A Frustrating Few Weeks

It has been rather quiet on the cycling front recently….I have been ill, and then Sam was ill. Being sick away from home is never fun, especially when it stops you from doing exactly what the trip is all about – cycling and enjoying the adventure.

I can reassure you that cycling and sickness don’t go hand in hand. I had been battling with not feeling 100% for a few months and after our tough ride to San Agustin my body shut down and we ended up staying in for a week. Sam entertained himself by going up and down the hill as fast as possible and I spent my time in bed with Harry Potter.

We eventually left but the two days ride to Mocoa were torture for me. I was weak and useless and cycling was tough but we had to get there and through a fair amount of pushing, lots of tears, gritty determination and enormous patience on Sam’s part we arrived in Mocoa to seek medical assistance. What is so disappointing about being ill is that I didn’t enjoy the ride, a ride on a quiet road in beautiful scenery should have been a pleasure.

When travelling you often have to decide whether or not to trust people…it is an instinct thing. We asked for help in finding me a doctor and then put our complete trust in the hotel owner as she roped in a Nurse friend, took me to a lab for tests and provided appropriate medication. With limited knowledge of the Colombian health system and limited Spanish to help us we had no option but to follow blindly as someone injected my bum, another took blood from my arm and another diagnosed my illness. All I can say is that we picked the right hotel when we arrived in Mocoa!

We were looking forward with slight apprehension to riding the ‘Trampolina de el muerte’ (trampoline of death) – a notoriously dangerous dirt road over the mountains from Mocoa towards Pasto. The road is well known among cycle tourists and we were keen to follow suit. Unfortunately, just walking up and down the stairs left me tired and there was no way I could manage it. Feeling like caged animals in Mocoa we had to find another way over the mountains and after a huge amount of debate we took a pick up truck and conquered the trampoline in a different, far less rewarding and comfortable style. It was a spectacular trip, if not a little scary with sheer drops, loose gravel and rivers to forge, all at the hands of somebody else. The surrounding mountains held the tell tale scars of rock slides among the otherwise inprenetrable forest…reminding us what a volatile environment we were in. The road was no exception with parts sliding off and others recently cleared from falls. We passed our Belgian friends on bikes and stopped to talk with them…part of me wishing I was out there with them, part of me thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t…all of Sam was itching to jump out of the window and join them in the thick of it.

Sibundoy was dull and cold and we left the next day on bikes. I got all of 8miles and discovered I couldn’t go on…so flagged down a pick up and left Sam to cycle alone. I found a small restaurant roasting guinea pig on a stick and this is where I sat for the 3 and a half hours while Sam battled the hill to meet me. Also not feeling 100% he began to regret his decision to carry on. The slope steepened and his power waned, a truck stopped as he was pushing his bike and offered to pull him on a rope…great idea. In desperation he agreed and described the experience as ‘the most scared he has ever been’, he bellowed at the driver to stop as it was impossible to control the bike as the truck picked up speed. Luckily his shouts were heard and Luis released him from the terrifying experience. However, the surge of adrenaline provided a new lease of life for Sams legs and the rest of the hill seemed less arduous. When he turned up to meet me he was blue with cold and exhausted – I vowed never to let him out of my sight again.

We then continued together to the shores of Laguna de Cocha. We struck lucky when turning up at a hotel that there was no way we could afford but being welcomed to camp in their spacious grounds. The following evening we were asked to accompany the owners daughter and husband in their cabin for dinner and a bed. It’s amazing what a log fire, good cheese, homemade bread, intelligent conversation and a warm bed can do for a couple of ailing cyclists!

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Processed with Snapseed.

Processed with Snapseed.

Processed with Snapseed.

Processed with Snapseed.

Processed with Snapseed.

We left the peace and tranquility of the lake and both managed (and enjoyed) the 20mile ride over the hill to Pasto….a big city that we decided looks at its best after dark. Here we will rest again before heading towards Ecuador.

Illness on a bike is debilitating….illness on a bike in the Andes is another thing altogether, but it’s onwards and upwards!