"Searching for the Lost City", this sounds like the title of some new Hollywood movie and the stories we found here just as well could be one. The last minute decision we made to go ahead with the trek was a good choice. We were so glad we did it for it has become one of our favourite South American highlights.
The morning of our trek was a funny one with an older guy we shared breakfast with smashing his nose on a hidden wall in the swimming pool, emerging with a face covered in blood and asking us if it was broken... ummmm.....yes i would think. A call was made to the French owner who rapidly denied any blame. The hotel is called Divanga in Teganga and has a great nbreakfast but dangerous swimming pool.
The mystery that is Ciudad Perdida, translated as The Lost City has always fascinated me even though it was definitely a tough one. The Lost City lies about 40km southeast of Santa Marta as the crow flies, we have absolutely no idea how far we actually trekked though.... a long way. We trekked three days uphill to the site, stayed one day at the site then two days back down. A challenging walk in the woods for us! Some people attempted to do the trek in four days but that is very hard yakka and some of them required horses to finish. The city is hidden deep in the jungle amid the rugged mountains of the area they call Sierra Nevada, far away from any human settlements and without access roads.
The jungle was wonderfully abundant and alive with lush greenery in every shade of green and teeming with wildlife especially birds, very special. The most fascinating part of the journey for me was the presence of authentic tribes of indigenous people living in the area. These beautiful people are living quite close to their natural way of being. I want to live here. Throw in a visit to a clandestine cocaine factory, a few military lads, some ancient ruins, the discovery of a large cannabis crop, a beautiful river, showers in natural swimming holes, very few people and the rewards of completing a challenging trek and you have all the ingredients for the amazing experience that we had. The weather was sweating hot and tropically moist and we spent most of the trek wet from heat, not rain. There was definitely a great feeling of connecting to the natural source, feeling close to the Earth. The giant bag of laundry we sent away to be done when we were back in Taganga was horrendous and it´s no wonder we were charged US$40 for the job. All our clothes are now fresh as daisies though.
We trekked with the Turcol Company with a group of ten people from all over the world. There were Germans, Americans, English, French, Austrian and us Australians. There was Joern, Christina, Stephen, Tim, Barbara, David, Emily The Strange and Brandon. The group was quite diverse, mostly intellectual types but we mostly got along well for the six days that we were hiking, eating and sleeping together and had a few laughs along the way. Mosquitoes and creepy crawlies were crazy and i seemed to be tastier than most returning with my legs covered in bites even though i used 80% DEET insect repellent. The only people unscathed were a couple of Aussie girls we met who used the good old Aeroguard brought from home. I am fairly sure that one of my legs was attacked by bed bugs too.
The tour was lead by the beautiful, hard working guide Manuel who had a wonderfully kind face and gentle eyes. Manuel has been leading this tour for 30 years and was the guide involved in the kidnapping of 8 gringos from The Lost City in 2003 so he had some great stories to tell, even if they were in Spanish. Manuel walked in small steps with a bad limp however he always managed to keep up with us and showed us the way when needed. There was also the very fit and vibrant porter / chef Raphael who always had a smile, carried our food in a heavy sack on his back and cooked three meals for us everyday in the very basic camp kitchens. There were some mules used to carry produce for the first part of the trek then once into the more dense jungle, the company seemed to recruit some of the indigenous people to carry large sacks of supplies along the track. Most people rode bare back or in saddles made from hay. We noticed they were paid about $5USD each for their hard work. Price we paid to the company, 460 000 Colombian pesos.
A driver picked us up from Taganga and then we boarded a traditional Colombian chiva style bus to transport us the two hours from Santa Marta to El Mamey, the starting point for the trek. The chiva bus is a colourful, open air bus that normally has the standard Cheech and Chong pom pom type decorations, rear vision mirror dangling gear and sticker of Mary, our backpacks were hoisted onto the top of the bus while two people from our group were interviewed by the Colombian press with cameras and microphones. Originally we though they were famous football stars but it turns out they had had their camera stolen. Most of the crew were experienced travellers and therefore had all the right gear with them, makes for a more comfortable trek. The road to El Mamey was interesting and lined with fresh Colombian fruits of all kinds. We stopped at a place where they kept birds in tiny wooden cages. In the past Colombia guerilla activity has been rife in this area and there is a heavy military presence of mostly heavily armed, very young lads. We went through a military checkpoint at the entrance to the park and Mono Loco met some of the soldiers. Our names were noted by the military. Some of the lads were kitted out with backpacks and gear and then went running off into the jungle ahead of us, there were rumours that they run the track we take to make sure it is safe for us to hike there.
