We are officially not sleeping on our mats on the sand tonight. We also cooked carrots tonight, which is both good in that it was a change from the non-refrigerated raw foods we have been eating for the past week and a half, and bad since H is not a huge fan of carrots in the first place and I have been insisting that they are one of the few veggies that can be eaten raw (since they can be peeled without requiring washing). I think if we have one more meal with carrots tomorrow she may just start throwing them at me instead…
We left Cartagena in a daze of romance and excitement so that we could explore up the remaining Caribbean coast of Colombia. We are trying to operate in the time frame of being back near Cartagena by the 12th of October in order to attend the Colombia vs Paraguay fútbol match (we have to scout out H’s future boyfriend so we know who we are looking for when we are strolling about further south in our journeys). This means that we are trying to balance both the desire to see some things further east while also leaving the perfect amount of time to either work for a moment before the game or simply show up a day or two before the match. Decisions… We are making an effort to get better at them.
After a bit of a late start we scooted out of Cartagena and headed for Santa Marta. Unfortunately I had not planned (this is quite typical for us these days, I’m working on it!) very well and we had no idea where we wanted to stay the night. Suggestions had been that Santa Marta is a good base of operations for the rest of the Colombian Caribbean coast, but the city itself has no particular draw. In my head this meant that we should just push past the town and not waste our time/$$ somewhere we really didn’t want to be. I therefore reasoned that we would have to see the local gringo trail stop at some point, so why not right away? Plus (in my head and not at all in reality) it was on the way to the rest of the coast!
First stop: Taganga.
Taganga is exactly what you would imagine a stop on the gringo trail to be. We were quite unprepared for it, actually. After spending most of the month of September in Panama City working or strolling in Cartagena away from the large crush of tourists we walked right into a nest of them. Taganga is pretty, yes. But it is also filled to capacity with foreigners, SCUBA diving hawkers, drug dealers, street jewelry makers, and every variety of strung out local/tourist you can imagine. Much like Bocas del Toro, if you are looking for a party and some exciting gringos to kick it with, there is something every night and the dealers will cater to your preferences as requested for an enhanced fee.
There is also a 25 minute walk just at the end of the beach which will take you up around a cliff to a much larger and prettier beach, Playa Grande. As with most gringo trails, this path is only to be used during daylight hours as the creepers come out at night to take extra money off the remaining tourists as soon as the police are off duty. But sunsets are pleasant, there is a row of eating places, and the (currently since it is off season) empty lodging is quirky.
We left our large bags here so we could explore the rest of the coast without all the weight we normally carry. This is my silly mistake, since Taganga is not only out of the way, but also not assessable to people with luggage except by taxi. *sigh*
Second stop: Parque Tayrona.
Breathtaking. This place is magical. Mind you, hiking into Parque Tayrona is not a skip down a windswept hill. It is a stroll up and down boulders, in a windless jungle, and/or along a shade-less beach in a humid heat that feels like it is threatening to melt off your skin. Plus, we hiked in 5 days worth of food, our camping gear, water, and ourselves in the blistering heat and were therefore slightly delirious upon arrival at the last beach along the accessible coast (which also happened to be for nudists) where we had intended to camp for free. It turns out that this secret had gotten out already, and the park guards sitting at the end politely informed us that anyone caught camping outside of the designated areas after sunset would be removed from the park. So we turned about (yes, we did partake in the nudist beach before returning… We had dragged ourselves all the way out there for a reason!) and decided to make camp at the closest spot to where we were at the moment, Cabo San Juan.
So. Extraordinarily. Beautiful. Really! It was a great place for H to start to get to know her camera better and for me to sit and stare at everything around me. This particular camp spot is also very busy, but once you get around the little bolder and onto the nudist beach there is stretches of beach and ocean for swimming, nude or clothed as you prefer. We spent all together an entire day at this location, and could have spent much more if it hadn’t been the most expensive location in the park. We had negotiated ourselves a deal, but even still it was time to backtrack down the path to more reasonable accommodations.
We stayed at the most wonderful location between Bukaru and Arrecifes, but neither of us can remember the name of the location. It’s not the huge Don Ramon with landscaped campgrounds, but it is in between the Paraiso grounds, and the awkward camp next to the bakery (with the most tasty chocolate bread every morning). But we cannot remember the name of the location, just that the owner, Alfredo, has had it in his family for over 100 years. Alfredo was amazing, and invited us to just move in with him permanently. His proposal was all the more tempting since he showered us in gifts of coco and tinto without asking anything in return… It was such a sweet life out there, waking to sunrise and sweet coffee and watching for the drug smugglers on our porch by night.
