Ciudad Perdida: The Lost City

Location: Ciudad Perdida: The Lost City

Rundown: A three day uphill trek into the Sierra Nevada mountains through jungles, rivers and native villages to spend two days at a site of an ancient city reclaimed by nature before a three day return trip. Please don't feed the guerillas.



Took a bus north from Cartagena to a city on the coast called Santa Marta, a cross between a beach town and a port, with a beautiful island guarding the harbor and ocean freighters swinging on their moorings right next to kids splashing in the waves.



Spent the night in a dodgy hotel, and in the morning met up with the rest of the group going. Edwin was our guide (the same guide whose group was abducted by ELN guerillas in 2003, and then returned safely), and along with the four other teachers, we had 3 Brits, 3 Germans, 2 Sweeds, an Italian and a Croatian. It was quite a pleasure to get to know everyone along the way.

Took a chiva (cross between a bus and a jeep, without real doors or sides and painted in garish colors) into the interior. Drove for an hour on tarmac, and then spent another two off road climbing into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, often stopping to let people out to hang on appropriate sides of the chiva to keep it from rolling over going over aggressive terrain.




The chiva dropped us off in a little pueblo in the foothills where we began our three day hike. We hiked through the red-dirt foothills up into the jungle, crossing a couple low rivers on the way. Awesome trekking.

Made it to our first encampment just after dark, winding down steep, muddy switchbacks that claimed a few shoes as victims. Check out the little video of the hiking bit of the trek.



The encampment was an open air shelter with a corrugated metal roof under which we slung our cloth hammocks and bug nets. Although we did get bitten, the onslaught was nothing like a June evening in Michigan.






Swam in the morning at the watering hole and played with the resident friendly toucan.






Hiked all the next day in dense jungle, across rivers, and through native Kogui villages where they speak only their indigenous language, and little or no Spanish.




Hiked through dense jungle and high mountian savanna. Up ridges and down valleys... Edwin made us framiliar with the Coca plant that has been so integral to Colombia's history.






Passed a night in our second encampment which was perched about the beautiful and powerful Rio Buritaca. We stayed dry in the heavy rain that night.








Our final day up to the Lost City, we hiked for a few hours, pausing to rest our beaten, bug-gnawed legs, and chow on our daily fresh fruit on massive jungle leaves.



Made five river crossings. The rivers were powerful enough that even though we waded only to our waists, the water was enough warrant linking arms to cross. Fun stuff.






We found ourselves on a rocky island in the middle of the river. On the far side, the earth took a near-vertical leap; the jungle foliage just holding on. Tucked just inside the shadow of the trees, ancient stone steps wove their way up the mountain and disappeared in the brush. We crossed the river and took the stairs.




Most of the steps were no bigger than a shoebox, mossy, and slick, but not in bad shape considering their thousand years of service in harsh jungle climate. An hour and two thousand steps later we emerged (sweaty and wheezing) out of the jungle and onto the first of many stone terraces left by the Tairona people.




The site was a religious center, built into the mountains to communicate with the gods. Five main terraces stuck out of the dense jungle, but thousands of other terraces, some still buried in vegetation, were connected by stone pathways crisscrossing throughout the steep terrain. The site was only ‘discovered’ in 1976, so along the paths, stone steps would disappear into the underbrush, still uncovered.






We stayed the night there and listened to Edwin’s account of being taken by the ELN (similar to the FARC only in that they tote guns, hang out in the jungle, and have their own political agenda). The accomodations included 7 mattresses laid out on the floor with a huge bug net over them on the second floor of an open air shelter. I felt a bit like I was 8 again, making forts with my sisters out of pillows and blankets.




Due to the ease to which any armed group could pluck travelers off of the mountain side, a company of Colombian soldiers were stationed at Ciudad Perdida and in the surrounding hills. They patroled the site with their Israeli arms, but were extremely happy to talk to anyone.




Spent two days at the site wandering around the winding stone paths and swimming in the waterfalls before our return trek. The site was novel, interesting, and beatuiful, but wasn't a place to trek to if one isn't into getting muddy and having a little bit of struggle. As with all my treks, the people and the journey were the best part.







And one little video to cap it off with the theme song of the trip.







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Mompos Excursion

Location: Mompos, Colombia

Rundown: Sleepy colonial town on the Rio Magdalena, gotten to by a bus, boat, car, and mototaxi.

The journey getting to Mompos is half the fun of the whole excursion. Our crew, consisting of myself, four other teachers, and a stray Brit, took a bus from Cartagena three hours south to a town called Magangue, a generic little town on a branch of the Rio Magdalena. Haggled a price for a little riverboat called a chalupa which took us upriver to Bodega.





...Turned out to be less of a town, and more of a crossroads, but we found another vehicle to take us the rest of the way to Mompos via pot-holed dirt roads. We careened around rough corners, past corrugated metal shack homes, and through herds of floppy-eared cows. All in all a bumpy 7 hour trip…



Check out the little video!



Mompos used to be part of the river trade route between Cartagena and the interior, and before the route was switched and revenue ceased, Mompos prospered. It’s pretty quiet now, and not much has changed since the late 1800’s. Lots of old, empty churches, cobblestone streets, statued plazas, and people taking their time. Not much to do.



In the morning we took 3-wheeled mototaxis around the town, fed monkeys in the trees at the river’s edge...







...talked to guys unloading a banana truck, and took an unexpected tour of an old lady’s home. Sweet deal.






In the afternoon we took a 30 foot long, 4 foot wide Johnson boat upriver.





Our boatman took a hard right and plunged us into the riverbank foliage, which turned out to be growing over water. We followed a shoulder-wide channel with heavy vegetation that we rammed over like a coastguard cutter over icepack.



