We had just spent the night in Jardin - a little mountain village in Colombia, a few hours from Medellin. Our next destination was Salento and the only direct way to get there was a rickety old local bus that took us across the mountain to Riosucio, where we could then transfer to Salento.
The bus went up and up the mountain, winding through endless switch backs and before long the bitumen was replaced with gravel - now I understood why we got the off-road looking bus.
We were so high now that we'd pushed into the clouds and the visibility had reduced to only a few meters ... just enough to appreciate the steep drop over the edge of the mountain!
We slowed to a stop just in front of one particularly dodgy bend in the road. Last night's rain had caused a minor landslide and you could see evidence of previous slips that had occurred before. We were thinking that we may need to turn around and take the long way to Salento.
Suddenly, a lone workman appeared out of the mist and assured the driver that the fresh layer of clay he'd been packing down with a shovel, was sufficient for the bus to continue. Kim and I gave each other a glance of concern, acknowledging that this could be it!
The driver whacked the bus into first gear and inched his way across the clay. We slowly made it to the other side and carried on up the mountain. It's moments like these while you are traveling, that make you feel truly alive.