Advertisement
Published: August 27th 2012
Edit Blog Post
After beginning my travels this year in the wilds of Patagonia, staring out over the heads of the waddling penguins on the windswept shores of the Straits of Magellan, far down in the south of this expansive continent, I have finally found a sense of completion after having stood upon the northern most point of South America.
Punta Gallinas is where the continent’s furthest northward reach dips below the surface of the Caribbean Sea, which is located on a point of land in the barren and inhospitable desert region of La Guajira in north-east Colombia. La Guajira is also home to the unconquered indigenous Wayuu people, who live in scattered mud-brick dwellings upon this promontory of land which arcs out above the most westerly region of Venezuela. Aside from wanting to reach the most northerly point of the continent, my two other primary driving forces behind the journey were to see these indomitable Wayuu people in their homeland and to visit Taroa Beach. For an Australian who has lived on the coast for the past ten years and who has been fortunate enough to have seen many stunning beaches around the world during my peregrinations, there has to
be a compelling reason to want to venture to a beach that takes days to reach. Taroa Beach is such a place, for it is here that an enormous desert sand dune plunges suddenly into the sea, creating a stark and unique contrast. Ascending the dune from the land side, one can hear the ocean. Then, when standing upon the sandy ridge, you can see the ocean suddenly below you; however, you cannot see where the sea and land meet. You walk/jog/run forward, not quite sure if there is a safe way to the water, when suddenly, a split second before the point of no return, you see the sand of the dune fall away sharply, yet not impossibly so, to the water below. As your legs try to keep up with the forces of gravity, you rapidly find yourself sinking and sliding down the dune until your feet are in the water and you experience a sense of isolation and wild exhilaration, joy and wonderment, all rolled into one. Then you turn around, peer up the steep dune to a horizon of such close proximity that you don’t quite believe it to be true, then to your left and
right, the shore hugs a coastline of sand and craggy rock formations and you are there with only those who made the journey with you. You cannot help but feel that you are in a truly wonderful (in the original sense of the word) place that few get to visit. At least, this is how I experienced it.
What I didn’t expect at Taroa Beach was the sunset that painted the sky in pastels of blue, pink, mauve, orange, red, yellow, white and all the shades that lie between these colours, linking them together. In this remote desert region, the sky is devoid of pollution and other obstructing factors such as ambient light and so on, resulting in vivid colours sweeping forth from the horizon where the sun is taking its leave of the day. The people I had made this journey with were, like me, struck by the singular beauty of the scene that was washing over us. Then, when we thought it was over and the sun had slipped away, the sky, air, sand, water, rocks – everything! all changed colour, shifting from darkening dusk to an all pervading reddish orange that was noticeably brighter than the
preceding thirty or so minutes, surreally illuminating our world for a couple of magical minutes. To a person, we all commented that it was one of, if not the most, strikingly beautiful sunset we had ever witnessed.
Reaching Punta Gallinas and Taroa Beach is an adventure in itself, involving riding in the trays of cattle trucks, dilapidated boats, 4X4 jeeps with engine trouble, buses that you flag down on the side of the road with a guy hanging out the front door, cars with non-functioning speedometers and utes (as we would call them in Australia, or pick-up trucks to North American types) converted into people carriers by fashioning bench seats along the sides of the tray beneath a canvas roofing. To add to the mix, Caroline and I arrived in Uribia (the capital of the La Guajira region) on a strike day, therefore the most movement to be seen in town was by the multitudinous plastic bags that were being whipped around the beautifully filthy streets. The locals seemed content to keep the roller doors of their businesses down and locked, with everyone sitting in and around the main plaza, talking in pleasant terms whilst a matt black riot
vehicle squatted by their side, seeming to exude boredom at its lack of purpose in such a peaceful place. Luckily, we stumbled upon a shirtless Canadian guy circling the plaza who directed us to some accommodation and gave us what proved to be a priceless tip on where to stay in Cabo de la Vela, which is the fishing village you first head to if you intend on making your way to Punta Gallinas without the aid of a hugely overpriced tour from Santa Marta or Riohacha.
Cabo de le Vela is a long strip of narrow beach, with an equally long strip of sandy road, between which exist hammocks for accommodation and makeshift restaurants. Vehicles don’t leave from Uribia to Cabo de la Vela until enough people are on board the back of the ute to cover fuel costs, so we waited five hours (the first hour commencing at 6am) for this to happen. Whilst this has the potential to test your patience, having some slow-going nineteenth century English literature at your disposal, along with a charango and the ever-entertaining spectacle of the bustling main street of Uribia, the time passed rather quickly. Sometimes children would jump into
the tray of the ute to listen to the charango or talk to Caroline, other times we were joined by locals who just wanted to chat. All the while, the smell of food wafting from street sellers, the market across the road being a hive of activity and the incessant beeping of car horns by drivers who were looking for paying passengers to head to the Venezuelan border or to Riohacha, did enough to entertain the senses and keep us awake. Eventually, three gringos jumped out of a car and jumped onto the tray of the ute and we were on our way. The five of us quickly became friends and have since strengthened this friendship with each passing day that we have spent together in Colombia.
So, in amidst days of swimming in the Caribbean Sea, witnessing sunsets of unmatched beauty, being covered in desert sand and dust, consuming the local diet of fish and goat and sleeping in handmade Wayuu hammocks, I found myself at Punta Gallinas. As I stood upon a crag of rock and felt the sea splash over my legs, I sensed the entire continent lying behind my back, with reflections of where it
all began and what I have experienced along the journey flashing through my mind. With these recollections of the past flooding my thoughts, my eyes stared out across the vastness of the sea and I happily wondered what the future would hold for me.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.32s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 14; qc: 56; dbt: 0.1233s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
miss jalan jalan
miss jalan jalan
wow - what a sunset!