Taganga, Colombia

Good news... !! You know that super bald rear tire I've been riding on since way up in Costa Rica?  So thin that it picked up that nail and gave me my first flat?  I have been intending to replace both tires in Bogota Colombia.  But that's still 1000 km away and I can't take it any more.  It's been skipping in the turns a lot, really feels dangerous.

Yes, I can hear you all saying, that girl still doesn't change her own tires.  The man charged me $4 to change them.  I'm supporting the Colombian economy! ;-) You know I gave him a tip, check out his shop.  Really nice man.  I was worried, but he did an excellent job.

Need to mention another wonderful man I've never met has offered to help me out. Gonzalo Bueno, (I can tell by his last name he is a 'good' man! ;-) went and purchased the tires I wanted in Bogota.  I've been riding on Heidenau K60's most of the world around due to the great advice from Walter in Russia and my first set there.  Heidenau's are not available in this part of the world, and it wasn't worth having them shipped.  So Craig (CJ Designs), whom I bought my last set of K60's from in Wisconsin suggested I try his second favorite combo. Continental TKC80 on the front and Metzler Sahara 3 on the back.

Gonzalo was kind enough to pre-pay everything and have them couriered from Bogota to Santa Marta where I picked them up at the office.  Hallelujah!  The amount of help I get from strangers on this trip still astounds me.  Thanks again Gonzalo! ;-)))  Eres muy Bueno!!

Tire change and breakfast before checking out of the hostel we had all the dramas in last night.

This is me avoiding morning close-up photos from Kevin..

Kevin is feeling the need to go scuba diving and we checked out a shop that had some diving spots in the national park down the road.  Unfortunately, he had already missed this mornings run of dive boats, so we head out to explore on motorcycles instead.

As soon as I was riding on my new tires, I felt a huge relief.

Kevin found some dirt roads to explore.  It surprises me, because he rides on pure smooth street tires, no tread at all.  But he's such a good rider, and he seems to be enjoying taking on the dirt roads.  We talk about that he wished he either brought his KLR (which he owns in Canada) or he's liking my KTM and talks about checking out the KTM 990 when he gets home.

Anyway.. I've diverted as usual!  We followed the dirt track up a hill and found a small village there.  It offers organic coffee.  I don't drink coffee, but Kevin does.  We are in Colombia, one of the main suppliers of coffee in the world, and he grumbles nearly every day that he hasn't had a good cup of coffee in this country yet.  This organic cafe is a new chance they would care about a good coffee, so we went in.

It was too hot for me to have tea. Kev had his coffee (and said it wasn't what he was hoping for...). But what I had................ drumroll......................  a hot brownie covered with homemade vanilla ice cream!!  Much better choice and somebody was jealous!! ;-))) I rarely do this, but it was one of those days.  Kev kept staring at me and then my ice cream. I gave him a taste, but only one! It's my favorite desert of all time, always has been and it was superb.  Sorry about your coffee...

We rode around and explored more.. On the way back toward Santa Marta, Kevin spots a great place to park the bikes and enjoy the view.  He's good like that.

There's a couple chairs set up and we make like we are on the porch after a long hard day and watch the world go by...

I know this is a shock...  "Wanna beer?" ;-)

We not only love the view, we are totally entertained by the drunk man in the striped shirt.  That sucker was OUT..!  But what was weird yet entertaining, was the guys who wake him up on occasion. He'd pop right up full of energy, have a good yell  "Woooooo!!!!" clap his hands, knock back another shot of whatever they were drinking and pass right out again.  It happened at least 3 times within an hour or so, and each time we were cracking up laughing.

His buddies were singing away.  It's Saturday and either it's just what they do on their day off, or they are practicing for tonight's gig.  Drunk man would chime in every now and then too.

Next we are back down to sea level and find a BEAUTIFUL little track to the beach.

The track led us to the beach and you would never guess.. a hammock.  We decided to set up camp here.  But the more Kevin hung out in the hammock looking at the ocean, the more he wanted to scuba dive.  So we left this beach, maybe to come back later, but first to make sure Kevin has a booking for a dive boat in the morning.

We tried the entrance for Tayrona National Park and hoped we could camp here and book the boat.  They couldn't do the boat and on top of that, the tent camping areas meant we had to park the bikes and walk over 1 km to the site.  Would have been a top spot for camping but neither of us are willing to camp that far away leaving the bikes unprotected.

So executive decision made, we are going back to Taganga, do our best to find another cheap hostel and get him booked on a dive boat for the morning.

