We hit the highway once again from San Agustin. Looking at the map we are so close to Ecuador we could taste it.

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Type of acts involved in Family/relationship abuse

It іѕ nоt necessary thаt a spouse оr partner wіll оnlу bе arrested fоr accusations оf abuse involving physical contact. Intimidation оf various types,with оr wіthоut involving weapons саn bе еnоugh аt tіmеѕ tо send thе accused tо jail post complaint lodging. Thе assault mау аlѕо bе liable tо legal prosecution іf a kid оr оthеr family member іѕ threatened оr held іn captivity bу thе accused. Thе assault саn bе оn оnе оr mоrе family members аt tіmеѕ tоо. Partners involved іn divorce proceedings саn аlѕо bе covered bу ѕuсh accusations аlоng wіth married аnd live-in couples.

Aftermath оf domestic abuse accusation

Whеn уоu аrе accused оf physical оr mental assault bу уоur spouse оr partner,the cops саn arrest уоu аnd tаkе уоu tо jail. Thеrе thе legal booking formalities wіll bе dоnе. Yоu саn tаkе legal steps tо protect уоur rights аnd prove уоur innocence. Bеfоrе contacting a lawyer tо represent уоur case,it bесоmеѕ necessary tо gеt іn touch wіth a qualified bail bond agent.

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Being the kind of people who usually hear good advice and then completely disregard it, we of course chose to take the hard route.

It started off easy enough from San Agustin. We were on smooth well-maintained highway. After about an hour I started to wonder what the hell AtoB was talking about…

We were in some pretty remote country, apparently popular with Colombian FARC and guerrillas. The military presence was strong along the highway. We passed a few of these bad-ass truck TANKS.

We hit the town of Mocoa and the pavement ran out. We were driving on a very poor rubble road. I checked the maps and GPS a few times to confirm we were on the right track. Guess this must be the rough part they were talking about?

The poor road started to wind up into the side of the mountain. This road is the most direct route between the border and the interior of Colombia’s Amazon jungle. It is primarily used by hardcore semi-trucks hauling logs/goods and the occasional lost gringo.

The road was chopped out of the side of the mountain. You could see many wash-outs where it completely had fallen away and road crews dug deeper into the side of the mountain to keep on truckin. The drive was actually quite beautiful. We were inside a mix of cloudforest and rugged mountains. We had to drive through tons of waterfalls and rivers which were slowly eroding into a muddy soup which made traction diffucult.

Eroding Cliff roads+No traction+No guardrails=Sketchy

In many parts you would have to stop before a blind corner and listen for a giant truck coming and sounding his horn. If you hear the horn you better back up and get the hell out of the way before you get run off the cliffs.

We plied this unpaved mountain route for most of the day. I think in total the route was less than 100 miles but it took us around 7 hours or so to cross. When we finally reached pavement I got out and kissed it.

Sweet sweet tarmac!

We pushed on spent a night at a hostel in Pasto near the Ecuador border. Next morning we were up and headed to the border.

One last stop before we cross though. Ever since I first saw a picture of the Las Lajas church I knew we had to visit it. The pictures made it same like a surreal castle nestled in a magnificent valley, the whole place looks unreal.

The inspiration for the church’s creation was a result of a miraculous event in 1754 when an Amerindian named Maria Mueces and her deaf-mute daughter Rosa were caught in a very strong storm. The two sought refuge between the gigantic Lajas (Stone walls), when to Maria Mueces’s surprise, her mute daughter, Rosa exclaimed “the mestiza is calling me…” and pointed to the lightning-illuminated silhouette over the laja. This apparition of the Virgin Mary caused pilgrimage to this location, with occasional miraculous cases of healing reported. The image on the stone is still visible today.

Ever since then the area has been blessed, the church was built between 1915 and 1949 with donations from the local churchgoers.

The intricate patterns and level of detail on the church is quite impressive.

In the parking lot, We saw our first BBQ’d Cuy (Guinea Pig) on a stick! Looks delicious!

5 minutes down the road, we hit the border for Ecuador. Stood in line for about 15 minutes to get stamped out of Colombia and into Ecuador. Then walked down the street to get our car permit. All in all it was less than 20 minutes and best of all COMPLETELY free! I am loving South America borders.

WELCOME TO ECUADOR!

Water goes quick in the desert and after 4 days we had exhausted our supply. Regrettable we pulled up our roots and bounced out of the desert back onto the “highway”.

We passed the Rio Magdalena, the most important river in all of Colombia. The river runs throughout Colombia. Its life-giving watershed is responsible for 86% of Colombia’s GDP. Understandably, Colombians love this river. There are more chances of accident on the highway. Here at Blase Inzina Injury Attorneys, we aim to serve our neighbors who have experienced some type of personal injury in Louisiana.

