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Published: January 11th 2009
Rio Claro - A crystal river, a drug lord and burning souls.
It has been a pretty hectic Christmas and New Year, and from the title you can guess a little more madness has occurred. But before I get carried away, let me take a deep breath and start at the start. Tina, Moka, Isabel and Hernando, get up at the crack of dawn and head off for a road trip.
Back in the Magdalena valley, the humidity makes my legs heavy with protest, and crave the cool environment of the air-conditioned car. But bravely I push on, and am rewarded with a host of splendidly restored brightly coloured colonial buildings, with balconies to dream about. Honda, (the town of bridges - with at least 15) is like a lot of towns, the older parts are much more desirable and picturesque than the urban sections that team with dirty noise and chaos. It is a great town to stop in and the respados, (shaved ice with syrup) are like heaven in the humidity.
La Dorada has a great hotel - Hotel Tourismo, with a pool and aircon at an affordable rate, so we check in and head across
the road for a ‘hair of the dog’. After a few Aguilas, we feel revived and wander the streets for some food. Near the old train station there is place that is well shaded and has a good menu, including buffalo and Aguila. Colombian train stations would make a good theme for a photo book; remember Colombia has no trains. Here in La Dorada the colonial building has been converted into the Mayors office and half buried tracks remind us of its heritage. All over the country I have seen these splendid colonial well-preserved railway stations that are monuments to a past when the political infrastructure and administration was able to support it. As the sun prepared for bed, I had to marvel at the cows taking themselves home past the hotel. Priceless!
Venus is quite near La Luna (the moon) tonight and a swim in the outdoor pool is a grand way to end the day.
Street corners all over the country are sure to be occupied by women squeezing fresh juice in the morning, and after a glass we feel refreshed and prepared to get back on the road.
For some Pablo Escobar is a
saint, for others he is a murdering drug lord. Weather you decide to love him or hate him you have to be in awe at his life and his life style.
At some point I will have to read one of his biographies. Apparently when he began narco trafficking in the 70’s there were no laws against it! When laws were put in place, (he was a member of government at this time) he soon found ways around them, and if his enemies, the United States and Colombian government, had not played such a heavy hand he may have continued. These days those trafficking have learnt from Pablo and are less extravagant and keep a low profile. I definitely believe that what he was doing was wrong, but in a capitalist world there is only ever supply if there is demand. ‘If you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem.’
The fact that people continue to consume cocaine in the Western world means that somewhere there is someone making it - and in the process and in the war against it, innocent people will be killed. It’s a little off the topic, but relevant,
that Colombia has the 2nd highest amount of displaced people in the world: due to guerrilla’s activity. What are the guerrillas planting?
When Pablo Escobar was killed in 1993 his ‘farm/zoo’ -Hacienda Napoles, was completely abandoned and no one took ownership of it, leaving hippos, giraffes, elephants and a huge amount of other animals to fend for themselves. In its hay day the zoo was free of charge for people to visit and his house was located at the back, where he hosted parties attended by soccer stars and politicians alike. He had an airstrip and helicopter pad, as it is at least a few hours drive from his hometown of Medellin. Thankfully the local council and some local ‘businessmen’ have recently taken over the ‘zoo’ and turned it into a theme park, Jurassic style. It is pretty cheesy but the chivas, (iconic Colombian buses) that drive you around are fun and at least the animals are getting some love, it is just a shame that they are in cages that are the size of my bedroom.
The house itself, which is now just ruins has been converted into a museum, with information about his ‘activities’, when drug
wars were at a high, including a lot of newspaper clippings that detail the murders he has committed - generally of politicians and then later members of other cartels. Some of the bombs set off in buildings though, killed hundreds of innocent people. Other assignations have been blamed on him but never proved. I can’t help but think of the movie ‘Once Upon a Time in Mexico’ when reading these. I was surprised at the modesty of the house, sure it has a pool and lots of bedrooms, but it is not excessive. Rooms are just enough for a bed and side table with comparatively tiny on suites. Pictures of parties depict well-known personalities holding huge bags of white powder and lazing on sun chairs, you can only imagine what went on here. The reason the house is now in ruins is not due to neglect or time, but treasure hunters looking for a secret stash. Heading back past the front door we look on with amazement at the pink flamingos, then head over to the butterfly house and wind the trip up looking at hippos, zebras, pumas, and monkeys.
