Heliconia, Colombia

Heliconia, Colombia

Ascending Pan de Azucar

One of our first major excursions in Colombia was to Cocuy National Park in the Boyaca department north of Bogotá.  We arranged a tour with De Una Tours for five days trekking in the park, and got our friend Sarah from school to join us. I had been pushing for a longer trip, but as it was we would be leaving on the day before Cath's 30th birthday, and for some reason Cath didn't fancy spending like celebrating in a tent in the middle of nowhere. I graciously conceded and we began preparing for the trip.
After a few trips to the caming shop and walking up Montserrate- a mountain with a church on top in Bogs- we felt fairly prepared to go.  The bus ride up was an adventure in itself, but I'll probably cover that in another post. After spending the night in a small hotel in the town of Cocuy we took a local milk truck into the park.  An hour and several bemused locals later, we were dropped off at the point where our trek would start. Within a few minutes I learned a valuable lesson: the backpack that feels fairly comfortable while leisurely pacing around your living room will seem 10 times heavier when you're walking uphill with your campsite a few hours away.

Pan de Azucar with Pulpito from afar

But on day two, we got to leave our backpacks in the tent as we attempted to summit the 5,100m (about 16,700 feet) high Pan de Azucar.  Neither Cath or I had been that high before, so we were both excited by the challenge, but also a little nervous. We woke up to a crisp, blue sky  and kept warm with aguapanela (basically hot sugar water).

As we first set off, the absence of 40-pound bags energised us along with the beautiful scenery. As we climbed higher the vegetation was more sparse and stops were more frequent as we began to feel the effects of altitude. Luckily, there were always impressive views to admire while we caught our breath. Below us there were deep valleys, and above us was the ever-present peak of Pan de Azucar, our goal for the day.  The name means Sugarloaf, and is one of the few snow-capped mountains in the park.

As we approached the snowline, we got our crampons out and received a very quick lesson in how to use them. It didn't take long to get comfortable using them, and we slowly approached the summit.  I say ´we´ slowly approached, but if Sarah is reading this she would probably take offense,  as she quickly surged ahead of us. I knew she was fairly athletic from staff four-square games back in Bogotá. But she hadn't told us that she had been in the Territorial Army back at home, so needless to say she was a little bit fitter than Cath and myself.
Before arriving at the top of the mountain, we passed the hulking Pulpito del Diablo, the Devil's Pulpit.  This is an incongruous vertical slab of rock that juts out a few hundred feet from the mountain. Having seen it from afar for most of the morning, it was shocking how big it actually was while standing underneath it.

Pulpito del Diablo (with Sarah underneath on the left)

All in all, the ascent was going well, but it became apparent we were in a kind of race to the top. From behind, a bank of white clouds were rapidly approaching, and it was apparent our blue sky would be gone once those were above us. Personally, I wanted to make sure I got some good pictures from the top, so I tried to quicken my gait a little.
By the time I arrived to the top, Sarah and Thomas (our guide) were already there, and I could see from their expressions that the hike had been well worth the exertion.  The clouds were amassing on all sides, but the views were still spectacular. Almost directly below us was Laguna de la Plaza (our next day's destination), and dozens of craggy peaks stretched out in every direction.

The feeling of looking down on the clouds was pretty dizzying as well. Cath later said the views reminded her of one of those posters in classrooms that say something cheesy like 'Soar with Books' or ´Learning is the Greatest High´ or something equally inane.

We didn't spend much time up there, but as we descended through the clouds I think we all felt a buzz from making it to the top.

La Guajira- The Tip of South America

The scene seems lifted from a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel:  we’ve just been introduced to an inebriated 91-year old Wayuu tribesman, and he is adamant we get a photo with him.  We are at our hosts’ home in Nazareth, a town in the Guajira peninsula, the northernmost part of South America.  The man- whose name we don’t catch- never stops smiling or rubbing his belly while he talks to us.  He is dressed in a breechcloth and shirt, with two of the buttons done up in a nod towards covering himself.  After a short conversation, and repeated handshakes, he sets off as abruptly as he had shown up, and our bout of magico realismo is over.

Even for a country that receives few visitors, Guajira is off the beaten track.  A desert region with a high indigenous population (mostly Wayuu), it is stricken by poverty.  Worse still, until 2004 it was plagued by guerilla and paramilitary violence. 

