After five months of pretty unrelenting sauna-esque temperatures, we were looking for a little rest-bite. We examined the map of Colombia, trying to work out what to do. Logically, flying into Cartagena was the best option. But, well, with July temperatures hitting 36 degrees, it wasn’t exactly what our sweat glands were after.
I got my google on for the rest of the country. “Woah….Konstantin, look at this!”. Bogota was 12 degrees and raining at the moment.
“Sounds perfect”. Konstantin asserted.
And so, on July 17th, we found ourselves arriving at Bogota airport with two bicycle boxes, six bags, and getting into our jackets for the first time in months. Bliss.
The plan was to stay off the bikes for a while – we had booked into a couple of running races and my friend Katie was going to visit for 3 weeks in August. So, we kept our bikes packed up in the back room of a very accommodating hostel and set out to explore Colombia with some more pannier-packing.
First up, heading out into the wilds of Bogota. You know how Latin America has a bit of a reputation? Drugs, violence, crime etc. Well, we thought we were pretty seasoned in the old Latin American ‘rough around the edges’. We’d cycled through Mexico, Honduras and El Salvador right? Bogota whacked that up a notch. Within our first 24 hours we’d seen crippling poverty, naked ladies covered in fishnets on street corners, and young boys graffiting walls, all within a 20 minute walk of our hostel. The hostel was in the recommended touristy area, by the way.
Welcome to Bogota!
But, there’s something about a place that’s got a distinct air of dodgy. They have character. Bogota was to be our base for the next month, heading back and forth across the country, and over that time we warmed to the city a lot. With 8 million people it’s bursting at the seams, and not even that touristy.
Some of the rougher sides of Bogota!
Our second stop was to head west to the town of Manizales. Only about 250km away from Bogota, the mountains in between make this journey take a mind-numbing 10 hours (longer than it had taken us to get from El Salvador)! “Why Manizales?”, you would be forgiven for asking.
The centre of Manizales!
Street Art in Manizales
Well, about a month before Konstantin had gone on a running race ‘hunt’ and had discovered that the inaugural ‘Festival de la Montañas’ would be taking place there in July. He was particularly taken by the fact this festival included the opportunity to run a vertical kilometre, where you have to run (!!!) 1000m of ascent in less than 5km of distance. Believe it or not, this is a thing. Not wanting to be left out, I’d also signed up for a 5km race – but this only had a paltry 400m of ascent.
These races weren’t the only reason we were now sat in Colombia, but they were a deciding factor in speeding up our arrival in the country. Although our trip had shifted to being primarily about pedal power – we were still keen to keep running, adding variety into our exercise regime and pain to different muscles! There’s also something very satisfying about running a race in a different country – you get to see a different, dare I say it, more local side to the area. The fact is, without the Festival de la Montana, we would not have explored the Nevado del Ruiz.
Konstantin was first to go. He had to be up at 4am to catch a bus out to the starting point for his race. I’d been keen to support him in his height gaining venture, but the ridiculous start time and complicated logistics meant that, unfortunately, a lie in was on the cards. So, while I dozed sleepily, Konstantin began to run up 1000m.
Konstantin at the Vertical Kilometre
And while he was struggling away – I was enjoying a parade through Manizales – for Colombian Independence. It made me feel all warm inside and patriotic for Colombian!
Show of force in the parade
And local traditional dancing
The next day, it was my turn. We had loose plans that Konstantin would try and join me to spectate later, but alas, that didn’t work out. So, I rocked up at the bus stop at 5.30am on my own, adorned in just a light jacket and shorts. Konstantin had assured me it wasn’t that cold at his race, I’d be fine.
Okay, confession time. I hadn’t really read much about the race I was going to do. I knew it was in the mountains – that clue was in the festival name. But aside from that, I was embracing the new, laid back Janneke. The one that just goes with the flow. The one that’s relaxed about organisation. The one that doesn’t read the ‘big’ print in the race names. Turns out this race started at 3800m elevation. A whole three times the height of the highest point in the UK. IE, bloody high. This wasn’t just any race – this was a race at ridiculous elevation. Oh, and yeah, it was flipping freezing.
As I stood trying to warm myself with sweet tea, struggling to breathe in the high mountain air, my teeth chattering, my legs covered in goose pimples, I considered my life choices. I had paid to have this experience. Was I completely insane?
Eventually, after a reasonable amount of waiting around…we were off. I launched through the start pen, ambitiously attempting a run. 10 seconds later, it was clear this was going to be more of a ‘power-walking’ race. Me and altitude, we don’t have a great history. My body was not keen on the old lack of oxygen situation. You see, it thinks it’s pretty vital to my survival. Crazy right?
Despite the difficulties with elevation and the cold, this was an incredible race. Amazingly beautiful and unlike any scenery I’d ran through before (okay, I’ll admit, some of it looked like Scotland). The organisation was great, I met loads of lovely people, and in the end, I actually came 5th woman out of about 30. Was not expecting that!
At the Festival de la Montaña
Post race, it was time for some sightseeing, and so we heading over to the small town of Salento for my birthday. This town is very pretty –
Centre of Salento
Doors in Salento
But is famous more for it’s proximity to Valle del Cocora, an incredible ‘forest’ of the tallest palm trees in the world, completely unique to this area of Colombia.
