It’s been a while since I’ve blogged, but I recently did a four-day hike in Colombia that I wanted to write about. Wanting to escape the long, Minnesota winter, my friend Jess and I booked a trip to Colombia. While we did plenty of sightseeing along the way, the main objective of the trip was to hike to Ciudad Perdida, also known as the Lost City.
From what I learned during my time in the jungle, the Lost City was, well, lost for centuries. After a run-in with Spanish colonizers, the local tribes became sick with foreign diseases. They abandoned the city in the mountains, and it became lost to history. That is, until it was discovered by looters in the 1970’s. They looted the gold to sell, and eventually, one of them murdered another. Then the government stepped in to stop the looting and bring in archaeologists. Now the artifacts can be viewed at the Museum of Gold in Bogotá.
The surrounding mountains and jungle were taken over by cartels for a time to grow coca plants and manufacture cocaine. During this time, the indigenous people were pushed out so their land could be farmed. Eventually, the government stepped in and drove the cartels out. The land was returned to the indigenous tribes. Then the tribes decided to allow tourism in the area. A limited number of tourists are allowed in Ciudad Perdida per day, and they must be accompanied by a guide. A military presence is maintained at the park entrance to keep peace in the region.
The Four-Day Hike to Ciudad Perdida
We chose the trekking agency Expotur Colombia, and were very happy with them. We had two hiking guides, a translator, and a chef. We didn’t want to spend time in Santa Marta, so the trekking agency sent a car to pick us up the first morning in a beach town called Palomino. We took a Jeep high into the mountains on a single-lane dirt road. Finally, we arrived at a little town called El Mamey where we met the rest of our group and had lunch.
There were about a dozen hikers in the group. We had a German, a Brit, an Irishman, two Ukrainians, several Colombians, a Spaniard, and us two Americans. We hiked with our group during the day, ate our meals together, and slept in adjacent bunk beds at night. Luckily for me, I had a very friendly and fun group.
Hiking Uphill
We got straight into our hike on the first day after lunch. Most of it was on a steep dirt road. I didn’t see any cars venturing up it; only motorbikes. For about a mile of the trek, there were military personnel stationed along the road keeping an eye on things. The translator explained that cartels manufactured cocaine in the region until the 2000’s, hence the need for safety precautions.
Despite it technically being dry season in Colombia, we got hit with an afternoon downpour. The weather was warm, so it was fairly pleasant and it gave me the chance to use my poncho. After the rain, a parrot called to the group from a tree, shouting “hola!” and “quiere cacao.” It also had a very human-like laugh.
Eventually, we made it to our camp for the first night. I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it was comfortable. Camp was an open structure with a kitchen, dining area, bathrooms, and bunk beds. Our group was assigned bunk beds together, and the beds were draped in bug nets. I had a cold shower to wash off the sweaty day, and a nice dinner of rice, fried fish, and vegetables.
I asked how the food got transported to camp since we didn’t carry it up. The guide explained that the food was grown locally in the mountains and didn’t need to be carried up. The exception was that the chef carried in the meat for the meals.
The guide and translator shared an informational overview of what our time on the trek would be like. We were advised not to venture away from camp at night because of the animals that lived in the jungle. Our group was informed that we would be awoken at 5 am the following morning, have breakfast, and begin our hike by 6 am. Once settled into my bunk bed, I read by my headlamp until about 8:30 pm and was one of the last people awake. It rained on and off, and the beds were in close quarters, so I slept lightly the first night.
5 am arrived quickly, and I packed up my backpack. We’d been advised to only bring a 20-liter daypack to carry the essentials. I’d brought my hiking clothes, a long-sleeve shirt and pants for camp at night, camp sandals, water bottles, toiletries, bug repellent, a book, a headlamp, and not a lot else. Since all our food was being provided and we were sleeping in bunks, I didn’t have to worry about having my own camping gear.
The trek was through the dense jungle, with lots of plant life to admire. We passed by an Indigenous village of circular huts. There were many piglets and chickens running around. There were several suspension bridges throughout the day, that only one person could use at a time. There were trains of mules carrying supplies through the mountains.
At lunch, we stopped and swam in a river, which was cold and refreshing. After a long lunch break, we hiked on, eager to get to our final camp before the afternoon downpour. The trek was much more difficult than I’d expected it to be. We were generally getting into camp for the night around 4 pm, and that was after a 5 am wake-up call. While the total hiking distance for the entire trip was only about 35 miles, there were some drastic elevation changes. The hike required a decent level of fitness.
Reaching the Lost City
On the third day, it was time to complete our push for Ciudad Perdida. After an hour of walking through the jungle, we arrived at the 1,200 steps. This was a steep staircase of narrow, rock steps that had been built 600 years before. The steps were not deep enough to fully plant my foot, which proved more difficult on the way down. It was a tough climb, but finally I made it to the top and got to sit and drink water while waiting for the last few people in our group.
