Chris departed after lunch, and Joe and I headed into Manizales. It was a change from the mountainous coffee region as we descended into the chaos of major city traffic. I told Joe that I thought it was probably the 2nd biggest city in Colombia. I looked it up at is was the 16th. I was close. After struggling to watch my phone, hit the appropriate exits while also keeping an eye on Joe we pulled into our lodging at Termales Tierra Viva.
It was pitched as a spa resort, which I guess it could be by Colombian standards but the fact that it backed up to one of the largest industrial factories I have ever seen left me questioning the location. But I guess you can’t pick where the hot springs want to bubble up.
It was raining at this point. This area sees a lot of rain as evidenced by all the lush greenery we have witnessed throughout the trip. I consider us lucky that we only got some short bursts thus far. Our riding was over for the day. Joe signed up for a massage. I decided to checkout the thermal pools in the pouring rain. When we checked in they gave us a paper with how the whole operations worked. I disregarded it as I do most things presented to me. This would be my undoing. I showered in my room and went down to the pool. Halfway down I realized I forgot my towel; not a big deal as I am sure they have plenty down there. I was throwing my clothes on a table and asked the lady for a towel. Of course I did not know the word for towel in Spanish, but I am standing there in my swimsuit, and motioning with my shirt in my hand like I want to dry off, how many ways could this be interpreted? That didn’t register, so I tried pretending like I was cold. I guess I suck at charades cause it also went no where. She pointed up to my room. I said, “Ya I got towels up in my room I just need one here please.” Nope. Then she said white or brown? I thought ok, now were are getting somewhere. I motioned like I didn’t care. That didn’t satisfy her. Why the fuck does she care what color towel I need? Just get me a towel!. Next I told her white. She said ok, but no towel. So I assumed she thought I was asking for a towel to be placed in my room for later. I was like, "I don’t need a towel in my room I need one here." Again she asked white or brown. White! Nothing. She came back with her phone and google translate and said “Do you want a towel?” I nodded my head. And she went up to my room and got one of my brown towels and brought it back. What the fuck is going on here I thought? After I was done I saw Joe walking back from his massage and relayed the white/brown debacle. His response was, “You obviously didn’t read the instructions handed out at checkin” Apparently white towels are for the room and brown towels you bring down to the hot springs. I had no one to blame but myself it turns out.
After getting cleaned up we caught a taxi into Manizales’ Milan neighborhood for drinks and dinner
The taxi driver appeared to be in the middle of a Cannonball Run as he drove like a madman
Nothing interesting happen during our escapade as far as I can remember, which is extremely odd. Joe did try the Vodka Soda bit and ended up with another shot glass of lime juice. It seems 3 people is the magic number for comic relief. We also tried to find a game of Tejo, Colombia’s national sport, also known as "Gunpowder Cornhole", but were unsuccessful. We stopped for beers at one point.
Kinda funny because we were sitting at a table next to a freeway entrance ramp, just thinking, in the US, when would we ever decide to stop and sit next to a freeway to start drinking?
We had dinner at a steakhouse where Joe got deep into conversation with the chef about the tenderness of the meat around a cow’s anus. The hot springs was booming when we got back at 10pm. Lots of couples hooking up and drinking in the pool and then me and Joe sitting in the corner.
The next morning we had breakfast at the spa. It was still raining.
We waiting until 1030 in hopes it would pass over but it did not. We put on our rain gear and started out for the town of Jardin
We had intended to climb the slopes of the Nevado del Ruiz volcano to around 13,500 feet, reaching the high-altitude ecosystem known as the páramo but that was a side trip and Joe don’t like side trips, especially in the rain.
The rain was only intermittent when we dropped into a warm tropical valley with a long paved straightaway. We then turned off the main road and headed toward the town of Riosucio before taking an off-road route toward the colorful mountain town of Jardín.
The chaos of riding in Colombia is dangerous ,but it is certainly safer than Mexico, and light years safer than Thailand. We still had at least 3-4 ass puckering moments each day where we came around a blind corner and a box truck was in our lane. On a few occasions the truck and I both hit the brakes and came to a stop right as the front bumpers touched. They also have a great deal of land slides here. The roads either have boulders in them or half the road washed. What was funny was that the roads were never fixed, instead they either put police tape or better yet created a new curb that went around the boulders.
Jardin had quite a few white tourists. I guess it is on the tourist trail for day trips from Medellin as we were only a couple hours out and tomorrow we r would return to the big city. We checked into Hotel Macao right as the rain started coming down again.