We were headed to San Agustin. A small town in Southern Colombia, home to very important pre-Colombian artifacts. San Agustin and the surrounding areas are littered with tons of relics from various civilizations who lived in the Andes mountains from as early as 3300 B.C. all the way up to 17th century.Our Ladder Guard Safety rail system is an OSHA compliant non-penetrating roof guardrail system that leads employees and contractors away from the leading edge while keeping them enclosed in an area until they are a safe distance away from the roof edge.Always remember that when choosing ladder guards for OSHA compliance Ladder Guard Guardrail System is a completely non-penetrating OSHA compliant guardrail system that incorporates into all of our other mobile safety rail systems. With standard seating for 12, our passenger van offers enough space for everyone. You and your passengers can comfortably enjoy the ride with easy loading and unloading, plenty of room for equipment or luggage, and safety features like the rear vision camera. When it comes to getting your crew from job site to job site, our passenger vans are ideal. Let Flex Fleet Rental be your number one source when you need a passenger van rental.You can get the commercial van rentals from flexfleetrental.com

Not much is known about these ancient cultures. Researchers have found many large stone carvings, evidence of tool use, burial chambers, and religious artifacts. But no solid information as far as politics, social structure, trade, etc.

We found a great hostel up in the mountains who let us camp on there lawn for $5/day. Cold showers but fast internet!

And the worlds wussiest dog I have ever seen. Meet Fresa (Strawberry). Just in case your 10 gram dog was too intimidating, its a good idea to dress it in a pink apron.

The next morning we headed out to the main archeological site. Paid our entrance fee and started touring the grounds. The scientists found these large sculptures scattered all throughout the mountains and moved many of them to this site for further research/display. I like the little protective umbrellas they built for them.

With no signage or guide to tell us what these statues actually meant I went ahead and came up with my own ideas…

“The Skier”

“The Food Baby”

“Mr. Burns”

The Wanker

Ancient Valentines Day card

“Happy Feet”

We strolled onto some cleared areas where they discovered many burial tombs and even more large sculptures.

Here is one of the burial tombs.

While the pictures do it no justice, the ancient civilizations carved this riverbed full of intricate designs, patterns, and figures. They could re-route the water into different channels to “activate” different shapes as they desired. Pretty ingenious for a culture from early B.C.

A long series of stairs brought us to the top of the mountain where another ancient burial mound was found. This mound was full of children. No one knows why these kids were buried so high up on this mountain overlooking this beautiful valley. Perhaps they were children of the chief? Or perhaps just sacfrificed to please the gods? No one knows.

They did have a nice view from up here though.

Muckin’ about on some of the ruins. I got yelled at by the security guard for man-handling the statue.

One of the largest carvings in the complex. Seems to be a someone delivering a baby out of a woman. They discovered it half-buried in the dirt, you can still see the browning on the bottom half of the statue.

The site was very interesting and set on beautiful grounds. We enjoyed spending the day exploring the area and pondering about this ancient culture.

After spending the whole day learning, We decided it was time for a break. Lets kill off some of those pesky braincells!

Aguila! Colombia’s #1 beer. Colombiana, #1 Soda (Tastes like bubblegum)

Next morning we packed up and hit the road south. Almost to Ecuador!

We popped open our guidebook and searched for “What’s Next” while we drove south from Bogota.

Lauren found a short blurb describing a strange geological area of Colombia. The Desierto Tatacoa (Tatacoa Desert) is described as one of the “most attractive natural settings” in Colombia.

The guidebook described large sand pillars painted with orange and yellow hues, 30 foot deep eroded gullies, and miles upon miles of open land. It also stated that the Tatacoa Desert is one of the best places in the world for star-gazing due to lack of light pollution and close proximity to the equator, making it possible to view both the Northern and Southern hemisphere constellations. Sounds good!

Volcanoes popping up on the horizon

I spy a thin snaking road on our map to the desert. Bored of the highway the 4Runner is happy to be back on dirtroads.

Some of the scenery along our winding dirt path

After a few hours of back-roads crossing through many small pueblos who probably wondered how the hell these gringos got out here, we finally arrived on the out-skirts of the desert.

Pushing further in, the grey and black sand gave way to some amazingly beautiful orange/yellow/red sandstone formations. It reminded me of similar formations we had seen back on the Colorado Plateau in the U.S.

We also passed by an observatory out here, the stars must be pretty epic for them to build this thing out in the middle of nowhere.

We bounced along through the desert for a few hours searching for the perfect campspot. This being a desert and all it was friggin’ hot and shade trees were practically non-existent. I spotted 1 lone tree way off in the distance, pulled off the road and did some 4×4 adventuring.

We approached the tree and saw the remains of an old busted up corral. I imagine some Colombian cowboy from long ago planted this tree for his cattle. Now we take advantage of the trees wonderful shade. Thanks Colombian Cowboy!

This being literally the only shade-tree around as far as the eye can see, we received lots of visitors. We didn’t mind sharing our space, we were just the guests after-all. We spent around 4 days camped out here.

Our goat friends would come by twice a day, lounge around and eat up some grass.

Occasionally we would get random horses and cattle coming to scope the scene as well.

One thing we never did see were any people, which is fine by me.

Our days were spent lounging around in the hammock, reading books, napping, and doing general chores. It was nice to just be alone in the wilderness once again.

