San Agustin
I spent three nights at Hotel La Casa De Francois, a French run place that is probably the best hostal I’ve stayed at. Perched above San Agustin with the dormitory (a 4 bed 2nd floor cabana) to myself (Francois promised to put anyone else in the other dormitory) eating homemade real bread and jam.
The main reason for being in San Agustin is to see the archaeological park and the tomb-covering statues that were left behind by an unknown group of people.
Marty, Ian, Mark, Martina, and I took a 5 hour horse tour that went to some of the statues and a museum.
Here is a good example of an interesting one of the statues. The guide said the funeral urns found by the local farmers are sold (illegally) to rich people in the cities for 40,000 pesos (~$20 USD).
There is also one of South America’s highest waterfalls (apparently) nearby – Salto de Bordones. I took the bike down the bumpy path and discovered that I had sheared a bolt off my luggage rack (one of the four that holds everything on the bike). The broken end of the bolt was extracted with some soldering by a rough bunch of mechanics on the edge of town.
“Road of Death” Mocoa to Pasto, Colombia
To go from San Agustin to Pasto you can either go back to the Pan Americana in Popoyan or drive south to Mocoa and then from there cross the Cordillera Occidental (Western Colombian Andes) over to Pasto. I had planned on doing this so I could avoid spending another night in Popoyan.
I was told that it was informally known as the Colombian ‘road of death‘. The drive to Mocoa was pleasant and so was the start of the road from there to Pasto. It wound up with good views until I passed through the cloud layer. A few cars stopped blocking the way in front of me and being wary about what they were up to, I kept about 100 feet downhill from them until I figured out there had been an accident.
It turned out a farmer with his wife and another person were driving their truckful of potatoes towards Mocoa when the cut a corner and the back wheel broke the earth free from the edge of the road and then then truck tipped over the edge. The farmer was dead and it wasn’t known if the others had lived.
The potatoes were strewn all over the rocks below and their truck completely bent and crushed out of shape. A few other drivers wanted to help me pass the road and asked me to follow them and bought me coffee and bread at a roadside stop halfway through.
It started drizzling as I got past the restaurant stop and the mud became really slick. My new Pirelli Scorpion MT-90 rear road tire skids pretty wildly in wet mud under the luggage load – I promised to replace it with dirt tire next time. The road had three recent mudslides from the rain that fell the night before and I had to wait in the cold rain for the bulldozers to unblock the road. I arrived in Pasto just at nightfall and fell asleep before midnight.