Our friends Dan and Emma, however, insisted that we should go, and since Dan is Colombian we assumed it would be all right.  We set up our tour in the unremarkable town of Riohacha; the next morning we, along with our driver and guide Felipe, were ready to set off in our 4x4.

We spent our first night in Cabo de la Vela, the only recognised tourist destination in Guajira.  Cabo is a hamlet strung along a golden beach, but the coast surrounding it is the real draw. Strewn with rocky cliffs and coves, the highlight is the pyramidal Pilon de Azucar (Sugar Pile).  It took about twenty minutes to walk to the top, and then I was looking directly below to the green sea, with the desert outline of Guajira stretching out for miles.  

The next morning we were up early again, heading east.  Shortly after leaving Cabo, the road ended, and we were travelling on bumpy tracks, which meandered through the rough desert terrain.  Felipe informed us it was easy to drift into Venezuela without noticing. 

That morning we stopped at an isolated beach where the layers of uninterrupted shells made it easier to imagine dinosaurs lazing around than humans.  We dashed into the murky turquoise water, but were soon running back out.  Three of us had been stung by jellyfish, so we decided to admire the scene from ashore.  Afterwards we drove to a small house that seemed to emerge from cactus and sand, and we enjoyed a fantastic lunch of fresh fish and patacones- sliced fried bananas.  

This restaurant didn't seem to spend a lot on advertising

Hours later, we arrived in Nazareth.  Nearby is the Parque Nacional Macuira, an incongruous island of cloud forest that literally rises up from the sandy desert.   What really made Nazareth special, though, were our Wayuu hosts.  They introduced us to friends as if we were invited guests, and their adorable toddlers provided endless entertainment.We were even invited to a local Wayuu fiesta, but they later decided that some of the tribesmen were too drunk, and there could be potential problems.  We were disappointed, but given our interaction with the old chief earlier that morning, it wasn't that surprising.  

Our host family is ready for the local celebration

Our last stop was Punta Gallinas, the northernmost tip of South America.  Sand dunes towered above the sea, punctuated occasionally by small green oases, where goats were feeding.  There were no other living things in sight.  We came across the skull of one goat that must have lost his way.  We prepared for the long journey back to Riohacha, soaking up the last bit of magico guajirano. 

Under the Volcano in Guatemala

Earlier this year, Pacaya Volcano in Guatemala erupted, killing a televisión reporter in the process.  The only surprise for me was that just one person died.  When Cath and I hiked up the slopes a couple of years earlier, we were two of at least a hundred tourists who seized the opportunity to encounter volcanic lava up close.

The hike begins in Aguacate- basically a few houses that exist in order to charge an admission fee for the volcano.  Almost as soon as we got off the bus, a small child approached us with a walking stick. We resisted his offers, and the dozens of children who followed us making the same offer for the first 100 yards. 

For the first hour or so, we walked through lush, green farmland that gave no hint of the danger lying ahead.  The first thing that alerting you to the nearby volcano is the smell.  The sulphurous fumes hit you hard as you ascend, and then the danger begins.

As the grass gives way to black gravel, you start to realize why one of those walking sticks from the annoying children might have been a good idea.  A seemingly harmless little stumble revealed that dried-up lava is startlingly similar to glass.  I looked down at my hands to find they were covered with tiny little scratches.  This episode would be repeated more than once. 

I bravely trooped on, however, and pretty soon, we found what we came to see.  In the distance, we saw little bits of bright orange glowing against the black background.  Our appetite was whetted, and we walked upwards with renewed vigour (which led to more scratches).  Pretty soon, we reached the lava.  Stretching out in front of us were dozens of orange, volcanic streams, bubbling and boiling, fresh from the crater of Pacaya. 

Approaching the flow of molten rock felt a little surreal.  As the ground under my feet got noticeably hotter, I thought ´Should I really be getting this close to something so destructive, so potentially devastating?´ After  a moment’s pause I decided, ´Screw it, it’ll make a good picture,´ and continued.

'Do you smell something burning?´ 'No, honey, just keep on smiling.'

Now, some of you will be thinking, ´The supervision on an excursion like this must be extremely tight, they can’t just allow tourists to go tramping about in volcanic emission.’  Clearly you have never travelled in the developing world.  If Guatemala has any health and safety regulations, they were being flagrantly flaunted here.  I don’t even remember seeing my guide for most of the walk. Had someone decided that sticking their hair in lava would have been a great story for the folks back home- and let´s face it, we´re talking about people who would pay money to witness something that sends most sane humans fleeing in terror- there would have been no wise leader to say ‘Mick (because this daredevil would no doubt have been Australian), maybe that’s not such a good idea.’