The real show began when the sun went down. Lauren and I would pull out our chairs from under the shade-tree. Post up and stare slack-jawed at the huge expanse of stars that lit up the night sky. Shooting stars, bright planets, sweeping satellites, and new constellations I have never seen before.

I got my first glimpse of the “Southern Cross” out there in the desert. It really sank in just how far south we have actually come. Were sitting on the edge of the Southern Hemisphere!

By the end of the week Lauren said she would kill me if I looped Crosby, Still, and Nash one more time…

This one goes out to you Tatacoa Desert!

I’m shuffling through my pictures here for some of Bogota. Looks like we didn’t actually take much.

Bogota is a huge city, full of history, and culture. It is one of the largest cities in all of South America. Needless to say, driving around in it is a stressful nightmare that does not lend well to snapping photos.

We eventually settled on a hostel somewhere up in the “La Candelaria” historic district for our first night. The next morning I pulled the truck out of the micro-machine garage and caught the tail-light on the garage door. A couple minutes with some ducttape and screws and we were back in business.

Our destination for the day was Bogotas famous “Museo Del Oro” (Museum of Gold) home to largest collection of Pre-Hispanic gold artifacts in the WORLD. I have really been looking forward to this museum since reading about it before we even started our trip.

A boss chief and his bling


Believe it or not this was a nose-ring! You can see the 4 shamans sitting on top of some sort of birds. During their rituals, the birds supposedly carried the shamans up into the heavens where they could communicate with other shamans on the happenings of the world.

This mummy was found in great condition in a sacrificial burial chamber.

Meditation or just taking a crap? You decide!

Poporo Quimbaya, A famous piece of Pre-Colombian artifact. The Poporo was used to hold lime dust, which was added to the mouth while chewing Coco leaves to enhance their effect. This particular piece jumpstarted the Museo Del Oro in Colombia and is very famous/important in Colombia.

The Muisca raft of “El Dorado”. Legend has it, the chief would cover his body with gold powder, raft out to the middle of the lake and chunk gold and emerald pieces into the water to please the Gods. Many people have dredged and scoured the lake in search of these valuable pieces but as of yet have found nothing much.

They have a trippy presentation at the end of the museum tour. You are placed in a circular room where they crank up some ancient chanting music and space out to a laser light show showcasing the gold artifacts.

The gold museum had a great audio tour (in english!) I suggest everyone check it out while they are in Bogota.

After the museum we jetted over to the Bogota Marriot. Lauren’s dad had some points to share and was gracious enough to get us a room while in Bogota for my birthday! Thanks Ed!

We felt kinda like the Clampetts pulling up to this ritzy hotel in our muddy busted up truck with duct tape holding taillights together.

All our problems washed away when we got to the room and indulged in unlimited hot water showers, cable TV, and room service. Oh and a delicious pillow menu

ILL TAKE ONE OF EACH!

The next morning, we stretched that check-out time till they were breaking down the door.

Hopped in the truck and headed south.

I awake from a groggy nap in the back of the truck.

We hit the winding road. I honk at my bar friends still going hard. I wonder just how long they have been partying?

Nacho and crew are caravan’ng with us. We climb through hills and valleys. I keep ahead of Nacho a bit but always wait to make sure my underpowered brother is OK with these steep hills.

Eventually we are idling through a small town when Brad pulls over. He smells burning oil and is wondering if its me.

I get out to check. Nope, not me.

I hear a recognizable “Sigh” coming from Brad as he peers under his truck at a pool of unidentifiable fluid.

What is it?

Not sure, looks like motor oil. Its not leaking too bad though, you guys go ahead.

You sure?

Ya we will be fine! I have plenty of oil. We will see you in Villa De Leyva.

OK….

I reluctantly drive off. Good luck friend!

We later learned that Nacho was in fact not fine after all. What we were examining that afternoon was Nacho’s transmission grenade’ing itself. You can read more about that fun-filled adventure on his blog here.

Our day-long drive takes us way off into the countryside of Colombia. Some beautiful albeit desolate areas. I almost ran out of gas due to the lack of any towns out here. I killed the truck and coasted my way down the hills to save gas. Made it to the station with just under 1/4 of a gallon. I had my reserve 5-gallons but who wants to bother with all that.

The road eventually leads us to the colonial town of Villa De Leyva nestled up in the mountains. A place where Spanish tile roofs and cobble-stone streets are still king. In fact, the area was deemed a UNESCO World Heritage site to limit modifications of the town.

Villa De Leyva is a popular spot with both foreign and local tourists. After spending a few days in the town its easy to see why. We dined at some great restaurants and explored all the little alley and side-streets full of shops of all shapes and sizes.

We camped up at Hostel Renacer. One of the nicest hostels we have stayed on the trip thusfar. They had a great common spaces, a nice kitchen, and an honor-bar. What more could you ask for?

A bonus feature of the hostel was the drop-dead stop you in your tracks sunsets that occurred every night. Free of charge.

We checked out some of the sites in the town… such as

A COMPLETE KRONOSAURUS FOSSIL. Crazy Ocean beast.