I grabbed an umbrella and we walked the main drag
After that I wanted to check out this bird sanctuary, Reserva Natural Jardín de Rocas, down by the river
When we first got into town I turned on my Merlin bird app which listens to sounds and lists out all the birds it hears, and as soon as I hit record it listed out about 20 birds. I guess if you are going for a Big Year, this is the places to boost those numbers
At the sanctuary there really were not many birds but the feature was the Cock of the Rock. Basically, a bird that looks like a rooster and is the national bird of Peru.
Back into town for drinks and food.
A couple funny observations I have yet to discuss. There is a strong police presence in Colombia. They are all riding Hondas similar to our own. The comical part is they are riding them 2 up. We imagined a guy riding the bike with his female partner on the back with arms wrapped, straddling him, and the bike pulling up to her husband and how awkward that interaction would go.
Here is a shot of Joe enjoying mangoes with on of the many local women of the night that stopped to say hello. Not quite as enticing as "30-something Sean Connery" from a couple nights ago.
The more cool observation in these towns were the cowboys. They showed up into town after dark on their horses and just pranced around the cobblestone streets like they were cruising in their Mustang up and down the strip. They would ride up to a bar and the bartender would come out with a beer and they were able to drink without ever getting off their horses. In some cases they did get off their horses and you had 5-10 horses parked out front like the Wild West. Notice that this is the same guy hitting multiple establishments before getting a DUI
Across from our hotel was this oddities museum. We walked in around 10pm and the proprietor was so excited to have visitors. He had everything from rows of washing machines and bicycles to dinnerware. This guy was a huge hoarder and somehow determined that if he strung some lights around a few old toilets he could make it respectable.
After breakfast the next morning we headed out, stopping in Buenos Aires and again in Jericho for a late breakfast.
From there, we descended an extremely winding mountain road into the Cauca River valley, with huge panoramic views stretching across the entire landscape. At the bottom, we followed the Cauca River along the valley floor before climbing back into the cool, green mountains outside Medellín, finishing the ride in the highlands above the city
Along the final stretch we saw all these guys hanging new power lines across the street. They would be up on 10ft ladders. I was just waiting to get decapitated by one in the home stretch. We past so many 1 story concrete houses where families just sat on the porch watching the road all day to see who might go by. I tried to make their day exciting my waving. Give them something to talk about.
We dropped off the bikes and the outfitter drove us down to our room for the night. Joe had rented some suite in an apartment building. They stressed to us that there were no parties allowed and no more than 6 people in the room. "Its just us two dirty old men in motorcycle gear we promise." She said if we had any needs throughout the stay, the “HostBOT” would be happy to help us
The suite was actually quite nice and would make a great place for a party.
We were pretty tired but able to rally for dinner at a Cuban restaurant La Bodeguita Havanera
We closed the night at a couple bars and played some terrible 8-ball pool where they were advertising 2 pitchers for the price of 3. A great bargain.
Our final day in Medellin we took an Uber to a fruit market, Plaza Minorista José María Villa.
We walked from there into the central part of the city to see all the crackheads in there version of a tent city and checked out the main museums
How would you like to be the horse this cannon gets strapped to? I am guessing it only shoots backwards?
A line of guys with typewriters parked in front of the city building in case you needed some forms filled out
And this guy representing a carnival barker trying to guess weights I can only assume? "I need 3 scales for when the lunch rush comes out!"
Another instance of things we would not be doing back home but seemed ok here. Joe drinking beer at 11am outside of a subway station
We scheduled a tour of Comuna 13. This is a notoriously rough area during the cartel years, but has been revitalized with artwork. Unfortunately we missed the window and it has since become a tourist trap where we were herded through in groups
I did appreciate the exposure to some of the hardship these people survived in once taking a few steps off of the main drag
The seafood restaurant we planned to go to for dinner was closed, more like abandoned, but that did not stop us from knocking on the windows trying to convince someone to serve us a meal. Our level of comfort when it comes to accepting a meal in in any condition was getting a bit high. It was time to recalibrate before I started eating out of dumpsters upon my return to Ann Arbor.
At dinner the waitress asked us for payment after the meal and there was some sort of confusion. A lady at the table next to us who spoke English said the waitress wanted to know, “what our payment terms were?” Joe responded, “One month?” That seemed to satisfy all parties and were allowed to leave.
A solid trip with no fatalities. Looking forward to the next iteration of 2027 Wild Boyz Week
Until Next Time,
Darren