With the sun high in its zenith I am
débil, (weak) and quite near to a hot, miserable, melting death. Thankfully we are now going to Rio Claro, (Clear River). It is definitely a highlight not to be missed. As much as I love the Hutt River, the splendid blue/green water here is quite outlandish. The marble bed sets the colours off, and the whole gorge is a temple to time. The walk upstream is about an hour, and after just fifteen minutes we are treated with an idyllic jump spot. A lot like the Silverstream Bridge back home, you have to find your spot, decide on your technique, (arms folded across chest or at the side, hand over nose, pin legs or a perhaps a bit of ‘window winding’) and go. I had a bit of a run up so the leap out added to the thrill, despite a bit of water up my nose I was keen to swim back across for another jump. A few locals joined us, and Hernando even videoed us - too funny! Further up the path there are two more main swimming holes, both are situated after rapids on a bend so there is a rope tied across the width that you
can grab when you have been carried down stream. It is very swift but refreshing and delightful, especially in this heat. A waterfall accompanies the last swimming hole, which is the result of a cave river leaving the mountain. You can go exploring if you have a torch and shoes.
Swimming always makes one hungry and so after another massive Colombian meal we head to a Mediterranean Town. Yip, a Mediterranean town build in the middle of the Colombian countryside. Pablo Escobar built it and gave the homes there for free to locals in need - he did a lot of things like this and hence the saint status he has in the eyes of some people. The town is odd to say the least: white and blue homes are nestled on the hill with narrow steep streets, a local water well and a kissing lane stand witness to open fires built on the street to cook dinner, while a pig lays waiting to be the guest of honour for the New Year feast. Occupants laze on Greek styled street seats and kids poke the pig.
December 31st 2008 and we are enjoying the coolness offered by evening.
A swim with a bat and a few wines later we are all beginning to fade, so we drag ourselves across the road to bring in the New Year with others at “Napoles”.
I thought this salsa thing was easy, but people here make it look like they were dancing salsa before they were walking. I am clearly a foreigner! Twelve grapes and more Aguila see the New Year in. I don’t have yellow underwear or gold jewellery on but I am quite sure that 2009 will be just divine! The first day of the year is spent well - waist deep in cave water wondering if it really was just a leaf that brushed against my leg.
La Gruta del Condor, (Grotto of the Condor) is unlikely to be found unless you have your eyes peeled and read every rusty hidden sign. For reference it is about a 15-minute drive from Napolis towards Medellin, near a truck stop with a swimming pool. Luckily Moka and Hernando have been here before and know what to do. You go to the house and Daniel, a ten year old boy armed with a torch and Machete leads you through a few
paddocks with grazing cows up a stream to a cave where you can hear the faint sound of souls burning in hell. Thankfully I am not very superstitious and what do sound like tortured screams are actually Guacharos - a small cute owl like bird. I had been doing quite well to keep dry, but that was a waste of time as we are still partially in the ‘outside’ world and I am already up to my chest in water.
Sometimes I am ‘adventure Tina’, jumping and leading the way, other times I am a ‘scared little girl’. When entering the dark, noisy cave I was a scared little girl, holding to Moka’s arm for dear life. Head torches are great but they attract the bugs around your face, there are lots of random floating things and there are drops of what I hope is just water landing on me. The Guacharos are insanely noisy and when the cave opens up inside like a cathedral, the sound of their wings and screeching is all encompassing. We switch the torches off and just listen. It is quite a sensation and unforgettable.
The cave itself is full of expansive stalactite
collections and strange nut like seeds - the birds have eaten fruit, then the seeds are pooed into the river. A few plants start to take root but I imagine their desire for life is short lived, as there is NO light in here. Climbing over the rocks and wading through the water I begin to gain my confidence and walk alone. The river has small rapids to navigate and it turns out the birds have a few different kinds of screams. Even after almost an hour I still feel disappointment as the cave brightens and finishes. As rumour has it, all good things must come to an end. Luckily the walk back is enjoyably educational - Hernando is a geography teacher, one highlight been the pole wedged horizontally in a tree, where hunters sit and wait for rabbits that eat from the tree next door.
Back in the safe sanctuary of the air-conditioned carro gris, (grey car) I feel a bit spaced out, watching the palms and banana trees blur past my window, I realise what a mind-blowing few days it has been: drug lords, a romantic river from a dreamland and souls burning in hell! Time for
a little sueñito (nap).
Everything happens for a reason, (I’m just full of clichés today) and the reason I had such an incredible journey to Rio Claro is all thanks to a Moka, a Hernando and an Isabel. A big thanks that goes beyond words to the boys for their astounding driving and Isabel for all her love. Oh and of course carro Gris for his lovely air-conditioning. xx
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monique
non-member comment
How do you get to Rio Claro?
Hey there! I've been thinking of visiting Rio Claro and after reading your blog I want to go! I hope you don't mind me nosying thru your blog - just found it googling Rio Claro. Can you tell me how you get to Rio Claro? Is there a local bus that goes? Where is Rio Claro in relation to Medellin (that's where i am now). Any info would be a great help! Hope to hear from you! Monique