AND THE WORLDS SMALLEST CHURCH… Well I don’t know if its really the worlds smallest but it was pretty small.

As you can tell from our long-list of extracurricular activities most our time was doing what we do best, eating and drinking. And this town was great for that. Lots of wonderful bakeries and international cuisine.

We hit the road for Bogota after hanging around for a 5 days or so.

Leaving El Cocuy was interesting…

Our truck was secured in a nearby parking lot. I went to go pick it up one Sunday morning around 7AM, hoping the garage owner would be awake.

As I approached the garage I heard a lot of singing and revelry taking place. I figured, maybe its church?

I round the corner to the garage and find 15 guys streaming out of the bar across the street. They are singing songs and taking shots of Aguardiente (The anise-flavored Colombian liquor of choice).

The man in the middle is signing loudest of all. The crowd parts and who do I see? Why, the owner of the parking garage!

“Hello good day sir, Could I get my car please?”

“MY FRIEND, MY FRIEND, MY WONDERFUL FRIEND, YES YOU CAN HAVE YOUR CAR, BUT FIRST YOU MUST TAKE A SHOT WITH ME!”

Well… It may be 7AM on a Sunday, and I may need to drive all day through crazy mountain roads but it would be rude to refuse. Yes, I tell myself. It would be rude to refuse…

We all file back into the bar. The oldman barks at the bartender who brings him a bottle of Aguardiente, he grabs one of the random crumpled plastic shotglasses strewn about the bar and fills her up overflowing. He grabs one for himself and hands me some sort of little unpeeled fruit. (I later learned it was a “Lulo” fruit)

SALUD! He knocks it back and bites into the unpeeled fruit.

SALUD! I knock it back as well. MMMM… the taste of ether and licorice fills my throat as I bite into the fruit to dull the pain. The fruit tastes sort of like a semi-sweet miniature orange and surprisingly compliments the anise very well. That was actually pretty damn good, I think to myself.

“DO YOU LIKE IT?”
“Oh yes, very good. Thank you very much my friend. Could I get my truck please?”

“YES YOU CAN HAVE YOUR CAR BUT FIRST YOU MUST TAKE A DRINK WITH ME!”
“Haha well my friend, I have a long drive today!”

“YES BUT FIRST A DRINK!”
He lines up the crumpled glasses once more and fills them up, spilling 1/4 of the bottle in the process.

Welp… when in El Cocuy.

SALUD!
SALUD!
SALUD!
SALUD!

One drink quickly escalates into Ten.

Eventually we are all back in the street, signing to hills and swapping stories of our travels. My new friends want to learn American curse words. I teach them some. They in turn teach me some curse words in the ancient mountain dialect of their people. I now know how to say “ASSHOLE” in chibchan… They also asked if Mexico was safe. (Damn, the media even has Colombians scared haha!)

I have found there is a level of diminishing returns while drinking and speaking in a foreign languages. The more you drink, the easier the foreign words flow, in turn the better you communicate… However, if you keep drinking eventually you tip over the edge into rapid freefall and communication becomes impossible. Luckily by that point words are just details.

We are all friends and brothers under the glow of Aguardiente.

After an hour or so, I remember that Lauren was waiting at the hostel and probably wondering where the hell I am at, eventually I am able to convince the owner to release my truck. I stumble back to the hostel.

“Are you drunk!?”

“Maybe!”

“Its 8AM!”

“Ya well… I had to get the truck!”

Not ones to stay down, the next morning we regrouped and relocated the trucks to another trailhead.

We found a nice little hacienda where we could camp and the host would cook us dinner, all for ~$5 each. Not bad!


We spent most of the day relaxing and drying out our camping/hiking gear, preparing to hit the trail the next morning.

It got pretty chilly that first night. The four of us huddled into the hacienda kitchen while the owner cooked up dinner. Soon enough our bellies were warmed with delicious sopa de avena (oatmeal soup).

While we devoured our food the old man regaled us with stories from his mountain. He had lived up there his entire life. We all poured over his logbook that went back years and years, crammed to the gills listing travelers from around the world.

A quick cup of coffee and some bread in the morning and we hit the trail. The old man told of us a cave up on the mountain that was a popular spot for people to camp. Once Brad and I learned the caves name is actually “Cueva del hombres” literally translated as “THE MAN CAVE”. Our destination was set in stone.

We set off through a valley of rolling green pastures.

We were sandwiched between beautiful set of mountainsides that jutted straight up out of the lush pasture into stark jagged rock.

Our hike took us down into another “Valley of Frailejones” and we stared in awe again at the Dr. Seuss-esque (yes thats a word) plant life.

After an easy stroll through the valley, the climbing finally began.

Looking back down into the valley.

We eventually reached a false-summit and turned further into the mountain. Some fellow trekkers built this giant cairn here to indicate the pass. I took a moment to add another rock to the pile. My mark on El Cocuy.

We were climbing through a surreal mountain landscape. The terrain was interspersed with frailejones, slick granite flats, scree, and crystal clear alpine lakes.

