Salento: A Coffee Aficionado's Wonderland

My hellish, forty hour journey from the deserts of La Guajira (A) to the rolling hills of the Zona Cafetera (B)

It was a nightmare. Forty hours to travel the 1400 kms from Cabo de la Vela to the Zona Cafetera. I woke before dawn on February 3^rd to take down my tent; suffered a bone-rattling ride through the desert of La Guajira in sweltering heat; was unexpectedly dropped off at the side of a freeway near Santa Marta; endured the unrelenting air-conditioning of an overnight bus; navigated the metro of Medellín; and managed to suppress my restlessness - brought on by a combination of long travel and a diet consisting of caffeine and snacks - for another couple of bus rides before finally arriving to Salento in the dead of night and, of course, the midst of a downpour. But being the coffee aficionado that I am, my trip to Colombia would have been incomplete without a visit to the Zona Cafetera, Colombia's coffee region.

As I woke the next morning in the warmth of my sleeping bag and peered out the fly of my tent I instantly knew that the hellish journey was not done in vain. Below was a river that cut through the valley of the rolling green hills of the Zona Cafetera. The cool air smelt of blossoming flowers and freshly cut grass. I put on wool socks, pants, a fleece and a toque before braving the cold and walking over to claim my complimentary breakfast, which sold me on La Serrana.

La Serrana was a ranch-style hostel about a twenty minute walk from town. The hacienda was lined with windows providing breath-taking views of the surrounding gardens and hills. The inside was decorated with antique type-writers, saddles, microphones and cow hides. It was the perfect place to escape the rain or cold and waste away the hours reading or in conversation while enjoying a glass of wine.

Salento was a charming town in the Zona Cafetera. As I walked up the steep hills of town lined with colourfully painted buildings, the aroma of fresh ground coffee and vino caliente drew me out from the chilly weather and into the shelter of the cafés. The cafés had loads of character and generally used vintage cash registers and espresso machines that took up to eight minutes to brew a cappuccino. Despite the dated equipment, the coffee was among the best I've ever had.

The cafés weren't the only things in Salento that were seemingly stuck in the past. The locals wore traditional sombreros and wool ponchos to ward off the cold, and horseback was the preferred mode of transportation. And when in the 'wild west', why not do how the cowboys do?

I got a horse. I've always been a little weirded out by these animals, but after a few words of advice they were easy to handle. I crossed deep rivers, climbed incredibly steep and muddy pitches and galloped at full speed through fields. This definitely fostered in me a new found respect for their power and endurance.

Valle de Cocora

Burundanga

Coffee Berries

Drying coffee beans

Tejo

Other than relaxing, Salento had a few other interesting things to offer. I spent a day hiking through the Valle de Cocora where I saw the world's tallest palm trees, the wax palms, as well as the source of the 'world's scariest drug', burundanga; took a tour of a family-run coffee plantation and learned about how the berries are picked, fermented, dried and finally roasted; and tried my hand at a traditional Colombian game involving beer and gunpowder, 'tejo'.

Colombia, its been a blast. Next stop, Ecuador!

Cabo de la Vela: Where the Desert meets the Sea

La Guajira has a reputation akin to that of the Wild West of the United States. It was earned by the Wayuu who were unique among the indigenous groups of Colombia for having used horses and firearms to ward off the Spaniards in the 1700s. The northernmost point of South America, La Guajira Peninsula has for one reason or another remained off the well-beaten gringo trail. All I knew was that it was remote, the land arid and the views breathtaking. And with that, I was determined to see it for myself.

La Guajira is outlined in pink. The journey from Santa Marta (A), through Riohacha (B) and Uribia (C), to the fishing town of Cabo de la Vela (D).