 After we had a chance to frolic around the deadly discharge, there was a vague proposition that we head down soon.  The suggestion turned out to be a good one, as darkness soon began to fall. Apparently the prospect of cutting yourself on volcanic flint and reducing yourself to burning embers was not enough of a risk, so the organisers added ´walking down a volcano in pitch dark´ to the growing list of hazards.  They did provide head torches, to be fair, and the night provided a chance to witness a few orange explosions from the top of the volcano. 

You can understand my amazement, and relief, when I found out Pacaya had erupted- this time sending ash and lava as far as 25 miles away- that the death toll hadn’t been greater.  Amazingly, within two weeks, Pacaya had visitors again, an estimated 2,000 in one weekend.  It seems hard to believe, but then again, being up close and personal with actual lava is an opportunity that doesn’t come along every day and, to be honest, if I had the chance I would definitely do it again.

Adventures in Colombia: Under the Volcano in Guatemala

Adventures in Colombia: Under the Volcano in Guatemala: "Earlier this year, Pacaya Volcano in Guatemala erupted, killing a televisión reporter in the process. The only surprise for me was tha..."

Chingaza- Wilderness on Bogota's doorstep

One February weekend, Cath and I decided to trade decadent Bogotá life for camping at 3,600 metres.  The destination was Chingaza National Park, only 30 miles east of Bogotá’s suburbs.  We went with a walking group that we had travelled with a few times before, Viajar y Vivir (Travel and Live).

Most of our friends thought we were brave, but slightly mad to be camping in near-freezing temperatures.  Most were polite enough to simply arch their eyebrows and avert their gazes when they heard our plans, while one of my Australian mates was much blunter.  ‘You’re an idiot,’ he scoffed when I mentioned I would be eschewing our usual weekend revels just to see a few deer and some mountains you could glimpse from any window in the city. 

Regardless, we went ahead with the trip.  We left early on Saturday morning, and somewhere just outside of the city centre, we stopped for some arepas, which are corn cakes cooked on a griddle.  They’re very popular in Colombia, but God alone knows why. They range in taste from ´Dry Shoe Sole´ to ´There’s enough butter on this I suppose it isn’t so bad´. 

Don't be deceived by how delicious they look

 The staffroom at our school provided snacks at break time each morning, and there was an easy way to tell if arepas were being served: if all the expats walked out grumbling and empty-handed while the Colombian teachers were celebrating as if they were on The Price is Right, it could only mean one thing.  Maybe I’m being harsh, because I have had good arepas before (including the ones on this trip).  But when I can distinctly remember the two or three good ones out of dozens, if not hundreds, of attempts, then maybe they ought to rethink the recipe. 

Anyway, after finishing our arepas and hot chocolate with cheese (I’ll have to tackle that one later), the bus wound its way through the mountains east of town, and within an hour or so, we entered the national park.  We stopped at a viewpoint above a deep valley full of frailejones (see the Nevados entry for an explanation) and surrounded by mountains that resembled books that had fallen on to each other. It was here we made our first wildlife spotting.  

Chingaza is known for its white-tailed deer, and we soon saw why.  Far below us in the bottom of the valley, dozens of them were running around for no apparent reason.  I’d like to think they were racing each other to a previously nominated frailejon, but sadly I’ll never know.  

Cath inspects a frailejon up close

We arrived at the campsite and set up our tents and had some lunch, during which Cath and I struck up a conversation with the family next to ours.  One of the big advantages of travelling with Viajar y Vivir, besides having travel arranged to out of the way places, was getting to meet new people.  Even better, few of them spoke English, so we were able to practice our Spanish.   We used how much we understood of Leo- the usual guide for Viajar- as a barometer for our comprehension skills. On our first excursion with them, taken 2 months after we moved to Colombia, we were pretty poor (although I think we fooled ourselves and others into thinking we understood by nodding pensively), but by now we could probably catch more than half of what he said, which we considered a minor victory.

In this case, we shared a few lunch items with each other, and the couple encouraged their shy daughter- about 11- to utilize this rare opportunity to practice her English. She sighed reluctantly, asked a few basic questions, and got back to her food. 