I am lollygagging along as usual when I hear a happy yelp off in the distance, as I crest the top of the hill I see the cave. It was massive! You can see some scale in this shot, look for Brad and Lauren hanging out up in the cave.

Lauren and I got to setting up our tent in the cave. We had an epic view of the glaciers from our temporary home. The peak is around 17,000Ft here. We are camped at ~14,000ft.

Nice spot for a pitch

Later that night, we busted out our 2nd most important piece of overlanding gear, after the Endless Breeze of course. The travel-sized version of the children’s game “Trouble”! This little piece of gear has kept us entertained for hours being stuck in the back of the truck/tent/airplane/wherever. ITS FUN GETTIN’ INTO TROUBLE!

“Trouble” deathmatch completed. We huddled up for a sleep. Not sure what the temp dropped to that night. I do know my 20F down-sleeping bag was hitting its limits. No oxygen and a freezing cold butt made for a rough night of sleep.

When we unzipped the tent flap in the morning we saw just how cold it had gotten…

Hmmm… This changes our plans. We had planned to spend the day fishing and hanging around the lakes. Nature had other plans for us. None of us were properly equipped for a full-day of hanging out in the snow. We decided to pack it up and head back down the mountain.

The snow was quickly turning to ice. We were all slipping and sliding while taking down our tents.

Brad contemplating the dangers of scaling back down the side of an ice-covered mountain in our glorified tennis-shoes.

With not much choice, We ghetto-rigged up some water proof boots by wrapping our socks in old grocery bags and walked off into the snow.

A hilariously freezing cold series of falling ensued. Time and time again we busted our arses on the slippery ice. It was pretty demoralizing but Hey! we were making progress.

This is what adventure is all about!

The mountain took on an entirely new personality as well. It was dangerously beautiful.

We slipped and slided our way back down the mountain. After 3 or 4 hours we made it back to our trucks and hightailed it back to town in search of hot meals and hotter showers.

We came, We saw, We got conquered.

Until we meet again El Cocuy….

Th 4Runner led the charge tracing through the sinewy backroads of El Cocuy National Park. Due to the consistent rainfall around this time of year, the unpaved road had transformed from nicely packed dirt to slick snotty mud. I had to use 4×4 a few times to make it up the inclines.

Traveling with our good buddy Nacho is kinda like hiking with a fat girl. Sure, sometimes you gotta stop and help her up the hills but… she always has the best snacks!


We scoped out a flat spot of land in the mountainside and excitedly setup camp. Coming off weeks of insane paperwork, expensive hotels, flights, giant cities, and a general overload of “the real world”. We all needed some time to decompress, reflect, and re-align our chakras in good ol’ mother nature.

I do not think we could have picked a more beautiful place to do it. I stepped out of the truck into a fairytale scene. We were parked 2000 feet above an expansive deep green valley, dotted with ancient stone corrals, and bisected by a raging river cascading over giant boulders below.

Next door to our campsite was a small mountain cabin. Brad and I went over to investigate. It was there where we found the owners insanely cute daughter, Jenny, wandering around with her dolly “Nina”

Jenny introduced us to her mother who agreed to let us camp for the whopping price of $2/per day. The family piped spring water down from the mountain for the site and even had a nice little shower if someone felt brave enough. Only the set of icicles hanging off the showerhead to deter you.

We spent the next few days camping out, exploring, acclimating ourselves to the 13,000 foot altitude, eating like kings, and generally loving life. To steal a line from my friends Life Remotely, THIS IS WHY WE OVERLAND.

Jenny was very intrigued by these milk faces in their big trucks sleeping outside her cabin and came over to talk from time to time.

My poor attempt at child interaction. I am not good at kid.

I am good at scaring them off though, Jenny sneaks off under the barb wire fence to her cabin.

Feeling properly acclimated we started a gameplan to backpack some of the parks trails.

Brad and I were thinking big. We had read about a massive 7-day loop hike that took us out to the most remote parts of the already extremely remote park. It was a lofty goal but we figured we could do it. Hell we are men, aren’t we!?

To confirm our manliness, we both acknowledged and then completely ignored the fact that this was the absolute worst possible time of year to attempt this hike. Rain, sleet, snow, and well-below freezing temperatures are expected daily.

Our ever encouraging ladies, whom would be accompanying us on our death hike, remained silent but gave us the usual “As long as you get us out alive…” look that both Brad and myself have become accustomed to at this point in our relationships.

Decision made. We loaded our packs with every scrap of food we could scrounge and went to sleep. Dreams of summiting “Pan de Azucar mountain” bouncing inside my head.

Pan de Azucar (Sugar Loaf mountain) and the Devils Pulpit.

We were up with the roosters the next morning, dressed ourselves in every stitch of warm clothing we had, and hit the trail.

We soon found ourselves dropping into the “Valley of Frailejones”. A large valley jammed to the gills with a funny looking shrub that is native to the high Paramo region of the Andes. Frailejones translates to “big monk” as the plant sort of resembles a humble monk in his robes. You be the judge…

We hiked on for a few more hours enjoying a beautiful sunny day. My GPS indicated we only had 1.5 miles to go before the summit of the first pass. Looking at the height of the pass and comparing our current elevation, I realized we were about to do some damn serious climbing. 2000Ft in 1.5 miles. As we rounded the bend our eyes met a hardcore series of switchbacks leading up and out of sight. The trail evaporated into the clouds near the top of the mountain. Oh well, Here goes nothing.