On January 31^st I set out for Cabo de la Vela on the western coast of La Guajira Peninsula. Its 'Wild West'-like nature began to present itself during the bus ride from Santa Marta to Riohacha, the capital of La Guajira. As we approached Riohacha, cactus-studded plains replaced the jungle-covered mountains of the Sierra Nevada; tanks and soldiers were stationed along the road more and more frequently; and smuggled Venezuelan gas was sold for cheap all along the roadside. From Riohacha I had to take a colectivo to Uribia as no public buses ran further north. There I was immediately swarmed by what must have been half a dozen locals who were grabbing me by the arms and backpack, each hoping that he would have the opportunity to overcharge me for a ride to Cabo - i.e. to reap the benefits of the gringo tax. After fighting off the locals, relieved to find my wallet and camera still in my pockets, I chose a truck and waited as it was loaded up with supplies and people. And that is when the real adventure began.

Wayuu woman with her child

We drove down a bumpy and dusty road, past remnants of de-railed trains, before we pulled off into the desert. We stopped periodically to pick-up both cargo that flew off the truck and people who stood under the scorching sun waiting for a lift. Once we ran out of space within the bed of the pick-up truck, no problem, there was always space on the roof for more! As people were dropped off at their small huts in the middle of the desert, I found myself wondering how the hell these people entertained themselves.

The answer came four hours later, when I had my first glimpse of Cabo de la Vela. It was a fishing village just metres from the turquoise sea where the Wayuu welcomed tourists into their homes. If hungry I would ask one of the families what they had for dinner, which was invariably fresh seafood. While one can stay with a local family in one of their hammocks, I opted to pay a modest 5000 pesos ($2.50 US) per night to camp on the beach. Here I had a front row seat to watch the major pass-time of the village, kite-surfing.

Strong off-shore winds almost everyday of the year, coupled with the protection of the bay, make Cabo a kite-surfing mecca. The local kids were unbelievable at kiting and tried to convince me to try. Worried about getting blown out to sea, they attempted to reassure me by telling me that they could tie me to a rope with which they could pull me back to shore if anything went wrong. As tempted as I was, I decided to hold-off.

Since I didn't kite-surf, the only thing left for me to do was to explore the desert. And so, I put on my headphones, blasted some Eddie Vedder and walked 'into the wild'.

Pílon de Azúcar

View from Cerro Kamachi

Salt flat

Ojo de Agua

View from El Faro

La Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta

La Ciudad Perdida, or 'The Lost City', are ruins of an ancient civilization hidden in the dense jungle of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in Colombia. I signed up for a tour of these ruins with Expotur thinking that a five-day hike would be a nice break from the hustle-and-bustle of Cartagena. It turned out to be a much more rich experience than I had anticipated. In addition to the gorgeous scenery, I learned about the drug conflict that had plagued the Sierra Nevada just a decade earlier, the culture of the indigenous Kogis and, of course, the Lost City.

Toyota Land Cruiser

On January 24th, 2014, we drove an hour east from Santa Marta in a Toyota Land Cruiser before turning off onto a dirt road carved into the mountain-sides of the Sierra Nevada. After a bumpy, hour-long ride crossing numerous rivers and climbing even more mountains we arrived at the end of the road, El Mamey - formerly known as 'Machete'.

El Mamey, or 'Machete'

The 1970s to the mid-2000s was a dark period in the Sierra Nevada, when drug cultivation and trafficking were rampant. Its proximity to the Caribbean coast made it a strategic point for the paramilitary and guerrilla groups, who could easily distribute the copious amounts of coca and marijuana they had farmers cultivate to finance their movement. During this time, and still to this day, El Mamey was the last town accessible by road and the only town with a consistent power supply. Consequently, it became a watering hole for the farmers of the Sierra Nevada. Equipped with their principal farming tool, the machete, drunken fights often led to severed digits and limbs. Accordingly, El Mamey was dubbed 'Machete'. And it was here that I began my trek to the Lost City.

The farmlands of the Sierra Nevada

Colombian soldiers patrolling the area

The first day and a half involved hiking through the farmlands. We shared the trail with mules that carried supplies to the homes of the local farmers and Colombian soldiers who prevented the paramilitaries and guerrillas from regaining a foothold in the region. Thanks to the latter, the Sierra Nevada was safe: the cultivation of coca and marijuana had been replaced with crops and livestock, and the kidnapping of tourists was no longer a major concern.

