173 - PDF - The Rider's Digest

Majestic
Mountains
We got an early start from the
border town of Ipiales in southern
Colombia. Although it seemed
deserted when we checked in the previous
evening, this morning it’s a hive of activity.
Indeed, it seems more like a community centre
than a hotel. During breakfast, we found
ourselves surrounded by groups of smartly
dressed people who seemed to be engaging
in some sort of competition to see who could
talk the loudest without actually shouting. It all
makes sense when one of the staff explains that
the Colombian elections are coming up at the
end of the month. All these guys are members
of one of the main parties who have come
here to strategise. Once we understand what’s
going on we are even more aware of them as
after breakfast they stand around the lobby
drinking coffee, casting the odd suspicious
glance at anyone they can’t identify as one of
the party faithful.
Meanwhile one of the larger function rooms off
the reception is full of teenage boys playing all
kinds of musical instruments. They notice the
big bikes as we pack them and quickly gather
around seemingly mesmerised by the process
of tying a luggage roll onto a set of panniers.
By the time we were leaving we had gathered
a rather large crowd of admirers, but I do think
that this may have had more to do with the lady
motorcyclist than anything else.
A quick ten-minute spin from the hotel and our
first stop is with immigration on the Colombian
side of the Ecuadorian border.
Maeve leaves me outside to stand guard over
the bikes while she tackles the administration
side of things. Getting an exit stamp from the
immigration office was fairly straightforward,
there was only a short queue, where Maeve met
Magdalena, a lady from Oslo, who is working
for a Norwegian aid organisation which helps
displaced people. We get a real sense of what
goes on under the surface in this part of the
world when we talk to people like Magdalena.
On the Ecuadorian side Maeve waits her turn
in a short queue and when called forward did
her best to answer questions from the officer
behind the desk. However, there was one
she just couldn’t figure out. Another officer
appeared and asked, in English, “Are you single
or married?” “I’m single,” she replied even
though she hadn’t seen that question on the
form. She looked up to see these two wannabe
cops leering at her. With the passports in hand,
she asked where the Adunas was and promptly
left the office.
Once again, this was a simple process and as
it was a woman handling the paperwork she
didn’t get leered at. It’s pretty much the same
process at every border; you get used to the
questions and know what information the
officer is looking for. The only thing that slows
the process down is the level of sophistication
of the systems used by each country, and
whether it is computerised or not. The woman
at the Adunas took time to warn us not to stay
over our allotted sixty days in Ecuador, or we
would receive a hefty fine. She then handed
over our paperwork and we entered country
number eleven. The total time for exiting
Colombia and entering Ecuador was about
ninety minutes.
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