Day Three: The Lost City

We were up by 4:45a.m. for a 5:15 a.m. breakfast and 5:45 a.m. departure for the Lost City.  The goal, of course, was to hit the trail as soon as light allowed and be in front of the other groups.

We had about a twenty minute hike and a water crossing before we would reach the 1200 steps that led to The Lost City. The hike was an easy jaunt as we were well fed, rested, and the temperatures were cool.  Climbs and descents are pretty insignificant when all those things are in your favor.

I had seen photos of the steps.  They looked wide – maybe five or six feet wide, evenly spaced, and they were straight.  I was looking forward to going up this nice flight of stairs.  Just trotting on up!  The REAL 1200 steps are a bit different than that.  I should have known better; these were placed there in the 8th century, by hand, and one can assume the goal was just to get some rocks in place to make it easier for the very fit and spry Taironians to get up the mountain.  The steps/rocks were uneven in size, the trail curved and twisted, it would often be narrow . . . but what was delightful about it was that you knew just how long it was and that there was something really cool at the top!  One of our group tracked it and called when we were half way, which came pretty quickly.  And then we were there; we had found The Lost City.

 

The Lost City

So this was our destination, The Lost City, or Ciudad Perdida, the ancient ruins of the Tairona people which had laid undiscovered by the modern world until 1972, when looters came across it.  Over the centuries though, local tribes were aware of the city – but they kept quiet about it. The city is believed to have been founded in the 8th century, 650 years before Machu Picchu in Peru, and inhabited until the 16th century. As many as 10,000 people are believed to have lived in the regions (2,000 within the city and the remainder in the nearby regions) until it was abandoned during the Spanish conquest.  Today, only 40% of the city has been excavated, including around 200 terraces/circles.  The only way to The Lost City is to trek through the jungle, as we had done.  There is also a place where a helicopter can land (I believe on a terrace) but this is used only for emergency situations.

The inhabitants of The Lost City were known for their intricate use of gold and looters retrieved these artifacts from the graves there in the 1970s, bringing attention to the existence of The Lost City.

No other metal has been found on the site and it is a mystery as to how stones were cut.  The Taironi left no written records, although there are several large boulders with carvings believed to be maps.   No animals were used to assist in the construction of the city.  Nor were animals believed to have been domesticated by the Tairona people, other than perhaps some birds (e.g. turkeys).  A trail led to the coast and fish could be carried back to the city in less than one day.

Still today, The Lost City continues to be a sacred place for the indigenous people of the Sierra Nevadas. The spirits of the Tairona that have lived there over the centuries are believed to continue to watch over those who visit.  Prior to entering, Jose shared a handful of coca leaves with each of us.  We each placed these on a rock as an offering to the spirits, and then paused for a moment to rid our minds of any negative thoughts we had.  As I understand it, this is a regular practice for the tribes that inhabit these mountains, that ridding/purging of negative thoughts.  I wondered how different our world would be today if all human beings did this on a regular basis.  Surely, it would be a better, more peaceful place.

We saw a number of military personnel; in 2003 eight tourists visiting the city were kidnapped by the National Liberation Army in a demand for a government investigation into human rights abuses.  The hostages were released three months later.  Following that incident, military protection was brought in and there have been no issues since.

We spent a fair amount of time walking the grounds.  I could not help but think of the many Tairona people who had walked the same paths as I was now walking.  What was their life like, what were their struggles, their joys?  One can only assume that life was hard.

There were probably 200 people on the grounds of The Lost City.  Not a huge amount and no comparison to the crowds of Machu Picchu.  But no doubt this will continue to increase as the years pass; for those of you who are interested in visiting it may make sense to go as soon as possible to have the least commercialized experience.  Plus . . . well, none of us are getting any younger :).

 

 

Our tour of The Lost City was complete; we continued our trek down the mountain, reversing our path.  About fifteen minutes into our hike a group of young men passed, and within a minute we came upon several standing on the trail who were quite distraught.  One of their group had gone over the edge; we could see him lying at the bottom, maybe a hundred yards down, on the edge of the Buritaca River.  The trail was clay and it appeared the edge gave way and he slid down through the foliage to land at the bottom.  There were many others on the trail coming to his assistance, including our guide, Jose.  He and several others stretchered the young man back to the Lost City – up the 1200 steps, and two hours later we heard the copter go through.  We never knew the full extent of his injuries, although we understood it was serious.

This shook me; I was reminded of the reality of the danger, and just how important it was to use caution with every step.  To not become complacent.  To not rush.  To be aware of fatigue.  And yes, frustration.

 

One of our group members, Janet, navigating the trail

After lunch I was just beat; it was extremely hot and we were doing an enormous amount of climbing yet again. I focused on putting one foot after another, looking immediately in front of me on the trail, and over time I made progress.  For a long period I would count each step; one-one thousand, two-one thousand . . . very slow and methodically.  After 100 steps I would reward myself by pausing to catch my breath.  And then start again.  And then, for some unknown reason, I got my second wind and was good to go!

Of course there was a necessary option of riding a mule if a hiker was unable to continue the trek – or just wanted a break from walking.  I considered this, but after talking to several who had ridden decided it sounded pretty miserable and I just kept trekking.  Perhaps mules are over-glamorized?

We had several more water crossings, many that were small and we just danced across, others where we exchanged our hiking boots for sandals, or bare feet.  On one crossing we passed either Kogi or Wiwa doing the crossing so naturally and effortlessly.  No doubt it was part of their everyday life, as familiar as us walking . . . well, today, we often don’t walk much!

 

We returned to camp and again, glorious showers.  I’m being a bit facetious here . . . it was the usual cold stream in a concrete box with no place to hang your clothes.  But it was a chance to scrape off the sweat and grime of the day, and I felt refreshed when I came out!

 

Toilets on the left, showers on the right, and the inside of a shower stall.

A group of older people (hmmm . . . how does one define “older?”) passed us several times; I made a point of talking to them over dinner. Two of the men were 70 years old; one mentioned that he had never hiked until he was 61 when he retired. Another mentioned that this was his 22^nd tour since retirement and that he was heading to Iran next month to hike up the second highest peak in the Himalayans. It is never too late!

We were on the trail for more than ten hours; my tracker showed over eleven miles.  I treated myself to an ice cold Club Colombia (beer) when back at camp; it was amazing!