When you are feeling low then it doesn’t take much to make something feel like a win. I asked the guy (Junior) in the accommodation place, Hostal Analauli, if I could buy a beer and use some internet even if I wasn’t staying there. He agreed. The beer was good but the internet not great. While I was waiting for Airbnb to download he asked me what I was doing and told him about my plan to go to Punta Gallinas. He said he had a friend who could take me. He had a motorbike and could take me tomorrow for $270,000 pesos ($100). Sure. Why not. He said his friend could come to the hotel now and discuss it with me. Sure. Go for it.

While we were waiting for his friend and the internet he mentioned that I could rent a hammock on the beach for the night for $15. I had visions of chaining myself to the bike and sleeping with all my bike gear on. Turns out it was more organised than that. They had little shelters on the beach with hammocks in them and there was a secure locker at the hotel for my gear and that I could use the bathroom behind the restaurant. And my bike could stay in the guarded hotel carpark. And they could cook me a meal. Things were definitely looking up. Then his friend arrived.

His friend, Eduardo turned up on a newish looking Suzuki 115. It looked tiny. Like everyone else he didn’t speak English. But he seemed nice and confident he could guide me up to Punta Gallinas tomorrow. That’s about how detailed the plan was. First, I had to pay then we got on the bikes in the dark and rode somewhere to a shop to buy fuel in two litre coke bottles. We then bought $20 worth of biscuits to give to the children who run the toll booths??? More about that later.  Then he said he would meet me at front of the hotel at 5:00 or 6:00am. Perfect.

I then went back to the hotel. Had a bucket shower and a bucket flushed the toilet. Put my gear in my locker and curled up in my hammock. I think I got a couple of hours sleep. It had been a big day. It was sort of nice sleeping on the beach and not on the side of the road.

Next morning at 4:30 I found myself locked out of the hotel compound. I eventually managed to wake up the security guy who let me in. I got all set up and ready for a 5:00am departure. At 6:00am the staff started trickling in and the generator started up. The internet came on and I was probably the only person on it, so it was pretty good. I managed to do Wordle in english and spanish, as well as Worldle and Duolingo so I didn’t lose any of my streaks, which was one of my main concerns about doing this trip. I also sent off a few messages so someone knew my last whereabouts. I guess I should have been worried about where my guide was.

At about 6:20 Eduardo rocked up fully kitted out with shoes and a small backpack. And we were off. We took off in a totally different direction to where I assumed we would be going. With hindsight it was probably the route in that the couple on the moto the previous day had been trying to get me to take to Cabo de la Vela instead of the one that I did. It still wasn’t a great road and became a single bike track on multiple occasions but then ended up on a lovely road in a wind turbine farm. And from there it was back onto the main road and across the railway line and into a little indigenous community. And then the tolls started.

Punta Gallinas (or Chicken Point loosely translated) is the northern most part of Colombia and the most northern point of South America. Its on a small peninsular not unlike Cape Leveque near Broome. The area known as La Guajira Peninsular has a little strip on the right hand side which is actually Venezuela. When I tell people I rode to Punta Gallinas they all seemed to smile and say lovingly, ahh, La Guajira. The indigenous people of this area are the Wayuu people. There is about 800,000 of them spread across both Colombia and Venezuela and is the biggest indigenous group of both countries. They were unique in the fact that they survived spanish occupation because they adapted quickly to the use of horseback and firearms and took back any of the lands that the spanish took from them. Their culture and language are strong today, while also adopting spanish language and the christian religion into their daily lives. Many of them still live in small family groups spread out across the peninsular.

And therefore the tolls. I’d read about them prior to my visit. Kids would hold a string across the road and would take sweets or biscuits as payment to allow you to pass. In the 100kms that we travelled there was at least 50 of them, the ones at the start do well off the incoming tourists but miss out and complain a lot on the way back as by then you’ve run out. If it looks like you going to run through the string they’ll drop it, and if you sit there long enough, they’ll also let you pass. But there’s also a couple of adults who have bike chains, securely fixed and want $2000 pesos ($0.75). The whole thing about feeding kids biscuits every day is a pretty awkward part of the trip.

