The road actually climbed quite steeply out of Pamplona – I erred a little, and passed one too many fruit stalls so found myself a little low on supplies, and having climbed too far to go back.
When stopped to eat the last of my fruit, a motorcyclist -Juan Pablo- going the other way screeched to a halt and waved. It turned out that he’d passed me a day or two earlier, close to the border – having encountered me again in the mountains, he was curious enough to stop.
We chatted for a bit – we laughed about the madness of venezuelan roads, and our different perceptions of what cold is. He thought it’d be a long way up the hill before I found a food place.
..fortunately he was wrong- the fuel stop once I got to the ridge line sorted me out with big soup and a huge plate of steak, plantain, rice, beans, and potato. (All the right things- standard fare, and excellent stuff)

There was a long gradual descent (which turned out to be the first part of many undulations between 2900 and 3400m) and many strawberry sellers. The one I stopped at wouldn’t take my money. I suspect farming here (anywhere?) is a hard way to make a living- the generosity of people is humbling.

I camped just off the road- a couple of metres below it, and on the inside of a long sweeping bend. Between that and the mist, I was all but invisible. It rained steadily all night- bivvying out would have been uncomfortable.

The following day was similar- lots of climbing up and down. It rained for the first part of the day, and I had the so far unique experience of keeping my waterproof on to keep warm.

I met Carlos and Chistopher at a petrol station when I stopped for snacks. They had been touring as well, and had ridden from Venezuela- the former on a well laden Vespa.

I was also passed by a google streetview car ..I have no idea if they were recording, but it’s just possible that I might appear. I logged the position just round the bend: (he was northbound)
N 07º 15.459′
W 72º 45.353′

Berlin- a small farming comminity on a surprisingly large area of flat(ish) ground, before the steep descent to Bucaramanga. The landscape here is a world away from the plains- it looks and feels quite close to home in some ways.

Not wanting to be racing into Bucaramanga in th dark, I camped close to Berlin- partly also to enjoy another night where the weather is cool.

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