We spend a total of four nights in the noisy and slightly sketchy town of Tolu, the weather is hot and sultry, it is actually hard to do anything without being wet from perspiration, but we do venture out and about, fortunately the town has a big supermarket where we can buy supplies.
The streets of Tolu

Sunset in Tolu

On our second night in town we have LOUD music all night, it starts around 8.00 pm and even with our earplugs in the din is deafening, to be honest it is pretty awful and we don't get a lot of sleep, then at 7.00am the next morning there is silence. Hot, perspiration drenched, and tired is not a good combination for happy campers, but you cannot help but laugh at the antics of the locals and the their goings on, from our balcony we see our neighbours selling fish from the front of their house, there are old dudes riding around town in rickshaws with huge speakers blaring out the dreadful music that is peculiar to Northern Colombia. There seem to be dodgy deals going on all over the place, we suspect that you can probably buy anything you want in this town.

Our neighbours sell fish from the front of their house

Despite the dirty surroundings of the town, Hostel Babilla is a cool, peaceful oasis (well during daylight hours and the noise is not from within the confines of the hostel) and we enjoy the hammocks and rooftop terrace, not to mention the great kitchen where we cook up a few meals. On our last night in town we return to the Restaurant Red (Net) where we enjoy another great seafood bisque.

Villa Babilla – Tolu

Villa Babilla – Tolu

Four days is more than enough in Tolu (we really are now just killing time until our boat leaves for Panama) so we have our leftovers for breakfast, pack up and head out of town easily and arrive at the outskirts of Cartagena about 3 hours later after the obligatory stops for roadworks. After crazy bus drivers trying to kill us, a few wrong turns and a few directions from locals we find Hostel Real near the old walled city. We knew this hostel offered parking, what we didn't know was that it was a pretty dirty place where their pets seemed to relieve themselves at whim all over the courtyard. Such a shame as it was such a lovely old building. Oh well you win some and you lose some, we are booked in here for four nights. I just hope we don't get bed bugs.

We get out of wet clothes, shower, then walk the crazy, congested streets of the city looking for somewhere to eat. By this time it is 2.30 pm and we are starving, we happen upon a place selling absolutely divine thin crust pizzas, so after beer and the best pepperoni pizza we have eaten since Cusco (Peru) we feel human again and are ready to tackle the old city.

Lan enters the walled city of Cartagena for the first time

We wander the streets aimlessly just soaking in the beauty of the old city and the shenanigans of the local vendors.

Clock Tower - Cartagena

Cartagena

Cartagena

Just on dusk we walk along the walls surrounding the old town when suddenly we hear a shout, “Hello there, I told you we'd see you in Cartagena”, unbelievably it was Hernan and Mona who we had met at Lakeview Hostel in Guatape. We stopped for a quick chat and arranged to meet at his Hostel “Mama Waldy” at 8.00pm.

We explore the walls of Cartagenas old city

Skill and I enjoyed a few beers on the wall (from local vendors not the outrageously expensive restaurant) before we found some sushi for dinner. Later in the evening we did meet up with Hernan and Mona, we enjoyed a few ales together before wandering down to the Trinidad Square. The square was packed with gringos and locals alike all in varying states of inebriation, food vendors plying their wares and the local Tiendas surrounding the square selling huge quantaties of differing alcohol and street performers doing their thing in the midst of the mayhem. Great fun but it all seemed rather surreal, all this hedonism in front of the beautiful Trindid Church built some time in the 1500s.

By 11.30 pm we are awash with beer so we decide we should call it a night, we were also unsure of late night entry procedures for Hostel Real, they had been pretty scant on details when we checked in, fortunately for us, when we arrived back, there was someone floating around and they let us in, otherwise we could have been spending the night on the street.

We spend the four days in Cartagena trying to stay cool, the dodgy fan in our room offers scant relief from the heat but at least it makes things bearable, we explore most of the old city over the next four days.

Cartagena

Cartagena

Cartagena

Cartagena

Cartagena

Our last night in Cartagena is marked by a huge thunderstorm and a tropical downpour, at least it cools things off for a while.

The not so salubrious Casa Real (it actually looks better in the picture)

Is this is indicative of the kind of people who stay at Casa Real?

As we have another three weeks until the boat leaves we decide we will head to Minca in the hills behind Santa Marta to camp for a week. Even though it is at an altitude of only 650 metres it makes the evenings much cooler and more conducive to sleep.

