Walk Tall & Carry a Big Stone

The rich color & texture of Cartagena will certainly be missed, but I really wanted to get out into Tayrona National Park & listen to the surf & twilight jungle sounds while lazing in my hammock. Time to ramble. Vamenos!

When the little bus rounded the curve that sent us swirling down a curvy road above a beautiful fishing cove below, I thought perhaps the reports of muggings & drug-addled backpackers & machete muggings must have been exaggerated. The little calles were mostly rough dirt & stone, and the general look of the place had a fishing town vibe with some backpacker ghetto vibe mixed in, but the hostel was pleasant & there was access to a pool as well as unoccupied hammocks. Ahhhhh!

After a quick swim I headed off for the beach in Taganga to catch a little of that golden late afternoon light before completely relaxing into a hammock. But first I figured a pit stop for a couple chilled Aguila cervezas might just be the ticket. Or, so I thought.

As I made my way down the dirt calle toward Taganga's main street & beach cove, this wired looking Colombian guy with his eyes wide open, approached me talking. I couldn't make out what he was saying so I walked closer to hear. He looked nervous & a bit fidgety as he said in Spanish that he knew me & had been waiting for me to come back. I asked him again in case I'd misunderstood the first time & he repeated it again & again.

I told him he was mistaken & I kept moving toward the beach as he tagged along repeating the same thing. I dodged into a small tienda & asked for a beer hoping he'd keep moving on. He just sat down in a plastic beer chair & kept right on. The tienda clerk & a local woman looked nervous as they tried not to look in his direction but he wouldn't let up.

Finally I just looked him square in his doped eyes & demanded he tell me what he wants. I told him he didn't know me, but he insisted, "I know you & I haven't forgotten your face." I replied, "No, you don't know me. I have never been here before or met you. If you know me, what country am I from." He paused & took a guess, "England?". "No. You've got me confused with someone else. I'm not from England. Now please leave me alone." "What country are you from then?" "The United States, Texas."

He then said he must have me confused with someone else & then demanded I give him some money. I refused & he then demanded I buy him a beer. When I refused that as well, he took off down a narrow alleyway.

After he left the clerk told me not to trust him & that he was going to grab my bag. The local woman told me to not go down that alley of any of the streets that didn't have many people on them especially at night. I asked them if there were many like him there in Taganga & they said there were very many just like him.

I looked around the ground in front of the tienda for a stone with enough heft to do some damage but in a shape easy to grip & hit something hard if needed. I took a couple practice swings with the stone to make sure I could keep hold of it if needed. The local woman just looked at the rock & then at me. She smiled & said, "Exactamente." (exactly) I'm not the sort who could hurt even the smallest of creatures unless threatened, but I needed to believe I could in order to be convincing & hopefully deter any violence.

I found it interesting as I walked along the small malecon at the foot of the town & along the beach holding the stone in one hand & my camera in the other, those who were not a threat looked at the stone with confusion. Those who were likely a threat, looked at the stone in my hand & knew exactly what it was for.

The next day I left my big pack at the hostel while camping in Tayrona. The hired can stopped at a grocery store so that everyone going to the park could load up on food & water. No one bothered to mention that as we were all searched by military & park rangers for drugs, alcohol & plastic bags before entering the park. That's right, I said we were also searches for plastic bags because they contaminate the environment. This meant the two 5-liter bags of water I'd bought would have to be drained I to used plastic 1.5L plastic Coke bottles. I asked why plastic bags aren't allowed but plastic bottles are. They insisted that the bags contaminate but bottles don't. I still don't understand but complied as I struggled to carry 10 liters & my day pack on the sweltering 45min hike to the first campground.

The campground wasn't as primitive as I'd been led to believe. There were palapas for hammocks to rent, tents a small restaurant, showers, etc. It was still very basic, but the only reason to drag your own food & water into the park is because of price gouging.

The park is fairly wild, but just a small amount of tourist comforts to make the insects & extreme heat a bit more tolerable. The park entrance fee is steep, and the trails aren't well maintained. It's difficult to see where the money goes, though I'd prefer they keep it fairly wild instead of turning it into an Eco-Disneyland.

After a couple days of exploring various beaches, I decided to take the hour & a half-long hike up a mountain to some Muisica village ruins & terraces. I figured a liter of water would suffice. I figured wrong.

Half way up the very steep trail over boulders & flat stones, I'd almost sweat out at least a liter of water & was getting a bit dizzy. This trail was by far the most difficult I'd been on to date. In one part I was between two large boulders with my day pack to the side so that I could squeeze through. Below me was about a 30 foot drop to more boulders. Not enough to kill me if my hands slipped as I wedged myself along, but would definitely broken bones if I'd fallen.

Midway I was thinking this can't be the trail. I must have taken a wrong turn. I was definitely in over my head but there wasn't any choice but to continue forward. As I completed the 3rd dangerous boulder & cave wedge pass, I came out onto a large flat stone. As I stood up to try and steady myself from being overcome with dizziness, I looked to the left & saw a nice stone path leading up to the stone platform. Arrrgh! Time to start paying closer attention.

The ruins were not spectacular at all, nor worth even making photos of, but the effort getting there without giving up made me feel stronger & completely worth it.

My water was about gone, so I ate as many small mangoes that'd fallen to the ground until I felt like I was hydrated enough to make it back down. The descent wasn't a breeze either, but much easier than the ascent.

I saved my last bit of water to celebrate after I'd made it back to the bottom. That plunge into the gorgeous Cabo San Juan beach & draining the last quarter liter of water down my throat in victory could not have been sweeter.

After about my 3rd trip to hike & swim the various coves of Tayrona, I was ready to reclaim the stone I'd stashed at the hostel & give Taganga another chance as well as wander over the mountain to Santa Marta to check out it's larger boardwalk & beaches.

I must be getting soft because I'd be lying if I said I didn't prefer trading death hikes & mosquitos malecon strolls, the hostel hammock by the pool & ready access to cheap, cold cervezas... even if I did have to pack a stone everywhere I went. ;)

There's another little cove called Playa Grande I wanted to check out, but the trail there has been the primary location of many of the muggings. The hostel owner said it was ok as long as you go with at least on other person. The girl in the dorm bed next to mine wanted to catch some rays on the beach before heading back to Finland. She's a graphic designer so we went looking for interesting shots & watched each other's backs while heading over the mountain to Playa Grande. It did look like a fine trail to mug someone, but other than a large green lizard dropping poo almost as big as he was, there were no other characters to speak of. Though, we did run into the free-spirit Indian girl who was bunking above me in Cartagena. She was just wandering along the rubbish poluted waterline & appeared to have found her own little nirvana & Tagangan love. Her experience in Taganga was completely different than mine. Meanwhile, after we were approached by a shady character on the beach who kept trying to block the view to my bag laying next to the Finnish girl as his friend kept passing by, we decided to take a boat back instead.

That same afternoon a Canadian couple at the hostel were robbed just 4 days before they were set to leave Colombia for Central America. They were both very sick as well. It sounded like what I had last year in Mexico. I couldn't do anything for them but went to the market to buy them some guayaba to treat their stomach ailments. I figured at least they could start dealing with their lost cameras, airline tickets, money & passports in decent health. This is how Colombia gas been, one person finds paradise while others descend into traveler Hell. An American girl was also mugged for her camera while I was there in Taganga, but no one crossed the gringo carrying a large stone. :)

I've read Barichara is the most peaceful & beautiful colonial mountain pueblo in all of Colombia. Oh yeah? Barichara, bring it... here I come!