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Published: March 16th 2010
A couple of weeks ago, I left Medellin with the intention of stopping in Sante Fe de Antioquia for the night. This was a Friday. I decided on the bus ride to SFdA that I would, instead, spend a few hours in this colonial town continuing on to Turbo on a night bus. I felt short on time and still had 8 hours to driving after Sante Fe before arriving in Turbo, from where I was to catch a boat to Capurganá. Turns out, this was a good decision. There wasn’t much to see in Sante Fe. It is interesting in that was once the capital of Antioquia but as far as colonial towns go, it wasn’t as pretty as Popayan, for example. I chatted with a 17-year-old girl for a while. She looked 15, max, and terrified of the idea of traveling
sola. “Que miedo!” she kept saying. I doubt she’ll ever move out of this small town.
Getting on the night bus at 10pm was startling. I forgot how freaking cold the buses in Colombia are at night. I tried sleeping but at times, my under-protected arms hurt from the cold. I caught the 10pm bus because
I was told it was 8 hours to Turbo and that the
lanchas left at 7:30am for the coastal village of Capurganá. It was still dark when we arrived the following morning in Turbo. The driver had to wake me up. I walked, groggily, two blocks over to the (mini) dock. The air was warm and humid. The locals, mostly of Caribbean decent, were slowly starting to open up shop along the shore of the narrow bay. Mostly they were there chatting with each other. With nothing quite yet open, I parked myself on a bench inside the terminal/dock, partially watching tv in spanish, mostly nodding off. About 45 minutes later, I looked at my watch. It was only 6am. The bus had arrived closer to 5am and the boat to Capurganá, I was told upon arrival, wasn’t due to leave until 8:30am.
Slowly, people started trickling into the waiting area. At some point, another bus must have arrived because I saw a handful of tourists. All morning, it had been drizzling on and off. Then, without much of an announcement, it started down pouring. Everyone huddled under the covered areas. Boats neither left nor arrived. Finally, the weather
cleared. I was in the third boat to depart. We took off around 9:30am, stopping for a short period of time at a customs dock just outside the inlet to Turbo.
The guy at the dock selling thick, black trash bags for wrapping up your luggage told me the best seat was in the back of the boat in the middle (to avoid vomiting). When it was my turn to board, there was one seat available, right in the middle of the last row of 7. To my left were two women about my age (turns out one worked for Doctors without Borders). To my right was a Colombian couple, the man’s name was Walter. He is also a doctor, from Medellin, working in Turbo for two months. The people in the front of the boat were way higher above the water than we were. Walter confirmed those seats upfront were less stable and caused more bouncing, and hence, seasickness. One thing for sure, the people in those seats were dryer. At first, everything seemed fine. I expected some waves to come splashing in. But as we picked up speed and got further into the open water, the rough,
storm waves turned violent. The first person to get sick was a 40ish year old man in the 3rd row from the front. Then I think it was the young boy in the row in front of me.
And we were soaked. I felt like I was in one of those tv programs where they keep throwing buckets and buckets of water at the people on the show. It was ridiculous! The boat ride was supposed to take 2 hours from Turbo to Capurganá. Approximately two hours into the boat ride, instead of shore, someone saw a stranded boat in the water. Then we start seeing people’s bags floating in the ocean. As we got closer, I could see people using buckets to toss water out of the boat. It was a smaller boat than ours, maybe carrying 20-25 people. I assumed a big wave had come along and crashed inside the boat. I couldn’t really tell what was going on. Our boat was full but Walter was standing up shouting to the Captain behind us, “At least let’s help the women and children!” People where shouting. The captain stopped our boat but he wasn’t going to do anything
to help. Someone else on our boat was able to call for help on his cellphone. A small speedboat passing by was able to retrieve some of the parcels floating in the water. Eventually, two other empty boats came to help out. Later that evening, Walter asked me if I had understood what had happened. I told him what I have written here. But here is what I think Walter explained to me (entirely in Spanish). The boat had come from Turbo. The people, who didn’t make much money, had just bought their supplies for the next month. When the wave came, the boat began sinking because it was overloaded. People started throwing things overboard. Even their shoes. That was why people were crying. I have to admit, I didn’t catch this at all. I stood up at one point to see what was happening just as we had stopped. In the chaos, I asked the women to my left if we were close to Capurganá. About the same time, a big wave jostled the boat almost knocking me over. Their answer: “Maybe another hour.” Now it was my turn to be sick.
