The final camp was the same irrespective of which tour-company had guided you thus far. Most of the other Cabanas housed trekkers in both directions. Typically hikers stayed here only on the last night before ascending to La Ciudad Perdida. Our alarm call was at 5 am. It was important to be at the Lost City early before tropical clouds began to gather and obscure the view; humidity was low and the temperature quite pleasant for the climb up 1,800 steps to the start of the archaeological site. Legs were pumped after the stone steps had been scaled; infuriatingly the spacing of steps was inconsistent, making concentration essential to avoid slipping on the moss covered treads.
Initial impressions were good. Stone hut platforms carefully constructed using dry-stone walling techniques. Maize grinding bowls laid about showed the endless chore of providing flour for staple fare. Two thousand five hundred people lived in this city, quite an achievement for the times when considering food, water and waste management for such a number. As we climbed higher into the city the grandeur of the edifices increased; we were moving to the zone of privileged residence. A man in Kogi dress wandered up the main driveway giving an almost ethereal quality to the early morning experience. Dappled light playing upon his form as he walked where many of his ancestors had once trodden.
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The views from the top were spectacular. The sheer magnitude of the site which covered some four square kilometres of land was unexpected. The breathtaking scenery of the surrounding mountains was stunning. This city had once been truly lost. The indigenous peoples found by the Conquistadors were initially employed and paid. Trade was mutually beneficial and relationships formed. The partnership slowly morphed into more a slave and master interaction. The native Indians performed a mass exodus to the higher altitudes of the Sierra Nevada. Clutching belongings that could be carried young and old alike took to the mountain trails in the year 1525; an arduous task for fit people and the ordeal proved too great for many of the older population who perished during the march. Lost with them was the oral tradition and much of the history of the peoples from La Ciudad Perdida. We were told the Kogi peoples stories and tales begin in the era following the exodus to the relative safety of the Alto Plano high altitude settlements. Rapidly knowledge of the location of La Ciudad Perdida was lost and the forest encroached. The city was re-discovered by chance in 1973; explorers happened upon the ruins buried beneath the trees. The forest growth has been cut back to reveal the sights we can see today.
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This is a worthwhile trip to undertake if you are in the Santa Marta region of Colombia. The authorities have established a significant police and army presence to bolster the security in the area. Our tour operator was Magic Tours of Taganga/Santa Marta and our group thought they looked after us very well. One observation is that if you don't speak Spanish then try to join a group where somebody can translate for your language. Our thanks go to Thomas, Lena, Andrea and Mikey who helped for those of us who's Spanish is merely embryonic.
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23/Jul/2012, El Mamey to La Ciudad Perdida - Colombia
The trek to the ancient city, La Ciudad Perdida, also known as Ciudad Teyuna, began in a four wheel drive vehicle from a very different modern city, Santa Marta. A crowd of people, bouncing along a rough track, most unacquainted, whom would get to know each other hiking along a trail that was first opened up about 30 years ago. During the intervening period a chequered history had closed the route for a time. An area where farms once cultivated marijuana and cocaine; battles waged between authorities and drug cartels with the complicating factor of an incursion by a Marxist guerrilla army, the FARC. In 2003 a group of trekkers were kidnapped and spent more than 100 days in captivity. The trail closed awaiting an improved security situation.
Roaring of engines in low gear ranges and we hauled upwards, tight turns, large potholes and a driver anxious to make good time; he knew the trail and threw our vehicle into bends and switchbacks. Hanging on the back of our transport was a staff member who jumped on as we left the tarmac road for the trip to El Mamey, the start of the trail. A slower vehicle was passed at a slightly wider section, on their luggage rack another tour company employee lying on his back atop the rucksacks tied aloft. We had entered a crazy world; a far cry from European health and safety standards.
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Our full group combined at a café for lunch before setting off on a hot sweaty walk towards the river we would follow and cross many times. The sense of jollity as we sauntered along did not reflect the arduous day's hiking ahead. A brief stop at a deep pool for a swim and the sense of holiday atmosphere was complete.
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A few minutes back on the trail and the upward slog commenced. The track was in a gully; ages of feet and mule hooves had cut the trail deep. The sun soaked dusty earth reflected merciless heat at our group, now spread out over a large section of track. The absence of any breeze made the heat all the more oppressive. A long hour of ascent and we topped the first hill to a very welcome rest; a large slice of water-melon was gratefully received by the gasping party of travelers...
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