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Taganga, Colombia
11° 15' N 74° 11' W
May 31, 2007 18:06
Distance 0km

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Falling off the bike, again and again...

Text written in: English

 The day started well enough, a bit cloudy and not too hot. After a few hours we were getting close to santa Marta. We were looking for a ressort called Taganga, few kms away from town. It was a nightmare to find. Under pouring rain, as usual, we got lost many times and could not make sense of the directions people were giving us. With reason! We finally got a fellow biker to show us the way. He took us via a road on construction, cut to all traffic, then over a muddy track to go over the rails, then more track roads until it suddenly changed into a paved road! Apparently this is the only way to get to Taganga! Well, the ressort itself seemed overrated and looked more like a shanty town to me, although the heavy rain did not help! After asking for directions to our hostal and getting into yet more unpaved muddy streets, while doing yet another U-turn I dropped the bike in the mud. Alistair came back when few lads made frantics signs to him and he looked back. I keep telling him he never check his mirrors! The hostal we were looking for was just round the corner. Like all houses in this country it was built on a hill and the entrance was a steep upward unpaved drive. We both rode in, stopped the bikes in gear to stop them riding backward, got the side stand with the extra large modified foot down, and we both ended up rolling in the mud. Both bikes upside down. I fell yet again in the mud and on a small stone wall which smashed my ribs.

Few backpackers, playing cards nearby simply ignore us and carried on playing. Only a small woman working in the hostal helped us to get both bikes up and parked. And so it was totally soaked, bruised and covered in mud that I got in the office to enquire about a room!

Tuesday 29th may

The following day was dedicated to do some repairs on the bikes. The aluminium panniers had been fairing ok but the supporting frame was bent. Also my rear brake had not been working for the last few days. All was fixed by Alistair that morning, before the rain, and with not much help from me. I was uffering from food poisoning and could barely move with the big shock the previous day in my ribs.

So by now you would think that after 2 weeks of riding under pouring rain, falling off my bike, being constantly covered in mud, bruised and with a nasty stomac bug, I would be beggin to go back to the comfort and safety of my home?

Well not really! Despite all that, or maybe because of that I would not want to be doing anything else. I knew this trip was not going to be an easy ride. And if it was easy, what would be the point of that?

By the way did I mentioned it's supposed to be the dry season here?