Ciudad Perdida – The Hike That (Almost) Killed Me
Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain. – Jack Kerouac
First Stop: Santa Marta
I spent most of the last week hiking the Ciudad Perdida (literally ‘Lost City’) trail in the Sierra Nevada mountains in Colombia. It was breathtaking and totally exhilarating. At times I also thought I was going to keel over and die right there on that mountain. And for the first time in my travels, I felt kinda old. And weak. For the record, I am neither of these things. But it’s fair to say my week included an abundance of emotions.
I’ll start at the top.
After leaving Medellin I flew into Santa Marta to spend a few nights before meeting my hiking tour group. Santa Marta is on the northern coast of Colombia. It’s much hotter than Medellin and has a beach but otherwise isn’t much of a destination. It’s typically used as a stop over point for hikers looking to trek the Ciudad Perdida or visit Tayrona National Park which are a few short hours away.
I spent two glorious nights in Santa Marta a budget hotel with my own room, and my own bathroom. The room had a TV that I never turned on and A/C. I spent the day before my hike watching Netflix, writing my blog, and strolling around town. I read a book and travel planned for a few hours at a coffee shop. It was beyond lovely.
Being the night owl that I am, I also stayed up too late the night before the tour writing and looking up dumb stuff on the internet until 2am. NOT GREAT when you start a tough hike the next day. No, Cass, that was not a good idea at all.
Strike numero uno.
Off to a Rough Start
The hike to Ciudad Perdida is 4-6 days depending on your endurance and preference. The route and price are the same regardless of the length you choose. This option is provided because, well, the hike is tough. The tour companies tell you this information upfront, and from a common sense standpoint most people should already know. You’re hiking through the middle of a Colombian jungle to an ancient city at the top of a mountain. It’s humid. It rains all the time. There are mosquitos. It’s steep. You have to carry most of your own gear. Still, most hikers opt for the 4 day route. I’m reasonably fit and active so this is what I opted for as well.
The day of the hike I was reasonably organized aside from the fact that I forgot to hit an ATM. There are no ATMs anywhere near the trail and credit cards are not accepted. You need cash before leaving Santa Marta. Even though I passed a dozen ATMs the day before, that morning I could not find one for the life of me. I walked way farther than necessary and was rushed to meet the guy from the tour company who showed up early to pick me up from my hotel. I appreciated his timeliness, but this meant I didn’t have time for breakfast. Skipping meals makes me sad. I love to eat. And I was about to hike all afternoon. Strike two.
We drive to the tour office to meet up with the other hikers and it eventually becomes filled with 20 or so people ready to hit the trail. It took only a few seconds for me to realize the group was mostly young(er) than me. Almost all in fact. Also, hardly anyone was talking in English, even though the tour group was specifically for English speakers. (I’m all for Spanish immersion, but not when my language understanding impacts my survival in the Colombian wilderness. So it was English all the way!) While everyone spoke English, the preferred language of the group was clearly French. These days I can get by in basic Spanish, but in French I can offer nothing. Almost everyone else was also traveling with friends or family. No solo travelers.
Strike Three.
I tried not to get too anxious off my 4 hours of sleep, no breakfast, and sweaty physique from chasing an ATM around town. But I couldn’t really help it. Usually I look for a solo or small group of travelers, who look older than 20, speak some English and look friendly so I can start a conversation. But with this group I was coming up empty handed.
Meeting the Group
Eventually we split into smaller groups and I succeed in finding a few friendly faces. Thomas and Chris are Danish. Despite living in Bogota for the last 5 months for school they don’t speak Spanish but definitely speak English. The Danes are (of course) in their early 20’s but they’re pleasant enough and we could carry on a conversation The rest of my hiking group consists of four 20-something French guys traveling together, and a Suisse family. The Suisse family was a husband and wife, their daughter and nephew. The daughter and nephew are in their early 20’s (what other age would they be??). The husband and wife are the only people older than me, but they’re far from elderly and still quite fit looking. Given that Switzerland is full of mountains, I’m pretty sure they hike on a regular basis. Later in the day, we’re also joined by a pleasant Dutch couple who, you guessed it, just graduated college.
