Hardships & Joy of Exploration

Jungles of Sierra Nevada Mountains of Santa Marta

“After leaving Santa Marta we suffered from hunger, heat, humidity, rain, mud, insects, reptiles, malaria fevers, and dysentery . . . much was indescribably horrible and heroic . . . hacking our way through virgin jungle, attacked by worms, poisonous snakes, vampires (bats), jaguars, and caiman. The worst was a constant, never ending attack by  clouds of mosquitoes that inflicted disease on the troops.” -- Quesada’s journal entry on beginning his conquest of Colombia

Virgin jungle that Quesada's army cut a trail through

Hundred year old copy of Quesada'a journal

Manuscript map of Santa Marta (red boxes are the city)

I may need a plasma transfusion after a blood sucking attack by “no see um” mosquitoes during my stay in Santa Marta. The hot, humid, and rainy conditions are ideal for these scourge of humankind to bred. They enjoy fresh, new blood and couldn’t get enough of mine. There were no mosquitoes in Bogota, too high in elevation. 

Except for Quesada’s journal entry, he did not make history in Santa Marta and is little remembered by local people. He started his conquest there and moved on to the highlands of Bogota where he gained fame and fortune. After leaving Santa Marta, the expedition was on its own. I briefly followed his path through the dense forest and  tangled vegetation of the Sierra Nevada Mountains to visit the lost indigenous city of Pueblito.  

Lost in the jungle are the ruins of Pueblito

It was a grueling, tortuous four hour hike straight up the mountain, no switchbacks, just straight up. It was the most demanding trek I’ve ever done. It was hot, humid, with clouds of mosquitoes. I had the benefit of extra strength insect repellant that worked. There was nothing that could help my aching, cramping legs. An hour from my destination my left thigh spasmed and twitched uncontrollably. It cramped and I had to stop to stretch, hydrate, and rest. I thought about turning back. 

At the start of the hike, I was jumping and skipping over water puddles and streams. Now, I didn’t care and just stepped in the water and mud. Out of nowhere a ten year old Tayrona boy came down the trail with a styrofoam cooler. He had Gatorade for sale at double the regular price. I bought an 18 ounce bottle and drank it in two gulps. It was cold, sweet, and tasted like fruit punch. He said it was “only 10 more minutes” to the ruins. I was encouraged and continued. It took an hour before I reached the site. 

Miguel helped my body, mind, and soul: Thank you

After four hours, first traces of human settlement.

Oh, I still need to climb the steps.

More stairs before reaching Pueblito

The ruins are set at the top of the mountain in the middle of thick, green, overgrown jungle. There are a series of block steps leading to raised stone platforms where wooden and thatch homes once stood. The place in deserted, quiet, and deceivingly tranquil. It belies the history of conquest of the natives by Quesada’s army. Only the gray stone structures remember conversations, arguments, laughter, and everyday activity of the indigenous tribe that once inhabited Pueblito. 

Finally, climbing down and entrance to the ruins

Raised stone platform where homes once stood

Uninhabited replica of wooden home of the Tayronas

Water was channeled into the settlement

The uphill march took a toll on my legs. The burning in my left thigh would not stop. I still needed to climb down. On my way back, my right knee experienced excruciating pain going in a clockwise rotation around the cap. I knew I was about to blow out my knee. Then I saw numerous blue morpho butterflies. I stopped to take photos and rest. Somehow these wondrous, beautiful creatures encouraged me. Also, I thought about the ten year native kid who made this climb and return with a cooler full of heavy drinks. 

Leaving Pueblito for return to Santa Marta

First you must climb up before coming down

Manny de in pain, distress, and soaking wet

Blue morpho butterfly: The top of its wings are blue,

it wouldn't open its wings for my camera

No one is coming to help me. I’m getting down this mountain if I need to crawl or roll down. I took one step with stiff legs, then another, and another . . . Two and a half hours later, completely soaked in sweat, and my body drained of energy, I reached the bus stop to catch the last bus back to Santa Marta in the dark. The next day my legs were still cramping and I could barely get out of bed into a hot shower. 

Would I undertake this hike again, knowing the distress I experienced? The magnificent, lonely ruins, blue morpho butterflies, native kid helping my cramping body, and time alone to think about the hardships that the explorer’s experienced . . . yes, I would. Would I recommend it to others? There’s no need to, you’ve already experienced it through this reading.

Pueblito ruins: worth the effort