Ciudad Perdida
Trip Start
Oct 15, 2009
1
28
39
Trip End
Jan 14, 2010
Ciudad Perdida, Magdalena, Colombia
Monday, December 7, 2009
I was collected from the Maramar in Santa Marta in a large Toyota Landcruiser and met the rest of the group. There were 11 of us in total (no old people!) from the UK, Australia, Austria, Germany, Italy and USA, which was just about the maximum. I ended up in the back row of the truck, which had the least head room and leg room, and my knees were being waffled by a metal bar strategically placed between them for the duration of the three hour ride. This was mildly uncomfortable at first until we turned off the road and passed a military checkpoint to have out bags searched. The last hour was off road and very bumpy and the stupid bar was very uncomfortable. The Italian actually asked to ride on the roof, which turned out to be a very good idea. The Austrian tried to follow but was told that it would be too much weight up there.
At points we were actually once again driving below walking speed and it wasnīt particularly obvious why they didnīt just start the hike a few km earlier rather than driving us all the extra way. But soon enough we arrived the start point of the hike and our bags were unloaded from the roof of the Landcruiser. We ate lunch and placed our order for the last meal when we returned a few days later - I think the choices were fish and pollo. The food for the rest of the trek was carried by mulas following more or less the same path that we were following.
I have to say that too much happened for me to go into a day-by-day detailed account of what happened so I will just give a summary. Of course the experience depends a lot on the group and luckily my group contained a lot of good lads so there were many hilarious moments, which donīt need to be explored at this juncture. There were a few old people in other groups and also groups with only three people, so I think a lot of that comes down to luck. Either way this was by far the best hike Iīve done in my life, I would say even superior to Machu Picchu. Of course the ciudad itself doesnīt look as spectacular as Machu Picchu as now only the terraces remain, not any of the original buildings. The two things that make this such a special place are the location and the journey to get here - it really is in the middle of the jungle and because so few people visit compared to Machu Picchu, itīs highly likely that any group that visits will have the site to themselves as they explore (except of course from the military station up above the city, to protect from any further kidnappings).
The hike passes through mountains, forests, coca plantations, indigenous villages (and these really are authentic indigenous villages, unlike the long-meck villages in Thailand, for example). There are spectacular waterfalls and pools for swimming in, steep climbs, multiple river crossings (some waist deep through fast-flowing water). It actually is quite a challenging trek. Of my group of 11, only 9 finished and only 7 finished unassisted as due to injury and illness two people had the do part of it riding on a mula and a guide. As I said there are some very steep parts but I think we all found the heat and humidity the hardest thing. I sweated like never before and the american (who had recently climbed the highest mountain in Bolivia) was actually able to pour sweat out of his boots at the end of day 1. The other days probably werenīt as bad as we were more under shelter from the trees but it was still hot and once things got wet, they stayed wet due to the humidity. We had mulas to carry the food and so on but we had to carry all of our other supplies such as clothes, which meant I took only two sets of clothes for the whole hike - a set to walk in and a set to sleep and booze in in the evenings. Booze was available at each camp apart from one, although it was only cold at one of them.
Like the Inca Trail, the food was very good every single meal. We were also able to refill our water bottles at each camp and also from the rivers at various points. Iīm pretty sure this was coming from the same river we were swimming in every day, but it seemed to work. A couple of people did get ill but most of us were fine, so I doubt that was due to the water.
As I mentioned, we also passed by several coca plantations where the indigenous people (legally) grow coca plants for their own use. However we also visited a very small-scale cocaine laboratory hidden within the jungle and regularly moved to evade the army helicopters and patrols. It was quite cool to see such a thing, even if I disapprove of what it does, as it all added to the adventure! We were even allowed to take photos of the process, but not of any faces.
Hopefully the photos will give some idea of how good this was, but it really was about the experience of getting here as much as the sights themselves. There were even some intriguing experiences after the trek itself was over. While the jeep was driving us back to town, we were stopped for yet another police check. By now everyone is extremely used to this and generally theyīre over within a few minutes, but this time they decided to be losertrons about it. Like many countries, in Colombia it is necessary to carry photo ID at all times. When I booked the hike I was given two photocopies of my passport and entry stamp and left the original in the safe at the hostel, however it turned out that some people werenīt given copies and had no ID. The police didnīt care about their excuse that itīs not really safe to take a passport on this hike through mud and river crossings and so on and made us wait with no real explanation of what was going to happen. After a very long time they did eventually allow us back onto the truck after getting confirmation of the ID of the random people (i.e. the ones without IDs) from the military checkpoint outside Ciudad Perdida, or something like that. One of our tour guides wasnīt as lucky as his guiding license had expired a year earlier and he hadnīt renewed it. The other guide explained that we would have to leave him behind to be beaten up, but he did eventually join us for post-hike boozing later that night so presumably paid a ĻfineĻ.
