Couldn't tear ourselves away from La Estelita! Left at 1:00pm. Not even the foggiest notion of what awaited us at the Ecuador:Colombia Frontera (Border), until turning the last corner of Ruta E35 we saw chaos spilling onto the highway at Ecuador's Border Post!!
Thousands of people - thousands of bags - but just one queue! Passport Control (Migracion) the same line whether leaving or entering Ecuador!
Leaving Ecuador = trickle of tourists + fleet of truck drivers. Entering Ecuador = flood of Venezuelan refugees. A human tide washed up at the border having travelled across Colombia seeking sanctuary. Already over 1.5 million Venezuelan refugees in Colombia; another 25,000 crossing each day, fleeing civil unrest and Government repression in their home country. Many countries of South America have opened their borders to these men, women and children travelling on foot carrying their lives on their backs, searching for a safe haven.
We felt uncomfortable and voyeuristic in our luxury 4x4 enjoying a Pan American adventure whilst these poor people struggle past carrying all their worldly goods on foot en route to a new life somewhere safer than the dangerous home country they left behind. Despite everything, the Venezuelans we met in the three hour queue were smiling and friendly, and we chatted to them in our improving (but poco) Espanol. The queue was surprisingly orderly - with the exception of two Argentine 'Hippies' who tried and failed, there was no queue jumping (Eds note: Argie Bargie?)
Eventually we reached Migracion - just five booths open inside an office guarded by armed Policia and Soldiers - Passport Control Officials wearing surgical masks sitting behind glass screens. The family of ten Venezuelans in front of us in the queue were given papers to enter Ecuador as our Passports were stamped to leave - we shook their hands, hugged, and wished them luck on their journey. There but for the grace of God ......
Now out of Ecuador we head up the road to the Colombian Border Post. No queue here, and our Passports are checked and stamped without any hassle. Not so straightforward at the Aduana Office where a grumpy Customs Official refuses to understand our basic Espanol, doesn't want to listen to our English, and carries on the whole procedure through a waist level hatch the size of a paperback book whilst huge Lorries thunder past spewing clouds of black diesel fumes! Air Con and dry inside his Aduana Office - hot, humid and raining in our outdoor perilous perch!!
And dark!
We finally get clearance to drive Pablo into Colombia and it's 8:30pm, five and a half hours since our arrival at the Border! Rule One of the Overlanders' Travel Guide says DO NOT DRIVE AT NIGHT!! We have no option - the Border is flooded with thousands of refugees sleeping rough. The few Hotels here look like shacks with nowhere to park Pablo, and the nearest town Pasto is 84 Km away.
Doesn't sound too far, so we crack on hoping to arrive at the Hotel Fernando Plaza by 10:00pm. Traffic says "No!", and it's a slow three hour drive behind convoys of US sized Trucks along single lane roads before we reach Pasto and a comfortable bed (or beds rather - they had given our Superior Doble to someone else as we didn't show up - we settled for a Standard Twin with two single beds!). Time to count some blessings David ...... !?
