She wore a red baseball cap, a white shirt, black silk pants, white casual tennis shoes, aged about seventy. Her clothes were spotless. I couldn’t help wondering why she was washing another load. She lived a one hour hike up a mountain trail in a small proud house. I had stopped for directions. She pointed me over a mountain to the south-east. I hadn’t eaten anything in 24 hours and offered to pay for a meal. She cooked me a large plate of rice, a fried egg, 3 potatoes and small chunks of fish. Her name was Martha and very camera shy. A pity,  I told her this memory will be etched permanently into my memory bank as one of my most memorable experiences of the run.
Que pasa? What are you doing here? She asked me.
As I ate my delicious meal I told her…
Well Martha I left Ireland 15 months ago and have run almost 15,000km in my quest to run around the world. I want this to be as continuous a run as possible around the world. Yesterday was the first time I came to a standstill when the authorities wouldn’t let me run through the tunnel from km 40 that leads to San Cristobal. The tunnel is 4.5 kilometers long, one lane each way and even though there is a pedestrian path I was not allowed to run on it. A man called Oscar who lived for six years in Belgium stopped and got out to help me persuade the toll booth attendants, but to no avail.

OSCAR

 I knew that near the tunnel entrance there was a 4-wheel drive road to San Antonio and if I could make it there I would knock about a half day off the run and also avoid the large city of Medellin and most important of all make it through the tunnel. Oscar offered to give me a lift through the tunnel but I refused. This time I will try going cross-country. It may not always be possible to do this in the future, say if its a sheer cliff, I am refused permission or deep snow but any of these is a get out with my mission statement, but just like Mexico and the so called dangers I had heard so much about, I at least want to give it a shot.
I had estimated the distance to be between 12 and 15km. Three hours taking it handy, I figured. There were no shops here, just a restaurant and as I had already eaten a large breakfast and had a mid morning bowl of bean soup I just decided to go for it.
The road started off on decent tarmac up a very steep windy hill. Two young school girls were walking up it almost as fast as I was running up it with my pack on my back and my red satchel across my chest.

After about 20 minutes I came to a few houses with some youths hanging about, I was feeling a bit vulnerable, it’s different on the road, here there were not many people about and a shout for help would not be heard. All it would take would be a phone call ahead to an accomplice and I could be ambushed. One of the men seemed friendly enough but I didn’t want to hang about too much. In English he said something which seemed strange at the time but I was to hear his words over and over in my mind later.
” I hope you brought your lunch with you? ”
In fact I did not even have as much as a Smartie with me.
I came to a school and turned left to follow the road which gradually deteriorated into first a single lane and then totally impassable due to rock slides. I ran on as the track gradually became a hiking trail over the mountains.

 I was a bit surprised by this but just kept running on.
After a while a brown terrier came across a field and started barking at me. I figured there must be people about. Right enough just as I turned the next bend there was a black dog and two ugly, toothless campesinos walking their burro down the trail. They greeted me in the usual friendly but knowing every campesino worth his salt carries a machete. I don’t carry any weapons as the first rule in carrying a weapon is you got to be prepared to use it and be sure it is not used against you. All very well saying take someone out with a weapon, then you go to prison! I prefer to take my chances and use my senses and hopefully better judgement.
As I was running towards them one of the campesinos was to my left and in the long grass off the trail. The burro was blocking the trail standing at right angles to it. The other campesino was standing towards the head of the animal and towards his friend. He invited me to step around the burro and between the two men. No way was I going to do that, but pretended I was and then just feigned my move around the back of the burro who got a bit startled. I moved on up the trail swiftly as they waved me a good afternoon. I am sure they were friendly, but this is not the time for photo taking and chatting, plenty of time for that another day.
I passed a couple of abandoned houses and cow sheds. I passed through about ten gates with bared-wire loop closures.

FOR SOME STRANGE REASON I MARKED SOME OF THE GATES PLACING STICKS TO THE SIDE

 For some strange reason I decided to mark some of them by placing sticks to the side and also sticking small branches into the barbed-wire section of the gate. I ran over about 5 or 6 streams of which two had waterfalls.

