Tayrona

The day before we left for Tyrona we were having breakfast at Amber’s apartment when people began asking us about our preparations for the trip:
“Do you have a flashlight?”
“Oh, no. I guess we don’t.”
“Insect repellent?”
“Um, not yet.”
“A tent?”
“Do we need a tent?”
“Yeah, you’re going to want a tent.”
“Crap.”
At this point Chris, a seasoned Barranquillero, offered us his tent. Chris, we would later find out, was our adventure’s salvador.

That night we went shopping for supplies with the other people going on our trip, Susana, a friend from school, Beberto, her boyfriend, and their friend Gustavo. Our supply shopping was centered mostly on what liquids were necessary for the trip and although we left the grocery store with plenty of chips, rum and aguardiente, we had completely neglected to buy a flashlight and insect repellent.

As we were packing the next morning the enormous glass bottle of aguardiente that we had purchased somehow fell off the table and crashed onto our tile floor. I leapt to rescue the remaining contents of the bottle and got a pretty long slice across my palm. We were about to head off into the jungle and I had an open wound. But we smeared some Neosporin on the cut and decided to risk it.

We all met at Beberto’s house, who in Colombian tradition lives with his grandmother. As we were making final preparations Grandma wheeled her wheel chair out to the living room to bless our trip. She said, “May all go well for you. I hope and pray that your trip will be harmonious and tranquil. Enjoy the company of one another and the natural beauty of this great country. May God bless you and watch over you.” That’s at least what I heard, my translation could be way off, but we left with Grandma’s blessing and headed to the bus station.

About two blocks into the trip the taxi broke down. We hopped out to look for another taxi when, with all of our things in the trunk, the driver put the car into neutral and started coasting down the road. We chased him until we were in front of police station and he finally came to a stop. With my cut still throbbing, we yanked our things at of the truck and hailed another cab. I was beginning to think that Grandma’s blessing had come a little too late.

When we arrived at the bus station our luck began to turn. Although the bus was dirty and shabby, we had it all to ourselves, at least for a little while. We had to stop at every semblance of a town to pick up more passengers along the way, but we eventually made it to the entrance of Tyrona around one.

We were told that the hike into Tyrona would take 45 minutes, but that obviously wasn’t accounting for the knee deep mud that covered the trail. About two minutes into the hike we realized that if we were going to do it, we would have to hike without shoes. So we all made our way barefoot through the jungle. There was some concern about infection, especially because the trail was littered with horse and donkey poop, which are available to less adventurous travelers, but we managed to avoid the majority of it by keeping our heads down and shouting out, “POOP!” to warn the people behind us whenever we came across a steaming pile.

After about two hours we got to the beach, but after an orange juice and a quick snack we moved on to Cabo, a more picturesque beach an hour down the road. We got to Cabo just as the sun was setting and the sky was beginning to pour down rain. We quickly set up our tent and only then realized that we hadn’t brought a blanket or pillows. Thinking that we could rent a hammock, we were unconcerned, but we soon found out that all hammocks had been rented and set ourselves to the task of drinking enough rum to pass out for the night.

We slept soundly, but woke up the next morning with aching backs, shoulders and hips. Sleeping on the wet, hard ground can make a young body feel quite old. Fortunately all that we had to do that day was lie on the beach.

Around noon that day we heard a solid thud, and when we looked for the source saw that a coconut had fallen from the tree beside us. The coconut was the size of a bowling ball and only slightly less hard. Had it hit us on the head our brains would have been all over the sand. When we asked our Colombian friends if anyone ever dies from being hit by a coconut they said, “Oh, yes. That happens all the time.”

Thinking we should have packed a coconut helmet and a couple of pillows we put our heads back down and enjoyed the rest of the day. That night it poured, but we were safe under the shelter of the restaurant and there was a makeshift band, fresh fish and some remaining rum, so we had a pleasant evening.

After spending another night sleeping on the hard and even more drenched ground we packed up our things and hiked toward home. On the way we found a little house that had just finished baking biscuits filled with chocolate. One of those along with a cup of coffee made for the best breakfast I’ve ever had and gave us sustenance for the long and muddy hike home.









There was a monkey in the trees that was squaking at us and throwing sticks.
















These were our pillows




This is the restaurant where we could get salads, pasta, grilled meats, shrimp and fish.


I went for the fish.


The muddy hike home


The best breakfast I've ever had