Don’t limit your challenges. Challenge your limits.
“What do you mean we can’t use the bridge? The river is too dangerous to cross and we’re freezing!” There we were, 15 trekkers and 2 guides, arguing with a man who wouldn’t let us cross the bridge. The rain poured down, thunder roared, and we had just spent 6.5 hours trekking through dirt paths that had turned into streams of mud.
We were so close to the end of the day, yet this man, with a cigarette and an almost empty bottle of local alcohol next to him, demanded a ridiculous amount of money for us to cross. He wouldn’t even let our guide go get a rope for us to cross safely.
We all decided, out of principle, not to pay him. A French guy in our group, who was experienced in white water rafting, offered to help. He found the safest route and stood in the river to assist everyone across. We formed an assembly line to ensure everyone and their bags made it safely across the icy water.
Just five minutes later, we encountered another river. This confirmed we were right not to give in to the man’s demands. We finally saw our camp, greeted by the owners and the sight of hammocks and bunk beds. After hours in the rain, we yearned for a dry bed. Our guide, Josa, secured us a section of bunk beds, and we gratefully changed into our only dry clothes.
We dumped water from our shoes, hung up soaked clothes, switched to flip-flops and pajamas, and gathered for a beer with fellow trekkers. After a hearty meal of fried fish, rice, and plantains, we went to bed exhausted by 8:00pm.
We woke at 5:00am to our guide’s gentle call. Dawn hadn’t even broken, and our clothes were still drenched. As we dressed in our damp, smelly clothes, we geared up for another day of trekking.
With our minimal packed goods to keep weight light, we began day two. Josa broke the day into manageable sections: an hour of “Colombian flat” (a steady incline), an hour of steep climbing, and a break for watermelons at a summit shop. We could walk at our own pace, with a guide leading and another at the rear.
The morning energy held strong as we ascended to the summit. Sunshine greeted us, and we indulged in juicy watermelon. We descended to lovely viewpoints, finally seeing more than cloud and rain. We met children near a traditional village, with whom we played after seeing their mothers’ friendly waves.
At 11:00, we reached a camp for lunch. Under the hot sun, we swam in the river to cool off, relaxed for two hours, and enjoyed a delicious soup. The trek continued along beautiful river paths, crossing a high bridge without issue and ending our day at the pineapple station. This day’s hike was lush and scenic, ending with our arrival at the second camp, Paraiso, around 3:00pm, coinciding with the daily rain.
Paraiso was bustling, with various groups meeting up. Despite concerns of overcrowding, the groups were well staggered along the trail. We refreshed ourselves with cold showers and gathered around for food, beers, and tending to any wounds. Knowing the next day would be crucial, we retired early.
At 3:00am, stomach cramps rudely awakened me. Thankful for carrying toilet paper, I managed a quick run to the bathroom. Despite stomach issues, I joined the group the next morning as we began the journey to the Lost City. Slowly, I felt better, just in time for the climb of 1,200 stone steps.
Arriving at the Lost City was thrilling. Josa shared its history, and we learned that it predates Machu Picchu by 650 years. The indigenous people had always known of the site, even as it was “discovered” by looters in 1972. We explored the ruins under clear skies, even spotting a toucan, before making our descent for lunch.
Returning down the path we’d trekked up the day before, we faced more rain, turning trails into slippery hazards again. Finally reaching camp, we endured the routine of wet clothes, minimal electricity, and early rest.
On the final day, fatigue weighed heavily as we made the arduous trek back to El Mamey. Surprisingly, with determination, we made it quicker than expected. The dangerously high river from our first night had turned manageable, and the muddy paths dried up. Despite the intense heat, the pressure of the sun, and our aching feet, we pressed on, driven by the thought of a cold beer and a proper meal at the end.
Our group’s camaraderie kept spirits high. As each of us reached the restaurant back at the village, cheers and high-fives filled the air. Our bond was incredible, adding to the unforgettable experience of completing one of the toughest treks.
We celebrated our journey and the friendships formed, concluding an epic adventure in the Colombian jungle.