So a few days ago Uyen and I decided to be real adventurers and go spelunking in the morning followed by paragliding in the afternoon. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
The caving was not quite the same level of adventure as I experienced in Guatemala, but it was still fun. It turned out Uyen and I were the only tourists on the outing. A couple of locals tagged along with their dog, which I’m not sure was the greatest idea. He was a crazed puppy, and kept going berserk down there. I think he was mostly having fun, but freaked out at times. Uyen got a big scratch on her back from his paws. After that we kept our distance.
Unlike in Guatemala, we wore helmets which turned out to be smart, because some of the passages were quite tight. Challengingly tight.. uncomfortably tight.. and I’m not claustrophobic. There was one stretch for about 20m where we had to crawl on our bellies like snipers, with not even enough room to get on our knees. Uyen kept grossing me out by talking about all the rat poo and other filth we were crawling through. The water and mud was pretty nasty. Our guide pointed down one passageway that would require this type of locomotion for 60m. We were glad we signed up for the short tour.
But the section that really required meditation to keep from panicking was where there was only about 6″ of air between the water and the ceiling. As you were floating along, you had to tip your head far back so that your mouth was right above the water level in order to keep breathing.. all the while knocking your helmet and head lamp to and fro. It was a bit too far a distance to simply hold your breath.
Our guide was good, but a little cavalier. I wonder what he would have done in an emergency, whether he had any training for that. It’s always amazing to me the things that can live in caves. We came across little plants growing out of a mound of bat guano. The leaves were green, although they couldn’t have been photosynthesising – they were hundreds of metres from sunlight. Bats are strange beasts, too – they sleep in little piles all clumped together, hanging on by a thread. At first you think it’s just one bat, but then one will fly away and you’ll realize it was three or four. Yet another example of animal polyamory, I suppose.
One large chamber had beautiful crystal formations on the ceiling. There were small waterfalls, and I’m glad we didn’t attempt this trip after a rainstorm, or it would have been that much more challenging. You could almost watch the stalactites and stalagmites growing right before your eyes. Amazing what water can do. The flowstones gave a wonderfully deep, resonant sound when knocked upon. I wonder if any percussionists have ever performed music on these things. Seems like a great place to hold a concert.
I for one was overjoyed to emerge from the cave into the warm sunlight and green grass of terra firma. It was cold and dank down there! After changing our clothes back at the tour office, we had a short walk through the tiny town (Curiti) and had lunch at the one restaurant, which was really somebody’s house. A complete meal for very cheap. The paragliding folks came driving by and found the only gringos in town, picking us up to go to the top of the hill for our next adventure..
Sometimes this blog can feel like homework hanging over my head.. but I know it’s important.
After returning to Santa Marta from the Lost City trek I took a look at the calendar – something I rarely do these days – and realized that I had been in Santa Marta for three weeks already. Not only that, but I’ve been in Colombia for nearly two months, yet I’ve only seen a small part of it! Time to get a move on..
I’m still getting used to the larger distances in South America compared to Central America. The next place down the road looked on the map like it was maybe a couple of hours away. Over 10 hours later, I made it to Bucaramanga. In hindsight I should have taken a night bus – the scenery was flat and boring except for the final couple of hours when we started climbing into the mountains. But I’ve heard mixed reports of night buses – some say they’re dangerous and robberies occur, others say it’s a good way to save time and the cost of a hotel room for the night.
Bucaramanga is a metropolis of a million people, funny that I’ve never even heard of it. As I move away from the coast, I’m noticing people are a bit more formal and polite – using the “usted” rather than the “tu” form, proper greetings, etc. They also dress better, and there are a ton of beauty salons. Unfortunately it’s also more expensive than on the coast. The taxis here have actual meters, the first time I’ve seen that on my entire trip thus far. And my hotel has hot water – the first hot shower I’ve had in months. Funny, this hotel wanted all my personal details down to my profession, home phone number, passport number, everything – the last place didn’t even ask my name.
One of the delicacies of this region, particularly this time of year, are Hormigas Culonas (literally, “‘big-ass ants”). Their heads, wings and legs are removed and the rest of the body is toasted and salted. Needless to say, I did not partake in this particular specialty.
I am back from the multi-day 52km trek to Ciudad Perdida happy, healthy, and just a bit wiser. It was a great experience, I want to do more of this sort of thing. How wonderful to have someone else dealing with the cooking, cleaning, and setting up camp! When backpacking, I’m so used to carrying my own food and campware, that this was a luxury.
