Campesino Medicos and the Lost City

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The Ciudad Perdida trek takes you through five days of jungle hiking, up and down valleys in the highest coastal mountains in the world. The final location, the Lost City, was found by treasure hunters in the 1970s and, while not a massive archeological find, serves as a great place to end an amazing hike. I had heard about it a while back and had always wanted to do it so while we had other options on this short trip to Colombia, getting back to nature and checking out some jungle living was right up our alley.

So we got picked up in what can only be described as the Colobian Army´s Ice Cream Truck. This massive, multicolored, Frankenstein, all terrain jeep probably ran on more oil than gas. We trudged along the roads for a few hours until we turned off the main road and started down a couple hour dirt path. As it rains a couple times a day (more on that later) the road is rutted with small canyons and lakes, making the going extremely tough. You get jostled around, tossed all over the place, and of course the door on my side consisted of only a tiny gate that was below my shins. Not much of a reassurance when the drop off an inch away is a couple thousand feet. Of course, on our way into the starting point of the trek our truck got stuck in one of those mud ruts and the guides spent the next thirty minutes digging it out. As part of the ordeal, we had to jump out and walk along the road aways, getting our first taste of the muddy mess of a trail that was to come.

After a brief bite to eat we got to hiking. Literally twenty minutes in was the first river crossing. Not realizing that my feet would be wet for the next 5 days no matter what we did, the group tried to cross by jumping boulder to boulder. Well being the nibble twinkle toes that I am, of course I bit it hard. Laughing as I was falling, I placed my hand down to help break my fall. Then I heard a pop.

"Hahaha... Ahh... I think I broke my finger."

I pull my hand out of the water and see a "M" looking back at me.

"Guys I just broke my finger."

While it didn´t hurt at the moment, I didn´t want to have a digit that looks like a veteran offensive lineman´s so I decided to turn back and head to an ER to have it reset. Well, on my way back along the trail we, the guide and I, passed a little shop which also served as a bar for the campesinos and indianos. When the guide mentioned to one of our mule drivers that I had broken my finger all of the guys in the bar had to gather around. The gruffest of them all, massive mustache, machete, dirt covered jeans and cowboy boots, comes up and says it isn´t broken, just dislocated. While I should have asked to see his medical degree, I´m sure he was board certified, he simply looked like he had seen his fair share of broken and dislocated fingers. I thought I´d trust his judgement. So, he grabs my hand and says he is going to fix it. While I´m still trying to understand everything going on (all these conversations are in spanish, a language I never studied) he gave my finger a good tug.

Pop.

All of a sudden it is back to normal. I can bend it again and it is linear, not the misshappen zig zag I pulled out of the river.

"Listo! Vamos!" I´m ready to get back on the hike, hit the trail. I´m so excited I want to give this impromptu doctor a hug but think better of it as he is likely to knock me out for the attempt. Instead I give him a fist bump and get on my way.

Anyway, we started hiking along and the first hill we hit is an hour and a half uphill, no rest, punishment. Seriously the worst climb I´ve ever seen. Being that I´m already well behind the group, we book it. I felt like dying. However, part way up the climb we hear we are only a few minutes behind our group so we push ahead and at the top of the hill we are reunited to the surprise of Max and Ben. The rest of the day continued like the rest, so I´ll save the detailed descriptions and break into the general milieu of the days...

Each day we started out hiking in the early morning, making it to camp around noon giving us time to hang out in the river, cool off, and eat a bit of food. The camps were wooden structures with a few beds or hammocks, a couple toilets (sketchy at best), showers, a couple of benches and a stove. Not exactly glamorous living but for the jungle it is more than I could have expected! Then, each day like clockwork, the rains would come. We aren´t talking a simple drizzle though; these were torrential downpours that lasted hours. It would calm down a bit but at some point in the middle of the night it would hit again. One night I suddenly had a dream I was hit by a train, I shot up in bed to realize the rain was coming down on the tin roof louder than anything I had ever heard.

