Tayrona Natural Park: 25/02 - 04/03

Tayrona Natural Park is a smallish but very biodiverse strip of littoral jungle on the Caribbean with a series of difficult to access coves and bays lined with coconut palms - some of these are developed basically enough to facilitate the thousands of tourists that visit each year. The development has been done reasonably well environmentally and the park is clean considering the amounts of plastic crap carted in every day.

My walk started in thick but dry jungle with lots of palms, fig trees and lianas. The 1hr walk to the beach at Arrecifes was hefty with two bags full and food for a week - it made me look back with admiration of Michelle and my journey across the borders of Argentina and Chile.

Being the beginning of the low season the beaches were relatively free of tourists. A beach trail joins Arrecifes (where you aren`t allowed to swim because of supposed dangerous rips) with La Piscina and El Cabo, both gorgeous protected coves for swimming. At Cabo the beautiful backpackers come to camp, swing hammocks and soak up the rays.

The first few days I spent sleeping, relaxing and swimming. It was very nice. On the third day I hiked on a fantastic trail through the jungle rock steppping up to about 300m and Pueblito, the ruins of an ancient Kogi town. Then I continued down, down, down to the amazing Playa Brava - a secluded cove set amongst the littoral forest, inaccessible by beach and rarely accessed due to strong currents by sea.

Playa Brava settlement consists of a 3 ha clearing with hexagonal elevated pole cabins and spaces for hammocks underneath, a office/store/`restaurant` building and a large open area dotted with coconuts. It is runs by 3 Kogi Indian boys who make themselves busy collecting and processing coconuts, cooking for the guests, maintaining their menagerie of farm animals and occasionally maintaining the accomodation. The original owner must have had grand ideas for the place, mounting hippie quotes like `Long live madness inside the wisdom of nature` on the trail leading there. There was also a now-defunct luxury swimming pool.

So arriving there I soon realised it was just what I had been fantasising about - a delicious sea breeze, comfortable hammocks, shade and rough but bathable surf in the fresh Caribbean. I had read it was a nudist beach and half-expected it to be full of crusty old Colombian men but actually there turned out to be more females than males - unfortunately none were naked though, oh well. So, I wasn´t going to spend the rest of my week in `nice-but-not-a-lick-on-Playa-Brava´ Arrecifes. After downing a Coke I smashed my way back to my tent to eat a mountain of food - it had been a hard day: 7hrs trekking and 1200m or so of altitude change.

The next morning I rose early to completely slim down my things, taking only food, one set of clothes and other bare essentials. This was because the hike up to Pueblito was impossible with a heavy large pack. On this morning my legs weren`t so fresh, but I pushed through it and willed myself back to Brava knowing I was walking in the cooler part of the day. On the descent to the beach I met Raquel whom I`d met the day before. Currently living in Venezuela she proceeded to inform me of just how shit the state of play there is. Chavez, corruption, pathetic wages, Chavez, crazy, paranoia, crime, military, Chavez etc. The ironic thing is is that that image could easily be one that many Westerners currently have of life in Colombia with the reality not being as such. Anyway, I arrived again, unloaded, ate and relaxed.... Ahhhh.

My days at Playa Brava were spent jogging and exercising on the beach, soaking up a lot of sun and reading `Angels & Demons` by Dan Brown - a book written for Hollywood film complete with all the romance and action but still full of interesting subject matter. One day I decided to try to explore the coast the the west on foot, climbing around the razor-sharp rocks falling into the sea. I was doing fairly well (I found a cool blowhole) but came to an impassable inlet. So of course this was where my animal subconscious stepped in, deciding I hadn`t had enough adrenaline or adventure recently and instead of turning back I climbed upwards to try to pass over the top of the cove. Bep beurrh. The rocks quickly turned to slippery, crumbly shale, leaving me seemingly stranded at a few points, but I managed to keep on. Soon however I couldn`t have turned back if I`d wanted to and was forced into tackling shrub and vine thickets with unpredictable depths. These were essentially as tough to pass through as thick lantana, however without the scratchy irritation. At about a 45 degree angle this climb was a significant source of frustration. I eventually cleared to some small trees which shaded out some of the shrubs and vines and maintained myself under the trees wherever possible. Luckily this trajectory took me in the general direction of Brava and one super-steep descent later I had returned. It seems I search this kind of punishment out sometimes. :)

On another day we had an influx of guests and subsequently I realised why I loved that place so much - hardly any tourists. That evening with 15 people there I got quite annoyed at the others just for being there. Fair enough though. Bloody people.... selfish, arrogant and rude(me, that is). I also discussed with a few different folk just how much of a rip-off it was there. For me I didn`t mind so much because I only was paying $12 a night for the hammock and cooking my own food but to stay in a cabin was $35 and lunch was a hefty $15. As such some of my friends insisted on talking about the fantastic beaches and value for money in south-east Asia. But we`re not in SE Asia!! Get over it!! Gosh!!

The last night being just myself and Zuriñe from Vasco (not Spain!) I was coerced into smoking some `wacky tobacky`and taking a shot of cheap but infinitely better than Bundaberg rum. The Kogis have a projector setup and screen documentaries for their guests at night about their amazing and strong culture. This particular doco was full of harsh condemnation for Western man`s theft of their land, genocide and general reckless disregard for the Mother(Earth). It also detailed some of their tradicions, including the men voyaging a long way to the ocean to collect sea-shells. These are roasted and crushed into a white powder - the men put the powder and roasted coca-leaf powder into a hollow and phallically shaped and sized gourd. Each man then carries their gourd around religiously, into which they dip a stick to get a small amount to put in their mouth, then scrape off the saliva in the gourd neck, so the powder doesn't get wet. This constant addition of saliva to the gourd causes the neck to get fatter over time, so you can tell how long someone has been using a gourd by how fat the neck is. It seems very much like glorified masturbation to me, and indeed the ritual is central to male fertility and `coming` of age.

So the next morning I awoke to realise I had munchied my breakfast for that morning the night before. Oh well, nothing for it, pack, say goodbye and trek back to Arrecifes on an empty stomach. When I got there I smashed a plate of tropical chicken, salad and fresh chips. Yumm. Then I returned to Cañaveral to connect twice to arrive back in Santa Marta at The Dreamer, my hostel. From there I quickly dropped off my stuff and headed directly to the ice-cream store across the road in the large shopping centre. I had a large scoop of lush ice-cream, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, nuts and a chocolate wedge. Heaven! My no-dairy diet has no held up well here in South America. Again though I have no choice in the matter, people are really twisting my arm on this... You know it. :) It had been a fantastic and re-energising week.