Turns out hitchhiking in Colombia is really easy - just stand on the side of a lonely stretch of highway and wave frantically at passing trucks. The third one stopped, after as many minutes. Nice.
So at this point you are probably wondering why I would I be hitching?
I screwed up. I had had a really long uphill mountainous ride and was a bit too optimistic about my petrol situation ..... I still had had 1/4 tank when I passed what turned out to be the last petrol station on this lonely highway. After another 30 miles or so I had the sinking feeling that this was going to be the day that I finally stranded myself by running out of petrol. A big reason for my blaise attitude is that I have a translucent tank so I can actually keep an eye on its levels. As the mountain road looped leisurely around the mountain I could see miles ahead and there was a definate absence of towns .... and then the bike stuttered. Onto Reserve!
Feeling sensible I spotted a roadside stop with a small roadside cafe. I pulled over and asked if they had a little petrol. No. How far was the next petrol station? 9 km. I looked at the inch of petrol visible on the left, tap-side of the tank ... Um, are you sure you don't have any? Nope. Oh, and they told me that only the first 5 km were uphill .... Crap.
I started the bike ..... and got a grand total of 3 km up that hill.
Time to man up! I took the small portable petrol tank I have been lugging around, empty, for the last 5,000 miles, and stood on the verge and waited ....
The first 2 trucks buzzed right past my windmilling, but the 3rd stopped. Result. I quickly threw my cable lock around a wheel, with my helmet (less to carry if it comes to walking back) and jumped in the cab of the truck with the driver and his 2 passengers. Five minutes later, just as I'd been told, we rolled up to the next town and a gas station. I 'mucho gracias' ed them, jumped out, filled the can, and looked for a ride back.
This time, maybe cos I was now in a busy small town, I had about 10 cars, trucks and motorcycle resist my windmilling. I saw a big lorry loaded with steel pipe idling on the roadside whilst its driver got a roadside drink. I got to him just as he was getting back in. I waved the petrol can and used my spanglish to explain my situation and where the bike was. He nodded, I jumped in, and we chugged our way back to the bike. Many deeply felt 'mucho gracias' es again, I jumped out, gassed up, and was on my way.
30 minutes. Not wasted. All new experiences.
Oh, and the town I was only 3 miles away from. Honda!
Seriously!