All this rain led to the muddiest trails I´ve ever seen. I was okay with this until the guide said a lot of the mud was also from the mules feces and urine. I tried to avoid it as much as possible from then on. So while that made the hiking a little less appetizing, the views were some of the best I´ve seen. Absolutely gorgeous vistas of the mountain sides, jungles surrounding you, waterfalls everywhere, and enormous rivers with massive rapids speeding below. The hike was more uphill than down, more precarious parts than straight plains, and all in all I have to say it was one of the more adventurous treks I´ve been on.

Our group was simply Max, Ben and I plus an Australian couple. The characters though were the guides, Omar and Pepe. Omar was a tiny many with an impressive gut and a laugh like a hyena. His explanations of everything we saw somehow involved sex, drugs, money, and violence. While it was kind of humorous the first time he talked about "feaky-feaky," he got old. And Pepe, our cook, wore a Pinky and the Brain shirt and seriously looked like Pinky, tall and lanky with huge ears, but was as malicious as the Brain. He hardly said a word and we only saw him smile once. At a rest spot, a tiny, cute little piglet started snooping around his feet looking for food. Pepe took half his banana peel and in a gigantic wind up he spiked the peel at the piglet´s snout hitting it directly between the eyes. Pepe smiled ear to ear and started to chuckle as the little guy sputtered back a bit then proceeded to continue sniffing for food. Pepe got such a big kick out of it he did it again. Ugh.

Anyway, the hikes proceeded as above, we were all in great spirits enjoying the jungle scene, and we all set to see the Lost City on day four. However, that evening a stomach bug hit everyone in the group and we spent the night alternating who was running the to cammode. The morning came with little sleep, sick campers, and general grumpiness. Not the best attitude heading to the final destination. But, we made the most of it. I wasn´t expecting much coming into the Lost City, the Tayrona culture used wood to make the buildings so all that remains are the circular mounds they used as foundations and the stairs and pathways they used for transport, but I was nevertheless impressed by what I saw. The city has an extensive network of different levels and the views are simply spectacular, rivalling the views at Macchu Pichu. So we enjoyed ourselves for a few hours exploring the sight, enjoying what it had to offer and snapping pictures. I´ll let them speak for themselves.

Our spirits were picking up a bit on our way back, until Omar decided to take a scenic route back to camp by wading through the raging river. Joe, the sole female in our group, almost got washed down through the rapids, all of us came out drenched and tired, and our foul moods had returned in full force. And, we still had a days hike ahead of us with full knowledge that if we didn´t hike fast we would be stuck in the torrential afternoon downpour. Looking like whipped dogs in the rain we set out as fast as we could, each of us mentally looking for Billy Madison´s "Happy Place."

Towards the end of the hike a light sprinkle had started as we came to the trolley to cross the river. By "trolley" I mean a hollow metal framed box with a few rotten planks on the bottom hung by a steel cable across a gorge over a raging river. It did not inspire confidence. Yet, into it we jumped and shot across the river, pulled by our guides. The three of us were the first across and we booked it into camp. Literally thirty seconds after we got in the downpour came. We sat back cleaning up while we watched all the other groups of campers meander through our camp with another twenty minutes to hike to theirs. Finally our spirits perked up, taking pleasure in another´s misery may not be the most innocent of joys, but knowing someone else is in a crappier situation than you certainly helps brighten a day!

On the last day Max, Ben, and I turned the seven hour trek into a five hour sprint to the finish. We loved our time in the jungle but we were looking forward to chairs with backs to them, dry clothes, beds that didn´t smell like sweaty feet, and cold drinks. And this is why I love camping; while getting out and experiencing nature is amazing and fulfilling in its own right, spending several days out in the jungle resets your expectations of life. You appreciate the simple joys in life that much more.

(PS - For those worry warts out there, have no fear, the finger is fine. Can´t bend it all the way yet, but it works well enough to type and what else do you really need a pinky for?)

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Photos

Busting a Finger
A few seconds after Max made it across I got busted up...

Moth in the Jungle
Swelling finger on the bottom

Crossing
We were waking across the rivers in the end...