The Trek to La Cuidad Perdita

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What's not to like about a 4 day trek through mountainous, mosquito-infested jungle, in temperatures of up to 40 degrees to find a lost city? (No I'm not sure any of us can explain how John and I managed to persuade Penny to join us - perhaps that was our greatest achievement). But after all a whole city, it's not every day you get to find one of those.

The trek to La Cuidad Perdita starts about 50 kilometres up the coast from Santa Marta and a few miles inland on a dirt road to a small village called Machete Pelau. We'd originally planned and booked the trek as a 5 day trip heading out on the 20th and returning on the 24th in time for England's final group game against Costa Rica. However, a closer inspection of our fixture calendar revealed we had made a catastrophic error and confused 5pm English time with Colombian (11am). We hurried back to the tour agency to make good our mistake - it would mean compressing 5 days walking into 4 (again not sure how we got that one passed Pen) but surely it would be worth it to be back in front of the tv in time for the gripping climax to England's group games, wouldn't it?

La Cuidad Perdita is a place shrouded with mystery, which has been exacerbated by a recent violent past. It was built some time between 200 and 700 AD by the Tayronna people and is likely to have been an important religious and administrative centre. It was then abandoned about 400 years ago when the Spanish brought European diseases to the area causing the local indigenous people to flee to the east and north, abandoning the city to the jungle. It is only in the last 50 years that indigenous people from of other areas in Colombia, escaping local violence, re-settled the area. From the early 1970's treasure hunters, encouraged by rumours of hidden gold started to explore the area and in 1973 finally discovered the city and dug up a rich cache of golden artefacts. For the next 3 years the successful treasure hunters continued to loot the site until, having been followed by a rival group, they were ambushed and murdered. As a result of this violence word got out about the site and it was claimed by the government. However, there then followed a sustained period of general lawlessness in the area. In the 1980s the whole area was given over to large scale growth of marijuana, which in turn was followed in the 90s and early 2,000s by an industrial scale cocaine operation. At its peak up to 15,000 kilograms of cocaine were produced from locally grown coca plants and converted into product in laboratories hidden away in the hills. Eventually the Colombian army moved in to clear the area of coca plants, evict the criminal elements and persuade the local population to seek more gainful employment - this largely consists of subsistence farming and tourism. It is only really in the last 10 years that the city and the trek has been developed as a means of bringing eco-tourism to the area.

We set off in a small group - 9 in total. We were 6 tourists - ourselves, a Swiss girl (Nejmar) and two Dutch girls (Joyce and Ireen) together with our guide (Wilson), translator (Sergio) and cook (Danilo). It was nice to be in a small group, which allowed us to get to know our fellow trekkers, all of whom were much younger than us but did not seem to hold that against us. There are a number of companies that run tours to the Lost City out of Santa Marta and we would come across a number of other groups, all of whom were larger and seemed a little less tightly knit than our own.

Having been dropped off by the 4 x 4, we lunched at Machete Pelau, which, Wilson cheerfully informed us, took its name from a gruesome, alcohol-fuelled knife fight that took place on the site of the village. We were beginning to get the feeling it was just that kind of area. After lunch we set off in the blazing heat of the early afternoon. It's hard to convey how tough it is to walk in that kind of heat. The atmosphere is humid and there is barely a breath of wind, although fortunately for the most part the jungle provides a canopy to protect you from the equatorial ferocity of the sun. Before long the sweat is running in what feels like rivers, beading on your forearms and running down into your eyes. Everything is moist and clammy and hot to touch. After half an hour mostly walking alongside a river and looking longingly at its fast flowing waters we reached a natural swimming pool and needed no second invitation to jump in for a cooling dip.

We had been warned that although the first day would be a short one it would also be a hard one, and the reason for that was looming, after the dip in the river we would have to start to climb. The hill was 500 - 600 metres high and would take an hour to complete. In places it was torturously steep but the real killer was the temperature which was touching 39 degrees. I had chosen to walk with my towel around my neck, thinking that this might give me some sweat relief but before long I was having to pause to wring out the towel and realised that any attempt to alleviate the torrent of moisture in which my body was seeking to envelope itself was a futile gesture - best to give in and wring out shirts and shorts as best you could when rest stops allowed. All of this may give the impression that the walk was a long hard slog with few if any redeeming features. Only the first part of this is true. The hill was a hard climb and we were all shattered when we reached the summit but once we'd been given some fresh fruit, topped up our water bottles and rested a little we had a fantastic walk along a ridge, overlooking verdant jungle, with breaks where the vegetation was either cleared for farming or still recovering from the culling of the coca plants. Birds sang and it felt incredibly tranquil.

We made it to the first camp after 3 hours walk, hot and tired and very grateful for the deep natural pool that allowed us the chance to jump into the river again and cool down. The camp was basic but suprisingly pleasant. We would overnight with another group but there was plenty of space and the bunkbed style beds complete with mosquito nets were comfortable. There was even, joy of joys, the chance to buy a cold beer and a hydro-fuelled generator that produced enough electricity to allow us to watch the football (Ecuador v Honduras). We were early to bed in part to rest our weary limbs but also to allow for the 6am start.

