I almost didn’t make it to San Gil. Situated in the Colombian department of Santander, puts it in the “Do not travel” category on the Australian Government traveller site. Whilst almost every destination I’m exploring in South American comes with an “Exercise a high degree of caution” rating, this was the first time I had to make a conscious decision to ignore the warning – and I’m so glad I did. This town had my name all over it!
After a big last night out in Bogota with Jenna and Mark’s mate Kevin (which culminated in riding flying cows), the 8 hour bus ride winding through the mountains to get there was somewhat challenging to say the least. So when I arrived to an electrical storm, pouring rain, overflowing streets and a sign in the hostel saying the town would be without water for 36 hours (commencing at midnight), a few doubts about the sanity of my decision to ignore the advice and come here anyway did start to creep in. A mad dash in the rain to the nearest food place, and a spicy burger later, I was ready to call it a night – crossing fingers that the glorious year round weather that the town boasts about, might make a showing in the morning.
I rose reasonably early the next morning as I was conscious of not having any activities booked and wanting to make the most of my days here. Luckily the hostel I was staying at (well not entirely luck as it’s one of the reasons I’d chosen it) had a folder full of activities to choose from, and a reception staff who were happy to make all the bookings for you. My top choice was the white-water rafting trip on the River Suarez, so I decided to try to line it up for day 1 – and was again in luck! The sun was shining and the rafting company were going to pick me up at 9, giving me just enough time to pop out for a delicious breakfast burrito from Gringo Mikes first. Upon arriving at the shop and signing my life away (the waiver form even required a finger print), I was given a wristband with some emergency contact details (these must be some serious rapids) and shown to the van. The hour drive out to the starting point gave everyone a good chance to get to know the rest of the rafting crew. We had a Colombian Diego and a Swiss guy Peter (who were in town for the weekend celebrating Peter’s birthday), an American ski instructor couple (whose names for some reason completely escape me) and honeymooners Andrea and Eliot who live in San Francisco and both sounded very much like Americans, but had Colombian and Dutch backgrounds respectively. Experience seemed to range from total novice to borderline professional and I was pretty happy to be in the middle of the range with this being my 3rd outing.
Arriving at the launch spot, Cesar gave us a super thorough safety briefing (something I’m always grateful for with these kinds of activities) and we were ready to go. Apparently the river was 40cm higher than the day before (thought that rain when I arrived was heavy!!) and the rapids were ranging from class 2 to class 5 (5 being the maximum you can actually raft on within the 6 point scale, as 6 is purely kayak territory). We all jumped aboard and were ready to get started, but it seems the safety briefing wasn’t quite over yet – as Cesar was now calling for a volunteer to go overboard and be rescued. All 7 of us simultaneously looked the other way. The water was cold, the rapids were very close, and none of us wanted to chance being out of the boat, even if it was just for a demo. So our biggest strongest crew member Eliot was volunteered and in he went – demonstrating the safety position, a kayak rescue and how to be pulled back into the boat – the thoroughness of this briefing giving us a bit of a clue as to what we might expect from the severity of the rapids.
Suarez River
Once we got started it was straight into some 3+ action, then a brief strategic wedging between rocks to have another chat before we launched into the 5s. The rapids were MASSIVE! It was like some kind of awesome journey through a giant washing machine. I wasn’t hugely happy with Diego sitting in front of me though as it was pretty clear he wasn’t too sure what was going on, and in no way was able to keep to the same timing of our front man – despite repeated pleas from the back. And sure enough, at the start of the next class 5 set, in he fell. We weren’t quick enough to get him back in before he was swept away (and he hadn’t managed to grab the rope) so we paddled on and focussed on keeping the rest of us and the raft in good shape whilst he had a horrific journey a few hundred metres down the super rough part of the river clutching just his life jacket and a paddle. The safety kayak finally managed to pick him up though and returned him to us at the next available calm part – pretty shaken up, but otherwise not harmed. We continued on the rest of the journey through some more awesome sets without further incident – my favourite being the last ones which were called “sorpresa” (surprise) and certainly lived up to their name. We also had some opportunity for “swimming” in the calm parts which was super relaxing – just laying on your back in a life jacket whilst the river carries you down-stream – all I needed was a pina colada in one hand and it would have been perfect. We ended the trip with some beers and some fruit though – so got pretty close to literally “living the dream”. After a refreshing (albeit cold) shower, I then went and sampled the delicious vege burgers and the amazing house juice from Elementals for a late lunch, before chilling out in front of the 3rd place playoff of the football. A fantastic first day in San Gil.