Sun was getting low on what has been another gorgeous day in Colombia...

We made it back to Taganga just in time for sunset..

I'm not a scuba diver.  So I opted for a Sherri Jo day while Kevin went on the dive early in the morning.  He wanted me to come along for the ride, even if I don't dive. But quite honestly I needed my own day.  Usually a solo girl, living with somebody 24/7 the way we have has been great, but like anybody, a little day off just to do my own thing really sounded good to me.

Final result.. he enjoyed his day.  He said the dive was just okay. Not great, but not bad.. somewhat low visibility. 

After they finished, Kevin went to a cafe with wifi and invited me down to the beach for sunset.  I hate to admit but I foolishly said no.  I also have to admit that I had the whole day alone which probably gave me too much time to think about 'things'. 

 

Look what I missed... Idiot!!

Now I really have to dob myself in. I've been on my own a long time and this day of doing my own thing, and having the space to think, went the wrong direction.  I had a bit of a panic.  I don't want to carry on about it to avoid embarrassing myself further, but I need to account for the upcoming post where I am traveling alone again.  I didn't sleep during the night and after talking quickly to Kevin and not giving him much space to respond,  I packed up early in the morning and left.  Super duper double idiot, but it's what I did...

Mud bath and massage in Volcan El Totumo plus Taganga, Colombia

Aww cool!  I finally got my bike back. It always feels good to know I can continue my journey. And it's in great company outside our hostel in Cartagena!

Graffiti has really stood out to us in this town. I'm feeling inspired to take a couple spray cans to my bike.

We're packed up and ready to roll after we have the breakfast our new hostel provides.  I know I carried on in the last post about how great this place is, and it was beautiful! But when it came to brekkie, it did not live up to the dream.  A tiny bit of cold scrambled eggs and rock hard stale bread. Oh well, you win some you lose some. 

We're heading north in Colombia first to Volcan El Totumo where we hear the mud bath can't be missed.. and then further on through Santa Marta to Taganga, Colombia.

On the way out of town, we discuss the roads to take as an easy way out of Cartagena.  Kevin then decided to forget what we talked about and followed the gps into the old town instead.  I'm still not sure if he did that on purpose, because we loved it there so much or he thought the gps had a better route than the one we already knew. But we were stuck in inescapable traffic on those old cobblestone skinny streets for what seemed like forever.  Might as well enjoy the gorgeous old town one last time, hey?

Arriving Volcan El Totumo.  This is not the vision of what I expected of a volcano, but here goes.

We had looked at this place online before leaving Cartagena. I can honestly say I wasn't excited to come here.  It looks ridiculously touristy, and I read other travelers comments about the Colombian men who massage you as soon as you're in the mud. Just sounds so weird.

It's one of those things... Kevin really really wants to do it and I decided to put my opinions aside for this one. (Well, I just lied and I take that back. I did voice my opinions, it's just that I lost.. ;-) Once we get undressed and head up the stairs of the gigantic mud mound we find Dan and Brad already here.  They were loving it!!  Maybe it won't be so bad then.

Kevin goes first.  He's smiling, but not sure what to think yet.

The story about this mud from the volcano is that the 'pool' we are in is over 200 meters deep (according to the locals massaging us).  I looked on the internet to try to confirm that and I see numbers from 60' up to 2300 meters!  In other words, the people that tell you the depth are just making it up. Whatever it is, we tried to touch a bottom, any bottom, and none of us could. The mud density is so thick that we are able to 'float' on top.  The boys were trying to push each other down deeper and they couldn't.  They'd go down a few inches and pop right back up.

I get in and immediately the mud massage begins from the Colombian men.  It freaked me out at first, and then.. well, it's a massage in a pool of warm mud!  Of course it feels good!

I'm not sure about putting my head in, while the boys were trying hard to convince me of this too.  Kevin's sneaky hand kept reaching under the mud and pinching me while the guys were massaging and I'd scream every time.

Once the massages were done, we were pushed like fishing bob's to the "finished" side of the pool were we sat in the mud.  Literally, you can sit up in this mud as if you are sitting in a chair even though it has no bottom you can touch.  Really a unique experience!  I'm glad I came and a good reminder to keep an open mind.  It was described properly, it is super touristy, but nothing like I've ever experienced before.

You can't hang around long.  While here, two tour buses showed up from Cartagena. So they push you to the ladder and tell you to get out so more tourists can get in!

