Ciudad Perdida - tough going for the two unfit gringo's!

Sierra Nevada. 

So we decided to do this five day trek despite Lonely Planet and other resources advising that it is a trek only to be undertaken by fit people, and if anyone should be in doubt we do not by any stretch fit that category. However our young and enthusiastic hostel owner in Santa Marta ensured us that even we could do it, since he had recently done the trek with a chain smoking, overweight, middle aged man in his group. Well I can only say that this chain smoking, overweight, middle aged guy must have either been extremely stubborn or more fit than his described life style alluded to, 'cause we were soon to find out that this was no walk in the park.

Ciudad Perdida, in English 'Lost City', are the ruins of a city that was built by the Tayronas as early as 700 AD, making it older that Machu Picchu, and is one of the largest pre-Colombian settlements discovered in the Americas.
It's located in the Sierra Nevada mountain range and the more than 250 terraces sit on a ridge at an altitude of between 950m and 1300m, 40 kilometres from Santa Marta as the crow flys.
The Tayronas were most likely wiped out by the Spanish, but their city was never discovered and disappeared under a thick jungle cover until grave robbers re-discovered it in the seventies.
Due to the volatile security situation in the area and in Colombia in general, this is no Machu Picchu, where trains drops thousands and thousands of visitors at the gate every day. Unless you have the cash to pay for a three hour return helicopter ride, which we obviously didn't have, there's only one way up and one way back down and that is by foot.

A local Indian village.

Camp life.

 Armed with sunscreen, mosquito repellent, blister band-aids and otherwise only the bare minimum of personal belongings we were driven to the trail-head on a plateau above the sea and after a solid lunch we started the walk with our guide Javier and the seven other people in our group.
Easy waking for the first half hour led me, for a brief moment, to think that this wasn't going to be a hard as expected, after all we were only going to walk eight kilometres that day. Then the uphill fun started, and it kept going up and up after every turn, in loose sandy soil and tropical humidity. Sweating doesn't really cover the level of perspiration we managed to produce and mixed with sunscreen and repellent our t-shirts were soon beyond salvage.
The promise of fresh fruit lured us to the top, and after ten minutes of barely managing to get our heart rate back to a healthy level, we could start to enjoy the view of lush green mountains in the distance. We made it to the first camp, with enough time before sunset, to go for a refreshing dip in the natural pool by the river. It turned out that every camp was strategically placed by the river, and the thought of a cool dip at the end of every day,  might just have been what got us through, it sure wasn't our physical abilities.                                                                        

Peak hour.

Day two was to be the toughest day, with 16 kilometers of up and down to cover,  that would take us close to the Lost City. We had an early 7am start, to try and beat the heat for the first hours. The humidity made it impossible to dry things over night,  so soon everything was damp from sweat, humidity and mosquito repellent. Not exactly a pleasure putting the same stinky shorts and t-shirt on in the morning, but after half an hours walk it was covered in fresh sweat and really was the last of our concerns.
The terrain was for most of the second day was slightly easier then the first and we passed by a couple of indigenous settlements on the way. The landscape and views continued to impress, that is when we weren't preoccupied with starring at our feet, willing them to go one more step, which seemed to be most of the time.
Along the way we had to cross the same river multiple times, some by bridge or hopping along on stepping stones, but a few times there was no other way than to take off the boots and wade through knee high water. In the rainy season the water can be chest deep and the current strong,  so our crossings were apparently easy, although maintaining balance on tired wobbly legs was hard enough.

The camps consisted of long rows of bunk beds, each with a mosquito net as the only privacy screen, and covered by a corrugated iron roof. The toilet blocks had real toilets and amazingly running water. The first camp had electricity but on day two it was dinner by candlelight and headlamps. The local cook's produced surprisingly tasty and most importantly filling meals, although after a long day of walking I would have been prepared to eat almost anything put in front of me.

On day three we were to walk the last few kilometers to the 1200 stone steps that mark the entrance to the Lost City. Waking up pre-dawn with a bad case of food poisoning was less than ideal, and I almost cried from disappointment in between toilet visits. Nauseas and with absolutely nothing in my system we started the trek, which found us scrambling along a very rocky path cut into the solid rock face above the river. After having crossed the river again we were finally at the base of the steps and I crawled more than walked to the top, but up I came, with scratched knees and a slightly dented dignity.
The ruins were beautifully serene and exactly as mystical as I had imagined. The level of sofistication was impressive, in its hay day complex water management systems ensured that the terraces and walk ways didn't errod or wash away with every tropical downpour. The fact that the stones are still in place today is a testament to the superb skill and knowledge of its architects.
With the afternoons return trek in mind, I unfortunately spent most of my time at the ruins lying in the shade and trying not to be eaten alive by the hoards of mosquitos who inhabited the site. I don't think anyone had told the little beasts, that they are not supposed to bite you when you are literally bathed in DEET.

After crawling back to camp and still unable to hold anything in me, our guide provided a glimmer of hope when he suggested that we rent a mule, for the afternoons trek back to day two's lunch camp. I really wanted to say that I had walked the whole way, but couldn't see how I would be able to walk for another four to five hours. However after a bit of investigation, the guide returned to tell us that the mules had already left. Well then, walking it is and on top of that it started raining when we left the camp. The rain made the path slippery and cost me a couple of scratches from slipping and sliding. Wayne the perfect gentleman carried both of packs for most of the afternoon,  and somehow we made it to camp before sunset and by then I was able to eat and drink a little.

The next day I felt better but was still weak and dehydrated. We had chosen to do the trek in five days instead of four, so luckily the last two days only consisted of two half day's walk. By then we actually started enjoying it and had more time to take in the surroundings, laze in the hammocks and swim in the river.

Walking the last kilometres on day five, and at the end being met by a cold beer, almost made us forget the rigours - almost.
Despite exhaustion, food poisoning,  blisters and a sizeable collection of mosquito bites, we both agreed that we were happy we were talked into doing the trek. Sure, being fitter would have helped us enjoy it more,  but even the fitter (and younger) people in our group struggled at times,  so yet again being stubborn proved helpful.

Two unfit and stubborn, but happy-we-did-it, trekkers. 

Wayne making friends.

Amazing fauna and views.