​​Due to some paperwork conflicts with the Colombia government and my motorcycle, I decided it would be easier to smuggle the bike out of the country rather than pay an obscene sum of fines. With the help of the internet, I found two possible options,​ one via a series of boats that would sneak us to the most Southern and remote parts of Leticia Colombia downriver into Iquitos Peru. The next option, a more remote border pass on a less used roadway into Northern Ecuador.

​  There’s a little town in Ecuador who’s sole tourism purpose is a high-risk train named La Nariz Del Diablo, or The Devils Nose. The train runs passengers namely to and from Quito, or as a tourist, you can hop on and risk your life a bit as this thing cuts mind-bending switchbacks up and down the mountainside. 

Over a three-way phone conference they asked me what my special skill was? I fumbled for an answer as I didn’t think “bull-shitter” was an applicable volunteer attribute. They seemed a little surprised I could not produce one viable skill that I might be able​ to transfer to another human being. I suggested “being awesome”?, this seemed to need a less vague description for a presentable letterhead.

Often times I feel that my grasp of the Spanish language is bang on and I’m chatting up a storm about motorcycles and plantains with the gas station attendant like I was born with a native tongue.  Other times I’m given a bit of a reminder that my comprehension might be half imagined and I’m just enjoying the bliss of what I think is going on in the conversation. This would be one of those moments.

 
      Ahh the Tatacoa desert in Colombia, roughly 300 square kilometers of aired landscape located in the Huila Department of the country.  The altitude whilst driving around Colombia changes so much I feel like a teenage girl on a Saturday, forever swapping outfits and trying to find one that really works for me. Let’s see, should I wear the dirty biker jacket with the duct taped vents to keep the cold out at 12,000feet? Or maybe a nice light t-shirt while cutting cross country through subtropical coffee farms crossing the 2500 foot rage? Wait, wait I think the look I’m going for is a nice yellow matching pants and jacket, a business casual rain suit for the four hour monsoon for the dirt road across cattle country about 4000 feet. Ahh decisions, decisions….

 
  
   I was given the gps location of what was meant to be some stellar mountian views in back country Colombia, with a bit of untouched fishing.

  I thought it might take a day to find the place. Rain, directions, friends and a brake failure would have me arriving five days later.

  This is episoide one of two. 
                           Let the fishing trip begin...​