We began the climb in high spirits.

As we progressed, we waved goodbye to the sun who went to hide behind the clouds. Without the sun, the temperature immediately began to plummet. We donned our beanies, gloves, and pressed on. GONNA TAKE MORE THAN A LITTLE COLD TO STOP US!

annnd then the rain started… We zipped up our rain-jackets and scoffed at mother nature as we continued our trek up the mountainside. WATERPROOF TECHNOLOGY IN YO FACE NATURE!

I am not sure why I do it… making fun of mother nature is always a rookie mistake. Somewhere around 1/2 way up the mountain my socks soaked through and I realized I couldn’t feel my toes. I had also lost my gloves at some point and shoved my hands deep inside my pockets to ward off frostbite.

The upside and occasional downside of hanging out with seasoned travelers is that we don’t like to complain, nor do we like to give up. From the silence in the group I could tell we were all pretty miserable. But we ignored our bodies cries to stop and trudged our way up the mountain.

We finally reach the top of the pass. It had stopped raining!!!

annnnd… started to snow.

Freezing cold we all huddled together behind a small summit sign trying to block the freezing snow/wind whipping around the mountain top. We all knew what each other was thinking as we looked down the next part of the trail leading into a swirling pit of gray despair. 7 days of this crap? No way! But who would be the first to say it?

“Well…. We got a decision to make here folks.”

We all instantly agreed “to hell with this!” and our mood immediately got 1000x times lighter. We even managed a smile on top of that miserable mountain.

Screw this! I’m going home. Freezing cold at 14,469 feet.

We bounded like antelopes back down the mountain, carried by thoughts of warm clothes and a hot meal.

As we all huddled warmly into Nacho that night we discussed our decision to turn back. It was hard for any of us to have regrets as we sipped hot cocoa under a thick set of blankets enjoying the luxuriousness that is “The Nacho”. However, we all vowed to return to the mountain soon for another challenge.

Spending the week sweating our butts off in Cartagena we were excited to finally have the truck back and we hit the road the next morning. Camping was #1 on our priority list. We considered cruising along the Colombian coastline but fearing the mercury would stick near 100F we decided to head for the hills instead.

We busted out the maps and started searching for the absolute highest point we could drive and camp in northern Colombia. Lucky for us Colombia contains the first section of the longest continental mountain range in the world, the legendary Andes. The Andes are massive, with 50+ peaks over 20,000Ft high. Consider that the highest mountain peaks in the continental U.S. are just over 14K and you have an idea of what we are working with.

We battled traffic out of Cartagena and eventually popped out into the flatlands of Colombia that divide the coast from the mountains. It was still incredibly hot here but at least it was beautiful and free from the insane traffic of the city.


The road snaked along through farms and fields until finally climbing up into the mountains. The temperature and humidity faded away and was soon replaced by cool breezes working their way up the forested canyons. Ahhhh it’s good to be back in the mountains, my friends.

We decided to take the scenic route and ended up in Cucuta, a frontier city on the border of Venezuela. Our guidebook warned us this was a sketchy place and we didn’t bother to hang around much. We did however take advantage of the contraband gas that is illegally brought over from Venezuela and sold up and down the city streets.

$1/gallon! I considered having them just strap a few barrels to the roof.

Fueled up we were soon climbing once again higher and higher into the Andes. We were way out here now and did not see much traffic, just the occasional hacienda nestled in hills.

Eventually the pavement itself ran out as we found ourselves bouncing along abandoned dirt roads of the AltoPlano (High plains).

We bounced along for hours without seeing a soul. Eventually we decided to just pull over and setup camp for the night.

Not a bad spot.

Preppin’ camp that night was a challenge, even getting out to take a pee was a chore as our lungs and bodies acclimated. We felt like 2 fat kids in dodgeball huffin’ and puffin’ doing the most basic tasks. We were sitting at 13,000FT. A new altitude record for both us and the truck! Our poor altimeter was freakin’ out and stopped working around 12K. The temperatures dropped below freezing that night. Wild to think that just a 2 days ago we were dying of heat exhaustion and now I need to tuck my water bottle into my undies to keep it from freezing up.

I had hoped it would roll over!

We got up the next morning and continued bumping down the trail, eventually dropping into a beautiful little hamlet.

As the story always goes out here, every time we think we are Billy Badasses in our rugged 4×4 way off the beaten path, some old claptrapped Taxi crammed with 8 people comes roarin’ past us making us look like chumps! These guys are hardcore.

Our final destination was “El Cocuy National Park”. Nestled high in the Andes, this remote and rarely visited park has been described as the “lost secret above the Colombian clouds”. Thoughts of camping in cold temperatures and unlimited hiking opportunities had us drooling over the pages of our Lonely Planet guidebook. While El Cocuy appeared fairly close on the map we were now entering our third day of driving and still were not even close! The scale of South America started to settle in as we inched along day by day on our map.

