It's funny - no, it's tragic - how much difference a barking dog can make.
Quimbaya - Salento 51 kilometers. Elevation gain 1,344 meters
Just like some of the world's best literature is written by people being depressed or under the influence of drugs, I apparently do my best writing while in agony and suffering from physical exhaustion. So here it goes:
Today has been hell. No, that's not good enough. Let me try again:
Today has been hell on two wheels. I'm getting there. This is my best writing:
Today was hell on two wheels, and then it started to rain.
It all started so well. We had planned a quiet scenic route, free from traffic and surrounded by green foliage and humming birds. Then we met one of those hellhounds and it quite literally barked us down the wrong road.
I don't get what's wrong with some of the dogs here. It's not all, mind you, but the messed up ones let cars, trucks, motorbikes and pedestrians pass without as much as a whimper only to go completely crazy when a bike comes along. They start barking and run after the bike, ready to drag the poor sucker to the ground, kill him, eat him dry and bury the bones in the backyard.
It's as if a cyclist once went around Colombia dragging a poor dog after him on a short leash without ever stopping, slowly torturing her to death. And now her descendants have sworn to avenge her into eternity.
The hellhound went after us full speed and forced us to go right where we should have gone left. We didn't really realize our mistake, but then we didn't really mind either, blinded by the peaceful surroundings and green canopy.
Then we hit the main road. In no mood for traffic, we hurried to find a less traveled road only to realize it was so little traveled it wasn't much to find on the way. Omar got tired because he hadn't eaten since breakfast. I, on the other hand, haven't had appetite for days, my meals consisting of liquid similar to energy drinks, only pharmacy approved. So we entered a gloomy state, dizzy due to lack of energy. Or at least I did, and Omar joined me in sympathy.
Somehow, we did manage to reach our destination. The detour was 10 kilometers, a distance easy to overcome any other day. Unless it would be climbing The Line, of course.
Nobody wants to be the one that slows down the company. The weak link. The party pooper. Nevertheless, I have to be honest with myself and admit that today shouldn't have been this hard and that I need to rest until I'm not sick anymore. I don't want to delay our schedule, but it's either that or never arrive.
Hadn't it been for the barking dog, we wouldn't be so drained of energy. Hadn't it been for the barking dog, we wouldn't have to fight a torrent of rain while climbing to our destination. And that's why a cow is much nicer than a dog.