UNICEF Project, Bogota

We’ve reached our destination , Bogota, and it is UNICEF day – a day we always look forward to on these rides, because we get to get up  close and personal with a community that day in day out face the reality of survival. Last night two young men were killed, a week ago six were murdered in gang conflict, ten years ago 29 killed by the army is a “false positive” wherein the murderers acted to get promotions. After a briefing we are headed out to Soacha on the outskirts of Bogota, an unofficial township of some 500,000 folk who have come here to escape the troubles between the 3 protagonists in the Colombian countryside – left wing guerrillas funded these days from drug trade and extortion of businesses large and small, right wing paramilitary who act for landowners and the rich, and of course the army. Like the townships of South Africa, conditions are not good, sanitation is atrocious and made all the worst here by the current rainy season that is one of the worst in living memory. Colombia has the second highest number of displaced people (after Sudan) and of course these unofficial townships are fertile recruiting grounds for the subversives. The methods are tough, cooperate or you die. Virtually every small business in the community has to pay “protection” money. The government isn’t interested so the situation is dire.

UNICEF, along with other agencies, is trying – in this climate of violence against the most vulnerable, provide the children with hope, help protect them from the clutches of the underworld, and just do simple stuff like instil in them values of coexistence, non-violence, gender and racial equity. All simple values these, but a long way from the reality of the streets these children live on. The programme we get introduced to, takes the thing they are passionate about, and turns it into the vehicle for providing these kids with some belonging, some hope. It’s a big 6 a side football competition with 30,000 kids so far, every team must at all times have at least 2 girls, & 2 boys on the pitch. There is no referee – the teams agree the values they are going to promote in the contest for this match, and the adjudicator takes notes throughout the match and decides the winner and points at the end of the match. Goals scored therefore  (and for each team, the scoring must go in boy-girl sequence ) are only one of many factors that determine the ultimate winner.

We are present for the pre-match negotiations, the match and the post-match debrief. This game, “Golombiao” provides an uplifting relief for these 12-18 year olds, from their daily challenges. When we have a talk with them all, the thing unanimously they want the most, is for their streets to be less violent. The violence is random, the innocent are the victims.

A big challenge indeed, certainly it’s hard to see much improvement  without a government that cares and is strong enough to get both the Left and Right insurgents to disarm. Photos of our UNICEF Bogota day are here.

Final day problems

Well we are early on the road to get to Bogota and sort the end of trip stuff that has to be done. Bike storage, getting luggage cleaned and boots scrubbed for immigration and agricultural checks back into NZ. All seems well and our GPS route matches the road signs today, a pleasant change.
Heading up a hill on a narrow, no verge, two way section I get the horrid feeling of a flat tyre, my rear is wobbling around. But then the noise of grating metal as the wheel starts to seize up and I look for anywhere I won´t be hit by the following truck. Gareth comes back, looking for me after a few minutes, and we get the bike pushed into a drive-way a way down the hill.   There is no way it can be ridden. The rear wheel bearing is completely collapsed.

I wait and G goes in pursuit of a little vehicle recovery truck that has gone passed us. While I wait, a couple of local dogs take a dislike to me and one nips the back of my leg. I´m pleased when Gareth returns smiling. The tow truck has luckily stopped in the next village and lots of sign language has him coming to collect my bike back in an hour.
So I spend the last two hours of my South America trip on a truck and get delivered to the BMW showroom. I am counting my blessings as this was one of the few place on this ride we have been within reach of repair facilities and help.

Gareth rides up to the BMW shop, grinning as he is the only one to completely finish the South American circumnavigation. Bugger! Bother

Thanks to all who sent comments and emails to us on this adventure.

Home to be a good Nana and have a family Christmas.

A short day gets longer

Off the main routes all manner of encounters in store

We awake in a great little Spanish town of Barichara, at 2600m. We had stayed in a posada selected mainly because it could fit the bikes with-in the walls, for our night security. The small double bed touched three of the walls and when you opened the wooden shutters for light you looked out on the kitchen and open court-yard. Very intimate living.  They made a great breakfast for $ 5 NZ and we hit the road in the cool mist.

We had a different exit from this town to the sealed way in and Gareth suggested we go back the way we came in but I thought it would be nice to head down the gravel track. We were heading to San Gil 12km away where we could join a bigger road. This detour took us into a maze of mountain tracks and at one stage when the GPS said it was 2 km away as the crow flies we realised there was a problem as we were still nearly 2000m above it. Anyway 2 hours of rock hopping and a few back tracks got us there and we saw a part of Colombia most folk won´t ever see. I did let my bike lie down for a short rest in a muddy corner.

On again and we get to another architectural dream village where they all seemed to speak another dialect. Then an old chap leading a pack horse told us the road forward was only suited for horses. So back 30+ km to San Gil and onto a great road not on our map or gps to the next high mountain village of Villa de Leyva.

