We cried a little leaving Manizales when we dropped a big chunk of hard won elevation but it was a fast cry. Tears streaked my face passing cars, trucks, and motorcycles through the turns.
We rode past more coffee and stopped at Santa Rosa de Cabal to check out the hot springs and find shelter from some dark rain clouds.
The hot springs were in the hills above town at the end of a dirt road at the foot of large waterfalls. We were both excited to soak and hoped the $13 entry was worth it. We dumped our bikes in a cheap room, that the friendly man with a pistol in his belt recommended, and walked up the road in the drizzle. The hot springs were impressive! Initially, we walked up a stone path wondering where the pools were thinking, "this better be damn nice for $13." The pools were large and hot at the base of a 80 meter waterfall, beverage service, food - the perfect spot for a hand stand. And we soaked until 10pm then walked back down with a stop for a chorizo and cheese arepa snack.
The next morning, we were to get going after a quick shift cable change . . . Note, make sure your new cable is long enough before cutting the old cable. Matt's new cable was not as long as the old cable, oops. Guess Matt is single speeding back to town to find a bike shop. Oh yeah, note #2, tighten all screws to prevent them from vibrating out . . . 
Hmmmm . . . any guesses what is missing? After a rummage through the parts bin and joining two cables with cantilever brake bolts we were off. I kinda insisted on passing through the middle of the city of Pereira to see the 8 meter high statue of Bolivar naked on a horse - usually continent wide liberators are kept clothed for public appearances - I just had to take a picture.
Matt realized he had not drank coffee that day. Matt caffeinated at a distance while I made a spectacle of myself in full bike regalia snapping pictures of the naked statue.
We kept dropping out of the foothills into the broad valley between two mountain ranges. We would follow this valley out of Colombia and into Ecuador. The valley was a series of small towns surrounded by sugar cane fields and cattle. The evening was looking pleasant, as if it would not rain for the first time in . . . weeks? We decided to camp and found an open gate into a harvested sugar cane field away from traffic noise. Again, nobody is going to care if you are in a harvested sugar cane field. A guy with a pistol in his belt stumbled on us the next morning and we had a pleasant conversation. He was just surprised to see us and wondered how many days we would camp saying everything was fine where we were.
We spent the morning trucking down the valley until deciding to take a little detour into the mountains on a ruta touristica. . . I just said yes and did not really think about the climbing entailed . . . and good thing. If the town is called Primavera (spring), you can figure you gotta climb. A thousand meters later we were in Primavera and on dirt roads.
We were unsure how long the next section of dirt road would take and spent the night in town becoming instant celebrities, ate at the only restaurant, and checked out the impeccable 50 year old Willy Jeeps that are used exclusively as mountain taxis. The next morning Brian accompanied us for the 300+ meter climb over a ridge before dropping to Trujillo. Brian killed it on his brakeless bmx bike as the dirt road climbed through high pastures past small communities. Locals were a little slack jawed to see foreigners on touring bikes. My guess is that no one tours the ruta touristica, unless you have a Willys Jeep. We parted ways with Brian shortly after the top after sharing some food and water - I'll be looking for him on the Colombian National Team in the next ten to fifteen years.
We knocked out over 130km that day to get into Cali by evening. The riding was scenic and flat after we dropped back to the river valley interspersed with short (50-80meter) climbs over the shoulders of the hills reaching into the valley. We passed more sugar cane and grapes. We stayed away from wine tasting in the interest of making time - the previous day we tasted local wines and it did little to help our mileage. I blame the woman who kept offering "tastes" and would have sent us out stumbling if we did not cut her off.
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