Cali, Pt. 2: This Time With Company

I've been keeping a mantra since I crossed into Mexico all those weeks ago: when traveling by motorcycle, never make plans more than two days in advance, because something will inevitably happen to blow them up. And so it went with Ngaire's and my plans to meet up in Ecuador.

To recap, from my last post: massive, widespread protests in Ecuador over the end of fuel subsidies and other austerity measures abruptly instituted by the government had resulted in road closures, riots, and violence all over the country. The news stories and reports from other travelers who'd been in the country when the protests started were getting worse by the day; not only were nearly all of the major cities effectively shut down, people on the various travelers' groups I keep up with on Facebook were reporting incidents of protesters attacking foreign travelers, and just about everyone who hadn't been near a border was stranded in place, wherever that might be. Ngaire and I had planned to meet in Quito on October 11th, but there was absolutely no way that was going to happen; even if she'd been able to leave the airport, which wasn't a guarantee at all, crossing the border and attempting to make it to Quito by road would have been borderline suicidal on my part. Luckily, after an overly complicated process with LATAM Airlines that bordered on a Catch-22 scenario, Ngaire had been able to change her flight to meet me in Cali with less than a day to spare, and I'd made the 8-hour ride back from Pasto in order to be there when she arrived. It had been a frantic couple of days, and we didn't have anything like a plan in mind, but the only thing that really mattered was that we'd be in the same place for the first time since early July.

And in total keeping with the Adam my friends know and love, I was late to the airport. Serves me right for trusting Google's flight tracker (and I kind of got the bike stuck trying to get it out of our hostel). Neither of us really cared once we were reunited, though. After Ngaire's frantic day trying to get her flights worked out, and my slightly frantic road blitz back to Cali, we were both a little worn out, so after a quick and somewhat underwhelming lunch (the basic meat-rice-plantains combo got old for me long ago), all we really wanted to do was stock up on groceries for the week and take a nap. I'd booked us a private room at Oasis, another highly rated hostel in Cali, and in the evening, we joined several of the other guests for salsa lessons and then enjoyed some nice live music from the hostel's roof terrace over a homemade dinner.

Saturday would be a day for adventuring and hiking. We'd hoped to be able to visit the Farallones de Cali national park, but it turned out that we needed advance reservations to even enter, and there didn't seem to be any way to arrange that on a weekend. I'd read about a small town near the park called Rio Pance that supposedly had some nice trails leading to a couple of waterfalls. The road leading along the river of the same name had some sketchy parts, and I was more than a little nervous about riding two-up on dirt for the first time, but as usual, the Twin performed flawlessly. We stopped in Rio Pance for a lunch of freshly grilled Tilapia, then set off to try to find the trails. It wasn't quite obvious where we were supposed to go, but after half an hour or so of walking up the road leading away from Rio Pance and towards the mountains, we found a national parks sign and a trail leading off into the jungle next to the river. The trail was soaking wet but a nice hike, but as it turned out, the waterfall we'd hoped for was way further than we'd thought, and it was about to get dark, so we turned around and headed back to Cali.

After getting back and showering off, we joined a few of the other hostel guests and went out to Malamaña; I'd talked the bar up quite a bit, and hadn't been the only one. There was no live band this time around, so the place was far less packed, but that gave us some actual room to dance, and Ngaire and I took full advantage. Other than some patrons who got overly territorial about bar seats, it was a great night and an opportunity for Ngaire to experience a quintessential part of Cali culture.

Since nearly everything closes on Sunday and we still hadn't heard back from the park service, we decided to be tourists for a day and see some of the famous sights in Cali. First up was a return (for me) to the Gatos del Rio, certainly more enjoyable with a partner (and we're both cat people). From there, we headed up above the city to the Cristo Rey, with a stop at the Mariposario Andoke on the way. We had fun walking around the gardens and butterfly enclosure, which was full of Blue Morphos and a few other species we'd never have seen in the U.S, and then continued up to the Cristo Rey, an 85-foot statue of Jesus overlooking Cali. We had a gorgeous view of Cali and the valley beyond, and after taking plenty of photos and enjoying some luladas, a drink made with local Lulo fruit, we rode back to Oasis for the night.

Monday was a national holiday, and as such we knew that any of the major attractions that were actually open would be packed. We decided instead to ride west into the mountains, to the town of Pichinde, where the owner of our hostel had recommended we explore the river and trails all around the tiny mountain town. We ran into a couple of steep sections, one of which was precarious enough that Ngaire hopped off and walked it so that we wouldn't both fall over on the bike, but after a few confusing signs and some local advice, we found at least one of the trails we were looking for. A couple of hours of hiking ended with the trail dead-ending into private property, but the wildlife alone was worth it; we saw a number of tropical birds we'd never have encountered in North America, a few snakes, and a toad the size of a salad plate that didn't seem too impressed with us. 