 Then at half past four I came to a 3 room building which appeared to be abandoned. It was tempting to stay the night, at this stage I was starting to get worried that something was a miss. I ran on and on and at about six pm I came to a shed, though grubby had cover for the night. There was signs of daily usage, perhaps a worker. I don’t know what I expected to find but with half an hour of daylight left I ran on and left that shelter.

 Fifteen minutes later, my worst nightmare, the trail ran out. It ran right up to a river bank and ended at some dense shrubbery. This area is not traversed much, perhaps the locals know the area well and clear out the trail with their machetes, to me it was a stone wall. I climbed down off the bank and figured I would find my way back to the trail easily as this part of the river has a lot of fallen rocks and trees in it.

The river was fairly shallow, so I criss-crossed it about four times looking for the trail. I couldn’t find it. I then decided it was time to settle down for the night. I didn’t have a sleeping bag, instead I had my bivy sack. For those that don’t know a bivy sack is like a sleeping bag cover but made from waterproof material, a kind of a light weight sleeping bag tent but without the warmth of a bag. It’s ideal for warm nights, in reality one can sleep in the rain and snow in this and stay dry, but condensation is another matter! Mine has mosquito netting with a pull over flap at the head.
I settled down to sleep around seven pm under a tree close to the river. Fire flies lit up the forest, fooling me every time as I thought they were car lights in the distance, silly me, I got to get over that mountain first before I can hope to see anything. I wondered if I was lost. I was worried about no food, by morning it will be 18 hours since I last ate. There is no fruit on the trees, not a sausage!

 Suppose I run on and get terribly lost for another day, it might be too late to go back. At least I know the way I came and marked the gates just for my reassurance.
I decided I would run on. I worried about my folks back home, they would have noticed I left the road and was running cross country and not knowing why. Would they see the tunnel on the Spot map and guess?
I don’t mind admitting I was very worried. Should I go on, perhaps I am close to the road. The maps here are crap, Latinos will never win any awards for mapping, that’s for sure. I said a few rare prayers that night. I reckon I only slept for about two half hour naps. I really needed a good nights sleep, with no food I need to sleep the night away and besides I need my energy for the next day.
During the night I decided that in the morning I would have a quick look for the trail and if I couldn’t find it I would return the way I had come, I had ‘ lost my bottle. ‘
It was a very cold night. In the middle of the night I put my spare running tights over my head and around my chest as I had lost my hat. I pulled on my light-weight singlet as that was all I had got left. It rained heavily and except for some condensation I was dry, dry but very worried.

Martha’s cell phone rang a few times. I ate slowly and enjoyed the meal so much while she talked. I figured that even with one meal like this every day I could survive a long time out here.
She told me her husband was out working in the fields and they lived here on top of the mountain for over ten years.
Then I told Martha when I awoke that morning I had a fruitless look for the trail. I decided to return the way I had come and go back to the road. I was not expecting this and as a result was not fully prepared.
It took me several hours to get back to the road running through the overgrown trails, no worries about snakes now, I don’t have much option, just keep on going.

It was always a relief to find one of the gates I marked yesterday. There were cows all over the trail and I guess that’s what the gates were for, to keep them in a particular pasture.
The trail gradually became better till I had my 4-wheel track and then the road back, what a relief, and I didn’t even mind the cars and motorbikes honking at me, what a magical sound!
I ran by the school, I could hear the kids in class.