The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta

Our guide, Carlos, with wild sugar cane

Cacao

Wild pineapple

Coca

The remainder of the journey to the Lost City was through the dense jungle of the Sierra Nevada. Along the way our guides pointed out and let us sample various wild plant life, including sugarcane, coca, cacao and coffea. However, the highlight for me was learning about the indigenous Kogis.

A Kogi village

The Kogis inhabit the dense jungle of the Sierra Nevada, just a short hike from the farmlands. They have just recently descended from higher altitudes and begun to interact with the outside world; our guide Carlos recalled that during the first tours of the Lost City these indigenous people avoided tourists. They are now accustomed to tourists, accepting dulces (sweets) in exchange for photographs. While this exchange made it feel awkward, somewhat like a petting zoo, and makes one wonder about the influence of the outside world on their culture, it was reassuring to know that there remain Kogis deep in the Sierra Nevada who have yet to contact the outside world.

The Kogis are small in stature, are without facial hair and do not cut their hair. Children wear robes, and boys and girls are differentiated by the hand-woven mochillas (bags) and colourful beads they wear, respectively. Adult males wear pants and carry with them a hollowed pumpkin that serves as a diary with which they record their thoughts with a mixture of saliva, coca and ground sea shells. They have their own language, and only the Kogis that have been in contact with the outside world speak Spanish.

The hollowed pumpkin that serves as a diary for adult male Kogis. They crush sea shells within the pumpkin with a stick, and dip the sea shell-dust -covered stick in their mouths full of chewed coca before rubbing it against the neck of the pumpkin. This dried mixture of coca, sea shells and saliva is how they record their thoughts every day.

The Mamas are the shamans of the Kogis and play a very significant role in their culture. They are selected by the previous shaman while in the womb and, upon birth, are isolated from the rest of the community for the first seven years of their lives during which they are taught and nurtured by the current shaman and mother. The shaman predicts weather and natural disasters; decides when a boy turns into a man, as he is the only person in the community who knows the age of each Kogi; dictates when a married couple can reproduce (of the approximate 15 babies each couple will have, only about 5 will survive into adulthood); administers punishments based on his reading of Kogis' personal diaries; and heals illnesses. We were lucky to meet with one of the three shamans and ask him a few questions.

Me with one of the shamans, who's funky hat is actually a map of the Sierra Nevada

The third day we climbed the 1200 or so steps to La Ciudad Perdida. It was these steps that led to its discovery by treasure hunters in the 1970s. Not much is known about these ruins because the local Kogis won't allow archeologists to dig up the site. However, it is thought to have been built by the nomadic Tayrona after defeating another tribe of the Sierra Nevada in battle in the 11th century. In the late 1500s the Tayrona were conquered by the Spaniards, and the thirty acre city was abandoned and reclaimed by the jungle. When sitting on one of the many terraces overlooking the ruins, one can only imagine what it used to be like.

The Lost City hike surpassed my expectations by far. The guides were very knowledgable about the history of the area and the various wild- and plant-life. The trip was also exceptionally organized with hammocks or beds and a hot meal waiting for us at every camp. The only catch was that the tour was solely in Spanish, so understanding everything is a challenge for non-native Spanish speakers. If you're ever in Colombia, you have to fit this into the itinerary!

Cooking over wood-stoves

Candle-lit pescado dinner

Big thanks to our guides Carlos & Ali and the cooks

A Pirate of the Caribbean: Sailing to Sur America

As I originally intended to spend the majority of my time in South America I spent the days prior to my departure for Central America searching for cheap flights to Ecuador. But for reasons I cannot fathom I could not find a flight from Panama to Ecuador for less than $750 US – more than three times the cost of getting to Costa Rica from my hometown of Toronto, Canada. Seeing my frustration, my father suggested I try to take a boat. And so, as I started researching alternative means of getting to South America I discovered a blog that offered a solution to my dilemma: befriend captains at the harbour in Panama City and try to hitch a ride to Ecuador in exchange for working in the crew. Despite my mother’s fears that the boat may capsize, they would steal my belongings and throw me overboard, they may be trafficking drugs, etc., I decided that I would give it a try. It would surely be an adventure.

