My latest adventure may just be one of my greatest to-date. It was an experience in every sense of the word.
On a whim I booked a trip to Colombia. And then a 4-day trek to The Lost City. With less than 3 days to prepare at home beforehand - I had no clue as to what I was getting myself in to. Had I known - I´m not sure I would have followed through - which would have been a shame to have missed this eye-opening, life-changing, and definitely once in a lifetime opportunity and experience. In this case - my ignorance turned out to be truly blissful.
The trek was just 4 days. 4 days of walking only 4 to 6 hours per day. A total of 44 km. Sounds easy enough. Who can't walk? What I failed to factor in to the equation was that this walking was done uphill and not on what would be considered a "path" in any other country. Picture deep sand with land mines of rocks and mule poop. Picture precariously placed mossy rocks across fast-moving streams. Picture one-person-wide slippery mud paths with sharp rocks all alongside a sheer jungle cliff. Picture a seemingly never-ending windy path to the sky. Picture 1,200 "stairs" built more than 3,000 years ago. Well you get the picture - but now picture all of those things going UP!
The good and the bad news in all of this was that there was only one way in, and therefore only one way out. Good in the sense that we couldn't theoretically get lost. Bad in the sense that every time we walked down we knew that in the not so distant future we would have to walk up this part. Like I said, knowing what you're in for is not always a good thing. To add to this challenge we carried our personal belongings - who knew just how heavy 2 pairs of shorts, 2 bras, 4 shirts, underwear, a swimsuit, bug repellent, a camera, toothbrush, and a bottle of water truly could be after 4 days! Needless to say gravity and I were at war for most, if not all, of the trip.
I thought I could walk. I thought I was somewhat fit. I thought I had an above average level of strength. I thought wrong.
This trek kicked my ass.
My group, to be fair to myself, was all guys - two of which this wasn't their first rodeo. All of which were younger than me. And did I mention - all. men.
The group consisted of Peter (an accountant from the UK in month 6 of travelling for a year), Pepe (a chemical engineer from Mexico who takes gym selfies), Daniel Jr., our Colombian cook who has been walking the 44 km for the last 14 years, and Alejandrino, our guide, a native to this jungle region, of the indigenous Wiwa tribe, and therefore obviously super human in our eyes. I was definitely the weakest link. I can't tell you how many times I found myself fallen way behind Peter and Pepe, only to be escorted by either Daniel or Alejandrino. Every time I shouted "no mas" I could only imagine the thoughts going through their heads ("all you lazy gringos are the same...why is this so hard? It's just an inclined piece of earth - move it!") My slowness and their annoyance with it did have its perks - more often than not from behind me, and in between my gasps for air, I would hear "me help you". Which would then be followed by me turning over my bag to one of the two with the trade off being that I would then pick up the pace and walk faster. This time spent in the back was for the most part spent in silence or to the beat of Daniel's singing or Alejandrino's coca chewing and spitting. We ran out of our shared English and Spanish words quite quickly - there's only so much you can say on the topic of family, music, and nature when you have my Spanish vocabulary and their English. Mostly it ended up me asking "mas minutos?" with the answer hardly ever being one I liked.
It was tough. It was hot. It was humid. But it was beautiful. A beauty in which I had very little time to appreciate as most of my views were that of the ground and figuring out where to place my foot next so as not to slip, slide, twist an ankle, or fall to my death. I continuously wondered what the protocol was for medical emergencies as there was no cell service, very little walkie talkie services, about 3 communities consisting of 2 huts each, zero electricity, and at any given time a day's mule ride out of the jungle to then be followed by at least a 2 hour ride down the mountain to any sort of proper "village". I would not fall. I couldn't. My life depended on me for maybe one of the first times ever.
The days were broken up by lunch and snack stops. The food was amazing (and I'm not just saying that because anything in my mouth would have been amazing) - Daniel really and truly was a great Colombian cook that served American sized portions! What was even better though than eating were the breaks which included a piscina! Most of the journey was along a crystal clear mountain stream, and when it pooled we were more than happy to jump right in for a refreshing and much needed swim and bathroom break. We did notice that as the stops got higher and higher, the pools became colder and colder. With our last stop being body numbing.