There is the largest main plaza in Colombia, but it is a cold cobbled place, impressive in its own way. Damp cold rooms in a stone hotel – urggh!

Sunday morning in Pamploma, Colombia

This is a gorgeous old spanish style town. We had Saturday evening promenading with the towns folk, and even an invitation to stay with Christina , a local school teacher. Doors are open, church bells are constant and frantic, the hotels don’t have armed guards, concerts in the street, welcome to Colombia.
We are up early as today we are only going 100km, and have a morning to enjoy the markets, church bells and amazing faces of the old guys in felt ponchos and brimmed hats. We get some huge avocados and tomatoes, 2000 of their paper is about 70 NZ cents, eveerything really cheap.
I get to onother of the magnificent catholic churches by the cemetery and can’t resist a stroll through the maze of burial-walls. Busy day and lots of visitors for the departed. Loved the way they would line up at the little doors, smooth their hair and clothes and then they all  knock on the little door. You could imagine the words, ” Hello Mary, It’s Gareth here, Sunday again hope all is peaceful… yes the kids are great. Miss you, must rush mass is starting soon.” The cynic in me also has him saying to his mates  “that’s the mother-in-law sorted for the week,”

You know I mentioned the 100 km, a short afternoon flit to the next village.   5 hours of partially slipped mountain road, cold at altitudes of 3800 up and down mud oozing from the wet hills, slumps of up to a metre and the lumbering trucks. Another afternoon of road excitement and now a gorgeous 16th century hotel on the square of  Giron.  Don’t  get too excited — no hot water.

Still shaking after a big day, now in Colombia

Clearing some rocks so we have a ledge to ride the bikes along - 1,000 feet to the bottom though

We set off early from Merida in Venezuela to wind down a great road to the valley floor. Lots of curves and an increasing number of trucks make the riding interesting and then the temperature was back up to 30 degrees as we hit the lower valley. My Gps maps didn´t want to make things easy, and seemed to not be working on this section so I followed Gareth for the mountain pass to get us to near the border.

As we were trying to sort the maze of mountain tracks to the border we were stopped by some young policemen who told us the border was closed….. mud slips.   We were tired and the thought of back-tracking 150 km was too much … some of the words we muttered should not be written. We are dejectedly looking at the map while the police tell us to wait and get on the phone to their colleagues at the border. Their sign language indicates that maybe a moto can get through, so give us directions and we head up a deserted track until near the summit where we find 50 trucks and  a road block. We drive through, the guard just shrugs with that knowing look – you´ll be back, there’s no way through.

This Venezuela/Colombia border is pretty testy with a total standoff just a couple of months ago as Chavez and the Colombians got agitated with each other.

A few km on we strike slips but the road is still passable. But then the whole road is gone and diggers and dozers are  trying to create a new one. We park and watch.. hopeless we think. The dozer driver looks at the bikes and we tell him about the trip.  He fires up and makes us wait as he clears a path through the rocks for us, all the workers start to throw the bigger rocks from our path as they continue to fall.

So we were the only vehicles to cross the border today and the Venezuela officials guys just waved us through so no exit stamps. But then no one from the Colombia side even looked at us so again we’re in a country unofficially. The last 20 km of truck traffic in the severely slip damaged roads has left me shaking, too much adrenaline – too many holes and ledges to negaotiate as we weave through all the heavy stuff. Some days you just get really pumped. This was one of them

Chavez is Chilling

In his own mind Chavez is as significant as Simon Bolivar

Now we’re out of Venezuela I can say it. Hugo Chavez cuts a chilling figure. Put bluntly he is inciting people to lawlessness and while we were there he was on the television telling the “poor” to occupy properties that the “:rich” own as they have enough. One of the contacts we made spent most of one day we were visiting in court trying to get people evicted from one of his properties. the judge, a Chavez supporter, decided that our acquaintance didn’t need more than one property so rejected his claim to get his property back. Shades of Mugabe I’m afraid.

You don’t have to be in country long to realise that Chavez is media obsessed and a self-promoter almost without peer. There are billboards with his mug shot everywhere – it’s pretty nauseating – especially when on some of them you see 3 figures – Simon Bolivar (liberator from the Spanish), Che Guevara and Hugo Chavez. Talk about delusions of grandeur.

But the country is polarised about him – property owners se him pretty well as the devil incarnate, while the Left see him pretty much in the light he likes to paint himself in – the messiah for the masses. It looks like its going to end in tears.

We’ve only been in colombia a couple of days but the difference is palpable. In Venezuela at sundaown (we’re in the tropics so its 12 hours darkness) the shops and houses are locked and shuttered, the streets deserted. In Colombia at 11 pm at night the town squares are still filled with crowds high on merriment for the festive season, bands playing and so on. Venezuela is a nation thrown into the darkness of fear and incrimination, Colombia has emerged from that over recent years. What a contrast!

Exciting mountain road to Merida

How many men & years does it take to fix a cable car in Venezuela?