From here we hiked up to Pueblito, an archeological site that is semi re-inhabited (or so it seems). The hike is a boulder hopping experience that is a fun challenge. Pueblito itself is interesting, but the journey there is the real reason to go.
We are still surprised we left. But we (and by we, I mean H – most likely to do with the hair) had been seriously searched on the way into the park (as in, every container opened, tent unrolled, clothes strewn about) and we didn’t want to over-stay our payment and have to pay more or some such nonsense.
Third Stop: Costeño Beach.
H just got older and to celebrate we thought it might be nice for her to have the opportunity to surf the Caribbean for the first time. The waves were fickle from what I understand. But there was some wonderfully entertaining company and good laughter for hours. We met some great Aussies, an adorable Danish, cute Canadians, but most importantly two hilarious Irishmen. It was some good craic! It turns out the reason we haven’t met many Irish on our trip so far is because there aren’t many of them left on the isle and those that travel are in Colombia? Their humor was fantastic and so lightning quick that I often found myself laughing after the conversation had already turned. To make the day even more special, we had a wonderful Mexican dinner, which was a great break from our raw foods diet.
From here we explored Quebrada Valencia, a large cascade that tumbles into different pools in granite until it comes to rest in a large, deep pool at the base. It was good for a bit of rock scrambling and bathing. Plus on the way back to the surfing beach we were met with an epic thunderstorm that soaked us through and cooled everything off.
But we left the day of the planned full moon party. I am sure it turned out well for all involved, but we were keen to head to the desert to enjoy the moonlight.
Fourth Stop: Cabo de la Vela.
Cabo de la Vela is a strange place. Like the unexpected wilderness mixed with unique people (who will sing and dance down the beach to a song they are writing) thrown in with a dash of old school trade-my-goats-for-a-wife culture. We stayed in a local’s house; well, one of his houses. He has 3 wives (he is good with goats, so it seems) and we stayed at the house of his first wife. We set up tent right in their sleeping area, which is a large lean-to on the sand from which they hang their hammocks at night. They have 2 hammocks that they were using, one for the mother and her newborn and one for the dad (when he is staying with this wife) and the other 3 kids to share.
We stayed there with an adorable Russian/Chilean couple we met on the way, and together we rambled about the peninsula. There was incredibly limited fresh water, but as we were told: they have gas, salt, fish, goats, and wind, you just can’t have everything. This meant that not only were we limited as to where we could look for water to filter for our uses, but we were not able to shower while melting in the desert. Good news is that the super salty ocean is never far away.
The sunsets up there were absolutely stunning, and the beaches are well worth the visit, even if you feel like you are evaporating into nothing in the desert on the walk out there. I have been so throughly baked that my once ginger hair (which was originally dark brown to not draw attention, see how well that plan worked out!) is now strawberry blonde and all of my arm hair is bright blonde. In about 3 days. Madness.
After days of no shower, lack of potable water, and dry heat we packed up and headed back to the humid Caribbean we have grown so found of. There are 5 shuttles in and out of town, the last leaving at 05:00 (that is correct, it is the last shuttle, leaving before sunrise, they leave every half hour starting at 03:00) but we left with our local host in the middle of the group at 04:30. On our way back to the main road we saw illegal turtle smuggling that brought tears to our eyes, people crammed in top of luggage so tightly they moved as one unit, women breast-feeding to keep their babies asleep, goats tossed from bicycles to trucks as though they were nothing more than a suitcase, men purchasing and collecting these goats on the side of the road (possibly to buy a woman?), and a seemingly endless sunrise over cactus and desert trees. The peninsula is really quite unique…
And now, finally, we have collected our bags and are in Santa Marta, showered and relaxing by our hostel’s (The Dreamer) pool. Heading to Minca tomorrow, maybe to work on another finca (we hear talk of this being the coffee/pot/cocaine growing area of the country)? So maybe to visit and then run before any drama we don’t want a part of can occur?
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Rule #2: Don't Die. 
Gmom wants to know how you found the local house to stay at Cabo de la Vela?
The house was owned by our truck drivers assistants first wife! We were talking to him about cheap accommodation and he said how about 3000 pesos!?! Plus there was a baby goat to keep us entertained