Ready to go!

Santa Marta with its narrow streets and small core of beautiful colonial houses is no longer a quiet place: tourists from all over the world have discovered its charms, it seems, and there is music and good food everywhere. For us, however, its only importance at the moment was the fact that it is the starting point for hiking tours to the Lost City, La Ciudad Perdida, high up in the jungle. Johann had read about it and was really intrigued, and once I saw pictures I was hooked as well – though with more reservations. Would I be able to do it? I knew I'd have difficulty on the steep sections, having to catch my breath often, and a recent attack of sciatica was another concern. Since walking/moving usually took care of the pain, however, and I felt I could handle the hike as long as I didn't have to rush, plus Johann decided he could carry the bigger backpack with both of our things I agreed to go ahead with the booking. We'd only have to bring clothes – not too many since it is warm – and toiletries, after all; food and bedding would be provided by the tour agency. We have carried much heavier packs in our backcountry hikes in the Rockies, after all.

The Lonely Planet listed three or four tour companies who organize hikes, and after our arrival in Santa Marta Friday afternoon we checked out the first one, Expotour. What we found out was encouraging: it certainly seemed possible for us to do the hike, and there still was room on the tour starting Sunday. We decided to check out another company or two the next morning and make our decision after that.

Magic Tours and Guias y Baquianos were the other two companies we checked out, all companies charging the same price – 950,000.00 COP, roughly CAD 430 for either the four or five day hike - but in the end we decided to stick with Expotour. We had hoped to find a six day tour, but at the moment none of the tour companies had that option, so we booked the five days. No use to rush too much: we were there for the hiking and jungle experience itself as much as for the destination (or, true to the motto of the blog: 'Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home'). We were advised to come to the agency office, only a few steps from our hostel, at 8:30 the next morning. 

We joined a group of about twenty or twenty-five young people the next morning, sitting in the small air conditioned office or on the sidewalk outside, bags labelled, ready for action and waiting for further instructions. Finally our names were called up, and we were divided into two groups of eleven, assigned to a tour guide and translator for each group. We hitched our packs and followed Jorge, the guide, and Daniel, the translator, to a parking enclosure around the corner where the 'Expotour' Landcruisers were waiting for us. The bags were stowed on the roof and we climbed into the back of the vehicles with two benches facing each other, the taller guys trying to find a comfortable position for their legs for the trip to the little town of El Mamey, the starting point of the hike. After about an hour and a half we turned off the highway onto a very bumpy dirt road which we followed for about forty-five minutes more. Slowly but steadily we climbed. The vegetation became ever more lush, though a thick layer of white dust on the trees lining the road betrayed the fact that it hasn't rained a whole lot here in the last while. From time to time we were afforded a view of the magnificent hills stretching below, at one point of the ocean as well.

Glad to be able to stretch our legs we climbed down in El Mamey in front of a small restaurant, the gathering point from where we would leave after a lunch and instructions from our guide. The meal, tasty and generous in size, left us a bit sluggish in the midday heat, but Jorge didn't give us time to even contemplate a short siesta. It was time to go!