The post hike boozing was... ĻinterestingĻ. Carlos, a 51 year old who was one of the main guides, had been absolutely hilarious the whole way along and everyone thought he was a good lad and a comedy genius. He assured us that he knew the best places to go in Santa Marta, so we agreed to meet there for food and booze. We ended up at surely one of the most expensive eateries in Santa Marta, right on the beach front. It was way more than Iīd paid for a meal on this whole trip but Carlos said that there wouldnīt be many other places open at that time that could take a group of our size so we agreed to eat there and also to buy the guides meals as their tip. But when the bill arrived, we learned that Carlos had been given a free meal as he was friends with the owner. Hmm...
So we then set off down the road for boozing, and this is where the story really gets good. Carlos took us to a bar and from the outside I thought the sign looked a bit dodgy. It was called something with ĻAmorĻ in the title and as soon as we went in, we were confronted by several plasma screens on the wall showing some porn movie. I donīt think it was really the type of place any of us wanted or expected to go, but we were polite lads and sat down to order drinks. The drinks arrived and a few minutes a couple of dancers got up on stage and started dancing on the poles. They then circled the room and danced on all of the customers, before heading back up the the poles, stripping off and doing another dance. Then some buzzer went off, they covered themselves up and went back to wherever they came from... Okey dokey. We drank up and left.
People in the group then asked Carlos to take us to a normal bar or club with normal dancing. It wasnīt that easy as he speaks no English and the three people from the group who actually spoke Spanish we no longer with us. However he seemed to understand and assured us he knew just the place. We set off and went in somewhere that actually did say ĻdiscothequeĻ above the door. It was pretty empty but Carlos and the other guides told us to wait a few minutes because it would get good.
A few minutes a group of girls walked in and straight over to our table... prostitutes! Grrr... I canīt believe Carlos is actually a dirty old man! The barman tried to make us buy drinks for them, we said no, and then drinks suddenly appeared. Again we drank up, trying to repel them as best as possible, and left. by this time we decided to cut Carlos loose and head back to Taganga, where we were all staying, to see if it would be possible to continue boozing there.
We learned that one of the other hostels in town was having a party that night and decided to walk there. There were only four of the group left by now and we were walking perfectly normally and quiety, when we passed a policeman. When we were about 10m past him he suddenly shouted out Ļhey you!Ļ and came over to us. He asked to see what we all had in our pockets and it turned out that the Australian had some marijuana... The rest of us didnīt have anything inappropriate and went to sit down. I hoped that it wouldnīt take as long as the previous stop that night and that he could just pay a quick fine and we could set off. The policeman got on his radio and a few more arrived and walked off down the street with the Australian. They were discussing for some time before the first one, who spoke English, came back to the rest of us and told us that he was being deported! We couldnīt believe it and asked where he was now and the police said ĻATMĻ... Hmm... So he was being deported but was allowed to walk off down the street alone to the ATM? Obviously it sounded more like another fine and they were just trying to scare him. We continued to wait.
Quite a bit more time passed before the Australian finally returned and said that he had to pay Ļ500Ļ but that his card didnīt work in the ATM (thereīs only one in town) and asked if any of us could help. Iīd just topped up my Nationwide card earlier than night so offered to whip some out as we still didnīt have enough between us. I went up to explain to the police that I had a card that I could use and he told me to sit down, which I did. I tried to explain a few more times but he wasnīt interested, until he finally decided to let me go. The ATM had a maximum withdrawal limit of $400.000 per transaction so I whipped that out, it would be enough combined with what we already had between us. My Nationwide card didnīt work so I tried my RBS debit card, which also didnīt work. My only other cards were Visa credit cards, which I really didnīt want to use as I know that it would be very expensive. However I couldnīt really let the Austrlian spend the night in a Colombian jail or be deported, so i withdrew it and headed back. We got together the $500.000 and handed it over to the police, who shook his head and said it wasnīt enough. Seemed they wanted $500 US, not $500.000 Colombian...
I didnīt think it would let me withdraw anymore from my RBS credit card and my others were all back in the hotel and nobody else had any cards with them, so once again I went and explained to the police that I would go to get more cards. The losertron one said I couldnīt go (even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong and they had already said that, so there was no reason at all not to let me walk away) so I continued trying to negotiate. He kept being a losertron and saying no, when suddenly the other one (presumably his boss) said yes. Very good!
I set off back to the hostel along with Holly (one of the English), who also had a card that might work. I took my Barclaycard Visa and my HSBC Visa debit card, along all of my emergency dollars as a last resort. Holly got her card too and we set off back to the ATM. I was able to whip out another $400.000 with my Barclaycard, which would be enough as long as they didnīt increase the price again...
We got back, the Australian handed over $1.000.000 and the police pocked it and left more or less immediately on their moto as easy as that. The crazy Australian asked who wanted to continue to the party!! It was about 05:30 by now, I had no cash and assumed that all of my cards would be maxed out until the next day, so I declined and headed back with Holly. The other two set off the the party and turned back a few minutes later when they realised they were broke too and only had enough money for one drink each.
What a crazy day! We went from one of the bext hikes in the world to seeing a completely different side of Colombia: the police bribes, the prostitution, the dirty old men... For sure the Australian was wrong and did commit a crime, but $500 seemed ridiculously high. He repaid me the next day though, so itīs all good...
