Blockade

The curse of the traveler strikes again as the indigenous are protesting and the PanAmerican Highway is closed.

It was a grim gray day Wednesday when we left Cali to drive back up into the mountains toward Popayan with high hopes that we might have our much desired spare parts waiting for us in order that we might prepare our van to go south to Ecuador soon. Rain and road works greeted us on the PanAmerican Highway. 

We were spurred on by a photo a fellow overlander sent us from La Bonanza campground. Our multitude of packages awaits, all sorts of bits and pieces including I hope an oil cooler and brake seals for GANNET2. 

Layne found the perfect laundry on the outskirts of Cali, a self service hole-in-the-wall with powerful machines, hot dryers and the ability to wash our rugs, dog bed cover and seat covers in addition to our mountain of clothes. All for less than ten bucks and operated by Armando who runs a tight ship and speaks English. 

Rusty got a good long walk around town…

…and we got sausage and arepa for brunch. 

Street food with a smile. 

And then back into it. 

This overlander on a bicycle with a Palestinian flag passed us later in the traffic jam intrepidly pedaling up the hills. 

And then we were stopped about eight miles before our turn off for the campground. Apparently the government has failed to follow through on a promise to give an indigenous tribe some land so the rumor is they are closing the PanAmerican Highway for two days. 

Fan-fucking-tastic. The usual Teutonic traffic discipline prevailed…NOT. I have no idea where they went but cars, small trucks and buses passed the stationary line taking cuts  in a clump of chaos. Oncoming vehicles possibly tired of waiting came hurtling north back towards Cali. The snarls were epic. A tow truck who started out taking cuts all over the place gave up after he forced himself in front of us for a while and suddenly turned back.  

This guy struggled to make a u-turn in his tiny Renault Clio Campus as clumps of cars and trucks pushing ahead blocked even his ability to turn.  We sat tight hoping not to get hit.  

Rain poured down out of a black sky, mist rolled across the mountains. Layne made me tea and went to bed. Rusty snored curled up on her seat. I chewed the steering wheel as we lurched forward occasionally just a few feet as despairing souls turned around and as I sat there I dreamed up horrible torture for the perpetrators of this insanity. 

How we didn’t see miles of accidents I don’t know. I asked a snack seller what lay ahead and he said people were driving for a gas station with a rest area. I thought to myself I can do that.  

So with my heart in my mouth I took cuts.  Notice how tight the trucks are in line. If I had met one coming I had nowhere to hide.

We made it and stopped just five miles from our turn off. I spoke to the gas station attendant and she said the blockade was past Popayan on the road to Pasto and theoretically we could reach our turn off five miles away. 

I spoke to a couple of truck drivers and they looked dubious. Not only did we have to negotiate driving on the wrong side of the road but there  was a police checkpoint ahead to protect the protestors from angry drivers and the police were directing drivers off the highway. Pretty risky he shrugged. We parked for the night. 

We had cereal for dinner and watched some TV thanks to Starlink and wondered what tomorrow (today) might bring.

 The romance of the road. 

Tuluá And Highway 25

Tuluá is a city of 180,000 in the Cauca Valley, founded in 1741 and by no means on the tourist circuit. It’s a useful city full of stores and suppliers and a place you might visit in your van if you needed a new electrical plug. 

To get there on our way to Cali we rode Highway 25 a long smooth ribbon of asphalt sometimes four lanes and sometimes two. It’s sugarcane country and we were warned about “sugar cane trains.” 

Sure enough, a giant triple trailer was up ahead of us. I had to wait for a really long straightaway to pass it. 

A busy day roadside. 

Don’t be surprised to find farm animals grazing alongside the freeway. 

There are also lots of Venezuelans walking along the highway. These people are hoping to reach the US and find a new life away from the economic chaos of the oil rich Venezuelan chaos. 

You’ve seen the roads we’ve driven in comfort. These people are walking it with no money and their family members. I couldn’t do it. 

Coming to a border crossing near you. 