The trail very quickly started to slope uphill and we spent the first day checking out the views and getting used to walking up steep slopes with the weight of our packs. Nadine and i only took the bare minimum clothes, socks, some small snacks, a water bottle, a book each, a sleep sheet and mono loco of course! There were a couple of enterprising families along the way selling Gatorade and Coca-Cola. We found Margs the perfect Aussie bush girl´s leather machete / knife sheath, well made with tassles that hang down the back of your leg to your ankle when you wear it on your belt. All the lads wear it in the area and we thought Margs would love one. The trail passed another military camp where some of the lads were having a shower and throwing us cheery hellos. I was very happy to have had my picture taken with the boss of the lads who posed proudly with his weapon.
Just when you thought your shaky legs would give out, a camp would emerge in the jungle. The first camp we stayed in was run by a couple of families who live amidst spectacular scenery on the Buritaca River. There was a natural swimming hole for showering post-hike that you accessed with ropes and a colourful garden with lots of angel´s trumpet Daytura flowers that i have always liked because they resemble fairy´s dresses. There were also curtains of jungle vines hanging about the place. The family had a pool table in the middle of the jungle and played gorgeous Colombian accordian music. There was a friendly elderly guy there who seemed to rule the roost, we called him the shaman because he looked like a medicine man and maybe he was. The shelter was basic with running water, festy mouldy hammocks, stinky blankets and mosquito nets. The temperature dropped considerably at night time. The simple meals that Raphael rustled up were of rice, pasta, beans, chicken, potato, soup, eggs, yukka plam or empanadas and there was always fresh jungle juices made from things like tree cherry tomato, guanabana or orange. Manuel bought some fresh fruit from the farmers along the way and these included watermelon and pinapples that he would slice up and lay out on a tablecloth made from palm leaves. We treated all our water with purification tablets even though it came from the river. There was a generator here for electricity and when this was out for the night, the jungle was very dark and loud jungle-y noises provided an awesome soundtrack for sleeping. You were left wondering which other nocturnal creatures were lurking around apart from the fireflies that blinked their glow in the dark. We shared a few Aguila beers bought from the family who live by the river and i was kept busy hatching a plan to steal the jokers from the groups deck of card. Some of the crew with headtorches on were out looking for snakes (one guy David is a zoologist) stumbled into a large patch of cannabis crops next to the hammocks. How had we missed them in the daylight? The plants were about three metres tall and full of budding heads. The next morning we had lots of fun doing a photo shoot amongst the leaves and hiding in the plants. The cultivation of marimba- marijuana is still very popular here but the area used to be covered in many more plants due to the high demand from the US during the 70s and 80s. In fact there was a large population growth here in this time because people arrived to manage the crops.
The next day another defining Colombian moment happened. Just after we woke up on the second day and before breakfast, a guy appeared out of the jungle to see who wanted to take a tour to his rustic cocaine production factory which really seemed to be set up for showing gringos around at 20 000 pesos each. The tour was very interesting and we were allowed to photograph the whole process that the guy went through as long as we didn´t take photos of his face. We watched as the guy mixed ingredients like lime, salt and coca leaves with gasoline, added chemicals and syphoned and tweaked his brew until he had the base paste for cocaine all the while talking about the Colombian drug industry which controls 80% of the world´s market. Although the main drug cartel´s top bosses were captured in 1995 and put behind bars, the drug trade continues to flourish with other regional drug cartels, paramilitaries and guerillas filling the gap left by the two original mafias. There is little hope that the Colombian bad guys will walk away from a US$6-billion-a-year business. We were sure the military knew about the lab we visited and was getting a cut of the tour money. Recently a Colombian journalist filmed one of these similar tours and went to the media who blew the lid on the whole narco-tourism gig, the tours are obviously still happening.