We finally found ourselves trudging up a small mountain road to the quaint colonial town of El Cocuy located just outside the national park itself.

A lonely soul was slowly making his way up the mountain road, he stuck out his thumb and we offered him a ride on the sliders of the truck. He thanked us for the ride as he hung on for dear life twisting through the wild mountain roads.

While El Cocuy is just a sleepy mountain town nowadays, our research showed that as little as 10 years ago the town was at the front lines of the Colombian F.A.R.C and E.L.N. rebel movement. Nowadays farmers and town folk go about their business trying to forget the hectic past. We found the town to be friendly, the people very warm and welcoming.

We posted up in a cheap hostel for a few days as we waited for our friends Brad and Sheena from DriveNachoDrive to catch up. Our plans were to head into the park and do some much-needed backpacking/camping together.

Eventually they arrived, we loaded up with supplies, acquired some permits for the park, and hit the dirt road to head deep inside El Cocuy Parque Nacional.

Growing up in Miami, arguably one of the hottest/muggiest places in all of the United States, I thought I was familiar with stifling tropical heat. Cartagena, Colombia made the hottest summer in Miami seem like a visit to the North Pole. This place was downright hell on earth. The temperature in the shade would hover around 95F at 90% humidity. I think Sheena figured out the heat index came out to around 130F degrees. We spent most of our time huddled up in our air conditioned hotel room waiting for the cargo ship to arrive with the 4Runner.

The short excursions we did make out of the hotel showed us a beautiful city full of life and action. If I could get permission to strut around town in nothing but a thong and sandals this would be my kind of city. Ahhh ya, you got that vision in your head now and its NEVER coming out.

Our hotel had a rooftop area where we could hang out, drink beers, and watch the baseball games that took place all day in the street below. These guys were serious about baseball. We watched many fights and arguments break out over calls, score, turns, you name it, they loved to argue about it. I think they spent more time arguing about baseball than they actually did playing. Either way it was great entertainment as we sipped beers watching the sun go down.

Keith and I enjoying yet another heated argument in ladies street baseball.

We had a great view of the spanish fortress across the bay from our hotel. The “Castillo San Felipe de Barajas” was beautifully lit up at night.

Alongside our shipping partners Adventure the Americas, we were hanging out with our friends Drive Nacho Drivewho found the hotel in Cartagena. Many nights were spent sweating it out on the roofdeck enjoying the view and talking about adventures we have had and many more to come.

Eventually our ship arrived at the port and it was time to do the dirty. Team Adventure the Americas and I studied up the best we could to get a general idea of the process and headed out.

NOTE: Unfortunately our camera battery died and the charger was locked up in the truck. We have no pics of this process. I apologize for the WALL OF TEXT

Our first step was to head to the Seaboard Marine office to receive our official “Bill of Lading”, basically a sheet confirming all of our payment and container information. We grabbed a cab who took us right to the port about 15 minutes from the hotel. After asking a million questions to random people at the port we finally found a little window tucked behind some trees where they had our paperwork waiting and confirmed the container had arrived. YAY! Our trucks were in Colombia… Somewhere.

With our Bill of Lading in hand we hopped another cab back to the DIAN (Colombian customs) building where we needed to register for a mandatory container inspection. We would need this inspection of our container/vehicles before we could legally leave the port. At the customs office we were directed to an uninterested lady who took our paperwork, stamped a few things, and told us the inspection was scheduled for 8AM tomorrow. Alrighty then.

We decided to go back to the port that day and attempt to physically locate our container in order to be best prepared for inspection the following morning.

Back at the port we spent 2 hours hassling anyone and everyone that would listen. We knew the container was at the port, we even had a general idea of where, but no one would actually let us in to see the damn thing. Eventually these gaggle of gringos pissed off enough people that the head of Port Security was brought out to talk to us. Bossman said that we could not access our container today since we did not have proper footwear and we needed hardhats to enter the actual container area. When we balked and argued he promised that tomorrow he would personally escort us in his truck to the container to meet the inspector. Score!

With not much left to do for the day we headed back home.

Next morning we were up early, I squeezed into Lauren’s baby-sized sneakers (I had only brought sandals and you need closed toe shoes to enter the port) and we headed back to the port.

Upon arrival, we asked around for our supposed escort from the Head of Port Security and were directed to his office.

We knocked on the office door, no one home. We asked around some more and were directed to another office where a lady got on a radio, relayed some unintelligible information, and told us to wait.

10 minutes… 20 minutes… 30 minutes… By now it was 8:15 and we were worried we were going to miss the inspector. We asked the lady what was going on and in typical Latin American process she told us to wait some more…

We were just about to get up and walk out when a giant Colombian in a hardhat came into the building and told us to come with him. We followed him through the port entrance, snaked around a bunch of guys ripping apart tons of pallets and bins whom I assume were searching for drugs, and eventually arrived at a parking lot with a bunch of containers.

