Colombia's Caribbean Coast is eighteen hours North of Bogotá and at least eighteen degrees hotter. At an average temperature of thirty-six, it was the kind of heat that's only bearable if you're constantly within a few metres of cold water; either to drink, or dive into, or both. Or, of course, if you're Colombian and can happily walk around in jeans and a jumper in the middle of the day without breaking a sweat.
Our first stop, Santa Marta, had a lot going for it; year round sunshine, delicious street food markets and pretty little lanes with hundreds of hidden gem cafés. It will also forever be remembered as the place where we finally got our hands on fried ice cream (which was every bit worth the wait.) In fact, the only part of this Colombian beach town which I found slightly disappointing was the beach itself! Having been to the Caribbean, I was expecting perfect white sand and crystal clear water but the coastline in Santa Marta was a murky grey.
Fortunately, we heard whispers of a nearby National Park called Tayrona and here, we found the paradise we'd been hoping for. A three hour trek through the forest brought us to the most beautiful bays on the other side where colourful parrots flitted between palm trees and green tailed lizards darted around below. From the top of the peninsular a Colombian flag stood proudly, demanding recognition as it rustled in the breeze. Then turning our attention to the turquoise water, we gazed out in admiration as it glistened in the sunshine, inviting us in to enjoy our prize. The shallow water was warm on our skin, but after hours of enduring the blistering heat it felt as refreshing as an ice cold plunge pool.
Having gone through the effort of finding this paradise, it only made sense that we allow ourselves time to enjoy it properly. Luckily, there were a couple of camping grounds along the beach with hammocks where we could stay for the night. After watching the sunset and wandering back beneath the stars, we swayed to sleep to the sounds of singing crickets and crashing waves. It couldn't have been more idealistically perfect.
Realistically, however, hammocks aren't all that comfortable. Not for an entire night, anyway. We woke up aching far more than we should have, even after taking yesterday's trek into consideration. Nevertheless, we'd already made the decision to take the difficult route back; a one hour walk along the beach followed by a four and a half hour hike over the mountain in the jungle. We'd also decided that an epic journey required an epic breakfast so made a beeline for next door's bakery. By bakery, I mean an outdoor stone oven with a wooden 'Panaderia' sign nailed to the nearest tree. There was no menu; it was only 'pan', but this particular pan voided the need for any other options. The Colombian baker called it Pan Chocolate but I feel a more appropriate name would have been Heaven In A Basket. It was genuinely one of the best warm treats I've ever tasted and set us up well for the day.
Even still, the way back was incredibly hard. With the sea out of sight, the first hour along the sand felt like an endless desert which scalded our feet with every step. We distracted ourselves with the beauty of our surroundings which we likened to the set of Jurassic Park. The mountains, trees, streams and boulders all looked so perfect that we felt they had to be fake. If a giant t-rex had come storming through the bushes, we probably wouldn't have even battered an eyelid. We really needed to get some water...
Thankfully the sand led us straight to a beach bar where we grabbed a cold drink along with one last look at our paradise bay before starting the upwards climb through the jungle. The route was so poorly marked out that it became quite funny. At times, we were literally on our hands and knees, crawling under boulders with the backs of our bags scraping against the stone. The next minute we'd come to a vertical cliff face and have to devise some sort of acrobatic stunt system to move on. The first should have a leg up, the second an arm and leg up, and the third will just have to be yanked brutally from above. It was like an obstacle course for adults; an exotic crystal maze, and we focused on the fun to mask the pain.
Regardless of our efforts, we'd made one massive mistake in naïvely assuming that the peak would be the midpoint; that after two hours of climbing, we should start to descend. Such was not the case, and when we were still clambering upwards at three hours gone, I feared a meltdown may be on the cards (quite literally with that heat still hammering down.) The further we trudged, the lizards grew bigger, the butterflies brighter and our water bottles once again alarmingly light. The first sign of a complaint was on the tip of my tongue when we crossed two natives from the indigenous village deep within the jungle: a man and a woman following the same route in reverse but in barefoot and carrying bundles of firewood. As she passed we noticed the woman had a child strapped to her back, hanging from a hairpiece which was tied around her head. I realised then, we were in no position to moan. At least at the end of this, there would be ice lollies waiting for us.
And there were! Ice lollies with a sense of achievement on the side; that immense feeling of accomplishment that keeps us coming back to these challenging tasks. Tayrona Park was an unforgettable experience, made even more special by its exclusivity to those truly committed to discovering its beauty. We were thankful to return to a normal bed that night but with the images of our paradise still fresh for our dreams.
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