I moved to the edge of
my row in preparation. Four other people started throwing up on our boat. Apparently, hypothermia is a worse malady than seasickness. I never did puke but started shivering uncontrollably on and off for the rest of the trip. Four hours later, on land, this was decidedly the worst boat ride ever! Fortunately, it didn’t rain much while we were en route but standing on the dock, soaking wet, waiting for the customs officer to register us, this fact didn’t seem to matter much. On a related note, if you hear the two-hour boat ride you’re about to go on can be tumultuous, and there is a man selling thick garbage bags to keep your bags dry, maybe it’s not such a good idea to wear white linen pants. I’m just saying…
The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful. With my new friends, the 5 of us checked into a cheap, simple and cramped hostel (Los Delfines). Fortunately, I had a room to myself, but it was still hard to maneuver around. I strolled through the small, rustic town of Capurganá and along its beachfront. The sun never did come out. Over dinner, facing the main plaza/soccer field, I
wondered in amazement how very different Capurganá is from any other place I’d visited in Colombia. Lacking roads and cars, without electricity 24 hours a day, I might as well have been on a Caribbean island.
The people were very friendly. Many of them would stop and chat. I’d see them over and over again over the next few days. Being there reminded me of what I like about traveling alone. First of all, people hardly believe it. But then again, as I’ve said before, I think women traveling alone sometimes get extra-special attention. And not the bad kind! I’ve really enjoyed meeting new people and traveling with them. For example, Kim and Mike. They are both super friendly and get along well with everyone. We always had fun together but no problems when we wanted to go off and do different things. But neither Kim nor Mike speak Spanish. I have no qualms whatsoever translating for people. But I am conscience to not have a dialogue for too long in one language when other people don’t speak it. So, for example, that fist night in Capurganá, Walter took about an hour to explain to me the political history
of Colombia, in Spanish. That wouldn’t have happened had I been with Kim and Mike. Both alone and with like-minded travelers, I enjoy my experiences. And I appreciate the differences.
The rain continued throughout my entire time in Capurganá. I didn’t get up to the smaller beach of Sapzorra or the supposedly nicest beach in the area called El Miel, a ten-minute walk from Sapzorra across the Panamanian border. The second day there, I moved to a different hostel right in front of the beach (Marlin Hostel). It was a lot nicer, a lot more spacious, with a comfortable bed and with lots of patio space with hammocks in which to wallow away the hours engrossed in a book, dry, while watching the rain come and go. It was a very relaxing time. There was so much rain, and the roads - well, they're not exactly roads, more like wide paths that allow for horse-drawn carriages to pass - don't irrigate so well. One couldn't help but walk through puddles just to get around town. Staying mud-free was not an option! I spent one wet morning watching two young boys play soccer in the main plaza/soccer field. Except in
this game of soccer, the ball wasn't the main focus. Tackling each other and generally splashing around seemed to be the main objective. It was cute to watch!
Two couples moved into my hostel and we spent our last night together at one of the most delicious restaurants in town. Actually, it wasn’t in town but down on the beach. Yummmmy! One of the couples in the hostel, and I, decided we’d fly back to Medellin from Capurganá. I wasn’t going to bear another boat ride from hell. As it turned out, the sun came out about a half hour before we were due at the airport, which is a 5-minute walk from the hostel. At 11am, with the sun shining, it was already feeling like a scorcher of a day. Upon arrival at the terminal, we learned the plane was going to be a couple of hours late. Perfect! I grabbed my bikini and sarong out of my bag and headed to the beach.
All in all, I’m not sure I’d recommend going out to Capurganá if you’re traveling on a budget. It is really, really out of the way. But if you have some money to
throw around, fly in and out for about $350 round-trip and stay at the Almar (an all-inclusive resort right on the best piece of waterfront) for $140 per person per night. And pray for sunny weather!
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JoAnn
non-member comment
wow!
if I had known all this, I sure would have worried! you are amazing and what a great traveler maybe you can lead me and Unkie Mikee for our 70 birthdays somewhere - heck - that's only 8.5 more years!! xoxoxoxoxox