As I stood outside in the Santa Marta humidity waiting to drive to the trail head, I’ll admit I felt kind of out of place. My hiking group consisted primarily of fit looking men in their early 20’s, two fit looking women in their early 20’s, and the Suisse mountain hiking parents. This was going to be a long four days. But that’s ok, I thought. It’s only four days. I’ve done longer hikes. And I’m an active and friendly person.
Here’s the problem with this line of thinking.
1) Four straight days of hiking and carrying gear is difficult.
2) Four days of hiking in humidity, rain, and steep inclines is really damn difficult.
3) This type of hiking feels even longer when you have no one to talk to on the way. At dinner every night the group and I all chatted and played card games until dark. But I barely saw anyone on the hike. Why you may be asking? Well, that brings me to my final point.
4) Hiking with a group of mostly young men in their early 20’s is NOT FUN when you’re in your mid 30’s. It’s a harsh, harsh, reality check if I ever had one. Those fuckers hiked fast. An un-enjoyable kind of fast. We finished 6 or 7 hour hikes in under 5 hours. This speed is not easy to maintain on flat terrain. Try keeping it up when hiking up 400 meters in an hour and a half in humidity and mud.
The Ciudad Perdida Trail
To give you an idea of the route – the entire hike is just over 46 km round trip. The first two days are spent hiking to the base of the Lost City. You summit on the morning of the third day, and spend that afternoon starting the return hike. The fourth day is the longest distance and brings you back to where you started.
The first day, we had a short three to four hour hike to our first camp and it downpoured most of the afternoon. This is the rainforest after all. Aside from getting drenched, the constant rain also makes the trail insanely challenging. The mud becomes a foot deep in places. Keeping your footing is almost impossible, and during steep sections you end up sliding down the trail more than you’re actually walking it. I fell down a few times and was not alone in having red mud caked clothes when we got to camp.
We lucked out in that it didn’t start raining the second day until we were almost finished for the day. But once your clothes get wet, they stay wet for the duration of the hike. Nothing dries in the humid jungle.
We reached the Ciudad Perdida as planned on the morning of the third day. We started that day with a 45 minute trek, a treacherous river crossing with a strong current (depending on how much it’s been raining), and up 1200+ stone stairs to the Ciudad Perdida site. You climb those stairs after spending two days hiking up steep mountainsides and burning out your legs. It’s not easy. If you’re lucky, it doesn’t rain when you’re climbing and the stairs aren’t too slippery. We were lucky but it’s still a hazardous ascent.
The Main Attraction
Ok, so negativity and complaining aside, I am very glad I did this hike. Ciudad Perdida is really, really, really breathtaking and amazing.
A little history, for those that are interested.
Ciudad Perdida is located in the Colombian jungle in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and to his day remains only accessible by foot. Archeologists date it back to about 800 AD, which by the way, is several hundred years before Macchu Picchu. While it’s location was well known by indigenous peoples, it disappeared into the jungle around the time of the Spanish conquest. The site was ‘discovered’ again in the 1970s when grave robbers began visiting looking for gold. The city goes by three other names, but the most common is it’s indigenous name Teyuna. Ciudad Perdida served primarily as a ceremonial center. It consists of a series of 169 terraces carved into the mountainside, and several small circular plazas. And it’s beautiful.
After reaching the Ciudad, we grabbed lunch, and did a ‘short’ 3 hour hike back to a camp site. The fourth day we embarked on the long, painful, 15km hike back. They say the return is somewhat easier because it’s more downhill. This is a lie. While true that it’s mostly downhill, there are two crazily challenging vertical uphill sections. Not just vertically inclined switchbacks, but sections where you are hiking STRAIGHT UP for an hour. And by now you have already hiked 30km and 1200 steps in 3 days and you’re tired, your clothes are wet, and your legs are sore. Want to see a picture of what those steep inclines looked like? Well I DON’T HAVE ONE. I couldn’t breath at the time and couldn’t spare the energy to get my phone out of my backpack to take a picture. You’ll just have to trust me.
I’m not going to sugar coat it, this part of the experience really sucked. Even the most confident of the Frenchies looked worse for wear that day. Which means I was a literal disastrous hot mess. I gave up even pretending to keep up. I just wanted to survive. When I arrived at break spots, everyone else was packing up to leave. This means I either took a 5 minute break when everyone else took 20 minutes or I took no break at all. Most of the time I just kept hiking so I wouldn’t fall embarrassingly far behind.
