We stopped to the side of the road near a bridge with a river running under it, there was an orange house in the middle of the jungle next to the bridge, nothing but a couple of donkeys and a horse all tied to a pole, their owners were sitting on plastic chairs in the shadow of the house which appeared to have a window where products where being sold. There was an Arhuaco man and his sons.
A man was waiting for us near the river side under the shadow of a tree, the ocean was not far from there down the river, which was wide but didnt seem to be too deep at that point. The craft was white and made out of wood, the paint was crusting off and I would say it could fit up to 8 fishermen and their nets. The man did not have paddles but a long stick used to push us upstream for the hour long ride.
Green on the sides, blue above and lots of colors below where, water, stones and fish became a gradient of many shades, altough when not directly looking at it, the river appears somewhat green. The sound of the water converged with the music the birds and the insects were interpreting, like a pad beneath the melodies. Every now and then, beaches of some sort appeared on either side of the water. The smaller pebbles, eroded by water, glowing their grey, white and yellows thanks to the sunlight, contrasting with the water and the dark rocks beneath it.
It was on one of these beaches that canoë driver places the white wooden device . We unloaded and headed uphill, while the man jumped on his boat and sailed off. We walked for 5 minutes walking over vegetation and dried leafs, hanging on to trees and branches for balance and support, crunching our way up until we encountered a set of stairs built in stone that lead us to my uncle’s little stone wood chambre in the middle of the jungle. I say to myself “I would love to live in a place like this”.
No electricity, gas, AC, cars, roads… but fruit trees, birds, insects, flowers and the sound of the river now faint but still present in “the mix”. Not even signal on our mobile phones, it was a perfect trip at the perfect time in my life.
At night I chose to sleep in a hammock, which I regreted in the middle of the night, as mosquitoes were having a feast on my expense and the loud noises of the jungle wouldnt allow me to fall asleep; monkeys, frogs, insects and lots of birds – the jungle is very noisy at night! Lots of things happened in the following days and on my several visits to this place which I will not include in this post, like eating wild boar, gathering fruits of trees and long hikes upstream to come back swimming on the beautiful river.
The energy in this place is indescribable, the home of the Arhuaco and Kogui tribes are the most magical place I’ve ever visited, it’s snowy mountain peaks that carry crystaline rivers down to incredible beaches in the caribbean sea, different climates and terrains home to an incredible variety of flora and fauna and the aforementioned aboriginal and spiritual indigenous tribes whose incredible traditions bring just about the perfect combination of misticism, nature… unity, matter, energy collide, dance… No wonder that, for these tribes, this place, the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, is the heart of the worlds, without doubt.
Few places have a pull on me like this one, something like a metal particle nearing a magnet, at the time of writing I find myself not too far, but sadly this time I will not be able to make it up there due to personal reasons. The mere fact of being here and not able to go is what inspired me to finally write about it, because it is pulling me, calling me every time I look in the direction of the mountains, I cannot ignore it. Something like the ring nearing mordor… but in a very positive way. I must resist, so I write, so I write…