The second day we also saw our first glimpses of the indigenous people who live and work using their traditional methods. The tribes are recognizable by their white clothing, stetson cowboy or mountain peak shaped hats, wellington rubber boots, long hair for men and women and red or orange beads for the woman. They all carry a well made woven cotten bag that hangs across their chests or with the handles of the bag across their foreheads and carried down the back. Some of the older women have long, wild hair. I was fascinated by them. The tribes that live here refer to the region as the "heart of the world." The people are called the Kogui and the Arzario tribes and they live in villages spread out through the valleys surrounding the mountains. Once a year, they meet in the ancestral ruins of The Lost City that they call Tayuna, meaning Mother Hearth, to perform their religious ceremonies. Let´s face it, of course the city was not lost, the indigenous have always known of it. These descendants of the Tayrona have kept the culture of their ancestors almost perfectly intact. The tribes are semi-nomadic and move around with the food sources. We were grateful to have the chance to walk very close to the villages and have some contact with the inhabitants. We will always treasure the glimpses of the people and little wood, mud and thatched huts we saw there. We are not sure what they did with the money they earned from helping our porter and we are not sure if us giving the kids lollypops when they asked for ¨Dulces¨ was a good idea either.
I absolutely adored the Kogui myth of creation story that i found in Manuels English written notes, so i scribbled it down and have included it below so i wont forget it. * Note * the definition of Aluna- spirit memory, thought, life and intention
"First there was the sea, all was in darkness. There was no sun, no moon, there were no people or animals or plants. There was only the sea and it was everywhere. The sea was Mother. She was water and water was everywhere and she was everywhere. Thus in the beginning there was only Mother.
Mother was not human, not a thing, nothing. She was Aluna. She was the spirit of what was to come and she was both thought and memory. Thus the Mother existed only in Aluna. The lowere world, in the deepest depths, alone.
Then while Mother existed in the depths, the land was formed above, and in all worlds until our world was formed above where it is today. There were nine worlds and they were made thus first were Mother and water and night. The sun had not yet risen. Mother was called then se-ne-nulang. There was also katakene-ne-nulang. They had a child they called bunkua-se but they were neither human nor anything, they were Aluna. They were spirit and thought. This was the first place and the first phase.
When the parents of the world were born, they began to dry out the land. they pushed the sea back and dug canals to dry the surface and built canoes to travel over the waters. Mother drank half the sea. Mountains were formed on the land and the seas drew back.
When the parents of the world built a house in the heavens, they celebrated together and danced and sang and decided to create the Earth."
The second day we saw some Koguis with a wild boar they had captured and noticed that they use both machete and gun for hunting. High up on an isloated hill we came upon two brothers hunting and the youngest one asked us for t-shirts that all the kids like to wear as a long dress with sleeves. The child was also very interested in Brandon´s camera gear. We also visited two round-shaped abandoned huts and were able to have a good look around them. In the first hut there was a loft section and there were some cooking tools scattered around, old woven bags plus a tool for spinning cotton and a hammock woven from a natural fibre similar to hemp. We noted that the people seem to have a fireplace inside the hut and seating spaces made from pieces of tree bark on the floor or on blocks of wood. Nearly everything is made from things found in the jungle. In the second hut there was a large machine made from wood that had a big lever attached to it and several cogs in place. The machine is used for making chicha jungle alcohol and is powered by tying a donkey to the lever and working it so the donkey walks around the room and the machine has the energy to squeeze the juices from the corn and make the drink.
In the past the tribes have been controlled by the guerillas and paramilitaries long before we turned up and at some point they wee forced to grow coca leaves. The coca leaf has always been culturally significant for indigenous tribes of the Sierra Nevada. In the Kogui culture, the couples, who live in separate houses and remarry 2 or 3 times in their life, are only allowed to make love outside and sometimes in the coca fields. If a woman gives birth without any complications, it means the plantation will be fertile. The coca leaves, mixed with shell powder in a wooden object called poporo, are used as a daily stimulant by the men of the tribes, giving them the energy they need to work and walk days through the jungle. This would explain the way they could travel much faster than us whilst carrying large grain sacks full of produce. Another sad fact related to the cocaine production is that in the past the United States has sprayed large areas of the coca crops with poison and covered entire villages with toxic spray killing off not only the sacred coca leaves but the fruit and vegetable crops that the indigenous people survive on. We heard that this practise is now finished because the area has been declared a National Park and spraying is not allowed. The people are tiny with little feet. The children were particularly beautiful. Mothers were young and fit from carrying their children. The people seemed to be silent on their feet and i loved the way they would move in and out of the jungle giving the impression that they had magically appeared or disappeared before your eyes. There are so many myths and stories about what goes on out there that it is difficult to distinguish fact from fiction.
