It was close to this time last year that my husband and I went on a 4-day, 60 kilometer hike into the Colombian jungle to the Ciudad Perdida, o en ingles, the Lost City. Yes, I’m only writing about it now. The plan was to hike 2 days in, arrive at the Lost City the morning of Day 3, then hike 2 days back out. One of us had physically prepared for this journey… the other? Not so much… And mentally? We had no idea how it was about to go down.
I had already eaten some by the time I thought to document its greatness, so imagine it with even more fruit!
DAY 1
We woke up at our hotel just outside of Santa Marta with room service at 6:30am. I could barely eat. We made sure to order a big breakfast as we had no clue what we would be surviving on for the next 4 days. We ordered eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast and the most incredible fruit plate I had ever seen! But fear had the best of me… I. Was. Petrified*… Partially because I was the one unprepared :|
*I don’t use the word ‘petrified’ lightly here… oh no, no, no in fact it is the perfect word to describe the crippling fear I was feeling.
I managed to eat the fruit, an egg, some potatoes and a half cup of coffee but nerves got the best of me as I didn’t know if my body would make it - I wasn’t in the best of shape, I hadn’t been to the gym in a couple of years actually and I was just coming off the flu.
We had packed our bags the night before so we could eat and run since we had to be at the office in downtown Santa Marta around 8:30am. We hopped in a cab and were on our way. May I add, when we were driving to Santa Marta from Colombia the day before, our driver told us that he had done the hike and it was one of the most difficult things he’s ever done.
Packing the trucks, shit was getting real at this point…
After a long wait at the office for our tour guide we finally departed. It gave us some good time to sit and relish in all the possible scenarios that our minds could come up with about what was about to happen. We thought we knew what we were in for because we had watched other people’s trek videos, but this trip ended up exceeding our expectations both good and bad.
I hate the word expectation and don’t like to set them, but in order to attempt to prepare mentally I had to prepare myself for the most difficult hike I could imagine, so that anything else, hopefully, wouldn’t seem that bad. I also had to work really hard at staying present because the moment I started thinking about what obstacle may lie ahead, looking back, I don’t know if I would have made it.
On our way out of the city heading to Sierra Nevada
No one: you can’t get 5 people on a bike, that’s impossible! This guy: hold my drink
We drove out of Santa Marta for an hour and a half and stopped where I assumed the starting point to be - a wide, smooth, kind looking dirt road with a slight incline. Okay, I can handle this. We ate the most delicious mango, Mark bought a hat and we were on our way… back in the vans.
For the next half an hour we proceeded on a rough, very narrow road full of switchbacks that led us up the base of the mountain. Gratefully, I didn’t get sick as I often would in similar situations, especially when packed into the back of a van with 9 other human beings, no windows that would open, a weak A/C and nerves firing on all cylinders.
Getting ready to load up the mulas and start heading for camp numero uno to set up ahead of us
We reached a small, really sweet looking town in the foothills which in fact was our starting point. But not before we were served a hot meal and told a more in depth itinerary for the next 4 days. Nooooow, reality was starting to set in. This was going to be hard. The first day was only about 3 hours of hiking, but every day after that was roughly 12-14 hours. I chose to ignore that bit… stay present, stay present, be in the now... It left my mind as I listened to the rest of the plan. Arrive at the Lost City the morning of day 3, sleep in hammocks, climb 1200 steps, ignore, ignore, ignore. Stay present and take it one step at a time (which we had to do both figuratively and literally for most of the trek).
After a delicious lunch we embarked, backpacks, hiking poles and all. This was it, here we go, we were on our way. Curse words floated around my head like dynamite set out to destroy any ounce of positivity I could muster up. About 15 minutes in was when my first bout of doubt set in since we were heading straight uphill during the hottest part of the day. Then, about 45 minutes in, both of us were sure we were going to quit. It was going to happen, this was just too impossible. But somehow we kept going, possibly to get away so we could hide our embarrassment from the vendor shouting “coca-cola! agua!” on the corner right behind us. We were on the same switchbacky road we drove in on, except now we were in the area where cars couldn’t go… only motos and mulas (also conveniently known as your only ticket out of there should you decide to quit).
Ten minutes later we wanted to quit again. We made it to our first rest point for some fruit of which we didn’t get to partake in because as soon as we arrived everyone, including the 73 year old French woman who we later befriended, was packing up to leave as they had already been there awhile. They were all hiking like it was an easy trail which didn’t help the confidence level one bit.
Not too far ahead from here we came upon a freshly squeezed OJ stand which, let me tell you, was the best damn OJ I’ve ever had! We chugged it down like we had been starved for weeks.
This, we were told, was the halfway point, which means we had only been hiking for an hour and a half… we thought we were going to die.
Every time the idea that we were being judged for our fitness levels by the rest of the group (who were conveniently all from Alp countries) I would shut my mind off. I would stop it there because I knew if my head wasn’t on straight this was going to be a lot harder than it already was. I know where these thought trails can lead to so I try and stop them from taking off before I truly start believing the doubt. Things can repel very quickly in our minds, especially in extremely difficult situations, so it’s essential to make the choice not to allow it to get there. This, and the spectacular scenery all around me, helped keep me out of my head where doubt, fear and judgement preside and in the present moment. And boy am I grateful for that because this was an adventure I did not want to miss.
Fruit stop.
We arrived at Camp 1 and by that time had convinced ourselves that the worst was over because NOTHING could be harder than that. I still battled heavy thoughts of “I can’t do this” and “I’m not going to make it”, then every time I would think about hopping on a mula or fantasizing about being kidnapped (on a mula - pretty much any scenario would do as long as it didn’t require moving), I shut those thoughts off too and just kept moving. We had the evening to relax, eat and admire the scenery before heading to bed around 9:00pm.
mulas would accompany each hiking group as they would transport all of the food and supplies for the kitchen. the cooks would leave ahead of us to set up and have food ready by the time we got there.
kitchen at camp numero uno
dinner numero uno - pescado, fried plantain, rice (sooo good)
Thank you for reading!
- xomo