THE SCHOOL

 It was around noon, here things get slack around lunchtime. I was thinking that perhaps I may be able to sneak through the tunnel.
As I approached the road there was a restaurant at the tunnel entrance but if I was to hang about I might miss my opportunity to sneak through. I told Martha, even though it was almost 24 hours since I last ate, that I was not particularly hungry.
My plan to sneak through was going well. I slipped by two cops who didn’t notice me as they were busy giving a ticket to a trucker. The toll booth attendants unlike yesterday didn’t seem to notice me. On up to the entrance to the tunnel and I got stopped by a security guard. No way was he letting me through.
I spotted a paved path over the tunnel. The start of another trail I wondered and immediately wanted to take this
” Impossible! ” He kept on saying and then added it would take all day!
He also told me there were a lot of bad people there and I would be killed or robbed. I reckoned he just wanted to be rid of me.
I stopped a cop car that was about to drive through. He reversed back out. The cops told me I could not run on the pedestrian path, I wondered what it was for then, perhaps he was afraid of ‘ rubber-necking’ and as a result vehicles crashing. I don’t think he cared about my mission, nor did the crazy gummy guard as he kept shouting ” Impossible! ”
Impossible is my favourite motivator!
All along both he and the cops tried to no avail to get me into the cop car.
” No! Cien percent a pied. ” 100 percent on foot.
The cops told me the trail over the tunnel was safe. So off I went. It was paved for about 5 minutes and then became a trail. It was a strange sensation running over a tunnel, this of course was just like any other mountain. After another few minutes I saw two men taking a wash under a waterfall. They waved me a good day. There were a few houses along the trail also, houses on top of a road!
It was not too steep at this stage, a gradual climb. I felt I was making good progress and was more confident this time. So long as I keep heading south-east I will be alright. My only concern was to get finished in daylight hours, I don’t want another night up here, especially without eating.
I pointed the hour hand of my watch towards the sun. Half way between the hour hand and the 12 is due south, a handy compass.
After an hour that’s when I came to Martha’s house. She was very cautious at first, Till I showed her my card. After I said goodbye to Martha she pointed me over the looming mountain to the south-east. There is another house a bit further on up. Stop and ask directions she told me. I could not believe all the houses on these mountains actually have electrical connections.
On I went, running was very difficult for the footing was so unstable and uneven. At the second house the lady there was understandably suspicious of me and just confirmed I should keep on going over the mountain in a south-easterly direction.

I came to a gorge and had to climb right over it. There was a skeletal carcass, perhaps a cow, a dead runner I wondered. I looked up and saw a few buzzards.
” You are not getting me! ” I shouted at them.

CARCUS IN THE GORGE

The trails kept disappearing and then reappearing with junctions and decisions. I was not worried as I knew the general direction.
My climb over the gorge was difficult and precarious. It was a straight up climb. I had my backpack on and a satchel across my chest. I more or less just inched my way up about 100 meters of a climb, criss-crossing for the best foot and hand holds. Some of the rocks were loose and came away. I heaved my way up grabbing some roots and whatever I could find.
I came to a second gorge and had to do the same.
On I ran slipping a couple of times. Once very heavily on my right knee, twisting it slightly but thankfully all was well after a short breather. This part of the trail is probably not used, I see no sign of animal waste or footprints. To have a broken ligament up here could result in death. But I always have the emergency SOS button on my tracking device. I would push it if needed but only as a serious last resort. I don’t know what the Latino rapid response would be like! Somehow I have no faith in them, for they barely have any computers to find my location. Almost all of the police stations I stayed in in Central America had no computers or even phones. Just radios and the officers having to use their own mobile phones. All typing I saw was done on the old-fashioned manual typewriters.
I ran on went over another couple of mountain peaks till I came to the top where several electrical pylons were located. From this vantage point I could see two houses and what looked like the outline of a road between them. It was about another half hour away. I pushed on without renewed excitement. If there is a road there, It has to go somewhere!
I got to the gravel road and turned right, hiking it as fast as I could down hill. I could not move very fast now as my tired and battered joints just didn’t allow for a fast downhill run.
There were several houses here and two people told me the road only led back up the mountain again!
Nevertheless I ran on. I rounded a bend and saw the glorious sight of a large town!

IT MUST BE SAN CRISTOBAL!

 That must be San Cristobal… I was so thrilled I could hardly hold my excitement.
If I run across the fields and with three hours of daylight I will make it without the fear of another food less, cold night up here…

But which path to take down. As luck would have it I came to a farm and asked the farmer if I could head down the mountain through his land. He pointed to a trail which gradually became a battered paved trail. Ten minutes he optimistically told me. Well half an hour later I was running into San Cristobal. The tunnel exit was 500 meters to my left. I had made it across!

I MADE IT ACROSS THE TUNNEL WITH 500 METERS TO SPARE.

Had I not found that trail at the farm it would have been easily two hours as the terrain was tough, ankle twisting stuff.