When I get really tired hiking I start counting steps to keep me going. I make myself get to 100 steps. Then I say I can make it to 150 and I can take a break. And then just a little bit more. I remember getting to 1,000 on one particular incline and literally saying outloud ‘please, no more’. ‘Please, please, say I’m almost at the top.’ I kept my head down trying not to look too far ahead so I wouldn’t lose my sh*t if I saw what was in front of me. As the day progressed I gradually moved closer to the ground until I was basically crawling without putting my hands down.
Reflections
So in case you didn’t get the message, this hike was hard. By the end, my clothes were drenched like I got caught in a torrential thunderstorm but it’s mostly sweat. My legs were chaffed from wearing wet clothes. My muscles were sore and my back hurt. I even had burn marks on my shoulders from my backpack straps rubbing against my sweaty shoulders. I’m proud of myself for making it, and I’m glad I did it, but I would be lying if I said I really enjoyed it. I’m glad it’s over. I don’t think I could do it again.
Hiking wise, this experience also made me feel kinda old. And I really don’t appreciate that. Because I may not have led the pack but I DID keep up. Maybe most of the group finished a 7 hour hike in 5 hours, but I finished it in well under 6. And I wanted to feel good about that. I kept telling myself I should feel good about that. But damn it, it’s hard when you’re rolling up last everyday. Even harder when you feel and look utterly exhausted and are greeted by these peppy youngsters who ran down the mountain, and who are already smoking a cigarette and drinking beer by the time you show up to camp.
In retrospect, I would have enjoyed this hike a lot more if I had a friend with me. I didn’t feel lonely per se. That’s not quite the right term. But everyone was so far ahead that I hiked most of the trail alone. I’m pretty damn great, but this gets dull and makes time go slowly. And while I got along with everyone, I didn’t have the same level of camaraderie with the group. Why would I? Or why would I want to? I’m not 22, just graduating school, and living out of a 30 liter backpack. Aside from the Suisse parents, I was the only one who’d ever had a real adult job. I’m not living off of student loans or my parents money. I’m good with that. I don’t want to be 22 again. But this was the first time in traveling where I really wish I had someone close to my age to hang out with. Or within 5 years either way. I’m not picky.
This hike did make me nervous because I’m supposed to climb Kiliminjaro in August. That hike will be extremely difficult, and much more so than Ciudad. I know it will be hard, but want to enjoy the experience more than this one. I still feel optimistic. In contrast to this experience, I’ll be with a group of friends. Friends that are closer in age to me and experience (and hopefully pace). Hiking the Ciudad Perdida trail made me realize how much a support system matters when you’re testing your limits, physical or otherwise. Hint: it counts for a whole helluva lot.
After the Hike
After visiting the Lost City I had plans to go to Tayrona National Park nearby for more hiking. On day 3 of Ciudad Perdida, I told myself I could still make it to Tayrona. It will be different, I told myself. I can go at my own speed. I can take my time and enjoy it. By day 4, I gave up on this dream/self deception. I had no urge to put my mud-caked, soaked, hiking shoes back on anytime soon. I would not enjoy it.
Instead I found a quiet hostel near the mountains and Tayrona Park but away from the noise and bustle of Santa Marta. The hotel had a pool and an onsite restaurant. It was more than I budget for a stay these days but it was still less than a cheap motel in the US. I booked a private bungalow which was basically a tree house. While staying here I slept in, relaxed, read, and spent the day looking at dumb stuff over bad wifi. I was not going to feel guilty about the fact that I wasn’t seeing everything I could possibly see in Colombia, or hiking every national park. Sometimes you can’t do everything.
For me, this time of travel is just as much about seeing the world as it is about learning how to slow down and simplify. I’m not always good at that. I’m the type of person that feels guilty if I don’t wake up for 6am spin class. It doesn’t matter if I’m tired because I worked late the night before, or felt obligated to go to some coworker happy hour that I didn’t feel up for in the first place. I get things done and I show up to things.
This week I tried something new, had an unforgettable experience, and stretched myself. But in life and in traveling you have to know your limits. I reached a physical one this week and now I’m taking a break.