Body numbing too were the evening showers. But you had to do it - had to. After a full day of walking through the sand, the mud, and the mule poop it wasn't a choice. Each evening spent in the camps were pretty much the same - shower, inhale your dinner via candlelight, drink a beer (sometimes even 2 on a crazy night), chat, inspect your bodies for new bruises, bites, and ticks, be in your hammock and ready to sleep by 7:30 or 8 pm. Mornings too were much the same - awake to breakfast being prepared around 5 am (that is if the cold didn't already have you awake and shivering), lay in your hammock for a half hour cursing your decision to do this, dump yourself out of said hammock and begin to find soreness in muscles you didn't think possible, inspect your body for new bites, ticks, and bruises, brush your teeth, eat breakfast while dreading the words sure to come "vamonos", put on your pack (now full of wet clothing items as nothing fully seems to fully dry in the jungle), curse yourself for bringing "so much" - again run through the list of your bag contents in your head and reassess if you can live without anything as the thought of attaching this to you for one more day just seems unbearable. And then. Begin walking. And walking. And walking.
On the morning of our 3rd day we "summited" the never-ending deadly stairway to heaven and got our first glimpse of The Lost City. A city that by this point I was beginning to prefer had never ever been found again. But what was found and we'd been walking for days to set eyes on was truly worth it. The views were breathtaking. The magical feeling you had walking through the ruins left you speechless. And the fact that the small military camp slash shack just above the city had Dish Network - utterly amazing. Alejandrino shared with us the history, the details of each relic and ruin, and the stories from this long lost city - a city which pre-dates Machu Picchu. He did this with a pride in his eyes and a strength and excitement in his words. All of which was spoken in his second language - Spanish. That morning he had made sure that our group was the first to the top - wanting to give us a private and intimate tour. In addition to the Lost City history we performed with him a purification ceremony, he showed us tree bark and leaves which were used as natural clothing dye, he pointed out Toucans and Squirrels, coca bushes, and a special type of bee's nest. He was in his element and you could feel his passion and excitement to share. We wandered around for hours as the only guests in the city before stopping to have a Coke (of course!) in the "store". Not only did this 3 shack Lost City establishment have Dish Network but they also had the Internet! We spoke with the shop woman and found out she left the city once per month. Which to me sounded absolutely dreadful - that was far too often for my liking! In fact at this point I even asked, no threatened, to move-in as the thought of walking all the way back made me nauseous. But as with many things in life - we had to suck it up and keep moving. There was no other choice. So, we gathered our things, had one last look at a city and view that very few people would ever set eyes on and began our death-defying descent - down. Straight down the stairway from hell. Before starting Alejandrino demonstrated that to go down the one bazillion steps we must walk sideways as they were not large enough to fit the length of our foot. Talk about having to watch your step! One misstep or slip and you'd definitely tumble to your death. This descent which took us nearly a half hour and numerous shouts of "mucho cuidado", Alejandrino is able to do in 5 minutes. Like I said. Super human.
Back at the camp with the Lost City having been found, we had our fullest day of walking yet ahead of us. And what to look forward to at the end? Oh yeah. Not being wet, hot, and walking in a jungle. "Vamonos!!"
The next day and a half was pretty uneventful - a lot of walking down, but surprisingly and horribly a lot more walking up than I wanted or expected. We had seen all the "sights" before and the excitement and urgency to be done, finished, never to walk again was in us - it pushed us. Some hills Daniel pushed me. Literally. Again, it was tough. It was dirty. It was a physical and mental struggle. But was also an accomplishment. Seeing the ground we had covered was surprising - we really walked up a lot. How we did it. I don't know. But it was a great accomplishment.
By lunch on the 4th day - we had finished. Covered in sweat and dust and bites and bruises we had made it out. And boy were the beers cold.