Occasionally, the long boat got stuck in the twists and turns and we had to push it out.



Passed people’s houses build up on blocks. Front yards of stagnant, questionable water, chickens living in the trees, pigs on the wooden front porch built over the water, wooden dugout canoes tied to the block walls. Amazing. What do those people DO? Back to the hunter/gatherer stages, I think. We smiled and waved and they smiled and waved, and questioned each other’s lifestyles.



Broke out of the tangle into a wide expanse of deep marsh, found a pleasant spot and swam.



And one more little video...




On the trip home, we hired a couple cars which drove us back towards Bodega again via the pot-holed dirt roads. Again, we careened around rough corners, past corrugated metal shack homes, and through herds of floppy-eared cows. We stopped at a very unexpected traffic jam…in the middle of nowhere. Got out of the cars, and learned that were was a problem with the bridge ahead. Ambled down to the riverfront in the pack of halted people towards a group of longboats to find that the same 400 meter, concrete and steel bridge that we drove across a few days before had collapsed in the heavy rain and was washed away.



A huge bridge that heavy trucks drive over, gone. Sweet. Piled like cattle into another longboat with other stranded people for a trip to the other side. I don’t know if they were bewildered looking because of the missing bridge or because they were wondering what the heck the pack of gringos were doing in this odd end of the earth. I was wondering the same thing myself.




Below are a few extra shots from the trip.

Islas de San Bernardo

Location: Islas de San Bernardo

Rundown: Archipelago off of the coast of Colombia, 3 hours south of Cartagena.




The Trip:

Austin and I jumped a bus from Cartagena to a city two hours south of here on the coast called Tolu. Drove through areas with beautiful hotels on the coast, and also areas with shacks composed of wooden structure and tarps all held together with nails. Whenever the bus stops, a crowd of people selling things converge on the bus and tap on the windows and doors. At one stop the group got the door open and came inside to try to sell their things! It was like something from Night of the Living Dead, followed by the scene of the zombies eating people guts.





Made it safely to Tolu, where our driver tossed us out. We got a bike taxi to our hostel, Villa Babilla, run by a Colombian woman and her German husband. They were super nice and helpful, giving us the name of a guy on an island called Murcura who could put us up in some…economical…accommodations.





We wandered the streets that night and had fried fish and lobster for dinner in a little restaurant across the street from the sea. It was here that I decided I wanted less pictures in my life and threw my camera on the ground. This was a poorly documented trip afterward.





The next morning we found a boat and haggled a price for the trip. Austin’s impeccable Spanish really helps there! He’s been awesome to travel with. Jumped on our launcha which sped us out to the islands on the kind of sea you'd expect to find down here. Clear and aquamarine...





Spent a little time on Isla Palma before heading to Mucura. These were some great Nurse Sharks basking in the sun near Isla Palma.





Here's a little farewell video. The last shots I thought my camera would take on this trip anyway... It's quite the flattering first shot, I know...





Asked around and found our guy recommended to us, Juan Guillermo. He happened to be haunting the beach we landed on. The island isn’t very big. J.G. shepherded us through the jungle interior of the island to the other side of the island. Popped out near a resort that looked like it hadn’t been working in a couple years… We would be staying in the squat two-story building in the back that the workers at the resort stayed when it was running. The rooms had a door, a window and a bed. No lights, no water, nothin’! Austin and I shared inquisitive looks about our place… for 6 bucks a night, what can you expect? The dormant little resort had the feel of an old ocean pier that was past its prime, all wood and funky old parts.





As weird as our local was, every evening we had garlic lobster and fried fish…romantically by candle light since there was no electricity. In the mornings we chowed on fresh fruit and breads from a great bakery in Tolu that we smuggled on the island! Our best guess was that the resort was built with drug money, which was confiscated by the athorities and has been in disrepair with the lack of...traffic. Regardless, our place WAS 100 feet from crystal clear, 80 degree water. We swam, snorkeled, and dove our brains out. Had our own little reef to ourselves.





We visited another little island called Islote, which is supposed to be the most densely populated island in the world. Little shacks build on top of eachother on a tiny coral outcropping in the sea. Amazing contrasts...





So there you have it. Back safe. Back happy. Back tired.

Around Cartagena

When we're not venturing into the wild unknown far from Cartagena, there's plenty to do fairly close to home away from home.




Location: Islas de Rosarios, Colombia


The Islas de Rosarios, off the coast near Cartagena, are an hour speedboat ride away. Headed out to the islands with the other teachers here for a little get-away a few weeks ago. The marina doesn't have enough space for all the boats, so they put each one in with a fork lift.





Out through the bay and into the sea.

Good sea, good people, goodness gracious...

Clear blue water...

...and mangroves.



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Location: Santa Rosa, Colombia

Went to a pseudo-bull fight called a Corrida. There's the ring we all know and love, and the bull, but the finely tailored matador is swapped for about 100 rough-looking yahoos. The good news is that the bull isn't killed. One by one, pissed off bulls are charge into the wooden, creaking arena from some unseen source. The crowd scatters, hanging from the structure above the bull's reach.

They taunt the beast, throw things at is, run in front of it, yell at it. The bull pleasantly responds by chasing, trampling, and often goring the participants.

Would-be matadors try their hand at fending off massive bovine fury with nothing more than a cape or sometimes an umbrella.

Some do well, others not so well.

8 bulls, 6 pretty serious casualties....and the crowd goes wild. It's supposed to celebrate the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I was strictly forbidden to enter the arena by my Colombian friends. I thanked them on behalf of my parents.





Check out the quick video. Big fun.