The story of this area is still shrouded in mystery. The local indigenous people (mostly the Koguis but also the Arhuacos) are not particularly friendly to outsiders – understandably so, after 400 years of oppression. First by the Conquistadores, more recently by Hispanic farmers, miners, loggers, drug runners, paramilitary, you name it. In fact, they believe that while they are the Elder Brothers living in the Center of the World, all the rest of us are the Younger Brothers, too naïve to take care of the Earth Mother. The BBC made an interesting documentary about all of this. A bit of history, courtesy of another blog:
In 1525 the Spanish landed at what is now the city of Santa Marta, their first landing in what is now Colombia. They encountered indigenous people – the Tayrona – whom they noted had a lot of gold artifacts. So many in fact that they soon came back and subjected them to Spanish rule. The Tayrona were cunning, however: unlike the Aztecs, they did not take the Spaniards for returning gods by showing them directly to their major cities. Instead they allowed the conquerors to believe that their major populations were on the coast, all the while hiding away in their actual strongholds buried deep in the densely forested and imposingly lofty sierra nevada. Having just trekked in them I can assure you that these mountains amount to a fairly effective barrier to any would be conquerors, but obviously not even knowing of their existence is an even better one. Unfortunately the mountains offered no protection against the epidemic diseases which killed two thirds of the indigenous population of the Americas after the Europeans’ arrival, and so the Tayrona were wiped out. Their capital, Teyuna (the Kogui word for Ciudad Perdida), lay ‘undiscovered’ until it was stumbled upon in 1975 by gold prospectors. In fact, the local tribes, who are all descended from the Tayrona people, knew the location all the while and it was ‘lost’ simply because they didn’t want anyone to know about it. Likewise they claim to know the locations of various other abandoned Tayrona settlements – in fact there is a rock in Teyuna which is supposedly a map of the Sierra Nevada showing all the ancient Tayrona sites, but the local peoples refuse to decipher it.
There are four companies that lead the trips – Sierra Nevada Tours, Turcol, Magic Tours, and I forget the other one. I think they’re probably all about the same. I got signed up with Magic Tours by Hostel Miramar. Ours was a relatively small group – one guide (Nicolas, who has only been a guide for two years but has been doing the trek for 14 years), one cook (Pedro, a sweet guy who was always there with a cup of coffee or a snack just when you needed it), one mule (which carried the food and bedding except for the final stretch which was impassable by pack animals, so Nicolas’ nephew acted as porter), and five tourists: an Israeli couple who unfortunately reinforced the negative stereotype of their fellow countrymen by being rude, arrogant and standoffish. It’s no wonder their country has trouble getting along with other nations with attitudes like that. Then again, perhaps it’s simply cultural misunderstanding – maybe in their country, that behaviour is considered direct and normal. Besides the Israelis, there was an Irish woman named Eimeir, an English bloke named Jon (who hitchhiked through Central America a few years ago!), and myself. The three of us hung together and bonded over the week. So let’s start at the beginning, shall we…
Day One: Monday
Muddy jeep
After picking everyone up in a rugged Toyota 4×4, we drove an hour and a half to the start of a dirt track. Then another hour and a half on a “road” that I would not have thought drivable – 3′ deep ruts filled with mud, strewn boulders to ricochet over, rivers to plow through, you get the idea. Several times we were at nearly a 45 degree angle. We did get stuck once, but luckily some laborers were nearby with shovels and a pickaxe to dig us out. Ironically at the end of all this, the road reaches a nicely paved little town! The name of the town is Machete Pelao, loosely translated as “Machetes Out”, giving me pause. We had lunch, loaded up the animals, said goodbye to showers and clean clothes for six days, and began hiking. The trail on this day was big and wide, a horse track, really.
"Hi there!"
No jungle at this point, it was all cultivated land, farmer’s fields, which afforded nice views of the Sierra Nevada mountains. We happened upon a coral snake that started coming after me when I bent down to say hello. I wasn’t worried, I knew that he knew that I was cool.
Muddy track
I fell on my ass in the first of many river crossings. Because of all the river fordings, I did most of the hike in my sandals which was fine – I don’t need the ankle support a lot of people do, probably from all the years of skating. Jon got a big tick that held on tight when he tried to rip it off. We passed a military camp, the first of many soldiers we would see. They are here to patrol the area, since it used to be controlled by the FARC and other paramilitary groups. In 2003, a group of 8 tourists doing this trek were kidnapped and held for three months. Others have said there was also a kidnapping a year and a half ago, but I can’t find anything about that on the net, so I suspect it’s another rumour. Anyway, the army boys get posted here just after basic training, and they’re out here in the woods for three months at a stretch. They must get bored out of their minds. There was a nice soft “chipi-chipi” misty rain in the afternoon which I welcomed, since I haven’t seen any rain in over two months. Most of this day was uphill, in fact we gained so much altitude that our ears actually popped. After about three or four hours we arrived at a camp that was impressive in it’s structure for being out in the middle of nowhere.