Describing the trek just now was just the physical and outward characteristics. Much of which seems to be horrible. Yes it was. Don't get me wrong. But what I haven't mentioned are the numerous positive and utterly undescribeable moments. What I went through with myself as well as with my four teammates made every impossible step worth it. I would even go so far as to say that multiplying each challenge by a million - the good times would still far outweigh the not so good. And man did we have some good times! From singing and dancing to Colombia's number one hit song, to belting out Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer", to card games, and conversations without the use of Google or Wikipedia as a referee, to sharing intimate details of our lives with seemingly complete strangers - to sharing everything and just knowing we're all in this together. That is all something that cannot be taken away by all the challenging hours and days in the world, or the the times along the way you thought you just couldn't go on. We shared cultures, languages, different ways of living, and different measures of success and happiness. We shared the good times, the hard times, the silly times, and the magical times. These are moments that aren't easily forgotten. They now live in you. They are a part of you. And, you a part of them.
Saying goodbye to Daniel and Alejandrino was tough. Leaving them in the jungle while we "returned to our lives" felt wrong. I did however leave with Daniel my hiking boots he had coveted since day 1. So for awhile at least a literal piece of me and my memory will live on in the Colombian jungle. And now I have an excuse to never pay to walk for fun again :)
Much like the City, which was lost and then found - I too have experienced being lost as well as found.
What I lost along the way:
What I found along the way:
Pictures: http://share.shutterfly.com/share/received/welcome.sfly?fid=1ee2dd585eb24817&sid=0ActmrNi0atWLQDg
On a whim I booked a trip to Colombia. And then a 4-day trek to The Lost City. With less than 3 days to prepare at home beforehand - I had no clue as to what I was getting myself in to. Had I known - I´m not sure I would have followed through - which would have been a shame to have missed this eye-opening, life-changing, and definitely once in a lifetime opportunity and experience. In this case - my ignorance turned out to be truly blissful.
The trek was just 4 days. 4 days of walking only 4 to 6 hours per day. A total of 44 km. Sounds easy enough. Who can't walk? What I failed to factor in to the equation was that this walking was done uphill and not on what would be considered a "path" in any other country. Picture deep sand with land mines of rocks and mule poop. Picture precariously placed mossy rocks across fast-moving streams. Picture one-person-wide slippery mud paths with sharp rocks all alongside a sheer jungle cliff. Picture a seemingly never-ending windy path to the sky. Picture 1,200 "stairs" built more than 3,000 years ago. Well you get the picture - but now picture all of those things going UP!
The good and the bad news in all of this was that there was only one way in, and therefore only one way out. Good in the sense that we couldn't theoretically get lost. Bad in the sense that every time we walked down we knew that in the not so distant future we would have to walk up this part. Like I said, knowing what you're in for is not always a good thing. To add to this challenge we carried our personal belongings - who knew just how heavy 2 pairs of shorts, 2 bras, 4 shirts, underwear, a swimsuit, bug repellent, a camera, toothbrush, and a bottle of water truly could be after 4 days! Needless to say gravity and I were at war for most, if not all, of the trip.
I thought I could walk. I thought I was somewhat fit. I thought I had an above average level of strength. I thought wrong.
This trek kicked my ass.
My group, to be fair to myself, was all guys - two of which this wasn't their first rodeo. All of which were younger than me. And did I mention - all. men.
The group consisted of Peter (an accountant from the UK in month 6 of travelling for a year), Pepe (a chemical engineer from Mexico who takes gym selfies), Daniel Jr., our Colombian cook who has been walking the 44 km for the last 14 years, and Alejandrino, our guide, a native to this jungle region, of the indigenous Wiwa tribe, and therefore obviously super human in our eyes. I was definitely the weakest link. I can't tell you how many times I found myself fallen way behind Peter and Pepe, only to be escorted by either Daniel or Alejandrino. Every time I shouted "no mas" I could only imagine the thoughts going through their heads ("all you lazy gringos are the same...why is this so hard? It's just an inclined piece of earth - move it!") My slowness and their annoyance with it did have its perks - more often than not from behind me, and in between my gasps for air, I would hear "me help you". Which would then be followed by me turning over my bag to one of the two with the trade off being that I would then pick up the pace and walk faster. This time spent in the back was for the most part spent in silence or to the beat of Daniel's singing or Alejandrino's coca chewing and spitting. We ran out of our shared English and Spanish words quite quickly - there's only so much you can say on the topic of family, music, and nature when you have my Spanish vocabulary and their English. Mostly it ended up me asking "mas minutos?" with the answer hardly ever being one I liked.
