Stop And Go To San Agustin

San Agustin is a town of 34,000 in southern Colombia, indeed in the campground where I am writing this, I am sitting at 1 degree 53 minutes North latitude, the closest I have ever been to the Equator. In a straight line we are about 120 miles from the next country called Ecuador and about 200 miles from the line that gives that country its name. 

Our goal is to visit the archeological park, the largest of its kind in South America, that is next to the city. We aren’t continuing on south either, because from here we plan to go back north to Medellin in the middle of the country. Ecuador comes later, in a few weeks after we’ve had a tooth cleaning and a skin check up in Medellin.  

Exploring Colombia is the name of the game until we see the dermatologist in Medellin for a check up in a month. Right now we are seeing the sights and we will be quite busy in this vast busy country. 

We left the curiously named town of Gigante with 86 miles to drive to San Agustin, which Google Maps says is a three and a half hour drive. Webb figured we could sail that distance faster than driving it, but that’s the nature of Colombian roads winding up and down and around the Andes. 

A couple of years ago the south of the country was swamped by heavy rains, in anticipation no doubt of our visit and landslides forced massive detours around broken sections of the PanAmerican Highway between Cali and the Ecuadorean border. We found highway 45 to San Agustin was getting a huge makeover with miles of smooth black asphalt. 

The easy driving at forty miles per hour (my safe maximum speed on unknown uncertain roads) came at a price. 

Roadworks were everywhere with enough flaggers to reduce over average speed to the Google mandated 20 mph…

We were traveling between 2,000 feet and 3500 feet of altitude but the temperature was still around 90 degrees and the mountains around us, huge uninhabited green peaks in all directions, vanished into the heat haze as the day warmed up. 

The enforced stops create shopping opportunities and just as in Mexico lines of stopped cars encorage bunches of enterprising locals ready to trade. These encounters cost a few dollars and give us a chance to see what’s what in the local foodie scene. 

“What is it?” We ask frequently baffled and there follows a twenty questions type exchange -is it animal vegetable or mineral? Above we see a tube of cooked sweet potato type vegetables that aren’t sweet and have a dry chestnut type flavor. Layne served them as a side dish with barbecue sauce at dinner. 

They call these weird things below “quesadillas” but they’re not like any such thing you’ve had on a Mexican menu. It’s a roll of soft white cheese with not much flavor wrapped around a slice of sweet guava paste like the stuff you get in Cuban pastries. We had one each and set the rest aside as a treat for campground dogs we will undoubtedly meet later. And perhaps a small piece for Rusty if he likes it. 

I think this giant marshmallow roll was one of the weirdest offerings which came in the city of Neiva at a red light. He called it “gelatina” when I asked if it was cheese. Nothing ventured nothing gained so we spent $1:25 discovering another new thing. Colombians like very strange snacks. 

And so the day went with stretches of easy driving, some spectacular canyon views, road signs promising danger ant every corner and some wild urban traffic jams as we passed through towns. Fresh pavement and a fresh construction delay: 

We pass they wait. When the flag goes green it’s the Oklahoma land grab as everyone dashes for the opening with no respect for the order in which we stopped. I just drive and aim for the hole in the barricade and look neither right nor left. We are big enough they don’t push the Promaster. 

 God knows what he was selling (above) but we weren’t in a position to find out. Lunch break for them not for us, we had places to go. 

Motorcycles everywhere because this is a poorer part of Colombia and two wheels offer mobility where cars are too expensive. 

Much of the highway in the valleys was beautifully covered by tree branches giving welcome shade. 

Dangerous stretch of highway! Don’t risk your life walking or parking! People usually park haphazardly everywhere on the roadway I presume thoughtlessly but it brings out the gringo in me especially when, with a little care they could pull fully off the travel lane. Grr! 

Webb sent me an article about water rationing in the capital. It turns out that as El Niño dries up the rains Bogotá depends on the city is starting rationing. We saw lots of dry river beds and Lake Betania created by damming the Magdalena River was extremely low.  

For us it’s fascinating and exotic, for them it’s just daily living. 

Another village another Spanish colonial church…

I don’t know why but the usual van buses around here have given way to pickups with seats in the bed and black canvas covers. It seems rather uncomfortable but that’s the style in southern Colombia: 

“Stop!” Layne commands and we get fresh fruit. She prefers products from fruit stands as I they aren’t  refrigerated and the fruit and vegetables last longer without going bad. 

The scooter riders remind me of my youth in Italy where we weren’t required to have license plates helmets or common sense. I was lucky my mother loved motorcycles and encouraged me to ride. 

Stopped car on a four lane street as per usual. They do it all the time making it easier to travel through towns in the left lane. 

Enter this roundabout if you dare: 

Motorcycles dart everywhere like fish:

San Agustin at last, just another town on the road with the usual speed bumps…

The campground was on the other side of town just past the delivery truck parked for a lunch break. 

The approach road was perfectly paved but it was just too steep. We got to within fifty feet of the top and ran out of steam. Like some others before us we backed up a quarter of a mile went to a different spot recommended by our friends which it turned out was quite lovely even though it isn’t on the iOverlander app.  

Finally settled in. We were alone when we arrived but a young French couple showed up. The owner of the campground had told us they were adopting a street dog so of course I was inclined to like them but when they arrived he ignored us and she, with no introductions asked us to move. She said they weren’t in the distant tent I had spotted but were in hammocks. Layne bristled but I agreed and moved right away. I got a bad hot off them, as bad as they got off our middle class circus where they were unwashed unlaundered and surly. I hope they give the dog a good home. 

But we, they will be glad to discover are taking our expensive van and getting back on the road pronto!

It was especially funny as some Canadian friends waiting for a power steering pump to be shipped from England for their Land Rover, wrote and said they were delighted to see an overlander enter their lonely campground in Medellin. Turns out it was a French vehicle and Sue said they were most unfriendly…