Day 900 Wednesday, March 02, Yacuanquer to Ipiales 64 km Total KM 17216
Min meters 1781, Max Meters 2927,
Total Climb 1600, Total Descent 1403
Min Temp 13 Max Temp 27 Ave Temp 19
It was a strange situation this morning. Awake very early after a good, refreshing night's sleep I could get out but couldn't retrieve the bike until the restaurant opened about 8am. I hadn't thought to check this out last night but it wasn't significant as the rain was falling anyway.
If there's one thing I hate, and I mean, really, really HATE about this bike touring thing it's having to don wet clothes in the morning. In a room without windows and a cool temperature everything was still wet. Thinking ahead I put on my merino leggings. I had a long descent ahead of me.
I grabbed a coffee in the Plaza and watched the town come to life with a whimper rather than a bang. This town charmed me on my first pass through a few months ago but in the wet and cold morning it struck a sad, dying chord. I retrieved the bike, packed up, grabbed another coffee and set off, destination unknown.
I had a few options. Down the road was a roadside hotel with a restaurant (where I planned to breakfast), further along was Pedregal which would be my third time staying there. Pedregal was the place where I could get off the highway and take a loop to Ipiales. It was the loop I had thought about taking when heading north from Ipiales but rejected at the last moment - and had a wonderful ride covering old ground. Alternatively, I could stay on the Pan-American down to San Juan and another inhospitable room. If I really pushed myself I could get to Ipiales but that was a lot of climbing, most likely in rain. I'd make up my mind over breakfast.
First up was a 150 meter climb which warmed me up in my wet clothes. The rain threatened but stayed away. Then I was on the Pan American, four split lanes with a wonderful shoulder and all downhill. I donned my raingear for wind protection and set off.
The biggest challenge I had was trying not to undertake slow moving trucks! Instead, I'd bide my time then soar past them in the overtaking lane - what a thrill!
I arrived at my breakfast place and had an excellent breakfast and a think.
The loop would take two days, at least, on a road afflicted with landslides. After yesterday, I had a better understanding of landslides! Any delays would put me under pressure in Ipiales for getting a COVID test prior to the border. Also, on the news the night before there had been an "attack" on some kind of pipeline on that road.
I was feeling strong, feeling good and thought that I could push on to Ipiales. If that wasn't working out I had the backup of San Juan. And that's what I did. I psyched myself up to climb 1500 meters and off I went.
(As I was eating breakfast an email had arrived from RideWithGPS with my February "stats". Normally such things don't interest me but I'd ridden 23 of the 28 days and climbed a huge number of meters. Kilometers in fact! That was a huge boost on a cold, damp morning)
It was still all downhill, past Pedregal, and still down. At the bottom I lost my shoulder, the road reverted to two lanes, pretty poor quality and regular roadworks. I set off upwards and remembered why I didn't enjoy this section. There's a fair bit of roadworks going on, not necessarily on the road but around it, meaning a lot of dumper trucks. There's no shoulder, the edge is rough and with all the recent rain the edge is treacherous. Because of the roadworks traffic tended to arrive in bunches meaning I'd pull off and let it pass then resume in relative peace.
I recalled how much I enjoyed this on the way down and it was pretty clear why - for a start the weather was warm and dry and there was a lot less debris on the other side of the road. And I was freewheeling!
It wasn't fast but I was concentrating on the positives - no rain, at least not beyond a few drops. This was all familiar territory to me and I felt little need (and there were few opportunities) to stop. It's interesting how much time I "lose" taking all my photos normally. (And I wouldn't change a thing!)
Then the rain started. At first light enough to ignore, then heavier so I stopped and redonned my rain jacket. A km later it was off again - I was too warm. Mother Nature upped the ante another km along and I needed all my gear. I was wet (but not cold) in no time. Onwards and upwards.
A couple of Kms below San Juan the rain petered out and I was glad. I'd be tempted to stay if it was raining. I stopped for a decent lunch, basked a little in the sun when it came out, topped up my water, booked a hotel on Booking and headed off. Another 4-500 meters up.
I'd stopped at the friendly restaurant I'd used before, partly because of their decent WiFi. This time there was no sign of the big German Shepherd that had been left by passing Venezuelans but as I was leaving I heard a bark from up above. There, on the roof of the building was the unmistakable face of a big Shepherd! It lightened my heart to see him. The lady boss had been complaining about the fact that he had been left but clearly she didn't take out her frustrations on the poor dog.
More traffic made it trickier and my legs were showing the signs of two days of climbing in cold, wet weather. The sky kept changing, a few raindrops would fall and I'd hold my breath but they never turned into a shower. My spirits were high. I was pleased with myself that Ipiales was now in range and looking forward to a hot shower and a chance to relax before crossing the border. Another country! After a three month delay, that was exciting! Truth be told, I had done very little research on Ecuador other than an outline route to Quito and had booked two nights in the hotel. The second day would give me the time to get my Ecuadorian leg organised.
