Waking up a little dusty, we struggled to find the pick-up point for the bus to Tayrona. Zig-zagging back and forth between the streets of Santa Marta, we eventually got directed through to the back of a busy street market. As we passed through the market, my conviction not to eat from street stalls was further resolved as I saw a market butcher with tables covered in cuts of beef, fish and chicken, uncovered in the sweltering sun.

As we waited for the bus to leave, I passed the time by helping to load the usual sort of items you need for a bus trip, large wooden doors, big planks of wood and a wooden cabinet…
The bus trip was a less than memorable two plus hours in an overcrowded sauna of a bus. At one stage, a guy got up with his drums and sang a song, while just about sitting on Dan’s lap to do it, who was obviously not impressed. I was relieved when it was finished and couldn’t bring myself to give the guy money after his torturous vocals and off-beat drumming, though most of the bus gave a clap.

Disembarking near the park entrance, our bags were searched by police and we were asked if we had any alcohol or marijuana on us. Maybe they had run out? We then paid our 37 000 peso foreigners entrance fee and caught the bus up to the trailheads. It was all a bit confusing to begin with but we checked a rudimentary map and set out for ‘bitches’ that Dan’s gay doctor friend had told us about last night.

The trail in was a muddy track, all but destroyed by the hoof marks and donkey shit littering the path. It felt like we were in deep jungle though, with a massive canopy overhead and great big boulders lining the way. Being careful not to trample the bustling ant lines crossing the path, we kept a look out in the trees for any monkeys or tucans that inhabited the jungle, but for the most part concentrated on the uneven ground we were walking along. Drenched in sweat from the humid climate, we were stunned out of day dreams by the crack of a branch landing near us. Up in the trees from where it came, were eight or so monkeys bouncing around the tree limbs and looking at us inquisitively. After a few photos we all seemed to lose interest in each other and they scampered off while we continued on towards Arecife beach. In an interesting take on the distance remaining, the signs along the trail gave a percentage of how far we had travelled rather than the distance. So around 15% out of Arecife we were disrupted again by a pack of around 15 riderless horses and donkeys, heading to the beach. About five minutes later came the herders, urging on the stragglers of the group.

It was roughly 45 minutes by the time we reached the beach and we were desperate for a swim, although it would have to wait. There were no swimming signs plastered about, and according to the guide book, around 200 people had died over the years from strong currents at Arecife. We settled for a knee deep wade in the crystal clear waters and beautiful white sand, as we headed along the coast to the swimming beaches. The water and sand were flecked with what looked like flakes of gold, shimmering in the sun and adding to the idyllic scenery. Further up the beach, were huge boulders rising out from the edge of the shore, with one that looked like it had been cleaved in two by a giant axe.

We passed another little cove along the way, with jet black sand and piles of driftwood, before finally getting in a swim at La Piscina. It was not as scenic as the previous beaches and the water was not as clear, but it was great to finally cool off and be swimming for the first time in the Carribbean.

After a swim and a snack we continued on through another jungle trail towards Cabo San Juan. With mountains in the background and areas strewn with coconut trees, I thought that the landscape was very similar to parts of Vietnam that I had seen in movies and war footage. The abundance of Coconut trees also had me on the lookout for falling coconuts. Not the best way to be killed or maimed!

Cabo San Juan was a amazing, and we instantly regretted not having looked into staying over night. There was a nice open grassy area with tents and hammocks for rent, a soccer pitch and a nearby bungalow style restaurant. Two curved beaches were separated by a rocky mountain that had a big open-air wooden cabana perched atop it with hammocks, a couple of private rooms, and a deck overlooking the beach. Awesome in theory, though when we went to have a look there were some very weird inhabitants. “Go back to the beach, we are the lords of Quack Mountain.”…right.

The water was beautifully crystal clear again and we dived in for another swim. From Cabo San Juan there is a trail to Pueblito, an ancient village of the Tayrona Indians up on the mountain, which takes about an hour to get up to. We briefly considered making the trek, but the day was getting on and we thought we would do it another day. Storm clouds began to roll in over the mountains and rather than hang about for lunch we decided to trek back out along to Arecife and out to the park trailhead. I decided it was a good a time as any to bust out the macro setting on my camera and take a few Ant shots, but the mosquitos started to swarm think and fast, and my penchant for creativity didn’t last long as we power walked our way back out.
We did come across a very strange animal on the way back though, and the best description I can give is that it looked like a blue-arsed wombat.

Dreading the bus trip back, we found that a cab ride split three ways (us and a Dutch lady that was sitting nearby) was pretty reasonable and so ended up with this hilarious and possibly crazy old cab driver, in his busted up, rickety old cab. It was a miracle the cab was up to the journey, as it struggled to go more than 60kph, made more frightening when he attempted to overtake big trucks without an overtaking lane. Trying not to get worked up over the possibility or dying in a head on crash in Columbia, I decided just to go with it. Our cab driver would wave and yell out to pretty much everyone we passed on the road, and stopped frequently for chats with all his amigos. We also pulled in at a small stall where he got some drinks and gave us all a little cake. Five star service!

The trip back was via a different route, and we passed through some very poor areas, with corrugated iron shacks dotting the hillsides, and streets filled with shantys. After a big day of trekking we were both pretty wrecked and crashed out early.