The diversity of the jungle never ceased to amaze us and we found the deeper we went the more powerful the Earth energy felt, perhaps it was the closer we walked to the ruin site. Although the trail was very well maintained, there were parts of it where we were clamouring overs rocks and on the edge of cliffs. The last day saw us do many river crossings helped across by Raphael and Manuel, we started out doing them in our rubber Havianas but soon just walked on through the water in our Keens shoes. The last day saw us going upstream and we couldn´t wait to arrive, the anticipation was killing us. The entrance to The Lost City was a grand one indeed with two cascading waterfalls and then a set of steep, mysterious looking, moss covered, stone steps leading up from the river into the dense jungle above. There was a real feeling of adventure and discovery at this point even though we knew many had taken this path before us. I could just imagine the indigenous tribes doing this pilgrimage to their sacred site, following the river and rustic instructions to turn uphill just after the waterfalls. People would have come from the coastal areas to trade with the mountain tribes. We were excited to be there. The next bit included a steep climb up something like 1300 vertical steps to reach the site and our accommodation for the next two nights. When we reached the top there was a large group of military lads sitting under a red, yellow and blue Colombian flag to greet us and cheer us on for the last section. Our first impressions of the site was that is was large (one of the biggest found in the Americas) and that it was partly hidden by mist giving it that Lost City sacred site feeling.
We found the rest of our crew and a basic hut accommodation with rustic toilet and kitchen set up, this was the very same hut from which the group of gringos was kidnapped from in 2003. There are many friendly military guys stationed up there permanently who make the place a very safe one now. The military guys are fairly bored and spend their time in the jungle meeting gringos, fishing, swimming, hunting with their guns and catapult sling shots and playing football of course. The guys are mostly under 25 and all armed. It is more like a giant Summer camp for them but i am sure they do take the patrols seriously. They were particularly interested in the red headed ladies who were in another group. We slept on bed bug infested mattresses on the third floor of a hut under a giant mosquito net stretched over all of us. I tried to patch the holes in the net up by using bandaids, still i was bitten alive. None of our clothes would dry. The food supplies were getting a little sketchy now with a dodgy pasta served up. Each morning of the trek we all downed multiple cups of hot chocolate and strong black Colombian coffee to start the day. Steve and Tim the football celebrities turned out to be interesting guys as did Joern and Christina who we chatted with over after hike beers from the ´pub´ which was another hut across the river that sold warm but river chilled Aguila beers brought all the way by donkey complete with a fridge that has no electricity attached of course. We talked politics, travel, parasites and Ayahuasca. Nadine gave out a few massages and indian head rubs which were most appreciated by Manuel. One night David Attenborough and Emily spotted a deadly looking scorpian making it´s way into our beds with it´s nasty looking tail high in the air and ready for an attack. The creepy crawly was swiftly booted down the stairs and out of harms way. The majority of our group were up at dawn the next day to watch the sun light up the city with a couple of sleepy soldiers keeping watch. The mist had once again shrouded the city a couple of hours later.
On the last day at the site the crew took a tour of the city while i slept and tried to get a bad stomach bug, no which no doubt came from the food (no offense Raphael) out of my system. The Germans gave me some charcoal tablets which seemed to work. The crew heard stories from the past and visited the waterfall where a group of bored soldiers had left thier weapons, camouflage uniforms and boots scattered on the rocks so they could show off in the water by making pyramids. I felt better by the afternoon and we went to watch some of the gringos from another crew versus the Colombian military play football. We had a couple of Aussie girls in the mix and cheered them on by waving pom poms fashioned from big jungle leaves on sticks. We gave the soldiers a good run for their money i believe. Some of the indigenous people even came out to watch the game which was played using a ball made from what looked like a stocking and plastic bags. The game took place right on top of the ruins and if the ball went over the side, it was a mission to collect it from the jungle below. There was even a streaker we dubbed the ´Dutch Delight´ who did a nudie in the middle of the game. One of the soldiers came over to us with a large black and white tarantula spider on a stick that he let us all hold for a photo then we think he killed it for fun.