The road, if you could call it that, basically follows along the tidal lagoons near the coast. Sometimes crossing them and other times skirting around. There are rocky ridge sections and dry river beds to navigate and I imagine in the wet season it would be a difficult trip and hence all the different tracks everywhere. It was a great ride for me, although probably a notch or two above my skill level. Due to poor skills, deep ruts, soft sand and gusty wind I managed to fall off 5 times. Twice I had my leg pinned under the bike and had to wait until Eduardo came back and lifted the bike off me. Fortunately I was well balanced and gave both legs a turn at being trapped. While uncomfortable and sore I don’t think I did any permanent damage. The other times I just managed to roll out of the way. Luckily I was wearing all my fancy gear. Particularly me riding boots. At least I don’t look like a newbie anymore.

It took us 3.5 hours to get to the top. We didn’t head straight to the point but stopped off at a house and I had no real idea about what was going on. Just politeness I’m guessing. We then went over and checked out the big costal sand dunes. I went for a walk up to the top by myself and when I come back Eduardo was gone. No idea where, but he had said we would be having lunch at the restaurant there so I found an empty hammock and rested my weary body and had a nap. A couple of 4×4 tours turned up while I was there. He returned for lunch and then after that we headed for the point.

We had ridden through some soft sand to get in there with a promise of more to come. I wasn’t overly joyed at the prospect of sand riding. I fell off again. I don’t know how. I had watched heaps of YouTube videos about riding through sand when I was in Antarctica. I thought I had it nailed. I let Eduardo ride through one patch and awkwardly managed a couple more on my own. One of them I had to walk the bike though. In my defence, the sand was pretty soft. We stopped off at a lookout which was nice but very windy. And then some downhill soft sand where I almost didn’t fall over. After 30 minutes I was beginning to wonder when this would end when suddenly I could see the lighthouse. We’d made it.

Once we were there my guide just found a shady corner and had a nap. I was actually quite excited and relieved to be there. And I had the whole place to myself. 450 million people on the continent and I was the most northerly one of the lot of them. It’s beautiful but nothing spectacular. Maybe the Kimberley has spoilt me. I’d looked at photos and was now seeing the things first hand which was great. I made a little rock cairn amongst all the others to prove my pilgrimage (or whatever people do that for). I’m sure mine was the smallest but that’s all the energy I could muster. I took all the obligatory photos and then just sat there for a bit and enjoyed the moment. Eventually a couple of tour vehicles turned up so we mounted the bikes and headed off. I had no idea what the plan was. Just follow the bike in front of me. And stay upright.

We rode a few kms, maybe ten minutes and ended up at a nice looking resort type place. It had a long row of nice new cabins which I thought would be great. The place looked deserted but was fully booked except for an older cabin over near the beach. Or a hammock. There’s always a hammock option. I needed a flat sleeping surface to rest my battered body. I think it was about $30 for the night. It had running water, sort off,  which was great to wash the dust off with. Water is a big problem in La Guajira. I think most of it gets bought in using small containers? I used it sparingly. I sat and had a celebratory beer with Eduardo in a restaurant for about 50 people and just us. He said they will come and sure enough they did. Heaps of 4×4’s, mainly Toyotas brought in tourists for their overnight stop. Most of them doing a two day tour from Riohacha. Their trip was all inclusive so they basically seemed to eat and then go to bed. I did hear a couple of foreign accents but mainly spanish. I was happy to go to bed. There didn’t seem to be any bugs because I’m sure the howling wind blew them all away.

