Into The Cloud Forest



 Fabien from France and Kelly from South Korea

In many ways it was the same ol´ story.  Yet another natural wonder beckoning, with a long and hazardous trek to explore it.  And me bouncing into town earlier on a bus and half green about the gills from the journey.

By and large the seven-hour ride from Medellin wasn´t too bad; with nice scenery through the coffee country -- green rolling hills shrouded in mist, cut by brown, roiling rivers.  I could at least eat lunch at the break half-way.  A chorizzo or sausage nonetheless.  I was proud of myself.

However, coiled and waiting that last thirty minutes leading up to Salento, my destination, was my old nemesis -- switchbacks and more switchbacks -- which pushed me over the edge. 

Naturally we´re crammed in like frijoles in a can, naturally the driver is a wild man.  And naturally everyone else is gabbing away gaily in Spanish...except me, who´s wishing in the worst way by now that he hadn´t had that chorizzo.



Taking the reigns in front of Tra-la-la

We reach the town square just in time.  I extract myself from the seat, stagger off and look around...

My brain reels.  My duffel is sopping from a leaky baggage compartment.  I don't know anyone.  I don´t know where to eat, even if I could, and most of all I need a place to shower and rest.  You would think that I´d be concerned, wouldn´t you? 

I am not for at least two reasons:  First, I am armed with some knowledge of español, which allows communication with the natives.  And second, I have a card for a good hostel a block off the square.

In this case, it´s called the Tra-la-la, run by a Dutchman named Hemmo with purry black cat.  Hemmo opened just this summer and was recommended by various trekkers days before, back in Medellin.  The place is spotless and trimmed in bright orange, the national color of his native Holland.

Within minutes of stepping off that bus then, I am wheeling my duffel in and plopping onto a bunk with clean sheets.  I have hot showers, maps and information about the area...for about $10 U.S. per night.   More importantly though, I am around other trekkers, some of them who had also come in solo and were also wanting to see the sights.

The path was a muck. Kelly and Sara pick their way.

I´ve done this in many different countries now.  It´s more than just happenstance.  It´s a spontaneous, free wheeling way to travel, and the hostel system, the trekkers´ or backpackers´ trail, makes it possible.



The scenic highlight, the natural wonder in this particular area is a place called Valle de Corcora, a national park in Colombia.  It's a forty-minute ride out of town, followed by the long and muddy trek to get a good look at the place.  It´s over moss-coated boulders, log bridges and steep mountain paths -- not something I wanted to do alone, probably not something that anyone should do alone.

 

Anything I have learned in my travels, never fear at the hostel.  Wait a while and things will start to happen.  Sure enough, within a few days at Tra-la-la had formed an international excursion team, I'll call it.

First up was the amiable Sara from Canada, who had just banged in on buses herself and also wanted to see the valley.  Then came the suave Fabian from France, who was likewise on both counts.  Throw in myself, of course, and presto you have a team.

One fine morning we set off, the three of us, and while bouncing up to the valley in the back of a Jeep, we add Kelly from South Korea.  This was a good thing, it turned out, because she was outfitted better than Hillary making for the summit of Everest and shared everything from hats to umbrellas to packages of vanilla wafers with the rest of us.

 One of several such crossings within the valley

The trek itself was grueling, mucky and good.  About six hours all told.  One of the highlights was ascending the trail to a small-farm-like station high in the rain forest.  That last few hundred meters was a struggle, our lungs and legs burning, through lush vegetation and the air everywhere thick with water droplets.  By now we were actually in the clouds.

Accomplishing this finca at last, we plopped at picnic tables and were greeted by a smiley campesino and his roundish wife, who manned this high outpost.  They served us hot chocolate in bowls and arapas or corn pancakes and cheese.  As we ate and rested, a squadron of hummingbirds, eight or ten, flitted in and out of bowls of sugar water only a few meters away.  I think everyone got decent pics except me.  They move so fast and all.  After about a dozen attempts I gave up.

As for the Valle de Corcora itself, it ranks as one of the most beautiful and enchanting places I´ve ever seen.  Certainly in my top ten.  With the low clouds and swirling mists the hike had a dream-like quality, where breath-taking views were first offered, then taken away.  Followed by long trudges with visibility limited to the likes of hanging mosses and water dripping off of waxy leaves.

Despite the exertion and the mud, the whole thing was truly magical and I shall treasure it, and the people who came along, for a long time.  And it all was made possible because of the hostel trail -- places such as Tra-la-la and the good people who run them.





The team pauses for a few pics

 

Palmas de Cera