Our giant directed us towards the end of the row where we recognized our container number. We ran over to it and found that the doors had already been opened (We had thought we needed to be present for this process) and the port guys were already removing all the lashings that held the trucks in place. Keith and I both jumped into the container and inspected the trucks. Everything seemed to be perfectly fine, nothing out of the ordinary, no damage, and nothing missing. By the time we turned around our giant friend had disappeared and we were standing in the middle of the port with our container, our trucks, and no idea what to do.

Soon the port guys started yelling at us to pull our trucks out of the container. Uhhh I think we need to wait for inspection?

NO! GET THEM OUT OF THERE!

OK OK, We pulled our trucks out of the container and parked them in the road. Now what?

We asked around if anyone had seen the inspector. Not surprisingly most people didn’t know what the hell we were talking about and were yelling at us to get out of the way. The few that did understand believed that the inspector had already left for the day.

We sent Kevin off to run around and see if he could track someone down with more info while we waited by the truck. Eventually he came back and confirmed our fears that the inspector had indeed left for the day. Great! We missed him sitting around waiting for this damn head of security guy.

Eventually we make our way back to the Seaboard Marine office to try to get some answers. They too confirmed the inspector had left for the day. They told us we could park our trucks in front of their office, they would be safe there. But told us we would need to go back to DIAN and register for yet another inspection.

Sunnuvab… Well nobody said this was going to be easy.

Back in the taxi, Back to DIAN, Back to the uninterested lady. We were registering for a new inspection when an english bloke overheard us talking. He came over and started chatting with us, we relayed him the whole story of the day and how we missed our inspection. Apparently the bloke imports cars into Colombia for a living and knows the entire process, all the inspectors, and every loop hole in the book. He took us over to the very inspector we were supposed to meet this morning. He explains the situation to the inspector who barely even glances up at him before dismissing us and returning to his paperwork. Apparently the bloke is used this guy piss-poor attitude and keeps pestering him to help us out and just sign off our paperwork without seeing the cars. Unfortunately, Inspector guy will not budge and brushes us off yet again.

Bloke takes us off to the side and gives us some inside info. He explains that all the inspector cares about is seeing a picture of the car, the license plate, and a few pictures of the VIN. According to bloke, he goes to the port himself, takes the pics, and brings his camera to the inspector. He said if we brought pictures of the trucks to the inspector today then we might have a chance of moving on with the process. Only problem he said is the inspector leaves for the day at 1. We looked at the clock. 12:15.

We thanked the bloke for his info as we dashed out the front door of the DIAN. We start running down the street trying to hail a cab as we make our way back to the port. Cab scoops us up and we tell him to hightail it to the port. That cab driver driver seemed up for the challenge as we hauled balls through the crazy streets of Cartagena making it to the port in record time.

We blew through security, ran to our cars, and started snapping millions of pictures of the VIN, the plates, all sides of the car, whatever this guy could possible want. GO GO GO! Clocks ticking!

Once we were satisfied with our pictures we ran back to the street, hailed another cab and made it back to DIAN by 12:45. IMPRESSIVE!

Camera in hand we run to the inspectors desk. He’s not there. Our hearts sink to the floor. Did we miss him??

We decide to take up residence at his desk hoping he would soon return. We noted that only in Latin America could a group of guys waltz into a government office and start hanging out at random desks.

After about 10 minutes he comes back, yells at us for sitting at his desk, and shuffles around some paperwork. We show him we have the pictures. He uninterestingly glances at only a single picture and decides its good enough. He starts filling out both of our inspection permits! We quietly sit there not wanting to piss the guy off anymore. Eventually he hands us some papers to sign and we are done. SUCCESS!!

With our official inspection clearance in hand we head back yet again to the port.

For those at home who are keeping track, this is our third visit of the day and our fifth cab ride of the day. Port security is starting to think we are insane as we check in yet again.

We line up in the main office, wait around for a while, show our clearance forms, pay our port fees, and receive an exit form that we have paid and are officially allowed to the leave the port. Or so we thought…

We excitedly jump in the trucks, head to the gate to leave, and are stopped. The gate-man is yelling something at me in Spanish. I can see sweet sweet freedom only a few feet away. I highly contemplate just running the gate and escaping this god-forsaken place. He tells me that I need one more inspection and to back up and wait.

Today’s word of the day is: WAIT

We back up the trucks and sit… and sit… eventually a young kid comes up with some paperwork that we sign and he runs off.

We wait… and wait… 45 minutes later we are having a serious conversation about just bum-rushing the gates and leaving. We even hatch a plan and send Kevin to retrieve our passports from security in case anything goes wrong.

We get cold-feet at the last minute and abort mission. Opting to just go to lunch instead of ending up in a Colombian prison.

When we return we find the kid waiting around our vehicles wondering where the hell we have been. HA! HOWS IT FEEL!?

He hands us our final inspection documents and with nothing more than a wave goodbye, we drive our vehicles out onto the roads of Colombia. We honk our horns in a battle cry of victory up and down the boulevard in front of the port.

WE HAVE DONE IT! OUR TRUCKS ARE FREE AND CLEAR IN SOUTH AMERICA!