In the afternoon we took a walk to the showpiece of the park, the Chingaza Reservoir.  This is the main water source for most of Bogotá, but I was struck by how small it was.  It wasn’t tiny or anything, but considering it provided nearly 8 million people with water, I had expected it to be Titicaca-like.

Chingaza Reservoir is big, but not that big

 Like so many places in Colombia, Chingaza has its own connection to the country’s civil war.  In 2002, the rebel army FARC tried to dynamite a dam in the reservoir in order to cut off the city’s water, part of a larger attempt to derail the country’s infrastructure.  Fortunately, they were unsuccessful, and now the area is completely safe. 

On Sunday morning, we became more acquainted with Chingaza’s only current residents (besides the park ranger).  The deer seemed to be appearing out of every corner of the woods.  It’s a good thing deer hunting doesn’t seem to be a big deal in Colombia, because these deer were about as shy as a drunk divorcee.  We were happy enough to do our shooting with a camera.

This guy better be glad he came up to me and not my Uncle Robert

 Not many Colombians visit Chingaza, and almost no foreigners visit it.  It’s not in the guidebooks, and, truth be told, it isn’t in the top ten of spectacular sights in the country.  It was a great way, however, to experience wilderness just an hour away from one of the biggest cities in the world, and we were both very glad we’d come.  Even if it meant missing out on a wild Saturday night in Bogotá.

Almost Paragliding in San Gil

I can tell Cath doesn’t think this is a good idea.  She’s smiling, but it isn’t very convincing.  She’s strapped to one of our paragliding instructors and standing on the edge of a mountain overlooking the Chicamocha Canyon outside San Gil, Colombia.  The instructor has persuaded her that, although there’s not enough wind for a proper jump, they can take off and float to the bottom of the canyon, where the rest of us will pick them up on the way back to town.  What’s not to like?

Everything's looking good...

San Gil is the adventure capital of Colombia, and possibly South America.  Located north of Bogota in the warm foothills of the Andes, it is home to an increasing amount of extreme activities. The combination of strong rivers, an extensive caving system and picturesque mountains mean there are more than enough activities to keep the most active traveler busy for a few days.  Throw in ´Colombia´s Most Beautiful Town’ (Barichara, a 45-minute bus ride away, received the admittedly subjective honour in 1975), and it’s easy to see why the area’s tourist numbers are booming.

We had already experienced whitewater rafting, caving and abseiling during our long weekend.  We also visited the stunning, 180-metre high Juan Curi waterfall.  .  After a short hike, we were stood directly below the 180-metre cascade.  We all looked at the raging water pounding down, eying each other nervously, silently daring each other to bear the brunt of the waterfall’s power.   Finally, I stepped under the water.  I managed a stifled scream before the icy waters pummeled me into shock.

The climax of our trip, however, was meant to be our first paragliding expedition.  Cath volunteered to go first, but take-off was delayed.  Our leaders- who incidentally looked like they could have been on work experience from the local secondary school- decided there wasn´t enough wind, so we waited.  We passed the time by snapping some photos of the scenery.  The green, rounded mountains stretched in front of us, abruptly plunging into the canyon like a giant sinkhole.  

After an hour we had exhausted all photo opportunities and were eager to start.  Nature, however, was uncooperative.  Andean condors soared overhead, and jealousy mixed with the frustration we were already feeling. The guides gave up on our chances, and agreed to bring us back the following morning.  But before we left, one guide revealed his scheme to Cath.  After strapping in, they were ready to go. ´Corre! Corre!’ the guide encouraged her, ´Run! Run!’  ‘Estas seguro?’ Cath hesitantly replied. ‘Si! Si! Corre!’.  Then they were off the ground.

Not for long, though.  The wing briefly inflated, but as they took off, it slumped back to the ground.  After flying for a brief second, Cath and her increasingly rash guide landed.  ‘Corre! Corre!’ he repeated, showing a worrying lack of restraint.  Cath did run, straight off the edge and into the trees a few feet below her.  In disbelief, I ran towards her crumpled parachute.  Bemused and a little shaken, Cath was relatively unscathed. Her implicit trust of guides was the only casualty.

Abrupt landing after a short flight

The next day, we all survived incident-free jumps.  Hovering high above the mountains, our expectations of excitement and beauty were all met.  The frayed nerves from the previous day were forgotten.  Count on Colombia to provide adventure sports with some extra adventure.