mix of Afro-Caribbean, Indigenous, and Spanish influences created by international trade is constantly on display, especially in the city’s public art and music (often played at ear-splitting volumes, and emanating from storefronts, sidewalk bars, and even party buses). 

After the seaport, tourism is Cartagena’s biggest industry. So there was plenty to keep us busy for seven days in the city. Here are some of the highlights from our visit.

Below are some more shots of the colorful cityscapes in the old town.

Wandering the streets of Cartagena, you can’t help but notice the large size and artistic quality of the door knockers on many old, wooden doors. This is a legacy from the Spanish colonial era, when the knocker on your door told passers by something about your profession and social status. Lizards were the most prestigious forms, denoting the uppermost classes, including royalty. Lions signified members of the armed forces - protectors of the city. Nautical themes, like fish, seahorses, and octopuses, connected the owners to seafaring professions. We had fun checking out the various knockers around town.

One of the most iconic structures in Cartagena is the wall around the old city. It’s among the best-preserved, colonial-era walls in the Americas, with most of the original ramparts still standing. A classic activity is to walk along the heights of the wall, taking in the vistas of the old town and the sea. We enjoyed a quiet morning walk along the wall, and over to the base of Cartagena’s imposing, hilltop fort - the Fort of San Felipe de Barajas.

Of course, we also had some work to do to prep our bikes after the flight from Panama City. Fortunately, our bike boxes did the trick and the bicycles arrived in Colombia unscathed. We re-attached the front racks, mounted the front tires, re-attached the saddles, re-installed the pedals, re-mounted the handlebars, and pumped up the tires. A couple of other maintenance steps - like changing the oil in our internal-gear hubs and mounting a new odometer for PedalingGuy rounded out our work. We were very happy that this time (unlike in Panama City) we didn’t run into any problems. It was nice to have some drama-free maintenance, for a change. Before long we were ready to roll.

Cycling Across the Caribbean Lowlands

We spent the next six days (plus a few layover days) cycling across the low-lying, coastal zone of northern Colombia. Each day we followed a similar routine, rising before 5:30am to get out on the road as early as possible. Like much of Central America, the weather in Colombia was very hot and humid. So our pattern involved cycling early in the morning, and attempting to reach our destination around (or even before) noon. Many days we cycled through light rain or drizzle, but we didn’t mind. Clouds and light rain helped to keep the temperatures comfortable. Afternoon siestas were definitely preferred.

The ride out of Cartagena was pretty hectic. Initially we cycled along the waterfront which was nice, especially since we had a bit of a bike lane there. But for the next 10 miles we rode through city traffic. It was a relief when we finally reached the edge of the city, and left the urban craziness behind. From then on, we mostly rode on a nice, wide road shoulder which made the cycling fairly fast, and pleasant.

About two-thirds of the way up Colombia, the Andes Mountains peter out into a broad plain blanketed with wetlands and savannas. Culturally, this area has very strong ties to the Caribbean, and we could feel that influence everywhere. Colombia also has a very deep farming tradition, so most of the lowlands were converted to pastures and agriculture long ago.

The first day out, we cycled through a mosaic of dry savannas with scrubby, thorny trees, interspersed with wetlands and ponds. Recent rains had filled the wetlands, and the ditch along the side of the road was brimming with water. There were lots of birds. And a succession of ‘road crossing’ signs indicated that there were probably other creatures (like crocodiles and anteaters), but we didn’t see any of those.

By mid morning we were both hot and sweating profusely. Stopping didn’t help, even in the shade. In fact, it was better to keep cycling so that the breeze created by movement could help keep us cool.  

We were very glad to finally arrive at Cruz del Viso, a remote crossroads where we had hoped to score a hotel room with air conditioning. You can thus imagine our disappointment when the folks at the restaurant there told us that the hotel had been closed for nearly two years. It was our first indication that Google Maps is even worse in Colombia than it had been in Central America - and we wouldn’t be able to trust that services shown on the map (like hotels) were really there. 

That was a real problem for us. By this time it was around noon, and horrendously hot. We were both battling dehydration, and did not relish the idea of cycling much further to find another hotel (the next one we knew about was another 10.5 miles (17 km) away).