Once in San Cristobal I went about looking for a place to stay and to my amazement for such a large town there were no hotels, that’s a first for such a large town.
I went to the police station and asked there but after a runaround for over half an hour I was told it was not permitted and would I not run on into ‘ town. ‘
Town I soon discovered was the city of Medellin and not the center of San Cristobal, as I was led to believe. On I went, It started raining heavily just as I reached the last few buildings of the town out on the highway. I went into a restaurant and had a delicious steak dinner. After a while I asked the owner if I could sleep there once he closed at nine o’clock.
No problem I was told. There was an old lady that kept moving my things around from one table to another, she was about eighty and had incredible energy, so much so that she was pestering me. I wondered if she was the owners mother and he just gave her a job to keep her happy. I just need to relax now!

THANKS FOR THE SHELTER, AND THE OLD LADY!

Eventually it was closing time and I settled down at the back of the restaurant in my bivy on some cardboard. At about 2 am the old lady shouted in through the open door to see if I was ok!

Next day I made my way into Medellin, a large busy city. Infamous for Pablo Escobar’s drug cartel. DETAILS HERE 

At the height of its power, the Medellín drug cartel was smuggling 15 tons of cocaine a day, worth more than half a billion dollars, into the United States. According to Roberto, Pablo’s accountant, he and his brother’s operation spent $250 a month just purchasing rubber bands to wrap the stacks of cash—and since they had more illegal money than they could deposit in the banks, they stored the bricks of cash in their warehouses, annually writing off 10% as “spoilage” when the rats crept in at night and nibbled on the hundred dollar bills.

 I was told that two of the football teams here were used to launder his money. Also many of the tall expensive buildings with nobody living in them now was another guise.
The tourist brochures here have made a shrine of his death place. See where Pablo (and not Escobar) lived and was killed. Fly into his secret airport. I was told that many people were holding large amounts of  dollar cash for him. And when he was eventually taken out of it, most likely by the CIA, well it was ‘ happy days ‘ for all those people holding hiis cash. The place where he met his end has been left the same as when he was blown out of it. Many of the locals have dug up the land looking for his money.
It seemed Escobar was considered somewhat of a Robin Hood as he built schools, and sports centers in the poor neighbourhoods, or barrios as they are called here.
I was told he was even elected to government till the Colombian government stepped in, enough is enough!
I stopped on the outskirts of Medellin and observed a tall, probably 30 story high rise under construction. The brickies were working out front on the entrance. One man with a hard hat on was just standing around, he was clean, probably the foreman I thought, you always know the foreman, the clean one! I looked closer and saw he had a pump-action shotgun slung across his back. The security man.

IS THIS THE FOREMAN OR THE SECURITY GUARD WITH THE PUMP ACTION SHOTGUN BEHIND HIS BACK!

Truck drivers and security seem to me to be the two biggest industries here!
I stopped at a shoemakers stall to get a couple of stitches in my running shoes for I had gotten a couple of rips on the jagged rocks. This seems to happen easier when the shoes are wet, as mine where as I had to run through several streams.
The shoemakers name was Oscar, he ran a coffee service also and gave me a free one.
1,000 pesos or 50 cents was my bill!

I made my way through Medellin to a subburb called Itagui. I need a nice soft bed tonight. Two nights sleeping on hard ground is more than I can take without an air matress. I think I am gone soft in my old age!
Then running out of Itagui that Sunday morniing was a pleasure. It seems they close one lane of the highway for a 23km stretch. Runners, walkers, skaters and cyclists have a blast without the intrusion of motorised vehicles.

IF ONLY COLOMBIAN ROADS WERE ALWAYS LIKE THIS

 It was such a joy to see so much activity, pushing the baby in jogging strollers and all with such great enthuaism. I was told this happens every Sunday and festive day. There were food stalls and even bicycle mechanics along the route. It was a slow day for me. I was shattered, especially as I headed up into the hills. I think the exersions of my tunnel escapade have taken a toll on me. I was also very late leaving as I spent too much time on the internet and Skyping. I ended up finishing early due to a heavy rain downpour. I was just 50km from la Pintera and went and sheltered at a roadside restaurant. I really should have gotten a bus to the town and commutted back, another mistake, but so long as my mistakes are minor I am not complaining.
I spent a pleasant evening listening to my music on my computer. A group of kids cam over to listen. I was a bit surprised when none of them had even heard of U2. I guess they just don’t listen to western music as they don’t understand the lyrics.