The actual city itself was constructed using 49 platforms. It was originally home to the Tayrona elite, an estimated population of about 3 500 priests, artisans, shamans and militia. From the top of the mountain they ruled over the indigenous population of the Sierra Nevada. The mountainside city was constructed using sophisticated drainage techniques and the platforms are connected by a maze of stairways and simple paving. The layout is centred around a stone symbol representing their animal gods, i think it is a toad or frog statue. The villages were thought to be abandoned when the Spanish arrived on the coast of Colombia blocking the Tayrona people´s trade route with the coast. However, the conquistadors never found the hidden route to the Lost City. What did make it back to the city instead was disease. Without the antibodies to defend themselves against new illnesses such as syphilis and smallpox, the tribe was almost completely wiped out. The site was only known to the jungle people until 1973 when gold seekers / grave looters discovered the site and it's treasures and began to sell the precious stones and cermaics they found there at market. After numerous lootings, the location of the site was finally revealed to the Colombian government. By 1976 the officials had brought the situation under control and the restoration project and investigations began. Today, the site has become a part of Colombia's heritage, protected by the National Colombian Institute of Ethnology and only people with loads of money to hire a helicopter or fools like us who walk the six days to get there enjoy a visit to the site.
On the last night Manuel told the really long version of the kidnapping story and showed us newspaper articles from the time. One of the exotic redhaired girls from the other crew translated. In September 2003, for the first time in history, 8 travellers were kidnapped on the site by the ELN guerrilla movement, the Nacional Liberation Army of Colombia. The stories of the kidnappings were a recurring object of discussion for our group. Our guide Manuel escaped with some tourists by cutting the ropes he was tied up with, he then freed some indigenous families living nearby, diffused some dynamite apparently and warned another group on the trail to turn back. Two of the other guides had fled and left their gringos tied up. The ELN kidnapped 4 Israelis, 2 British and one Spanish man along with a German girl Reinhilt Weigel. The group was chosen according to the state of their shoes and their firness levels. They were kept in a secret hideout in the jungle. The British man and the German girl taught the kidnappers English lessons so were treated better than the Israelis. The British lad claimed he had jumped down a ravine and escaped and ate vines, roots and seeds, he sold his story to the tabloids. Apparently he was actually let go to confuse the military and keep them off the kidnapper´s trail. The 4 Israelis and one of the British men were in the last group to be freed after being held hostage for 102 days. Apart from walking miles per day in very difficult conditions, the hostages were fairly treated by their kidnappers. The rebel group said its motivation for the kidnapping was to draw attention to the problems faced by local communities in the Sierra Nevada. I wondered if it was a little odd of me to secretly want to be kidnapped so i could sell the story to the Australian Woman´s Weekly. Maybe i am just an adrenalin junkie. Anyway, no kidnapping attempt has been reported since September 2003.
The walk back was just as interesting as the way there. One of the best moments was when a group of beautiful children dressed in traditional clothing came out of the forest and waved at us. Simply one of the sweetest visions i have ever seen. We ended up back at the first camp and then enjoyed our last dip in the river before heading back to El Mamey and onto the chiva bus for the trip back to Santa Marta and onto Teganga. Nadine and i convinced the driver to stop for ice-cream and bought the staff a cone. We gave a good tip and tried to convince others to do the same but most only gave a small amount. We caught a taxi back to Sun City and then got a tiny taxi to drive us back to Divanga Hotel in Teganga. I spent the whole journey watching out for Nadine´s pack that the driver had put on the roof with tiny ropes. I was paranoid someone would run off with it or it would slide off and down a cliff during one of the crazy turns.
After the trek we had maracuya (passionfruit) blended with ice juice from the Juice Kelly stall by the sea. These juices are primo and the stall is staffed by two gorgeous Colombian women who sing Colombian tunes and top up your juice with extra left overs. We then sat in the cybercafe and i drank mojitos. We shared a vegetarian pizza then noticed the streets of Taganga were deserted except for the cocaine dealers and wacked out Israelis so we retired to the room and basked in the smell of fresh laundry.
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