How far would you go for a beer? For the September Outside feature story "It's Thriller Time," that's exactly the brave and daunting question correspondent Eric Hansen had the gumption to ask. For three months, our intrepid 31-year-old wordsmith toiled in front of a computer screen searching for the world's most remote watering hole until, finally, he bulls-eyed

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Read more of Eric Hansen's work for Outside by clicking below. I Poached the White Elephant Witness now the first (we're pretty sure) harrowing (well, kinda) descent (albeit partial) of Mount Kilimanjaro on mini-skis. Hey, it's harder than you think. Om Wrecker Bodybuilder Peter Seamans, a.k.a. the Iron Yogi, has stepped onto the sticky mat with a rough, tough body-bending routine he's selling to the Crunch Fitness crowd. What the heck's happening to yoga? Breaking All the Rules At Walden Pond, they forbid inflatable pool toys. Sounds ripe for disobedience, don't you think?

Colombia's El Mirador, a ramshackle outpost of warm brew, salsa dancing, and surf, just south of the Panamanian border. But the adventure of getting there was more than a quest for a buzz—it was a voyage through the deepest corners of Colombia, where Hansen would encounter mudslides, guerillas, and more. Were the months of research and chaotic Colombian travel worth it? H.Thayer Walker found out.

Outside: For this story you went over landslides and through rebel territory, you rode various forms of rattletrap transportation, all with a guide you didn't seem to particularly like, just for a drink. Were you just thirsty or what?
Hansen: [Laughs] I've never thought of it that way. It doesn't sound like much fun the way you describe it. [More laughter] But yes, I was really thirsty. I was dying for a drink. The funny thing is, I was worried that everything would go perfectly, which of course didn't happen. Mid-way through the landslides I was thinking "Ohhh, beer would taste great." Then we got to the end of them, the worst slide, the only one we could actually see that had decimated a village—there were aid workers and body bags—and it was a doozie. It threw me in a tailspin, and from then on I didn't even want a drink. I was thrown off kilter. I wanted to keep my wits about me.

It sounds like a sobering experience on a quest for a beer.
It was a sobering experience.

So how much did you know about Colombia before you got down there?
As usual, close to nothing. I had a general sense of the situation, but I basically went in blind.

Is that a method you employ often? Blissful ignorance?
You could call it a method. I do like going into a country wide-eyed and unsuspecting. The big cities surprised me. All you hear about is people getting kidnapped and carjacked, and that drugs are being smuggled. It makes the city sounds like hell, but once I got to Medellín and Cali—they are amazing cities. In Cali we went to the Picasso, Dali, Miro exhibit and we walked home through this wonderful park right by the river, past a café with all these sort of intellectual types, sipping coffee and talking about shit I didn't understand. And there's fantastic nightlife and salsa dancing. They take their salsa seriously.

You mention that we in the U.S. perceive Colombia as a dangerous place, is it safe?
Since Álvaro Uribe took office in 2002, he's drastically reduced the number of kidnappings—last year only one American was taken. He's lowered the homicide rate by 35 percent. That's better than before, but it's still eight times the homicide rate in the U.S. So it's not that good. Traveler's wisdom says that if you stay in the big cities you're fine, and I agree with that.

But you decided not to stay in the big cities.
Well, I had a story to write. But it's true, if you leave the Gringo Trail and head out to the countryside, you don't know what the hell is going to happen. You could end up in the middle of the civil war or the war on drugs or the terrorist situation or whatever you want to call Colombia's ongoing conflict. When the guerillas attacked the road after the landslide and we had to get into the military convoy, that was pretty intense.

What was going through you mind when that happened?
I was thinking, screw the beer, give me a flak-jacket.

You've written stories about skiing down Mount Kilimanjaro, and paddling and drinking your way across Walden Pond for Outside—what is it that attracts you to these off-kilter epics?
Each story in its way is a trip that I've dreamt of doing anyway. I don't think I've ever done a story that I wouldn't have saved up for a couple of years and done myself. They are all pretty wacky, but they are also sincere.

El Mirador, Eric Hansen's ultimate destination for "Thriller Time." (Courtesy, Eric Hansen)