ACTUNG BABY! WHAT YOU MEAN YOU NEVER HEARD OF U2!

Next day was also another bad day, only 24. More hills but I am physically shattered running with the pack, eight straight days now. Its great when I can do it and negate the commute, but this effort is compounding. I need to start commuting again and get a break. It’s the netbook computer that’s the problemn, it’s half my weight I haul. I wonder will I just do the blog and post the pictures from internet cafes. It may not always be so convenient but running with my pack I cover less ground, even with no commute, I seem to do worse.
I wonder about all those journey runners I have heard about that run with 10 kilo packs. I am starting to not believe this. As I have said, you get away with it for a while, feeling like a horse but the effort is compounding and catches up with you. I am only carrying a little more than 4 kilos.
So I did commute a couple of days using La Pintera as base running 41km and then a 44km to Supia.
The first day I met Roger when I stopped at a place called Mirador del Pipinta a plush resort with a swiming pool. I had stopped for water and to see if they would give me a discount for the next night, not a hope.
Roger orriginally from Nottingham in the UK is 67. He spent most of his life in much of the area in Canada I ran through, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. He made it big selling insurance. After a failed marriage he took a severance package from his firm and settled with a very generous pension.
Now he lives the ‘ life of Riley ‘ here in Colombia driving a really nice VW Colwagen sports car and a nice house in a gated community.

Nice car Roger!

To top it all he has a 21 year old Colombian girlfriend!
” I am under no illusions that she loves me, but I have my fun and it’s well worth putting her up in an appartment, paying her a monthly allowance and her university fees!
” I can well affford it and life is great for me, the best thing I ever did was to retire and come down here, I am the luckiest man in the world, I could have been back in Canada still argueing with the ex-wife. ”
I finished my run for the day at the resort and as Roger had nothing else to do as he said he dropped me back to La Pintera. I bought him a beer as he had rushed off leaving his wallet at the pool.
Next morning I stopped by just before I started and he stood me a nice breakfast telling me about how honest the people here are as he was immediately presented with his wallet upon his return yesterday. Over Breakfast we got talking about the ‘ two Escobars ‘ Pablo Escobar as mentioned above and the other Pablo Escobar, the unfortunate Colombiaan player that scored an own goal to eliminate Colombia from the 1994 World Cup. This ‘ mistake ‘ resulted in his execution, such was the fortune lost in gambling. Roger sent  me this information if anyone wants to check it out > The TV show that I told you about is called “The two Escobars”. I don’t know if you have the facilities to do this on your journey, but all you have to do to watch it is log on to Utube, then type in that title. I think it’s split into 7 or 8 segments. < Thanks Roger

I got an email from an ultrarunning friend of mine. Paul Mahon from Dublin just happens to be here holidaying with his girlfriend. Like all good ultra runners Paul packed his running shoes!
He said he will try to hook up with me for a run on the road, today Thursday.
Well as I type this on the bus it’s almost noon. This commute from La Pintera to where I finished yesterday in Supia is not working out due to road works delay. Yesterday when I ran by here a digger was busy clearing fallen rocks from the side of the road. They just closed the road for about three hours and counting. Obviously here there is little regard for the road user. When I was involved in road construction both in Ireland and Colorado the road user was treated with the uupmost respect with minimual delays. They just did a little clearing before moving aside to let the traffic through and then get the flaggers to open it again. As it’s coming up to their noon lunchbreak I bet they will open it for a short while!

FOUR HOURS STUCK IN TRAFFIC MEANT I DIDN'T GET TO THE START LINE TODAY, REST DAY DECLARED.

There doesn’t seem to be the same amount of respect here.
As a pedestrian here I should know, I am treated like the lowest of low! As I sit in restaurants and talk to nice truckers and bus drivers I wonder what it is that possesses them to become so bad tempered once they get behind a wheel.
Driving here in latin America is considered to be so macho, I could never understand why driving is considered so macho, seems more lazy to me!!
I hope Paul is not looking all over for me, he said he would take a bus down the road and look for me. Too bad I was too late to make the commute back here last night, that would have saved a lot of grief. It will be a short one today, if I get going at all. The commute is killing me, I have been up since 6am waiting for this bus as nobody was sure what time it left.

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