I love this photo of Kevin because I think the reflection of the sky makes him look like a blue smurf... ;-)

After we get out, you go down another set of stairs and into the lake were the women are there to help you wash off all the mud.  Swimming in the lake was nice, having a strange women take your swim suit off and scrub the mud out of it was weird.

After returning to the bikes, we sit down for lunch.  We all feel so relaxed there is no hurry to get on the bikes and ride.

Sam just finished and he's walking toward us.. No Sam!  Go to the lake first and then you can eat with us!! ;-))

After lunch we get back on the road to head up to Taganga in Santa Marta district.  I only have this one photo of the ride because it was super windy, I kept the camera tucked away while riding at what seemed like a 45 degree angle and concentrated on the road.  My rear tire is still completely bald and I'm just being a bit careful.

I remember so clearly Dan passing me on the road at top speed.  I wished I had my camera ready it was quite a sight.  The loud Kawasaki KLR, Dan in his black helmet slunched over the front bars like he was racing across the salt flats in the World's Fastest Indian movie.  And that surf board attached to the side of his bike. I feel embarrassed that Dan who has that gigantic board is riding better in the wind than I am.

We pulled into Taganga in the late afternoon and without wasting any time went on the search for a hostel.  Kevin's Spanish was getting better. He was in the asking mood so he tried 3 or 4 hostels.  A very small village and nothing is available. We then rode the back dirt roads of town and eventually came across Patrick's motorcycle in a hostel. He had left a couple days ahead of us and was already here.

Sorry I don't have photos but want it was quite the experience I still want to tell the story.

Patrick wasn't around. Kevin inquired about a room and he came out to me on the bike and said they have one, but I need you to look at it first.  I told him I trust his decision.  We had the gorgeous rustic princess room last night so I'm cool with doing it tough tonight.  He says, no you really need to see it first.  All the hostels before this one are booked out, so with little option, I agree to go in.  The manager takes me up four flights to the roof of the hostel, were they have this tiny temporary box made out of plywood and chicken wire.  The bed is small, but that's not new to us.  The problem is the room is so incredibly small we can't fit our bags in as well.  I looked at the manager and smiled but said, no way. The room is super cheap, but I'd rather camp than stay in there.  I did not want us to spend money on what appeared to be a mockery of taking advantage of backpackers.  They had a whole row of little plywood rooms attached up there like little jail cells.

The manager saw I was tired, disappointed and sweating hot after climbing to the roof. He said to me in Spanish, I've got an apartment downstairs, do you want to see it?  I said maybe, how much does it cost.  He said the same price as the room upstairs. Serious?? It's getting late, they are not expecting anyone else tonight, and we can have it if we want.  I go in, have a look.  It's big, has a kitchen, private bathroom and on top of that a HAMMOCK inside!

I go outside to speak to Kevin.  I asked him if he'd like to stay here in the apartment for the same price as the chicken box upstairs and you should have seen him.  The biggest hug and "you rock!"  (I felt very proud of myself... ;-)

So, that worked out well.  Showers and then a very lovely long walk on the beach and dinner in town.

When we got back to the apartment, it was quite late. I asked for the key and the new guy at the reception desk says, I've put more people in your room.. "You what?!?" I should have known it was too good to be true!

We went to the room to find 2 backpacks inside.  I was pissed off!  Both Kevin's and my personal stuff was scattered about, gps's, computers, iphones charging.. and there have been people in our room unannounced?  I argued with the young guy for a bit in my bad Spanish and he was being a jerk, so I picked up the backpacks and put them out the front and shut the door.  Shortly after, the older guy who sold me the room came by.  He was as kind as he was when we arrived, apologized, but said they needed the beds.  I totally understand that, I have stayed in many shared rooms before, but we are aware they are going to be shared!  Therefore, we lock up our stuff full time.  He never said he was going to sell the other 2 beds and he agreed that was correct.  However, he was still trying to convince me to let these people stay in our room.

I would not back down, so then they called in the female owner of the hostel.  She showed up in a pink terry cloth robe and her hair in curlers.  I so wish Kevin took photos!!!

I was too pissed off to think about getting my own camera out.  Anyway, I explained everything in Spanish and the lady wasn't happy with her employee, but she apologized for the misunderstanding and agreed to place the backpacker girls somewhere else.  She finally left.

Kevin who is enjoying watching the whole thing from the hammock, looks up at me totally grinning, and says.. "You are so sexy when you argue in Spanish!"  We started laughing and that was that.

I don't usually like to write without including photos, but whenever we would meet people on the road, Kevin liked to tell this story, so there ya go.

Vamos a la playa!  Next stop, Taganga..  Ciao ;-)