Hot and tired - we settled into some chairs in the shade to rehydrate and consider what to do next. That’s when one of the waitresses told us that there was another hotel (which did not show up in Google Maps) just two miles away (3.2 km), at a gas station. It was off route for us, but we didn’t care. Two miles sounded fabulous. We finished our drinks and headed down the road to a tiny motel with just six rooms. For only US$14 per night, it included air conditioning. Nothing else mattered. We happily checked in.

Later in the evening we cycled into the town of Malagana (pop. 6,084) to buy some drinks for the next day. While we were packing up the bikes after shopping, a friendly guy came over to introduce himself. Jerónimo told us he was a cyclist. He was particularly interested in our Rohloff Speedhubs (with internal gears) - even taking a photo of them. A small crowd gathered now that Jerónimo had broken the ice by talking to us. He took a group photo of us with his son and daughter, who were with him. Some other folks in the crowd seemed impressed when they learned how far we had cycled. It was fun.

Heading for the Coast

Over the next couple of days our route turned southwest, heading back towards Colombia’s Caribbean coast. Long, flat stretches of road were mostly bordered by groves of oil palms, mixed in with a few rice fields. Whenever we crossed some hills, the palms were replaced by banana plantations and pastures. But what struck us the most was the mangoes, which were clearly in season. Everyone seemed to own a huge mango tree or two. And many families set up rickety, wooden stands along the road with a pile of fresh mangoes for sale. We must have passed hundreds of them over the course of several days. Even the margin of the road was full of smushed mangos that we had to swerve around as we rode.

As we were cycling along the coastal road something caught us both by surprise. There was a guy riding down the road on his motorbike, with a washing machine balanced precariously on the back! He had one hand on the handlebars, and his other arm was stretched backwards above his head, grabbing the rim of the washing machine. It was mind-blowing - and a bit unnerving - to see that. 

The truth is that folks in many parts of Latin America rely heavily on motorbikes for all their transportation, and it’s fairly common to see large objects (e.g., pieces of furniture, over-sized sacks of fruits or vegetables, large musical instruments, and even a goat or pet dog) being hauled around on them. It’s also very common to see three or four people crammed onto one motorbike (although at least one of them is usually a little kid). In this part of Columbia motorbikes (i.e., small motorcycles) outnumber cars on the road by 4 to 1. Unlike in the United States, where most people ride large, overpowered motorcycles for pleasure, the ones in Colombia are usually small, 100-200 cc motorbikes that are mostly utilitarian.

Hanging Out in a Colombian Beach Town

We arrived in the beach town of Coveñas (pop. 17,100) around noon on a Sunday. It was a sun-drenched, bustling place that’s very, very popular as a weekend getaway for Colombians coming from the nearby mountains. All afternoon, the beachfront bars and rent-an-umbrella spots on the sand were packed with families and young adults out enjoying a day by the sea. But its most distinctive characteristic was that it was LOUD. Multiple restaurants and shops blared music at ear-splitting levels. We could even hear the ruckus from our hotel room, which was a quarter mile away.

After settling in, we headed over to the beach to observe the mayhem. Families lounged on beach chairs while their kids ran loose among the snack bars and playgrounds. The water was full of people soaking in the surf - many more than in Cartagena. But there was something that was definitely missing - foreigners. This hopping seaside resort was well off the beaten path for international travelers. We may have been the only English-speakers in town that weekend.

Our lunch came with fish soup as a starter - but not the kind of fish soup we are used to. There were big chunks of fish with the bones still in them. It was a challenge to eat the soup without swallowing a fishbone. We probably wouldn’t order the fish soup again. (In fact, PedalingGuy later came down with a lingering stomach bug, and we suspected the source was the fish soup.)

The next morning we went for a walk along the road that paralleled the ocean. The street was lined with small restaurants and family-run hotels targeting the domestic travelers. In the morning, things were a lot more calm, even though there were a fair number of people out and about. It was like we had gone back in time to an era when beaches were more low-budget, low-key places to hang out.