It was tough. It was hot. It was humid. But it was beautiful. A beauty in which I had very little time to appreciate as most of my views were that of the ground and figuring out where to place my foot next so as not to slip, slide, twist an ankle, or fall to my death. I continuously wondered what the protocol was for medical emergencies as there was no cell service, very little walkie talkie services, about 3 communities consisting of 2 huts each, zero electricity, and at any given time a day's mule ride out of the jungle to then be followed by at least a 2 hour ride down the mountain to any sort of proper "village". I would not fall. I couldn't. My life depended on me for maybe one of the first times ever.
The days were broken up by lunch and snack stops. The food was amazing (and I'm not just saying that because anything in my mouth would have been amazing) - Daniel really and truly was a great Colombian cook that served American sized portions! What was even better though than eating were the breaks which included a piscina! Most of the journey was along a crystal clear mountain stream, and when it pooled we were more than happy to jump right in for a refreshing and much needed swim and bathroom break. We did notice that as the stops got higher and higher, the pools became colder and colder. With our last stop being body numbing.
Body numbing too were the evening showers. But you had to do it - had to. After a full day of walking through the sand, the mud, and the mule poop it wasn't a choice. Each evening spent in the camps were pretty much the same - shower, inhale your dinner via candlelight, drink a beer (sometimes even 2 on a crazy night), chat, inspect your bodies for new bruises, bites, and ticks, be in your hammock and ready to sleep by 7:30 or 8 pm. Mornings too were much the same - awake to breakfast being prepared around 5 am (that is if the cold didn't already have you awake and shivering), lay in your hammock for a half hour cursing your decision to do this, dump yourself out of said hammock and begin to find soreness in muscles you didn't think possible, inspect your body for new bites, ticks, and bruises, brush your teeth, eat breakfast while dreading the words sure to come "vamonos", put on your pack (now full of wet clothing items as nothing fully seems to fully dry in the jungle), curse yourself for bringing "so much" - again run through the list of your bag contents in your head and reassess if you can live without anything as the thought of attaching this to you for one more day just seems unbearable. And then. Begin walking. And walking. And walking.
On the morning of our 3rd day we "summited" the never-ending deadly stairway to heaven and got our first glimpse of The Lost City. A city that by this point I was beginning to prefer had never ever been found again. But what was found and we'd been walking for days to set eyes on was truly worth it. The views were breathtaking. The magical feeling you had walking through the ruins left you speechless. And the fact that the small military camp slash shack just above the city had Dish Network - utterly amazing. Alejandrino shared with us the history, the details of each relic and ruin, and the stories from this long lost city - a city which pre-dates Machu Picchu. He did this with a pride in his eyes and a strength and excitement in his words. All of which was spoken in his second language - Spanish. That morning he had made sure that our group was the first to the top - wanting to give us a private and intimate tour. In addition to the Lost City history we performed with him a purification ceremony, he showed us tree bark and leaves which were used as natural clothing dye, he pointed out Toucans and Squirrels, coca bushes, and a special type of bee's nest. He was in his element and you could feel his passion and excitement to share. We wandered around for hours as the only guests in the city before stopping to have a Coke (of course!) in the "store". Not only did this 3 shack Lost City establishment have Dish Network but they also had the Internet! We spoke with the shop woman and found out she left the city once per month. Which to me sounded absolutely dreadful - that was far too often for my liking! In fact at this point I even asked, no threatened, to move-in as the thought of walking all the way back made me nauseous. But as with many things in life - we had to suck it up and keep moving. There was no other choice. So, we gathered our things, had one last look at a city and view that very few people would ever set eyes on and began our death-defying descent - down. Straight down the stairway from hell. Before starting Alejandrino demonstrated that to go down the one bazillion steps we must walk sideways as they were not large enough to fit the length of our foot. Talk about having to watch your step! One misstep or slip and you'd definitely tumble to your death. This descent which took us nearly a half hour and numerous shouts of "mucho cuidado", Alejandrino is able to do in 5 minutes. Like I said. Super human.