They don’t know they aren’t wanted in the US and they have no idea they are a valuable point of discussion in our national politics. They just walk for thousands of miles. 





Be warned as Tuluá isn’t much to look at, especially in the rain. 

The river down the middle of the city is the Rio Tulua. 

There are walking trails on either side, the most touristy spot we came across. 

Rainy season is in full swing. 

I saw a classic Vespa and I barely photographed it. But there it is. 

Rusty is weird and unpredictable. He refused to walk with me. Fine. 

This week we go back to La Bonanza campground in the mountains above Popayán. We’re hoping our oil cooler and brake seals arrive as scheduled so we can get GANNET2 back to 100%. 

There’s a bunch of other stuff on the way, tea, reading glasses, you name it the queen of Amazon ordered it. If we get the spares I’ll be happy. 

Meanwhile we’re checking out every last corner of Colombia. 

Ecuador in June is the plan. 

All Change

Pretty pool, huge trees, solitude and easy living for the weekend. Right? Wrong. 

For some reason the pool was closed for cleaning on Saturday the very day after we arrived and had enjoyed one lovely swim, the sand fleas were ferocious and the owners’ dogs, two large dimwitted creatures with not a malicious bone in their bodies wouldn’t leave Rusty alone. He retreated to a quiet corner snarling occasionally to convince them to go away. We decided with a sigh, we had to leave. 

The owners came by when they took a break from organizing  their laborers and we had a pleasant chat as we packed up to go. They recently bought the place and are building a truck camper and want to overland one day. Meanwhile their hummingbird campground is getting ready to expand and become home to overlanders only, no hotel restaurant or other facilities will be offered. One hummingbird got into our home but we swooshed it safely on its way. Silly bird. 

Rusty the sensitive kept his back to the walls so when we went for a walk to relive his boredom the cacophony of fenced in dogs in the street outside made him turn tail back to the relative safety of the campground. That was where the idiot dogs of the owner came by for some more friendly and decidedly unwanted attention. Rusty and I are well suited to each other, two shy grouch potatoes. 

Layne and I liked this place and we were tempted to stay but no swimming pool and an irritated Rusty got us on the road. 

And it was a good day for a drive. I like wide smooth four lane pavement from time to time. We had a Jack Reacher novel on the stereo from the Libby app, the air conditioning drowned the noise of the world outside and the sun shone. At 45 miles an hour I stayed in the slow lane and let my mind drift. I could have been enjoying a Sunday drive on a US interstate. 

Cali is the target where there is another campground with a pool. Our back up plan. 

A “bascula” ( weigh station) actually in operation pulling trucks off the freeway to check their loads. 

Those bloody recreational cyclists clumped in the slow lane of the freeway. This lot I photographed with my little Panasonic camera because they were safely on the shoulder, but usually they are all over the place. It makes a North American driver crazy but I have to keep my irritation to myself as this is normal in Colombia. 

The  situation at the moment is that our parts ordering operation has not yielded any actual deliveries. We have brake dust seals still on the way (thank you Dan) and an engine oil cooler is supposed to be here this week to replace the one slowly leaking oil. The rectangular silver box below. 

We bought an upgraded aluminum cooler built by Dorman supposedly an upgrade on the plastic factory installed cooler which is prone to leaks. This one lasted 50,000 miles and hopefully its $180 replacement from Dorman will last at least as long. Hopefully it will be at our campground address by Wednesday. Maybe. Hopefully. Fingers crossed. 

Meanwhile we’re swimming at our campground outside Cali where the pool is closed for cleaning every Monday,the day we will do some laundry and shopping in Cali. Then on Wednesday we’ll drive up to the La Bonanza campground three hours away in the mountains where our parts will have arrived and we’ll have them installed. Yay. Or not and we’ll have to wait. 

Staying positive we expect to drive to Ecuador some time in early June. It’s raining there too so there’s no real hurry but I want to cross the equator for the first time in my life and Webb Chiles, a frequent visitor there insists it’s the best hemisphere. 

Patience is a virtue and Colombia is a pleasant place to hang out I tell myself. And so it is.