The ride to Santa Marta is really pleasant, once we find our way out of Cartagena it is an easy ride along a thin strip of land surrounded by the ocean on one side and a huge lake on the other, it really is quite scenic. After a few false starts we find the dilapidated bitumen road to Minca. All around us we can hear the thunder booming off the hills, the 20 km ride takes about 40 minutes and about five minutes before Minca it begins to rain lightly but storms are threatening, so we make the decision not to camp and find a hostel. The first one we happen across is the Emerald Green Hostel (which was recommended to us by Mona), Nial, a hospitable Irishman warmly welcomes us and we mange to get nearly everything off the bike before the inevitable storm hits. The bike stays parked at the front of the hostel next to the police station.

We spend two nights there enjoying Nial's company and that of the other travellers in the hostel. On our first evening we have a great take away Italian meal for dinner before going for a night walk (the rain has stopped) to see the lights of Santa Marta. Nial insists we take a group photo (which doesn't turn out), before it is back into town for an evening of laughter, loud music, salsa dancing and oh yes, beer and aguadente - a disgusting cheap ouzo like substance that the Colombians seem so fond of. By 12.30 am we arrive back at the hostel a tad worse for wear.

Lights of Santa Marta

Saturday night out in Minca

Next day Skill and I arise in one piece but the rest of the residents including Nial admit to feeling a bit second hand. After breakfast and a chat we head off for a walk to the local waterfalls, it is a lovely walk up the mountain road before we turn off for a trek down a steep track to the waterfalls. It is a fairly hot day and the water proves to be very refreshing.

On our walk to the waterfalls - A little Lizard having lunch

A refreshing dip at the waterfalls is in order

Back at the hostel we enjoy the company of a lovely Dutch family travelling through Colombia, unfortunately the start of their trip had been marred by a fairly violent robbery in Bogata, their young teenage girls were still quite traumatised by the event but to their credit they had decided to continue on. Fortunately for them they ended up in Nial's care and spend four nights in Minca taking lots of day tours organised by Nial. This completely changes their opinion of Colombia into a positive one.

Next day the weather was fine so we packed up and made our way around the corner and up to Hotel Mirador which was to become our home for the next week. The ride up the steep hill was wet and muddy, we slipped our way halfway up the hill before I abandoned ship and made the passage up a bit easier for Skill and the bike. The owners of the hostel were lovely people and told us to camp wherever we felt like. It took us a while to get set up but an hour later we were happily ensconced in our new abode.

Camped at Hostel Mirador

Our new tent is a delight to camp in, it is so big and spacious, but not so good to carry on the bike, it is always a compromise size verses weight, after the size of the minuscule Vango tent I think we went slightly overboard.

Despite limited internet coverage in Mindo we did manage to connect to the hostel's wifi later in the afternoon, it was then we learned the very sad news that a friend and long term work colleague of Johns had been killed in a horrific car accident. We hoped in vain that this was some dreadful facebook hoax as we had had a messages from him in the previous days, but it was not to be, sadly Graham had passed away. We spent a fairly sombre, reflective afternoon, and as we watched the sun go down, we had a silent toast and our thoughts were of his friends and family back in Australia.

Sunset - Minca

Sunset - Minca

Our time at Hostel Mirador was very, very lazy. Most days I didn't even leave the confines of the hostel, Skill would wander down the hill to hunt and gather at one of the three tiny shops in town. He would manage to buy enough food to sustain us through the day, but most nights we would eat at the hostel's restaurant which was very reasonable and quite OK, although we did get sick of eating hamburgers. The hostel was also home to a very personable macau and two very cute beagle puppies.

Lan relaxing in the restaurant with a friend

Our resident Macau

Mr cheeky chops trying to get into the tent, when thwarted he steals my cleaning brush and hides it for two days

However the weather was not kind to us, most days it would storm and rain very heavily in the afternoon and sometimes into the evening. By the end of the week we were slopping around in the mud trying to keep the tent clean. On our last day at the hostel, Sunday, the rain was torrential. A very odd family with two bull mastif dogs visited the owners of the hostel, the grown children spent all afternoon running around in the mud chasing the dogs around our tent, the dogs running into it and pulling out guy ropes. In the end after a few hours and repeated requests for them to stop, we had had enough and heated words were exchanged. The dogs were tied up and the owners of the hostel apologised while the 18 year old son glowered at us and apparently was going to punch “Skill's light out”. Hmmm we are not usually prone to getting ourselves into fights and arguments and are not quite sure how this one eventuated. Fortunately after that incident they and their dogs left.