We have cut a gentle arc across Venezuela, some great highways and many hectic, narrow truck filled roads. Pot holes and washouts are ever present so total vigilance is needed, and the use of blinkers and ¨emergency flashers¨ is as variable and unpredictable as the driving. A truck head-on collision that we could skirt around is a reminder …. stay alert.
The north of this country is in a state of civil emergency due to floods and mud slips, we have skirted around the edge of this until the trip into the Andes. The steep mountain roads are badly eroded in places and no barriers and huge drop-offs make for a tense ride.

Gareth was in front on one corner that had eroded (half of it in the valley below)  and become ¨one lane¨ when an oncoming truck raced through forcing him into a quick stop. Foot down he glanced to the drop-off and stalls, I watch and hope he can sort himself without thinking of the 1000m drop less than a metre away, no barrier. Safe to our destination passing huge queues at slips as only bikes can do.
Pretty place Merida surrounded by mountains and cooler than the planes— so nice.  A spectacular cable car to a 4000+ metre peak hasn´t been going for the last few years but repairs are happening. A local cynic said it won’t b ready for another 3 yet. Also this is the first Venezuelan town we have been told we can leave the hotel after dark to stroll to a local restaurant or just to view the amazing Catholic churches.

Lots of security here, can’t wait to see what Colombia brings tomorrow.

Up the Andes – Again

At last, we’re in the Andes again. It seems an age since we saw them last – indeed it was back in March, way down in Terra del Fuego where they rise out of the sea. And here we are today rejoining them at their northernmost tip in Venezuela. It’s been too long. This is a big continent and coming up the eastern side has kept us well away from mountains and of late down on the hot and humid jungle plains. The sight of our first real hills for so long had a noticeable impact – we sped up once they were in view and were overjoyed to be winding our way up their forested eastern side and even more beset with a sense of achievement up at 4,000 metres to see the bare desert of the tops. Mind you there was no lingering this time around. Last time we ascended 4,000 metres in a day we ended up on oxygen and drugs to deal with the altitude sickness. So a quick stop for some pics and then back down to 1500 metres for the night, was the order of today. But it’s great to be back

Petrol -head heaven

Into Venezuela, horror stories of rip-offs and attacks are all you hear. We pull into the fuel station to fill the bikes and the extra tanks – just in case.
Gareth is yelling at me, “What is a 100 worth?”
“Only $NZ 20″ I tell him
“Are we being ripped off he wants more I think”
“No he’s  giving it back, he wants you to go away it is too much money to change, the petrol is free.” I pull a 5 Bolli note out and offer it and the relieved fuel man says thanks.
Gareth took a while checking his numbers and couldn’t believe it NZ$ 1 for nearly 35 litres. “You must have got the decimal point in the wrong place” he mutters looking at me.
Suddenly you realise why the local taxis are the huge yank-tanks of the past and the roads are full of big inefficient chevs of another era.
Petrol cheaper than water. See cars of Venezuela here

Borders, frustration and fraud

We have had quite a few borders to cross this trip, and it never amazes us how some borders devise procedures that are so inefficient and frustrating. We were getting along pretty well and feeling pretty smug ,, just waiting for a fall.
On the early ferry into Suriname, we had our exit stamp from French Guyana, no problems. A stamp for Surimane and then the question? Can we see your insurance documents, please.  Gareth looks stunned and I produce a wad of papers (in Spanish, and way out of date) and hand them over. Ok mam, and yours sir?
Gareth being a tidy kiwi has thrown all his “out of date” documents away. So we then have to wait for the insurance office to open and then the hour for the form to be filled out. The $20 fee didn’t hurt as much as being passed by the folk on the next ferry two hours later.
The exit from Suriname has the cheapest booze we have seen in the world and was slow but problem free, but a short ferry ride away was Guyana (the old British colony) and they were not so easily fooled by my old documents and asked for more. I had our membership invoices from the NZ Automobile Assn in my papers and they became our much needed papers for insurance. very lucky as it was a week-end and we would have had a two day wait.
Next issue was at the Guyana-Brazil Bonfim, border when Brazil decided we had to go to the local town and get photocopies of most everything. They had a photocopier sitting there and once we returned she copied it all out by hand. Old lady having a bad day, maybe, but this crossing is notorious for delaying travellers.  So different to the other 5 crossings into Brazil we have done. Then we didn’t need the papers that caused so much angst as we didn’t get stamped out. The Brazil side of the crossing out was closed, when we were coming into Venezuela.

Venezuela border crossing again we were sent 20km to town as local insurance “only” would be accepted.  All done we thought ,,,, but a mistake my rego number was on Gareth’s papers and his on mine so back to town to catch the insurance clerk as she locked up for lunch.  Luckily she opened to fix her error, and back to the border for us. Now it was the two hour  lunch break.   So 6 hours and 85 km later, in the awful heat we are legal to ride.