We have breakfast on the fifth floor of the hotel which has a commanding view over the surrounding buildings. Hugo treats us to croissants that he bought locally.
The hotel also has a strange central light channel in the form of a panel of glass on each floor. Kilt wearers, beware!
There's a car wash next door and the noise from the high pressure spray starts early in the morning - it's quite intrusive.
After leaving the hotel, we fill up with petrol and head off. This is definitely an industrial town and we pass factories and warehouses as we leave. That kind of explains the grotty feeling that this town gives us.
Cyclists are out for a ride. Solo riders, groups and even a peleton whizzed by while we were filling up. Remember this is Sunday, a day for reflection and relaxation! We pass them as we get back on to the road, giving them a wide berth as we do so.
There's an election coming up in Colombia, and on the road out of Duitama there are many billboard posters for the candidates. Image seems to be a big thing here as the candidates are shown in a variety of poses: thumbs up, waving, smiling (some Cheshire cat style), staring into the distance, rolling up sleeves, tipping a hat and even two fingers sticking up - it must have a different meaning here! We also see and hear a few cars with PA systems blaring out party messages.
There are piles of harvested onions in the fields, waiting to be packed into bags for transfer to markets.
On the main road we encounter a military checkpoint, smart uniforms and assault rifles; they wave us through. We joke later that they're looking for Americans and we were ready to nod discretely in Jeff's direction.
Carrying on, we're gradually climbing a for a while. We crest the incline and on the other side there's what appears to be very flat, lush, green landscape for several km into the distance. It's the closest thing to regular farmland we've seen on this trip.
More sweeping roads, overtaking plenty of cars, lorries and buses and at one point a police pickup. We hesitate to do so at first, but one of the local riders has no qualms, crossing a double yellow centreline in the process! We follow suit; the train of cars are slowing to approach roadworks, so it seems the done thing to do.
I see an old red Fireblade parked up and almost immediately an early R1 and other sportsbikes pass by in the opposite direction. I've heard a few sportsbikes screaming in the distance at various times, but not seen any in the flesh. With the roads the way they are, this is not ideal sportsbike territory.
More sweeping tarmac and on a narrow downhill section we're stuck behind buses, lorries, slow moving cars.., and Jeff, who we've now caught. Steve and Mark make a run for it! But they are thwarted by a right turn and have to stop to wait for Jeff to show the way. It's actually that right turn we take and they rejoin the group.
The road leads us to Casa Terracotta, an artist's wet dream about clay. It's clever, but not really practical. Our 'guide', Alejandro, tells all about the QR codes around the house used explain things inside the house, but doesn't actually guide us around the house. We cut out the middleman and ask him lots of questions instead. It took almost 20 years to build, is made almost entirely of terracotta, each clay section fired in situ to give it strength and, the artist lived inside the house with his family for six months. It's genuinely clever with lots of little rooms filling spaces and feels a bit like a TARDIS.
Ah, there it is, I knew we were missing something. Hugo at rest.
In the parking lot, a Colombian man asks us in Spanish where we're from and then asks his granddaughter to translate. His daughter's family live in Canada and her (Indian) husband lived in Newport in Wales. Steve tells them about friends of his that live there - they probably even knew of each other. The daughter tells us she's actually Venezuelan, and I ask her about the latest US intervention there. She's says she supports Maduro's removal (but I forgot to follow-up with how she feels about continued US control of her country). I then ask the grandfather about the threats against his country: he's not concerned and thinks the same thing will not happen in Colombia. Time will tell - at the time of writing the orange dictator (there, my bias exposed) is threatening Europe with increased tariffs if he doesn't 'get' Greenland. In my opinion, what constitutes 'get' will determine the future direction of the globe for the next 50 years.
Leaving Casa Terracotta we're back on the road to Muzo. There are several outlets along the road where you can rent a quad bike. Presumably there are routes in the area that can be explored this way. As there are so many places doing this, it must be a popular thing to do. We descend again. It's now getting hotter and the vegetation changes, becoming more tropical.
We also see extensive wildlife on our travels Colombia: armadillos, anteaters, iguanas, possums, snakes, goats, cows, and dogs. Or rather we see road signs warning us to watch out for them! Never have I seen such a diverse range of roadsigns. But Steve did see a rather large iguana by the side of the road earlier in the trip. For me, only goats, horses, cows, sheep, and mosquitoes, are ticked off my 'wildlife' list so far
The lunch stop is just outside Chiquinquira. While the others gorge on pizza, and half chickens, Graham and I dine in style on Doritos outside the petrol station while drinking black coffees.
One thing I've noticed about riding in Colombia that has surprised me is the lack of insects. Normally in a hot country we'd be regularly wiping insect splat from our visors. But I haven't had to do this once. Even off the bike I haven't really noticed much in the way of insect life - except that pesky mosquito this morning.
It's been almost exclusively on asphalt so far but now we turn off the road (after taking the wrong direction and having to do a U-turn). Eventually we're on a dirt track, which winds its way up and down the mountains.
It's getting hot now as we've descended and layers are peeled off. We stop for drinks in a small town, Maripi.
Steve has lost all his front brake stopping power! the steep downhills mean lots of braking and they have become so hot that the absorbed moisture in the old brake fluid is boiling, creating bubbles that compress rather than the fluid when the brake lever is pulled. I pour water on the caliper and it sizzles with steam. The brake starts to work again. Fresh fluid in the system will solve that tonight. Hopefully! Until then he'll have to keep using 1st gear for the downhill parts.
his one is not quite the clone town as the square lacks a church, but it does have an abandoned building that may have been a church at some point. The town has a run down feel to it, at least the parts we can see.
Nobody falls in, but on the exit, (excuse alert) for whatever reason I don't have enough momentum and struggle to climb the steep slope on the other side, tyres scrabling for traction. Edy gives me a push, but I'm sure I didn't need it.
Then it's an off-road run into our destination, Muzo. Apparently it's the emerald capital of the world, but you wouldn't know it by the rather simple town.
We visit the small town museum before dinner and learn that until as recently as 1991, families fought over control of the emerald mining, with plenty of blood shed. An agreement ended the feuding.
A sign hangs over the town to remind people of the resulting peace.
No offs today, Alan has been good. Either that, or somebody turned off gravity.
About 200km today, my tracking went awry midway.
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