Medellin, Money and Machines

Mar 6 – It took a couple days of chilling out in Bucaramanga to recover. Our next push was 700km of asphalt to Santa Marta and more importantly the quaint but feisty beach town of Taganga. We were expecting 9 hours of riding so we tried to get an early start. The rule of an early start in motorcycle travel is that something will always go wrong. An hour down the road I felt my front pocket and didn’t feel the camera which I always keep in that pocket. I pulled over to begin the desperate search for the $400 waterproof shockproof camera I had bought two weeks earlier. At the same time Justin realised he had left his apple macbook charger at the hostel. With the hope that my camera was left in my hammock from the night before we backtracked. Justin found his charger but I could not find my camera anywhere. After a few expletives, I narrowed it down to have fallen out of my pocket in a cab the night before. It was too late to ride for the coast so stayed another night in the city and tried again in the morning. The road started windy as we descended from the mountains, but soon flattened and straightened in the warmer lowlands. Our fifth hour of riding saw us go a little loopy. Justin picked imaginary butterflies from the air, and I conducted a 120kph aerobics workout.

At dusk we pulled in to Taganga and met up with some friends of friends, Micheal from Sweden and Jeff from the states. They were expats and Michael had recently built a massive open-air house that overlooked the town from the hillside. We drank beers on the balcony for sunset and they generously put on food and drinks for dinner. Jeff offered us to set up camp on the block of land he was building on and an amazing view (which of course I couldn’t take a photo of) and we went out to experience the nightlife. These two expat locals made our night, as we got to see a side of this seaside town we would never have seen if we had just rocked up to a hostel. The next day we found out Michael’s house and the huge wall surrounding it had been breached and he had been robbed of his flat screen, camera, wallet, phone and documents all while we were out. His generosity had not been rewarded and it was terrible news. Our plans to ride through the national park to go surfing that day were canceled as he ran around town sorting things out with the police. At the time I’m writing this 2 weeks later I’ve just been informed “I caught those motherf***ers!” which is good and I hope he gets all his things back.

Mar 9 – Next town: Cartagena. Meh, lots of fun people at the hostel, but the town was just standard beach front highrises(one of which we snuck to the top of). Got onto a juice bender and tried a whole bunch of unknown and exotic smoothies and juices. Cartagena did have a cool part of town which is it famous for. The section was built inside a giant wall to fend off pirates. It’s quite old and colonial and beautiful I guess. We never ended up finding out how old it was our guesses ranged from 1693 to 1905. Anyway fun but not my thing.

Mar 11 – Longest single ride of the trip Cartagena to Medellin. We were told it took 13 hours by bus. Getting up at 7am was a genuine achievement. Remember that rule of starting early? 200km down the road I noticed the engine was puking oil from the engine seal and it was drenching the entire rear part of bike, brakes included, in engine oil. I also started hearing a metal sound clanging by the engine. Both of these things were not cool, seriously not cool. Being in the middle of nowhere, I made the call to ride on. The fact that I could be permanently damaging the engine by riding on kept my mind busy as I nursed the bike the remaining 7 long hours to Medellin. We checked into Casa Kiwi, a hostel that had been filled with moto riders by word of mouth. We caught up to an old rider friend Torben from the Netherlands that we had met in Mexico. His KLR was getting some work done in town and gave me the details of the moto mechanic.

****WARNING ENGINE TALK BEGINS HERE**** As well as a bunch of parts, the bike had two major problems, oil was being burnt and blown out the muffler, the gasket was blown on the engine and puking oil and there was clinking sound whilst revving 1st and 2nd gear. The oil puking problem was a big concern and made me neglect the other side of the bike to see that my new chain had stretched in and was extremely loose, causing the clinking sound. This left a to-do list of: replace engine gasket, new front and rear sprockets, new front brake pads, change oil and filter, change coolant and a new battery. $400 and 24 hours later I left the shop hoping that’d be the last big expense for the bike for the trip. Got the bike back to the hostel to discover a new problem. Oil was dripping out of the airbox. Half a cup of oil dripped onto the ground, the rear end was once again covered in oil, but this time the engine was clean because the gasket had been replaced. Because the oil couldn’t escape from the leak in the gasket it was causing a problem further down the line. 15 minutes on Google provided an answer. “Pressure from the combustion chamber “blows by” the rings and pressurizes the crankcase. This blows the oil out of the vent tube and into your airbox. Unfortunately, unburned fuel also washes down past the rings (on the compression stroke) into the crankcase. Therefore, you might not see a significant drop in oil level. Then one day, you take the bike out for a long fast freeway ride. All of the fuel suspended in the crankcase oil boils off and evaporates and exits the crankcase via the breather tube and ends up where? In the airbox, carrying with it some oil. Then you’ll notice a drop in oil level.”. It’s now Monday and I’ve taken it back to the shop to open it up. The piston rings and the piston is shot, and they will need to re-bore cylinder. At least another $450. I’ve never dealt with anything this deep in the engine and it’s forcing me to learn a lot. It’s an expensive lesson, but after 30,000kms of really rough riding, it was bound to happen sooner or later. ********ENGINE TALK ENDS HERE***

For me it means I have to wait for parts in a town which is known for arguably having the most beautiful women in the world. I am trying not to let the never ending expense of the bike cause too much stress for me and interfere with enjoying the trip. It’s something I did plan and budget for, but that doesn’t make it fun paying a months worth of traveling expenses on pure maintenance. I hit 5 months on the road today (something I didn’t plan or budget for). It took me by surprise. I had been getting used to answering that question with 4 months but realized I had been saying 4 months for about 3 weeks now. I really love Colombia, staying here and working for a while is tempting but it would mean writing off Australia for another year. Am I going to let another 4 month trip turn into one and a half years? This story sounds familiar, is it going to rhyme with Whistler?

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