First camp
There was electricity (hydro, we think), concrete foundations, a TV and a pool table! Crazy, considering all of this had to be brought on the backs of pack animals. I think at least one family lives there, and there is room for maybe 40 people to camp. Pedro got started on cooking, which is done cowboy-style in large cast iron pots over a wood fire. Dinner that night consisted of stewed chicken with tomatoes, veggies and rice. Nicolas set up our bedding, which consisted of hammocks with comfy warm woolen blankets and ingenious mosquito nets that are made to string from the ends of the hammocks, such that they form a cozy cocoon around the hammock but never touch you. By the way, while the rest of us were constantly applying 100% DEET (sure to cause cancer), the guides weren’t bothered in the least. I knew that it was possible to develop immunity to diseases like malaria, but to simple mosquito bites..? The plumbing in each of these camps is impressive for what they’re able to manage in the middle of the jungle. Water is carried from the river (or a spring?) to a series of PVC pipes which then run to various actual flush toilets, sinks, and taps. The whole thing is very Rube Goldberg and ghetto, but it works. The funny part is that usually the taps are just continually running. No need to shut them off, since they’re essentially just part of the river that comes up and goes right back down again.
Can I just say how happy I am to have my appetite back. This is the first day in over six weeks I’ve felt good enough to eat whatever’s in front of me. I hadn’t quite realized that I was subconsciously starving myself, since almost any food caused a war in my intestines, leading to a trip to the bathroom. But it appears that my extended bout of traveler’s diarrhea may finally be over. Hallelujah!
After dinner there wasn’t much to do so Jon, Eimeir and I got to know each other a bit, telling various riddles, talking about cultural differences, wondering how we were going to pass the time for the next five nights since none of us had brought cards. Being in the woods and reliant on the sun made us think it was about midnight when it was only 8:30. Being pretty zonked, we called it an early night.
With delusions of Indiana Jones, I am leaving this morning for a six-day trek through the jungle to Ciudad Perdida (“lost city”), built some 1,200 years ago (650 years earlier than Machu Picchu), and only rediscovered 30 years ago. It should be quite the adventure.
Here is what one blogger wrote about it: If I had to choose between Machu Picchu and Ciudad Perdida I would choose Ciudad Perdida. Machu Picchu is like an outdoor museum, with a fine green carpet. And there’s no mystery to it, you can go up the first hill and see it all, and it’s so perfect! Like a model. Just like the photos. Just like all the photos. And by 11:00 there’s so many people there, the world and his dog, his middle aged fat American neighbour and all 60 of his French school children are there. Ciudad Perdida on the other hand is mysterious, you can never see it all, and you can never work out how big it is. And there’s no one else there, just you and the 10 or so guys you’ve just spend three days getting there with. Plus you get to sleep there which doesn’t sound like much, but it really added to the whole trip.
Since the route passes through territory recently held by the FARC and other various paramilitary groups, it’s only possible to visit as part of a tour. It’s a bit pricey at $200, but that includes guides, basic lodging, food, etc. Mules and guides carry the food and camp supplies, we only carry our personal effects. I can’t see it being any more difficult than most hikes I’ve done, although recent trips have reported a lot of mud and rain. Overall I’ve heard good reports about the the food. However, I just found this report on Lonely Planet’s message board: We ended up getting sick at least twice during our hike. The food is NOT good and NOT sanitary. We witnessed the guides killing a turkey and two chickens for our dinner. They killed and prepared the chicken the same place as they did their laundry. Excellent! This makes me feel good, especially since I’m just now finally getting past the traveler’s diarrhea I’ve had for the last 6 weeks. I expected it to clear up a few days after going off the antibiotics and visiting the hospital, but it’s over a week later and I’m still not totally back to normal. At least I think I’m on the road to recovery.
Here is a nice blog entry about the trek, replete with some great photos.
So I will be off the grid, away from all technology until Sunday, March 22. [How will he cope?!Ironically, I tried to charge all of my batteries in preparation for the trip today (flashlight, water purifier, camera, etc) but the power is out in the entire city until the evening!] If you want to picture where I am, here is a map of the trek in Google Maps. I am organizing the trek through Hotel Miramar, a classic old-school South American backpackers hostel. The nice thing about them is they will store all my valuables in their safe while I’m gone.