I woke up pretty sore and with the realisation that I had to ride back through everything I’d ridden through the day before. We had some breakfast and headed off early before the tour groups. I managed the sandy sections by just riding slow and paddling along with my feet on the ground. Hard work and slower but successful. We stopped in at the house we’d first stopped at on our arrival and we picked up Miki. A local Wayuu girl all nicely dressed and wearing thongs and carrying a big heavy backpack. I have no idea the connection but Eduardo was giving her a lift to town. It was all a bit surreal as the two of them on a small bike without helmets being followed by me on a bike almost three times the size and wearing all the gear.

Eventually the speeding tourists caught up with is and flew past us in sections but the bikes were much quicker in other parts and we had some nice toll shortcuts. It must be pretty frustrating for the car drivers having to stop all the time. There was a little halfway shop if you knew where to go and we pulled in there and got a couple of 1.5 litre coke bottles of fuel. Just in case. And had a stretch and a cold drink. As we came over a rise, I could see the wind turbines in the distance and knew we were almost back at the main road. I had survived all the sections that had beaten me before and was almost back on a real road. Even if it was gravel for 50 more kms. It had taken about 3.5 hours again. And I hadn’t fallen off.

Having Miki onboard slowed the pace a little and worked in my favour. The wind was even stronger that the day before and blew me off the track a couple of times as we rounded ridge lines and rode out onto the flat areas. We had restocked up on biscuits  which was fortunate as it was a Sunday and there were heaps of tolls. Having a local on got us through a few for free but we eventually ran out. Miki also knew a few shortcuts to bypass the tolls. We came across a flock of pink flamingos which was nice but too difficult to photograph and there was no way anyone was going to try and drive out on the salt pan to get a better view.

We stopped on the main road and took a few pics and said our goodbyes and then I rode for a couple of hours back to Riohacha where I booked into a nice little hotel I’d spotted when I’d stayed there on the way through. On the way I saw a big coal train stopped and went over for a picture. Security came out of nowhere but the guy was nice and let me go close and took a photo for me, and also  wanted one of the two of us. Sounds fair. Apparently, protesters had blocked the tracks further down the line. From Riohacha it was Santa Marta for a couple of days in the nice hotel with the rooftop pool. I spent most of my time laying around and resting my sore legs and body. It seemed to work. I also found a little restaurant that sold fried eggs on avocado toast. Sweet bread but pretty close to the real thing.

When I left Santa Marta I planned to leave early and do a 3 hour loop road through the jungle which brought me out somewhere to the south of Santa Marta.  My first hiccup was the main road was blocked with burning tyres. Some sort of protest but an easy skirt around through the bush on a bike. After a two hour ride with a few photo stops I came across a road closed sign and was told the road was only open to farmers who lived there and only with mules due to a previous landslide. So sadly I had to turn around and go back to Santa Marta. It was a lovely winding road through great jungle but once was enough. I had a nice lunch and then took a few odd roads back to Cartagena. Unfortunately it was a day of bad road choices for me.

I came across a line of trucks and being on a bike you just pass them. I eventually saw one that was jackknifed across the road. I thought that was the problem. The small light bikes just rode off the road and around the truck and back up again on the other side. On my bigger bike that was a bit more of a challenge. I almost made it up onto the road but had to lower the bike onto the ground. A couple of truckdrivers came and gave me a hand which was nice. But the line of trucks continued for kilometres, and I got better at passing the jackknifed ones. I thought this had to end somewhere and I couldn’t go back anyway so I continued on for half an hour.

At one spot there were tree branches across the road and they weren’t letting bikes through either. After some consultation they moved the branches and let us all through. At one spot I had to squeeze through with my panniers and was glad they were soft and not full otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get through without taking them off. After passing about a thousand trucks, I came to open road again. I had to pass the trucks that were leaving the blockade but that was fine. Then the other side of the road was also backed up for kilometres. They weren’t going anywhere in a hurry. And like you, I have no idea what it was about. And I have no photos because I didn’t want to stop. Maybe it didn’t happen?

Just as the sun set I made it safely back to my accommodation in Cartagena. Relieved and happy to get off the bike after a 1500km, 7 day, adventure to a special place.