Back at the camp with the Lost City having been found, we had our fullest day of walking yet ahead of us. And what to look forward to at the end? Oh yeah. Not being wet, hot, and walking in a jungle. "Vamonos!!"
The next day and a half was pretty uneventful - a lot of walking down, but surprisingly and horribly a lot more walking up than I wanted or expected. We had seen all the "sights" before and the excitement and urgency to be done, finished, never to walk again was in us - it pushed us. Some hills Daniel pushed me. Literally. Again, it was tough. It was dirty. It was a physical and mental struggle. But was also an accomplishment. Seeing the ground we had covered was surprising - we really walked up a lot. How we did it. I don't know. But it was a great accomplishment.
By lunch on the 4th day - we had finished. Covered in sweat and dust and bites and bruises we had made it out. And boy were the beers cold.
Describing the trek just now was just the physical and outward characteristics. Much of which seems to be horrible. Yes it was. Don't get me wrong. But what I haven't mentioned are the numerous positive and utterly undescribeable moments. What I went through with myself as well as with my four teammates made every impossible step worth it. I would even go so far as to say that multiplying each challenge by a million - the good times would still far outweigh the not so good. And man did we have some good times! From singing and dancing to Colombia's number one hit song, to belting out Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer", to card games, and conversations without the use of Google or Wikipedia as a referee, to sharing intimate details of our lives with seemingly complete strangers - to sharing everything and just knowing we're all in this together. That is all something that cannot be taken away by all the challenging hours and days in the world, or the the times along the way you thought you just couldn't go on. We shared cultures, languages, different ways of living, and different measures of success and happiness. We shared the good times, the hard times, the silly times, and the magical times. These are moments that aren't easily forgotten. They now live in you. They are a part of you. And, you a part of them.
Saying goodbye to Daniel and Alejandrino was tough. Leaving them in the jungle while we "returned to our lives" felt wrong. I did however leave with Daniel my hiking boots he had coveted since day 1. So for awhile at least a literal piece of me and my memory will live on in the Colombian jungle. And now I have an excuse to never pay to walk for fun again :)
Much like the City, which was lost and then found - I too have experienced being lost as well as found.
What I lost along the way:
- Self-consciousness of my appearance
- My fear of birds and ticks
- Sense of time
- Need for Google, my phone, or any other connected device
- The need to be entertained
- Inhibitions
- Feelings of loneliness
- Ability to communicate with words
- The need for anything more than the basics in life
- The want to be on The Amazing Race
- A lot of sweat
- A piece of my heart
What I found along the way:
- Inner strength
- A new appreciation for nature
- Friendship and companionship in unexpected people, places, and things
- Beauty
- The courage to continue moving forward
- The art of conversation
- The urge to survive
- A new appreciation for rest
- Physical and mental strength
- Appreciation for another lifestyle
- Ability to communicate with your eyes and smiles
- The actual need for food as fuel
- The love for life
- The sounds of real life
- My inner voice
- The power of gravity
- Positive thinking
- The realization that ignorance can be bliss
- 4 blisters, 14 ticks, and 23 mosquito bites
- Knowing and believing that I really can do anything I set my mind to
What a wonderful life this is.
Note: please excuse all misspellings and punctuation errors - this Spanish keyboard is making me crazy. Also, pictures to come, as I'm still resting and recovering on flat land in Santa Marta, Colombia.
Pictures: http://share.shutterfly.com/share/received/welcome.sfly?fid=1ee2dd585eb24817&sid=0ActmrNi0atWLQDg