The trees in Valle del Cocora
The weather was closing in
“Hummingbird selfie”
Amazing trees
Cool willy’s vehicles
It’s also the home to many of Colombia’s coffee growers. Konstantin and I have never been coffee drinkers. I’ve always known I loved the smell – but I could never reconcile that with the bitterness, and I didn’t think it worth starting a coffee habit with 5 sugars. Konstantin has been the same – never a fan of the stuff. But, well, Latin America has shifted our coffee-drinking views quite dramatically, so much so that we’ve found ourselves in many the coffee shop, drinking various forms of ‘gourmet’ coffee through increasingly hipster forms of brewing. We’ve changed.
Birthday celebrations!
Then, it was time to head back to Bogota for a few days – I had set up some Spanish classes with a local teacher, Maria. And we also had to run the Bogota half marathon.
Buoyed up from our lovely experiences at the Festival de la Montana – we were feeling rather smug about our chances in the Bogota half marathon. Yes, it was still at 2700m elevation, but we were seasoned high altitude runners now. I’d actually only changed onto the half marathon length 3 days before – I had originally signed up for only 10km.
“I’ll be happy with 2 hours 15” I declared to Konstantin. This wasn’t going to be a PB, but I felt I had a good chance.
“Cool, yeah I’m aiming for sub- 2 hours”, Konstantin replied.
After spending 40 minutes of our pre-race prep standing in a queue waiting for the toilets, we hadn’t exactly had the time to get into the race-zone. In fact, by the time we got to the start, the race had already started. Not exactly the stress free beginning we were after.
We said goodbye to each other and organised a spot to meet afterwards. We’d be done by lunch, right?
Wrong. Very wrong. At 10km I was very much questioning my life decisions again. Why had I been so arrogant to think one 5km race was going to prepare me for 21km? It was also hot. I was sweating, a lot. And panting. This was pretty torturous. I started walk-running, looking despairingly at my watch as the numbers slowly, slowly, slowly creeped up. 2 hours 15 minutes passed. 2 hours 30 minutes passed. Urghhhhhhh.
Eventually, at 2 hours 40 minutes, I finished. My personal worst in a half marathon. I have to say, not even in retrospect does this one look fun!
Bogota Half Marathon
After our few days in Bogota it was back out of the city and into the mountains. We had a week before my friend Katie arrived and we were going to spend it in El Cocuy National Park. I’ve already written some more boring stuff about this here. Logistics and the what not.
We had decided to drive. After pouring over maps and out of date blogs for many an hour trying to get our heads round rather complicated logistics, we ended up opting for the easy way. Ah, the freedom of a car. I’ll admit, there was some distant longing for our old fire truck (#sadface). Here we were, able to cover 500km in a DAY! A DAY! AND stop in at cute little villages on the way.
Konstantin was chief organiser of this little trip. In the interests of total honesty, you’ll be surprised to hear that in spending 24 hours a day 7 days a week together for over a year, SOMETIMES, Konstantin and I would find ourselves having little disagreements. Shocking news. One of these rather repetitive little disagreements was the amount of time Konstantin spent organising things compared to me. It is a rather circular argument, as demonstrated below:
“Konstantin, you need to help with the planning”. True.
“But you don’t trust me with the planning Janneke”. Also true.
In an attempt to break this circle of truth, I was going to embrace a new, relaxed, non-fussy Janneke. I had absolved ALL responsibility to Konstantin for our trip to El Cocuy. Konstantin, after 6 and a half years by my side, embraced his new organisation hat with trepidation.
“But, you really don’t trust me with the planning”. He repeated.
“I trust you”. I lied.
So, it was that we arrived at our first stop in El Cocuy. The beautiful cabanas Kanwara, majestically placed overlooking the valley – surrounded by frailejones. And completely and utterly deserted. IN fairness to Konstantin, he had booked. But, they appear to have completely ignored his requests for shelter. No one was there, and, seemingly (after a bit of help from the Park Ranger), no one was coming. Bugger.
Thankfully, the ranger and a local shepherd took pity on us – the shepherd invited us in to his house where he had a guest room. His wife seemed slightly put out to suddenly be cooking for an extra two guests but the food was great and well-needed.
Our first night in the Shepherd’s Hut
Despite the first hiccup, the rest of the trip was just brilliant (and even the lack of accommodation on the first night turned into a lovely experience). We hiked all three of the open routes, wowing at the crazy different plants and the amazing scenery. We went up to over 4700m, and, I’ll admit, the elevation got to me pretty badly in the end (surprisingly, it got worse by the third day, even though it was lower than the first!).
Ritacuba Hike
Ritacuba Hike – at the snow line
Ritacuba hike – barren landscapes
Laguna Grande Hike – At the start
Laguna Grande Hike
Laguna Grande Hike
Start of the El Pupito Hike
Climbing onto the barren rock landscapes
Ritacuba Hike in the valley
Have we broken the organisation trust cycle? I think so! With a little bit of monitoring…..
And so, after 5 days in the mountains we headed back to Bogota. The next chapter of our Colombia story was starting. We had a FRIEND joining our motley crew of two.