I had fond hopes of at least starting the following day in dry clothes, but these were quickly dashed when I reached to the line and gingerly shook out my shirt and shorts - our guides had warned us with some relish about the dangers of spiders and scorpions - not the kind of advice you are likely to forget in a hurry. Whilst my clothes harboured no unwelcome guests there are better ways to start the day than putting on yesterday´s stale and damp clothes. We'd followed the advice to pack light, conscious that everything you bring you will need to carry, besides nothing stayed dry or cool for very long once you started walking. This meant clean clothes for the evening - long trousers and sleves to protect against mosquitoes, a towel and swimming trunks but very little else.

Today would be a long day. The consequence of compressing the walk into 4 days was that during day 2 we would need to cover the distance for days 2 and 3 in the original itinerary in order to arrive at our nightcamp at the base of the climb to the lost city. It was a sunny, warm morning, although since we were higher and walking at an earlier hour not quite as intensely hot as the day before. We'd been told that the morning's walk would be comparatively flat, but we were learning that such terms have only a relative meaning, and were used by our guide as much as means of encouragement as an accurate description of the terrain. To be fair there were no climbs as significant as on day 1, but there were a series of short, hard 20 minute ascents and descents, made bearable by frequent breaks for water and fresh fruit. Even so the wicking capacity of my walking gear was soon in meltdown and at times it felt like walking in a warm shower. Still the physical discomfort caused by the heat notwithstanding it was a wonderful walk. The hills offered great views out across the jungle, which stretched to the horizon. We often walked alongside or crossed rivers with limpid clear water and the canopy echoed the sound of birdsong. It felt like a special place to be.

From time to time we passed local indigenous people on their way to or from their farms. We passed members from two tribes - the Wiwa and Kogui. Wilson, laboured to explain the difference to us, but since both wore white and were farmers, the distinction seemed to come down to which members of the tribe got to wear hats and the shape of the hats they wore. Irrespective of their origins both Wiwa and Kogi seemed equally shy and wary of strangers, keen to avoid eye contact and murmuring their response to greetings when we met them on the path. Wilson told us that with the support of the government they are making a good fist of preserving their culture and religion and were actually in favour of tourists coming to the land, appreciating that curiosity about them and the Lost City brought economic benefits and so made it a positive advantage for them to retain their identity.

The day´s walking followed the same pattern as on the first day. In addition to frequent refreshment breaks we lunched at a beautiful spot (where we would sleep when making the return journey - on the third night), close to yet another natural pool that allowede for a cooling swim in the river. The afternoon dragged on and we were very tired by the time we made our nightcamp at about 4.30. The camp was a step down from the night before. There were more groups there and as result it felt a bit crowded. In addition we were all now very tired, smelly and dirty. It felt a little like a cross between a backpacker boot camp and a scene from Tenko. No matter, we were only a night's sleep and an hour's walk from the City.

The beds were hard and we had no pillows so it was at best an indifferent night´s sleep. Looking for positives at least we had no trouble rousing ourselves to make the 5am start for the assault on the City. Our plan had been to make an early start to get ahead of the other groups staying at the site. In total there would only be about 30 people going up to the City on that day (nothing compared to the daily intake of 3,000 at Machu Picchu), but after the effort we´d put in it seemed important that we should be the ones to "discover" the City and for at least a short period of time have it to ourselves. Despite the other groups having a similar idea we managed to make the quicker getaway (our smaller group size giving us greater mobility) and were soon heading out of the camp to ford yet another river and arrive at the base of the 1,200 steps that lead up 300 metres to the entrance gallery - the gateway to the City. It was a tough climb. The steps were mossy and slippery and were showing their 400+ year age. But with the prize so close we didn´t lack for motivation.

My initial feelings on reaching the City were of relief rather than awe. The jungle remains dense and the entrance is a fairly unprepossessing series of circular terraces. However, as we travelled further into the site and Wilson explained what little is known of the City's original and more recent history, the impressive scale of the site and its spectacular location began to impose themselves. It may not be Tikal or Machu Picchu but because of its remoteness and murky past it retains an authentic air of mystery. All that now remains of the City are terraces, steps and walls, but the views out across the jungle are stunning. We spent 3 hours exploring the site under Wilson´s guidance, visiting bathing pools, one time work shops and ceremonial galleries, before starting the trek back down.

To make our way out of the jungle we would retrace our steps. This was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand we could measure our progress back down our route, on the other we could recall some of the vertiginious descents we had made so knew exactly how tough the upcoming climbs would be. We walked out to where we had lunched on the second day to overnight at the camp and then completed the walk out on the fourth day. By the time we returned to Machete Pelau we were a mess of tired limbs and sore feet, very much in need of soap, hot water and some clean clothes. Whilst it's not experience I'm in any hurry to repeat it was absolutely worth it - an incredible walk through beautiful countryside with a totally unique prize at the end of it.

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Photos

Indigenous Village - Wiwa or Kogi?
No locals (so no hats!) to help with identification

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

How adorable
Priceless