The Lost City - Cuidad Perdada Colombia
or
The importance of having the right shoes.

The good news is that toenails grow back. The trek to Cuidad Perdada starts with a pick up from the marina but the real start is packing minimal baggage as everything has to be carried, and in such heat humidity and steep inclines you really don't want to take extras. Extras include most things that make life civilised really. It's amazing what one can do without, but being sailors we had an advantage over the backpackers who think they travel light but have yet to really learn how to do it.
As we were about 40 years older than most of our group we elected to have our backpack carried for us on the back of the mules that take the food to the cabanas. We still carried a bum bag (fanny pack) with essentials for the walk - loo roll (toilet paper), wipes, Imodium, plasters (band aid), antiseptic and mosquito repellent and water. This was a good decision.
The main things you need are clean dry socks for every day. They stop blisters and as I only took 3 pairs I experienced the horror of putting on wet socks. I wore the same shorts every day, really running shorts that I could swim in and made from swimsuit material. Perfect. Have a dip in the river in these and just walk on. Inbuilt air conditioning. When things get wet you can't dry them. Optimists hung their stuff out at night but clothes were just as wet in the morning, the first rays of the sun catching them and sending clouds of steam into the air. In the back pack were pyjamas, and clean clothes, not many, and some shower stuff and a hip flask of rum. All packed in ziplock bags to keep them dry.

The distance to the Lost City is nothing but the terrain is a killer. It's very very steep up and down and it seems to go on forever. The views are stunning and I've never seen so many varieties of butterfly in one place. It's glorious. The air is fresh and clean and, well, it's just gorgeous. I was slightly surprised to overtake a couple of women up one of the hills on the first day who were really struggling and I learned they turned back the next day.

The accommodation is very basic, hammocks or bunk beds, but the food is freshly cooked and there is somewhere to shower but this is all really irrelevant. The experience is mind bending. When we arrived in our first cabana we ate lunch, showered and went to bed. We woke for dinner, showered and went to bed. We followed this pattern most days. The young kids stayed up partying and we were first up in the morning as we needed a head start, not wanting to slow them all down.

We passed indigenous Indians, walking along the path, or riding mules, wild pigs came out of the woods running towards us, we crossed the river on rope bridges and climbed up waterfalls. At times the narrow path went by the river with no safety fence and a long drop into the raging water. We crossed the river nine times to reach Cuidad Perdada. The last crossing took us through the river, wading up to our chests in a torrent of water. We had to hang on to a rope (with repair knot) above our heads to stop ourselves being swept down the river. We heard a tourist had been lost here a few months previously.

The steps to the lost city start from the riverbank. Over a 1000, yes, 1000. They are slabs of stone set into the mountainside, some only a few inches wide. One step at a time girl, one step at a time, my mantra for six days. Younger fitter folk kept passing the pair of us but we sweatily steadfastly slogged our way to the top. It's one of those times when you're convinced it's just over the next bend ,you must be nearly there, how many more of these 1000 are there to go? why did I ever think this was a good idea? but when we eventually made it, we saw our whole group there waiting for us . They gave us a rousing cheer and I nearly cried with pleasure.

The city has been restored; jungle cleared away and now looks remarkably like golf greens. You can walk the paths and see exactly where all houses used to be. The indigenous people still live in the same type of houses. The Shaman of the Cogi people has a house there as it's a ceremonial holy place. We bathed in the magic pool and came out ten years younger which was fortunate as I'd aged ten years getting here. Going back should be easy, all downhill after all, ha ha ha.

We staggered back down the 1000 steps (sorry to repeat 1000 steps again) and saw the our safety rope had been commandeered by leafcutter ants. I love these creatures. They march along their own paths through the jungle, each one carrying a perfectly cut bit of leaf. They look wonderful, like little flag bearers on a Green Party protest march. We were given a warning by another guide who told us not to use it, too dangerous. Our guide Miller was having none of that. With a loud ' this was made for people not ants' he took his stick and gave the rope a hard thwhack. All the ants fell off the rope and floated away.
The best bit on the way back was a ride in a metal cage over the river. I had foolishly damaged two toenails and had managed to bandage them up and wanted to keep them dry. The nails weren't quite lost at this point but were purple and flapping about a bit. The river at this point had no stepping stones and had to be waded. I started to take off my bandages when our guide, Miller told me I could have a ride over in the cage if I wanted to. Was he mad, of course I wanted to, what girl can decline a ride in a cage over a raging river. The cage was just a frame of tubular metal, no floor to keep the weight down. I crouched inside and waited for lift off as I dangled 50' above the river. Miller pulled the rope on our side and another guide pulled the rope on the other side and I made whooping monkey noises as I was carried across. Ah, happy memories.
We talked with a Shaman, played with balloons, parrots and the local children and saw angels, well Tony did. He awoke at dawn and gazed out of his bed which was shrouded in heavy mosquito netting to see two motionless small figures in white standing by his bed. Hellooo they said in sweet voices, hellooo. For a moment he truly believed he'd died and gone to heaven. Why he thinks he's going there beats me. They were two local girls who all wear white. We'd made friends with them on the way up and they'd come to see us again. I'm not sure it was our friendship they wanted or our bandanas. They'd had their eye on them on our first visit but we needed them to mop our brows. We carried them tied to the top of our sticks. Mine was red and Tony's was blue so if you go to the Lost City and see two angels in white wearing red and blue bandanas please say hellooo and they'd quite like a torch (flashlight) each too.

Look up Cuidad Perdada, give it a google and read about the Indiginous people. It was a life enhancing experience. And toenails do grow back.