Roaming South America

Escaping the Humidity: A Journey from Ecuador's Amazon to Colombia's Andes

October 4, 2025

I arrived in La Hormiga, Colombia, on Oct. 3. La Hormiga is a small and noisy town on the Colombian edge of the Amazon. After weeks of scratchy throat and sleepless nights from the humid air of the northern Ecuador Amazon region, I decided to leave the it behind and head for higher, drier ground. For almost three months I had lived in the forests and mountains of Peru and Ecuador, places I loved, but northern Amazonia simply wasn’t for me.

Crossing the Border

The border crossing "La Hormiga" is a no-traffic crossing where the Amazon regions meets the Andes Mountains. From the town of Lago Agrio (Nueva Loja), I took a colectivo (a shared taxi), in this region they are pickup trucks. The driver went to a parking lot at the bridge over Rio San Miguel. That's not a problem for the locals who cross back-n-forth regularly, but I needed to go to the immigration office, which is three kilometers back from the bridge. So, I got into another colectivo, got the exit stamp for Ecuador and the entry stamp for Colombia, then took a bus that was heading for the bridge. Then it's a walk across the bridge to get another colectivo to the closet large town - La Hormiga (26 kilometers). This is where I am as I write this blog.

Allergy to Humidity - Seriously

Here is why I cut my visit to the Amazon region short - the problem was something they call alergia de humedad (allergy to humidity). Right, you're probably thinking, how can a person have a allergy to humidity? Here’s the gist of it:

• On the eastern side of the Andes (Amazon basin side, like Loreto), the air is very different from the drier highlands you came from. It’s more humid, heavier, with lots of spores, pollen, and microscopic particles floating around.
• Locals often use “alergia de humedad” as a catch-all term for throat irritation, cough, or sinus issues that flare up when someone isn’t used to the damp air and organic particles.
• It’s not always a literal “allergy” like hay fever—you might just be reacting to mold spores or the sudden shift in air density and moisture.

Common remedies here are antihistamines, throat lozenges, or simple home things like warm teas with honey or ginger. Pharmacies tend to label it as “alergia” even if it’s just irritation from mold/damp air.

So, what the pharmacist was probably telling me was: “Your scratchy throat and cough aren’t from a cold or infection—it’s just your body reacting to the humidity here.”

Why It’s Lingering

• Humidity + spores/pollen: The Amazon side has constant dampness that feeds mold and fungi, plus there’s often smoke from small field burnings and endless grilling along the sidewalks. Even if you’re not allergic at home, your body may react here.
• Change shock: Coming straight from the dry Andes, your airway and sinuses are adapting. For some people, it takes weeks.
• Not an infection (probably): Since I didn't have a fever, colored mucus, or full-body weakness, it didn't sound bacterial or viral — though it can start as irritation and then turn into bronchitis if it drags on.

Regional Differences

• Humidity Quality: The northern Amazon in Ecuador is swampier and heavier — you feel it in the air. Southern selva (Peru, southeastern Ecuador) is humid but better ventilated by Andean valleys, so it doesn’t sit as thick.
• Oil & Agriculture: In the northeastern Amazon region, I was smack in the middle of petroleum country (Coca, Shushufindi, Lago Agrio, and many other small towns). Between refineries, gas flares (lots of those), and truck exhaust, the air carries more irritants. Add burning fields for farming, and my throat was basically getting sandpapered.
• Different Flora: The plant mix up here isn’t the same as central/southern selva (jungle). New molds, pollens, and spores = your body reacts like it’s under attack. Think of it as your immune system meeting strangers and panicking.
• Post-Cold Sensitivity: Since I caught a cold in Mindo (in the mountains west of Quito and cold and wet every day), my airways were already inflamed. Moving straight into heavy-humidity/mold-land gave the irritation an open door, even though it was basically done and gone when I arrived in Loreto, on the eastern side of the Andes.

Finishing my journey?

My next stops are penciled in: Villagarzón, Mocoa, and Pitalito. Here, the land begins to tilt upward, with Mocoa’s waterfalls offering a reminder of how beautiful the foothills can be. By the time I reach Pitalito, I’ll be in coffee country, a region that has treated me well during my previous visits.

From there, the road leads into Huila: first Garzón, quieter and more comfortable than Neiva, then Neiva itself—a city I’ve visited before and am familiar with. Moving north through El Espinal and Girardot, I’ll swap jungle humidity for the dry heat of the Magdalena Valley. Girardot buzzes on weekends with visitors from Bogotá, while Guaduas and Honda promise history, colonial streets, and a river-town rhythm.

After that, the Andes rise again, and I’ll arrive in Manizales, a university town high in the mountains. Its cool air and lively culture make it an ideal place to pause before the final stretch south.

This last leg of the journey will pass through Pereira, Cartago, and then ends where my heart already knows it belongs: Roldanillo. And it will be three years (on Oct 31) since I started this journey. I lived here for about two years, and it’s the one place in Colombia I would choose again if I decided to settle and apply for residency. With its small-town pace, cultural depth, and welcoming atmosphere, Roldanillo feels less like a stop on the map and more like a homecoming.

Landscape, Nature & Eyes…

La Hormiga (Putumayo edge)

• Soundscape: motos, trucks, bars—constant background noise
• Air: heavy humidity, rough on the throat
• Stopover: more a transit hub than a linger spot

Villagarzón → Mocoa (foothill reset)

• Waterfalls: Fin del Mundo, Hornoyaco
• Rivers: clear pools after dry days
• Wildlife: cloud-forest birds at higher elevation

Pitalito (coffee valley)

• Coffee fincas: tastings, tours, and roasting lessons
• Landscape: quilted hills with morning fog
• Eyes: Laboyos Valley views stretching wide

Garzón (quiet Huila)

• Plaza life: slower, more welcoming than Neiva
• Local tastes: cheeses paired with coffee
• Atmosphere: warm evenings, colonial walls in golden light

Neiva → El Espinal → Girardot (Magdalena valley)

• Climate: dry heat—hydration essential
• River mood: broad Magdalena, bridges and sunsets
• Weekend vibe: Girardot swells with Bogotá visitors

Guaduas (colonial ridge town)

• Streets: cobblestone, steep, photogenic
• Vistas: sweeping ridge-line panoramas
• Pace: contemplative, good for a writing day

Honda (river labyrinth)

• Bridges & alleys: maze-like, colorful facades
• River markets: fruit barges and fish stalls
• Golden hour: Magdalena shimmers bronze at dusk

Manizales (Andean highland)

• Altitude: cool, clear air for the lungs
• Skyline: cathedral spire and mountain ridges
• Day trips: páramo and coffee micro-climates

Roldanillo (Valle del Cauca)

• Culture: Museo Rayo and local arts scene
• Skies: paragliders against painterly sunsets
• Rhythm: walkable, welcoming—sustainable for long stays

My Reflections

I really wanted to continue eastward further into the Amazon. I had a route penciled-in that would take me to a few tiny river towns and communities before taking that same river into Colombia. But, that wasn't going to happen, not with the way I was feeling - not sleeping, coughing through the night. So, it was time to call it, and head to dryer climes.

This journey reminded me that travel isn’t always about chasing the next destination—it’s about knowing when to pivot. Three years on the road have taught me that comfort matters as much as curiosity. The northeastern Ecuador Amazon wore me down, but the Andes' foothill valleys restored my balance.