My traveling philosophy has always been "what doesn't kill me, will make a great story to write home about." That was certainly true of the Ciudad Perdida hike. My first sign should have been when our "two-hour jeep ride" turned into a four-hour jeep ride because (1) our jeep stalled four times on our way to the mountain where the trailhead was located, (2) once we began climbing the mountain, the jeep stalled and wouldn't re-start (despite our efforts to push it uphill!), (3) the twelve of us (two groups of five and the guides) and our gear were squished into the back of the only truck that was nice enough to give us a lift, smashing our bread and breaking our eggs in the process, and (4) our replacement truck got a flat tire ten minutes after it picked us up.
The trip did not improve after we (finally) started the hike. Though it is to a Lost City, the hike is fairly straightforward. It is by no means easy, though. I wasn't scared of being captured by guerrillas (at least not until our guide started telling us stories about how many times that had happened), I was sure that the humidity would kill me first. Within the first hour, my clothes were completely drenched with sweat. It was going to be fun wearing these clothes for the next six days! By the end of the hike, I was "falling" into the river because hiking in dripping wet clothes was slightly more comfortable than hiking in sweat-drenched clothing.
On the third and fourth day, we had to cross the river eight times within an hour. The company had told us to bring sandals "for relaxing," but had failed to mention that we might need them for crossing rivers. As I was carrying my own gear, I had left my Chacos safely in my pack back at the hostel. Rather than take my shoes on and off at each river crossing, it was easier (and faster) just to go barefoot. Regina, who was already hiking in her Chacos, graciously offered to carry my shoes so I could concentrate on not (a) cutting my foot, (b) spraining my ankle, (c) falling in the river, (d) stubbing my toes, or (e) (I didn't realize this was a risk until I smooshed one) stepping on the big camouflaged spiders. When we reached the last river crossing, my feet were raw and I was so excited to be done. But, alas, Regina fell in the river. I spent the rest of the day hiking in one wet shoe.
At night, the mosquitoes moved in and they were ravenous. Just when I thought that every inch of exposed skin had been bitten, I would find a new bite in a random place like my ear lobe. My legs looked diseased! We would go to bed early to escape the mosquitoes, but it was hard to get a decent night's sleep in the hammocks.
To top all of this off, our guide was lousy. The company, Turcol, doesn't buy the food or train the guides, but instead gives the guides money to buy food and expects them to educate themselves. As a result, the guides have an incentive to buy less food (more money for them) and to make up stories about the lost city rather than learning about it. Now, if you have a self-motivated guide, this is not a problem. The group that was hiking with us had a fabulous guide. We were not so lucky. Our guide did not buy enough food. Bread and cheese are not a sufficient breakfast for a five-hour hike! My group was saved from starving (okay I'm being a little dramatic, but I really was famished) only because Elizer, the other guide, and the kind boys from the other group, who had brought enough food to satisfy their munchies, were kind enough to share with us. Also, when we were really desperate, we would ask our cook, Ali, if there was pineapple. He would say no, then run down the path carrying a big machete. Minutes later, he would return with very fresh pineapple. Mmmm.
When we did reach the Ciudad Perdida, our guide told us all about the city. Lies, lies, lies! When we asked Elizer about some of the things our guide had told us, he just laughed and then, when he was able to compose himself, told us what really had happened. For example, our guide told us that the Tayrona people died because they didn't have enough salt or fish and those that survived the food shortage killed themselves because it was better to die than become a slave. Eli informed us that the Tayrona people died because when the Spanish conquistadors arrived there was a war in Pueblito. Some of the Lost City's warriors went down to help the people of Pueblito fight and when they returned they brought clothing that contained diseases. Also, our guide told us that it took hundreds of years to build the Lost City. As impressive as the Lost City was, it seemed odd that it took hundreds of years to build these stone terraces when the temples of Machu Picchu were built in only 90 years. When we asked our guide about it, he snapped that he was not a guide for Machu Picchu and did not know why it had been built so quickly. Eli later told us that the Lost City had been built in 80 years.
Another great example of our wonderful guide is, on the hike back, Regina was about to climb over a log that had fallen over the path. I noticed that there was a very large scary looking snake draped over it. After a couple of minutes of deciding what to do, we realized that someone had already chopped the head off of the snake. When we caught up to the guide, we asked him about the snake. He hadn't noticed it! When I showed him the picture I had taken, he told us it was a very dangerous snake with mortal venom. How reassuring! Our guide, the person who was supposed to keep us safe, had somehow missed the large and deadly snake lying in the middle of the path.
Now that I'm done ranting . . . the hike was not so bad. Once I learned to ignore our guide and how disgusting I felt, it was really beautiful. The hike to the Lost City takes three days up and three days back. We climb three passes and over 1,000 stairs to get to it. The trail leads us through really beautiful pristine jungle. Every day there was a beautiful pool to swim in when we finished with our hike. There were at least three zen moments that made the hike worth it. The first was sitting at the top of our first big climb and looking over the valley. There was nothing but jungle and mist. It was incredible!
The second was after our second day of hiking. We were hot and sweaty and more or less ran to the river as soon as we made it to camp. The water was cold and the current was too strong for swimming under the waterfall. I headed for the large flat boulder in the middle of the river instead. I was sunning on it when it started to rain. The sun was still shining and the rain was warm. I stayed there until our guide called us for dinner.
Then, after the fifth day hiking, Regina and I headed down to the river. A little boy who lived near our camp came down to tell us that there was a much better swimming spot nearby. We followed him to this amazing waterfall. There was no way to make it down the pool it created without jumping off of a cliff. I was the first one in. The two of us had the waterfall all to ourselves. We laughed that to us this was paradise, but to the little boy who had lead us here, it was home.
My favorite part of the hike, though, was the solitude. I purposely distanced myself from the group. I had a lot of time to think and to come to terms with the fact that my trip, and with it my transitory lifestyle, would be ending in a few short days. After this trip ends, I will no longer be doing things for the next semester, month, or year. Instead my obligations will be for a more indefinite period of time. I will have to become the dreaded "settled" or, worse, "grown-up." As much as I had resisted that moment, I found myself looking forward to the next chapter. In the end, I felt like I had conquered much more than a six-day, sweaty hike to a found city.
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