The ride back was thankfully much easier, with a couple of stops for photo ops on the way, though we did end up getting stuck in standstill traffic once we rejoined the main road back to Cali. I wasn't as brazen about passing traffic as the locals, but we were still able to jump large parts of the line; the perks of riding a motorcycle in South America once again.

We'd planned something special for our last full day in Cali, and after eating an early breakfast, we loaded our packs and cameras on the bike and set off for the two-hour ride west to Zaragosa, where we would park the bike and cross over to the jungle town of San Cipriano. The ride went great until we ran into light, but constant rain about half an hour out, and by the time we found a place to park, we were both a bit wet. Once we crossed the pedestrian bridge over a raging river and paid the entry fee for the park and the town, we were treated to San Cipriano's unique form of access. San Cipriano has around 500 residents, and lies around 7-8 km from any road access, and requires at least two river crossings no matter how you get there. There is a railroad leading from the town of Cordoba further upriver, past Zaragosa, and into the jungle to San Cipriano, but the passenger trains that once served the town have long since stopped running. The residents, quite aware of the tourism potential of their town, came up with their own solution to replace the trains: the brujita.

The brujitas are, in essence, a low, flat railway cart with bench seats bolted to the bottom, and propelled by a motorcycle with the front axle secured to the cart and the rear tire hanging down onto the rails for propulsion.

This was, without question, the strangest form of transport I'd ever experienced, but once I got over the feeling that I might fall off the narrow bench seats at any time, one of the most hilariously fun. The motorcycles were small, commonly available 250cc units, but with little resistance from the rails, they could push the whole rig at a pretty good clip, and seated on the front, it felt a lot like a rollercoaster ride. The jungle whipped by on every side, though the rain made it a little hard to keep looking forward without my helmet on. The total lack of suspension made for a punishing ride at times, but I found myself loving it; it was like someone had combined the ease of a taxi with the exhilaration of a motorcycle, and despite my forward-facing side being completely soaked by the time we finished the half-hour journey to San Cipriano, I couldn't stop smiling.

San Cipriano's biggest attractions, other than the brujitas themselves, are the many hiking trails leading away from the town, and tubing on the river. With all the rain lately, the river was swollen, rapid, and far too dangerous for tubing, so after paying a small entrance fee for the national park, we set out in search of more hiking trails and wildlife. We didn't have to go far, and soon found ourselves hiking through gorgeous, thick jungle to a beautiful waterfall and lagoon. We spent some time swimming, and found a few frogs and birds around the lagoon, and once we'd had enough, dried off and started hiking back so as not to miss the last brujita back to Zaragosa. We saw many more tropical birds on the way back, including a couple of toucans overhead, and some beautiful insects and butterflies; we'd certainly had a nature-filled couple of days, and I didn't mind at all.

After another fun ride back to Zaragosa, thankfully dry this time, we got back on the bike and headed back to Cali. We'd thought about trying to go out for more salsa and music, but we were both wiped out and wanted to do nothing more than clean up and fall asleep.

Wednesday was supposed to be Ngaire's last day in Cali, with her flight back to Santiago leaving in the late afternoon. We'd wanted to get a taste of Colombia's most famous (legal) export, and found a couple of coffee shops that offered tastings of various types grown in the country. One turned out to be closed, but the other, Macondo, served up some excellent brew and a light lunch. After walking around some of the neighborhoods we hadn't seen, enjoying murals and old buildings, we went back to the hostel to pack up and get Ngaire to the airport. It was fortunate that we double-checked her flight status however, as thunderstorms in the area had delayed a number of flights out of Cali, including hers. So much so, in fact, that she had no chance of making her connection in Bogota, and thus would have to wait until the early morning the next day. Happy to have one more night together, we enjoyed a nice dinner together, and another few hours of drinks and chatting with other hostel guests, a few of whom we'd gotten to know well over our nearly-week there. Waking up at 4 A.M. in order to get to the airport wasn't ideal, but at least we didn't have to fight traffic, and after heartfelt goodbyes, Ngaire made her flight with time to spare, and I headed back to the hostel to get a few more hours of rest before I would have to ride to Pasto for the second time.

The trip had been a much-needed diversion from world events for both of us, but fortunately for me, the protests in Ecuador had ended days earlier, and it looked like I would have smooth riding for the rest of my time in Colombia and onward to Quito. Little did I know what was to come...