The following day I opted for the waterfall rappelling activity – as well as sounding like fun, it met my key criteria of being able to definitely be finished before the 2pm kick-off of the World Cup Final. The first part of the adventure involved finding my way to the local bus terminal and boarding the bus to Charala – hoping the driver would stop and let me know when we were actually passing “las cascadas”. Each bus journey over here is a new adventure – never quite sure whether to pay in advance, or the driver or wait for a conductor – whether to get on at the front or the back and whether the seats are reserved or free to take. Thankfully that all went smoothly though and about 45 minutes later, the bus pulled up next to a farm with a waterfall sign and off I got. First step was to sign my life away on a waiver form written entirely in Spanish, then we were kitted up with our harnesses and helmets and off we went. It was a pretty, and at times challenging hike up through the farm and into the muddy forest. Up and up we climbed, grateful for the ropes strung up along the side that we could grasp on to when our footing failed. Then we arrived at the clearing. Holy cr@p is that the waterfall??? A beautiful (but huge) waterfall stood before us…. Suddenly signing that waiver that I couldn’t actually read isn’t seeming like the smartest move… then after a few photos we realise that that’s of course not the waterfall we’re rappelling down – there’s actually one behind us (that more logically, we are at the top of).
The waterfall we didn’t go down
I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but the actual waterfall we’re going to rappel down is not able to be seen from the top – it’s just a super sheer drop into an abyss – and there’s no way they’re going to let anyone close enough to have a sticky beak without being properly attached to the ropes. We can certainly hear the water thundering down though. So the 5 of us sit down for a briefing – it’s again, entirely in Spanish, but this seems to suit the other 2 couples and I’m hoping to just get by on the hand gestures and my previous experience. The only thing that has me worried though is it’s looking to be a slightly different technique to the one I’m used to – instead of using your right hand as a break and keeping it behind your back, it looks like this might involve some kind of pulling action. The first cab off the rank is a girl who’s clearly sh!t scared and has been dragged here by her boyfriend. I’m not so sure how things are going to go in that relationship, as at no point did she look like she even remotely lost her terror and started to enjoy it. Unfortunately for me, it was clear she also not going to be providing the demo I was hoping for. I don’t think grabbing on to the ropes of the guide who offers to go down beside you is exactly a textbook manoeuvre. The boyfriend then wasted no time in scaling down the cliff after her (to attempt a reconciliation no doubt), so I was up. Once I was clipped in and ready to go, never have I been more grateful for the phrase “Hablas Espanol o Ingles?” Turns out he could speak English after all and had read into my blank looks earlier that I might need a bit of a translation, so he repeated the key bits and off I went, much more confident than I had been 5 minutes prior. It was still pretty hairy though as it was a huge drop, there was a metal bar to climb over to get things started, the rock-face was very slippery and it was a new technique for me to get used to. I got the hang of it about 10m in though and was then able to enjoy the remaining 50m – a truly exhilarating feeling to be bouncing off the rocks with the ice-cold water gushing in your face. Safely at the bottom, there was time for a bit of a sun-bake before I started the walk back – alone this time, so I was really able to enjoy the peacefulness and beauty of the place. Miraculously a bus pulled up moments after I got back out to the street, so I was back in town in good time and able to shower before setting out in my Aussie jersey in search of the sports bar.
The actual waterfall
Scenery on the hike back down
Unfortunately I wasn’t really able to find a place exactly heaving with people, so settled for the Cuban bar that was decked out with some massive screens – almost enough for one screen each for the crowd which swelled to about 20 people at the height of the match. I was able to acquire a yummy burger though (yes, this town is all about the burgers and juices), and even had some friends to chat to when Andrea and Eliot showed up at half time! We were all going for the Germans for various reasons (mine being that I just thought they deserved it more with the quality of football they’d been displaying throughout the tournament) so were very happy when they scored late in the match to seal the victory. After the presentations and beers were finished, it was time to head back to the hostel to try to line up my activity for the next day, and also my bus out of there at the crack of dawn the morning after. I was keen to do the mountain biking adventure with Colombian Bike Junkies as it had some awesome reviews on trip advisor and sounded like a great way of combining adrenaline with some sight-seeing, however getting a confirmation from the company that the activity had enough numbers to go ahead was proving challenging to say the least. It was 10pm by the time I got the exciting news that it was all systems go, so I filled out the comprehensive rego form and went to bed.
The town of San Gil
I got up early and set off for Gringo Mikes where I’d been told we were due to meet at 8:15. Unfortunately though, it turned out everyone else had been told 9 – so I sat there on my lonesome enjoying another amazing breakfast burrito and several cups of coffee – not all bad really. As the rest of the group started to roll in, I was excited to see Andrea and Eliot again – practically besties we’d seen each other so many times – and we also had a kiwi (Gareth) and a Dutch guy (Bart). Everyone seemed really nice, we just needed the guides to actually arrive so we could get started. Turns out the delayed start (which was to become significantly more delayed) was due to “problems with the truck” ….. or more accurately, the problem of the truck having been driven into a ditch 2 days prior. The guide’s girlfriend kept us entertained and filled up on delicious juices though, so we were still in good spirts by the time the truck came to collect us at 11. Up and up and up we went (glad we didn’t have to ride this part) until we reached the top (just shy of 2000 metres) and it was time to get out and get started (after a bike test and safety briefing of course). What was super impressive about these guys was that they’d used the height/weight/size info we’d filled out to fully customise the bikes and gear in advance. It was definitely the best bike I’ve ever sat on too – felt like I was riding a lounge chair down the mountain!