My hotel had been chosen for its location - an easy exit of the town. Ipiales hadn't impressed me much on my first visit and has a bad reputation. Rather than go through the town I was on the main road to the border and I had a couple of streets to the hotel. If they looked dodgy I'd go back around and approach from the city centre.
And that's when it happened. Less than a km from the hotel. On a road filled with slow moving rush hour traffic a young fella suddenly stepped out - my first instinct was to smile at him - and tried to grab me, simultaneously calling out. I put the foot down and gave him a shove. I was shocked and trying to compute what was going on.
It really is amazing the way our minds work. Parts of my brain were racing, analysing, planning at breakneck speed with a clarity that I can rarely claim.
I was convinced it wasn't serious until two buddies joined in one shoving me so that I hit the road. Then they were on me and I fought back.
That sounds completely dumb. Outnumbered three to one, flat on my back on the road. However, I was still convinced that this wasn't serious. There were two lanes of slow moving traffic - no-one was going to do anything serious with so many witnesses.
One had a plank of wood (at first I thought it was a machete) and another a screwdriver. I caught his wrist so that he couldn't use it. And kicked maniacally, calling out for help. In my head this couldn't be happening so publicly - all I needed was to stall them for a second or two. Then a fourth guy came in swinging kicks and pinning me to the ground. Then they were gone, running up a muddy slope along the road leaving me and Roccado lying in the middle of the lane.
Nobody stopped during the attack or afterwards. That made me angry. I think even a long blast of a horn may have been enough to unsettle them. I was remarkably calm as I picked myself up and a little bit proud of myself - they were gone. Then I realised that my phone was gone from my pocket. That's what the fourth guy had done. I recalled hearing "telefono" during the melee.
Less than a km from the hotel I resumed my ride. There was nothing else to do. Nobody approached me. Nobody even wound down a window. The cars just slowly rolled past me, some people averting their eyes, others staring blankly.
Already my brain was ticking along prioritising what I needed to do. I approached my turnoff cautiously but it looked ok and found the hotel.
I went in, explained what was after happening and asked if I could use a computer. I wanted to log in to my online accounts to change passwords.
And that's when everything started to go wrong.
Home was a stressful place.
Post Script
I wrote that up in Ipiales so it was pretty contemporaneous.
It was a very different experience from the robbery in Guatemala City. There, a gun set the tone and there was no-one else around. This was different (and would affect me differently).
We can tell ourselves that we know what we'd do in certain situations but unless we're trained and have practiced that's little more than pie-in-the-sky thinking.
I can't believe I fought back. It was incredibly dumb, yet, even now, I'm a little bit proud of that. I wouldn't label myself a coward but bravery wouldn't be one of my top ten attributes
.
I recall having the thought that whatever they might take from me they were also going to take Colombia from me - and I really didn't want to lose that. It might seem silly and romantic but that was a vivid thought during the struggle.
I'm also a little bit proud of the fact that my calls for help were in Spanish!
I was very angry when they left and turned my ire on the line of traffic, especially a large, white SUV that was slowly trying to manoeuvre around me and Roccado on the road. My yelling included expletives in English as well as Español.
Physically, I had hurt my shoulder, hip and my head, chest and legs had received some kicks. The zip on my Arkel handlebar bag (already struggling) was busted and my trangia, packed in a front pannier, got a bang that makes the two halves tricky to connect but still functional.
Obviously such an event had effects. Thankfully, I was able to focus on the proximity to the border and the fact that I "knew" Ipiales (and hadn't liked it) and was able to isolate the event as being "outside" of Colombia. It hasn't changed my opinion of Colombia at all. And yes, I did sit down and go through that process.
The longer term effects were a tad more sinister.
In my head if something like this happened it would have happened on a quiet road with no-one around. But the reality was so very different. Long lines of slow moving traffic, the usual lots of people along the road - vendors, people waiting for lifts, beggars - was not how I expected it to happen. This is a scene I encounter daily, several times a day, at least, and shaking off the memory has proven to be more difficult. Having a gun pointed at me as in Guatemala is so rare, so "out there" that it was relatively easy to "box away". A young fella stepping out into the road is much more difficult.
No photos again today - now you know why! - but you can see the ladscape is this (and subsequent posts):
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/t...-just-tell-him-your-plans.254046/post-6612619
See the Big, Big Trip Map here:
https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1C4CxxXQvj5sW-fwUWvp65A19Rl5iLsdg&usp=sharing
With much gratitude to Netman
Chat? Yes Please!
https://www.cyclechat.net/threads/chat-zone-for-the-big-big-trip-journal.254098/