Finally, it was time to begin exploring the Lost City. Everything was lush green. There were lots of circular, stone platforms and stone staircases. Our guide introduced us to the Indigenous leader of all the tribes of Colombia. He’s so important that he and his wife are on the 50,000 peso bill. He gave us each a bracelet, which was meant to be protective. We learned a lot of the history of the area, and were told there were tribes that lived high in the mountains that had no outside contact with anyone.
We got to walk out onto the circular platforms, and it was a stunning view. The surrounding mountains jutted high into the sky and there was a cascading waterfall. I could understand how and ancient group of people saw that view and wanted to build a sacred city there.
With much distance left to cover for the day, we couldn’t linger any longer. We returned back down the steep stone staircase. My knees were feeling weak by the time we reached the bottom. We continued our hike back the way we came, and stopped for lunch at our previous evening’s camp. One of my favorite parts of lunch was always the fresh tamarind juice.
The return hike had a lot more downhill, although there was always challenging uphills. The afternoon rains led to a lot of mud along the trail, and some parts were difficult to navigate. Thankfully the bugs weren’t bad during the day when we hiked. It was moreso the evening time that required additional precautions.
Meeting the Local Indigenous Leader
After a long day of hiking and our final group dinner of the trip, we had a special evening lecture by the regional indigenous leader. I had expected the leader to be an older man, but he was probably in his 30’s. The indigenous groups have their own language, and Spanish is their secondary language. He spoke to us in Spanish, and our translator explained in English.
He was there to explain the spiritual practice of the “paporo”. I’d seen numerous men in Colombia carrying paporos, but didn’t know the significance. He showed us his paporo, which is a gourd with the inside scooped out and dried, along with a wood spindle. He explained that the gourd is filled with ground-up seashells and bamboo. He chews coca leaves, dips the spindle in the gourd, and puts the spindle in his mouth. A paste forms on the spindle, and he rotates it along the outside edge of the gourd. The paste dries and builds up, making a wider and wider base the longer he uses it.
He explained that this practice is important because the Indigenous people don’t have a written language, and this is the way they “write” their thoughts, almost like a diary. He explained that bigger paporos indictate that a person is intelligent. The practice of paporos is only for men, and only the women are allowed to handle raw coca leaves.
He explained that the boys get their paporos when they become men. There is a ceremony where they stay up for four days. They also are assigned their first wife, who is always an older woman from the tribe. The newly adult man goes to live with his older wife, and her responsibility is to teach him how to be a man in the tribe.
We also learned that the Indigenous men don’t need to eat or sleep very much because of the coca and they still have lots of energy. They also don’t part with their paporos, and keep them close by. It would be considered offensive to try to take or use someone else’s paporo.
Overall, I thought it was a very informative experience. I was grateful to see how much of the local culture is preserved and intertwined with the tourism.
Finishing the Hike
The last morning, I awoke with an upset stomach and was having trouble eating food. It was a shame because the previous day I’d been feeling very strong in my hiking. I set off with the group, lingering in the back with the other hikers who were exhausted after four days in the jungle. We hiked down the same path we had come up. There were many cats and dogs along the way to greet.
After a suspension bridge over a river, I began the steep climb to the road. I saw something large buzzing around on the trail ahead. It seemed to be attacking something on the ground. I did my best to keep my distance as a large tarantula scurried my way. The buzzing insect followed, and it turned out to be a giant wasp. I watched in fascinated disgust as the wasp stung the tarantula and paralyzed it. I wasn’t sure what they were fighting over in the moment, but I looked it up online later. The giant wasp paralyzes the tarantula and drags it to its burrow. The wasp then lays eggs in the still living spider, and the larvae feeds on the spider as it grows.
Finally, I reached the road and started the march to the van. There were several motorbikes operating as taxis along the stretch of road. I watched in jealousy as other tourists paid for a ride to the van, and I was tempted to do the same. I kept walking with my group though, not wanting to be the only one to cheat. After a long journey with an upset stomach and lots of chafing, I finally arrived at the end of the trek.
My group sat down for one final meal together, before loading up in the van. It was a bumpy ride down the mountain to the main road. We drove back to Santa Marta to the trekking office and said our final goodbyes to our trekking partners.
Jess and I took a taxi up to Minca to get in a night of relaxation. I showered and dropped off my laundry to be washed. I booked a massage for the morning and bought copious amounts of coffee to bring home. I would have liked more time in Minca, but I was also missing my husband and pets and looking forward to going home.
While I only got to visit for 10 days, Colombia was a very beautiful country. I’d say it’s been my favorite Spanish-speaking country yet. I know we hear a lot about it being dangerous, but I generally stuck to the established tourist track and felt very safe. I had positive interactions with the locals. There was lots of beautiful scenery, delicious food, and unique cities. I would be happy to go back in the future.