Torrential Rain again.

Next day as the weather was showing no signs of improving we packed up in a brief dry period and have breakfast in the restaurant. The owners were very concerned that we were leaving because of yesterdays incident, we assured them that this was not the case, that we were ready to leave anyway. Because of the continuous rain the steep track down the hill was a muddy washed out mess, so I walked down into the town while Skill managed to get the bike down unscathed. We returned to the Emerald Green Hostel to say goodbye to Nial and also to meet his wife who had returned from Bogata. After a couple of cups of coffee, instructions to the automatic teller in Santa Marta and recommendations for a hostel in Palomino we got under way. Fortunately the road out of Minca had dried out a bit and the ride down to Santa Marta was not too arduous, in fact about halfway down it was completely dry. The rainfall in this part of the country is quite odd, while Minca and the mountains are awash with water, Santa Marta and the coastline are in severe drought.

We manage to find the automatic teller, get out money and are away, Santa Marta is not the most scenic of cities and we leave as quickly as possible. As we ride out of town there are no Service stations selling the higher octane fuel, but instead of turning around to refuel we continue on which was a bit of a mistake as there are no service stations selling premium fuel. The ride is pleasant as we hug the coastline for the 100 kms to Palomino a tiny little village on the coast reasonably close to the Venezuelan border. Following Nial's recommendation we eventually find the Tikki Hut Hostel which is just beautiful, little thatched huts around a large pool and restaurant. The beach is a two minute walk away. We get the last hut on offer and accommodating staff let us bring the bike into the compound. We park it next to the reception area and have a bit of a giggle at the “herb” garden on the back fence.

Tiki Hut hostel

Bike and Herbs

We enjoy an idyllic 3 days here, breakfast at the restaurant in the morning before a day of swimming, reading, lazing in the hammocks and sunset walks along the beach. Happy hour drinks, dinner and bed. Repeat by three. It is not hard to take.

Lan relaxing with a caipirinha

Lan on a sunset walk - Palomino Beach

Palomino Beach

Night swimming - Tiki Hut Hostel

Unfortunately I had made the mistake of booking four nights in Taganga before I had heard all the warnings about what a dump it was. We had however booked one of the nicest hostels in town with a small pool. We sadly leave Palomino, fill up with black market Venezuelan fuel which is so much cheaper than the fuel in Santa Marta and hope that the octane content won't affect the bike too badly. The bike doesn't suffer any ill effects and we retrace our steps back to Santa Marta, of course Mr Zumo takes us right through the centre of the city and not on the bypass road, but after several near death experiences with some taxis we are on the road to Taganga.

We find the hostel easily, in fact a friendly local escorted us there on his motorcycle. The hostel was lovely but with no air conditioning and an out of order pool it was oppressively hot, but on a positive note the owners were so friendly anticipating our every need and let us park the bike in their garage

Now according to the guidebooks Taganga is meant to be a “quaint fishing village set in a pretty bay”, it is in fact a pretty horrible place ruled by out of control youth gangs, teamed with ineffectual police who take bribes and are loath to do anything, the streets are dirty and dusty and the beach is disgusting and rubbish strewn. They are also in the midst of a terrible drought. And of course there is the obligatory cacophony of loud distorted music coming from speakers that would put a rock concert to shame. In all our travels through Colombia we have never felt unsafe, even in the sketchy la Candelaria part of Bogata, but I must say we felt on edge in Taganga. While fine during the day, we would go out to eat by 6.30 pm and be back at the hotel by 8.00pm, where we were locked in and guarded by our gun toting security man.

Interestingly enough we met a great Dutch couple who were staying in the same hotel as us and they loved the place, but on our return to Cartagena we heard two independent stories of muggings at knife point from two reliable sources, and another guy reported taking a pee in a backstreet on the way home to his hostel at 9.00 pm after dinner (no public toilets in Taganga) only to have the police pull him over and in the course of admonishing him about peeing in the beautiful pristine streets (I jest) checked his passport, then relieved him of some of his money to get it back. These were all mature aged guys, not drunken yobs and I sincerely believed their tales.