As we sped off down the road (thankfully free from too many cars), front of mind were the statistics the guide had dished out around 90% of accidents occurring in the first 20 minutes. The surface kept switching between dirt, gravel, sand and asphalt, so it was easy to see how people could become unstuck. There was also the other factor of the jaw-droppingly beautiful scenery we were riding though – making it very easy to get distracted from actually looking at the road. Everyone went at their own pace with the guide stopping at the occasional fork in the road to wait for us to all catch up (ironically it was the Dutch guy who was the most experienced of all of us – must be all those mountains Holland is famous for…) We rode on through plenty of awesome downhill before the guide pulled us up again and warned us to adjust the gears as the longest climb of the trip was about to be upon us. And he wasn’t joking. It was a few hundred metres of serious uphill to get into the town of Barichara and we were sweating like pigs by the time we reached the top. All was made worthwhile though when we were rewarded with a sit down in the shade of the beautiful main plaza of Colombia’s most expensive town and a serving of scrumptious home-made cookies and fruit.
After our rest and a bit of a history lesson (it seems just about the entire town are descendants of one very busy man), we set off again and before long were rewarded with some more incredible views of the Suarez canyon. We were blown away – ‘but wait till you see it from the other side” says the guide. After a bit of a photo sesh off we went for some more downhill – plan was to ride to the bottom of the canyon, then jump in the truck to drive up the other side for a picturesque lunch spot before riding back down again. Definitely a good amount of downhill on this trip!
As time wore on I got more and more confident with the feel of the bike and relied less and less on the breaks. By the time we reached the bottom, I was pretty ravenous and excited about the impending lunchbreak. So they loaded up the truck and we all clambered up to ride on the roof for the promised better view. We must have travelled a good 10metres before there was an almighty clunk and we stopped in our tracks. That didn’t sound good. Try again. Woop there it is…. again. Third time lucky – nope this truck is going nowhere. The part of the truck to shift into 4wd mode had all but fallen off. Straight away they were on the phone to the office and the mechanic – but realistically we all knew the score – we were already running later than the usual schedule, and there was no way it was going to be able to be fixed in time for us to complete the original planned route. If only the guide hadn’t sold the view and the last bit of downhill so well!
Moments before the truck broke down..
As luck would have it though, our group were all super easy going, and we were able to quickly make the collective decision to skip straight to the 15km cross country section to the finish line. Given the heat and the impending exertion, we also decided it was best to not eat a full lunch now, instead deciding to have a few more cookies and save our giant gourmet sandwiches to have with the beers at the end. Despite my stomach growling in protest, this was definitely a good call – as the 15ks was almost entirely uphill or flat – and when I say flat, I mean, a crazily rough surface but just without any slope. I was determined to get through it though, as this was some of the only serious exercise I’d managed to get in in ages. So huffing and puffing (and sweating like a pig) with every last inch of willpower I rode on….Eliot, Andrea and Bart had all sped ahead and Gareth was miles behind, so it was just me, my tires on the dirt, some cows, the occasional truck and my thoughts. It was about an hour and 10 minutes in when I knew I must be getting close that I suddenly spotted the other 3 – not at the arranged meeting point after the bridge, but sprawled on the ground at the corner in the only downhill bit of the entire cross country section. I was happy but confused to see them there, so came to a stop to find out the score.
Turns out Eliot had hit a sand patch and spun out on the downhill and was sporting some very nasty cuts and grazes (if only we’d not taken off all the padding for this last section), while Bart had managed to get a completely flat tire right before the finish line. Andrea, not realising at first had gone on to finish, but had retreated when she realised neither of the guys was behind her. Ordinarily the combination of the lead guide and the support truck would’ve sorted both of them out much sooner, but due to the bizarre circumstances of the day, we were unfortunately without either. At their suggestion I rode on, enjoying the last bit of downhill and the chance to crack open the beer and sandwich, while they slowly walked the bikes down. About 30 minutes later we were all together once more, enjoying the refreshments and watching the locals play their crazy game – essentially it’s very similar to the game most countries have where you need to throw a stone-like object at a target, only they add gunpowder and metal to their target – so it explodes if you hit it! Nice. Definitely no room for argument here. An appropriately thrilling end to an adrenaline filled long weekend in San Gil.
Musings of a Suerte Aussie Chica 