Upon arriving to Costa Rica, however, my plans changed. Everybody I met who was working their way north from South America insisted I must go to Colombia, a country which I had originally planned to avoid due to its recent history of drug cartels, guerilla warfare and political instability. Supposedly Colombia was not as dangerous as everyone made it out to be, the people were among the friendliest in South America, and it’s rich culture (and beautiful women) made it a major destination for travelers. Accordingly, Colombia was added to my itinerary.

As with the flights to Ecuador, the flights to Colombia from Central America were prohibitively expensive. And while Colombia neighbours Panama, there are no buses that dare to travel the road through Darien’s Gap whether it be due to the dense jungle or rebel factions that are rumoured to hide in the area. Furthermore, I was set on the idea of sailing to South America. Luckily someone told me about BlueSailing, a company that arranges chartered yachts to Colombia for backpackers such as myself. The price was comparable to that of the one-and-a-half hour flight to Colombia and included five days of sailing with three square meals a day. The decision was easy. And just days before I planned to depart Panama for Colombia I suffered a middle-ear barotrauma scuba diving in Santa Catalina, which, while precluding me from flying anywhere for several weeks, would not be an issue sailing. Perhaps this was another omen in my journey?

The route from Panama City to Cartagena

On January 17^th I woke at 4:30 in the morning and crawled into a jeep that would take me from Panama City, down a road that does not yet exist on Google Maps, to the Caribbean Coast where the yacht awaited my arrival. After several hours in the jeep and a rough, hour-long ride in a speed boat I finally arrived to the ‘Big Fish’, my home for the next five days.

The Big Fish was a wide, 43-foot single-hull Dufour sailboat. It had four double cabins, two single beds and two bathrooms – i.e. it was very spacious for the ten guests and three crew members. Furthermore, it was equipped with beanie bags on both the roof of the cabin and front of the boat making it seem quite empty despite the thirteen people on board.

The first three days were spent sailing around the San Blas islands off the coast of Panama. The countless palm trees sprouting from the white, sun-bleached sand of the islands, coupled with the clear, blue waters, hardly looked real; the San Blas islands were postcard-perfect. The islands were inhabited by the Kuna Yala, who are semi-autonomous indigenous people of Panama with their own laws, police and army. We spent our days snorkeling the reefs and numerous shipwrecks and kayaking around the islands. And when we returned to the boat, we’d always be surprised by Luana’s cooking, whether it be fresh, home-made brownies or a lobster dinner.

Fresh langosta!

My new favourite fruit, granadilla

The last two days of the trip comprised of sailing the stretch from San Blas to Cartagena de Indias, Colombia. Tilson Castro, the captain of the Big Fish, sailed the boat for nearly 48 hours straight. For a good portion of that we were in swells several metres tall without land in sight. During this time we were confined to the small cabin, where most of us were attempting to deal with our sea-sickness. It was definitely the quietest the boat had been throughout the five days. But we made it safe-and-sound and were definitely happy to set foot on South American soil!

Captain Tilson

Sea-sickness management

Glad to be pulling into Cartagena after 48 hours of non-stop sailing

Cartagena was much larger than I expected. Being the major gateway to the North of South America, I was pretty naïve to expect a small harbour-town. Similar to Panama City, it had both a new and old portion. I stayed at Hostel The Roof, which was situated in the old-town. I spent my time there wandering the streets and getting lost in the alleyways among the colourful, colonial-style buildings of the walled-in city. Cartagena definitely had a lot more character than Panama City and I’m glad I decided to work Colombia into my itinerary. Can’t wait to see what Colombia has in store for me next!