There were some positives to the town, they had fantastic restaurants and fabulous street food which made meal times fun. However killing four days there was difficult, our days were peculiarly similar, we would sleep late, go out to Cafe Bonsai for breakfast before a walk along the dodgy, dirty, noisy waterfront. It was then back to the hostel to read and do research till around 5.00 pm when it was cool enough to have a beer on the rooftop terrace, then out to dinner and back to the hostel by 8.00pm. We couldn't wait to leave which really is a first for us, usually we are dragging our feet.

Our ride back to Cartagena is uneventful, stopping to refuel along the way, we rehydrate and have an ice block before continuing on, about 20 kms before the city the heavens open up and we are drenched but we don't really care as it is so hot. We ride into the outskirts of Cartagena, passing the bottom of the city's international airport runway. It is quite amazing, you can see the rivets in the fuselage as the giant planes take off right over the top of you, they really are that close to you. From there it is an easy run into the city where we find the Hostel Mamallena. I had chosen this hostel as it was reasonably priced, would let us park the bike in the courtyard and had air-conditioning. It did however have a reputation as a party hostel and on arrival my heart sank, “What had I done”. At least twenty drunken young Australian men are in full party mode, the tables in the courtyard were a sea of beer bottles and the noise was unbelievable. Oh well too late now, with storms imminent and a deposit already paid we parked up and unloaded squeezing past our drunken and obnoxious fellow countrymen.

Once in our room we cranked up the aircon, got out of our wet, soggy gear, draping it over every available surface to dry out. Showered and with earplugs in we laid down and promptly went to sleep, so much for my fears of the noisy drunks just outside my room. Feeling cool and refreshed we returned to our favourite pizza haunt before it was back to party central for a few beers and cocktails with some of the other non Australian residents at the hostel. The revellers were in full swing but at midnight the hostel imposes a noise curfew and they moved on to another venue, fortunately, because by now they had reached the stage of arguing and wanting to fight each other.

We hit the hey around one and all is quiet. We don't hear another thing. In the morning the place is like the Mary Celeste, there is no one around, we enjoy our pancake breakfast before we head off into town to get some jobs done before we leave for Panama. First on our list is to retrieve Michelle's (as in motorcyclists Michelle and Brian who we met in Guatape) recalcitrant Fed ex parcel which the Colombian authorities would not let leave the country, for what reason, still eludes us all. Then it was off to buy other bits and pieces for our Caribbean sea voyage, including the all important seasickness medication and bug spray.

We get to spend another two days chilling back, reading, researching and chatting to many of the great travellers coming through including two Chilean motorcyclists. In the evening we eat out at the square with some great guys from Australia, America, Norway and Israel, one of the joys of travelling is the amazing people you get to meet. Party central has quietened down substantially as the young Australian men depart for their various boat journeys to Panama via the San Blas. It is now really quite peaceful and enjoyable.

On our last day in Cartagena we are up at 6.00 am and at 7.00 am we are met by Captain Ludwig (Lulu) to load the bike along with only one other motorcyclist, an Argentinian who will not be making the journey with us, but his bike will be. We ride just around the corner from the hostel and in between some mangroves on the shores of the harbour Skill rides the bike up a makeshift ramp onto a dodgy, rusty old pontoon covered in oil splatter, we then unload all our belongings including our riding gear onto the pontoon. The bikes are then covered, we hand over our passports hop into a dinghy and return to shore, meanwhile the pontoon is pushed out into the harbour by another dinghy. Oh well we will trust to God and the Germans that the bike and our gear is loaded safely on board the Stahlratte. We walk back to the hostel and devour a pancake breakfast before we kill one more day in Cartagena.

The bike on the pontoon ready for its boat ride out into Cartagena Harbour

The bike on the pontoon ready for its boat ride out into Cartagena Harbour

In the afternoon we spend another sunset out on the wall having a few drinks and reflecting on our time here in Columbia, we came for a month and stayed for three, not entirely of our own design but we have absolutely loved this beautiful country and would not change a thing about our travels here (with maybe the exception of Taganga). Forget your preconceived notions of drug lords, FARK infested towns and all the dangerous stereyotypes we constantly have rammed down our throats. Columbia truly is a must see destination, the friendly, gregarious people, the beautiful towns and cities, the spectacular countryside and diverse adventure activities all make for a travellers paradise. You have to visit!!!!

Sunset - Cartagena