A Land of Rivers and Wetlands

From Coveñas we turned back inland across the soggy coastal plain, traversing grasslands, savannas, wetlands and ponds used mostly for cattle farms. It was already very warm by 6am, so we pressed on without stopping much - hoping to cover 45 miles (72.4 km) as quickly as possible. At one point a motorbike slowed down next to PedalingGuy so that the passenger could hand him a bottle of cold water. That was a wonderfully thoughtful gesture.

Along the way we had our first encounter with the wide, chocolate-colored Sinú River. Arising in the treeless heights of the Andes, it is Colombia’s third-largest river, and perhaps the most important from an agricultural perspective. The lowlands surrounding the Sinú River have some of the most fertile soils in the country, and 70% of the people in the region live along its banks.

The Hotel Zeus in the town of Cereté (pop. 108,500) is well known among cyclists for being clean and inexpensive. But what set it apart was the warm hospitality of the owner, Jorge. He seemed genuinely enthusiastic to have us stay at the hotel, and eager to help us find the right room to suit our needs. The rooms were simple, but quiet in a very busy town - not always an easy thing to find.

A short ride from Cereté took us to the biggest city in the region, Montería (pop. 491,000). It turned out to be a very bicycle-friendly place. Within five miles after departing Cereté we were cycling on a nice bike path that brought us all the way into the city. It was May first, a national holiday, so there were lots of folks out enjoying the path. Most people were walking or jogging, but there also were a few other cyclists. Best of all, the path was lined with trees that provided a blanket of shade that helped keep us cool. 

In the heart of the city we passed a bike store called Go, Rigo, Go! It’s part of a chain of bike shops owned by Rigoberto Urán, one of Colombia’s internationally-famous cycling stars. Apparently he’s quite a celebrity in Colombia, sponsoring local bike races and lending his smiling face as a pitchman for a number of different products.  

Over the last 10-15 years, Colombians have been making a big impression in professional cycling. They are particularly competitive in the mountain stages of races, which might be expected given the the high elevation of the Andes where they are frequently raised or train. As we write this, the Giro d’Italia one of the most important multistage bike races of the year, is happening. This year’s Giro d’Italia has six competitors from Columbia, a particularly high number for a country of its size.

We spent a couple of days in Montería waiting for some particularly rainy weather to pass, and enjoying the comforts of our modern hotel room (roadside hotels in Colombia can be fairly spartan). The city’s biggest tourist attraction was a 3-mile long (5 km) greenway on the banks of the Sinú River, which we visited a couple of times.

From Montería, the route continued across a landscape laced with wetlands and ponds. But the thing that made the biggest impression on us was that there were a whole lot of other cyclists out on the road (it was Saturday). Call it the Urán-Quintana-Bernal effect. Columbia’s world-class cyclists are loved throughout the country and have helped to greatly popularize cycling. It seemed like we passed a couple of hundred cyclists out on their road bikes in the rain. There were lots of solo riders, pairs and small groups - but also several larger groups that looked like clubs, and at least one very large peloton. Many of them waved and greeted us as we passed.

In the town of Caucasia we managed to get a spacious hotel room away from the road - so there wouldn’t be a lot of road noise. But there was a catch. We had to haul our bikes and gear up to the second floor, climbing several long flights of stairs.

The Edge of the Caribbean Lowlands

Caucasia (pop. 76,700) lies at the southern edge of the Caribbean Lowlands, where the massive Cauca River (Colombia’s second-biggest river) comes out of the Andes Mountains and spreads onto the coastal plain. As a result, it occupies a strategic location for trade in both agricultural and mining products. There were no tourists in Caucasia (besides us). The focus of the city was commerce. We spent one last rest day there, before tackling the climb into the Andes Mountains.

We had spend several weeks cycling in the hot, steamy, rainy lowlands, with their expansive views of wetlands and savannas teeming with life. But the flatland cycling would soon come to an end. We had enjoyed the coastal culture, strongly influenced by Caribbean music, a laid-back attitude, and pastoral values. Now, the Andes Mountains lay ahead of us - promising both cooler temperatures and much more challenging terrain. It had been a long time since we’d cycled in the mountains. Would our legs be up to the task? We would soon find out. 

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