Michael_D, dec. 2020
First off. The people. Mostly late teens to thirty something. Me a very young eightythree, but with a trekking/climbing history. Total acceptance by that crowd, various nations. But it was impossible for them hide the care they showed about me. As young aspirants to see and do the 'so much' of our planet they seemed to love spending time chatting with me about places on Earth that had felt my feet and known my tears at the sheer beauty we have around us. Name a plaace and I had done it, mostly. But those young people, and rightly so, would leave me standing when it came to the trek/climb. My age was showed for all to see.
Camps were more than adequate, company good and reasonable food. Somehow the fear of a mixed dormitory life was just a part of what we were doing.
The trek had its wicked way with me. Hot and tiring I wondered why I was there. However the lead guide on that trip was a gem and always had an eye on me. So when, at a drinks stop I trundled in last of the group we both would receive applause.
The day of actually 'finding' the lost city, a trying combat with the roaring and cold waters of a river crossing, were done early. The guide had seen me, alone, before all the others, to ensure I climbed those thousand plus rocky steps. Having had a poor sleep the night before the final climb and suffering a nasty tummy I put all I had into the last kilometres which were mostly vertical.
But i made it. It was worth it. Another beautiful site on this planet of remarkable things to see and do.
Approaching the camp, some twenty minutes away I slipped and fell on some wet and dangerous ground. I twisted my ankle. It could have happened to anyone, but why me. With the lead guide by my side it took nearly an hour to reach camp. A very cold swim and some dinner, plus a good nights sleep in a double bed could not help me down the last three hour trek. I paid to do that last three hours by mule, an experience like no other and one I will never do again..
Withg a few days in the hostel at Santa Marta and almost a week in beautiful Cartagena, my ankle was made good and the tough parts of the trek were forgotten. The young had had no problems.My trip of three months, the first in Colombia, was a great adventure of so many I have had. A great country, lovely people, wherever I went.
It fortified me for the rest of 2020, Covid 19 and the terrors and problems it would bring.
To anyone considering the Ciudad Perdida, just go.....