Day 49: Santa Marta and Parque Tayrona

Leaving in a few hours for Cartagena, my last stop in South America. I find myself in the same internet cafe as in which I composed my last post, a cafe in the lobby of a hotel a block away from my hostel. The fan which brought me such great pleasure last time is still here -- but stuck facing one direction instead of the always-welcome revolving action. Such is life in the tropics; the fan doesn't always blow your way.

It has been a pleasant stay here in Santa Marta. It is hot and humid year-round here, and this time of year brings mornings of burning sun and afternoons and evenings of cloudy humidity, broken only by the occasional ocean breeze. My first night here had no such windy charm, and my plan to camp out in a hammock on the second floor lasted only a few hours. I managed to doze off for a few hours after the sun went down, but woke up with a tremendous sweat and was not able to go back to sleep. So, I went downstairs and asked to be moved to a dormitory: four thin cots, a big wooden window, and a blessed ceiling fan. I managed to score a cot directly under the ceiling fan, and went off to dreamland with only the slightest of sweats.

First day: Let's hit the beach! Tubular, dude! Awesome! Grabbed my bathing suit and Ronaldiño sandals and strolled over to the thin beach. The beach stretches a ways to the west, but near my hostel is where it meets the port of Santa Marta. A bit strange, relaxing on the beach or playing around in the warm water while container ships mozy on by. Is that how 'mozy' is spelled? Seems like a word better said than written. But none of this was on my mind as I soaked in the warm, calm Caribbean waters. Walked further down the beach and out onto a rock jetty, at the end of which I found a nice flat rock and lay out, soaking in tropical heat.

The rest of the day wasn't much to report -- more walking on beach (including an unnoticed invasion of a private resort), more seeking of cool juices, some talking of important matters with local hostel folks. A nice, relaxing day in all. Some sunburn though, but not much. I sorted out my plans for the few days here -- Parque Tayrona was in, beach town of Taganga was out, as was city of Riohacha (which I realized only held interest for me because it was mentioned in One Hundred Years of Solitude, and not because there was anything interesting there).

Parque Tayrona is a huge and wonderful park that takes up much of the coast and neighboring jungle hills to the east of Santa Marta. My second day in Santa Marta I located the micro which drives by the park entrance and made my way, dragging my small backpack -- water, towel, hammock, other necessities. The entrance to the park is separated from the main tourist area by a 4.5 km paved road, which I decided to walk instead of paying an overpriced taxi or motorcycle. After the paved road there is a stretch of camping areas along the coast, only reachable by a dirt/mud/rock path a bit inland from the beach. I went along this path to the Arrecifes Beach, which had cheaper rates for camping but unfortunately swimming was not allowed at the beach. Further down there were a few swimming beaches, which I took aquatic advantage of. Another 30 minutes on a dirt path took me to Cabo San Juan, more expensive camping but located right at two swimming beaches and a great little rocky point. Here is where I decamped for the night, and made a great decision to move my hammock from a little palm grove inland from the main camp area (which was very full) to a little coconut grove right on the water. I'm talking 3 meters from the waves. Note about Parque Tayrona: By far the most replies to my greetings anywhere on my journeys. Something about national parks makes people friendly, I guess. And mostly, the people who did not respond were English-speaking folks. Vat a silly language, anyvay.

Now we will take a break for a short one-question mini-quiz, whose purpose will soon become abundantly clear.

What feature of Parque Tayrona is most dangerous to its visitors?
a) Man-eating jaguars
b) Man-eating sharks
c) Man-eating riptides
d) Coconuts

I would give a hint, but I doubt that you, Oh Intuitive Reader, will need one.

Explanations: Jaguars do live in the park, but they hunt at night and are generally afraid of people. Scary to think about, but not really dangerous. Sharks do inhabit the waters off the coast, but pose little threat to swimmers because all of the beaches where swimming is allowed are ringed by large rock formations which prevent most animals from getting in. This is also the reason riptides do not pose much of a threat -- beaches where this is a problem are well-marked with 'No Swimming' signs.

Which leaves us with coconuts.

I was lying in my hammock under the coconut trees after sunset when a few people walked by, and one girl with a possibly-German accent told me that I should be careful because the coconuts can fall and that her friend almost got hit. I thanked her and went back to my thoughts. Not more than a minute later a big thump hit the ground a few feet behind me. A strong wind was shaking the trees, which were at least 25-30 meters tall, and dropping huge, heavy coconuts all around me. After another fell a little off to my right, I decided to change positions and set myself up on the sand at the base of a coconut tree which leaned far towards the water, thus protecting me from falling death-fruits. I woke up a few times during the night -- but thankfully, never because I had been struck by a thick brown ball of terror. The wind was very strong all night, and I had to use my hammock as a wind-shield. Woke up a little before sunrise. I would have been happy to have been hit by several coconuts in order to experience such a marvelous sight. Take a look at some of the pictures so that I don't have to write thousands of words.

Spent the morning in and out of the water, which was very refreshing and fairly rough. A good workout, although it stung my feet where the sandals had inscribed sore red lines the previous day. When I though the afternoon was approaching, I hiked back to Arrecifes Beach with the idea of spending a cheaper night there and hiking back out the next morning. However this changed when I learned two things: one, that Arrecifes' campsite was full of horse flies, and two, that it was only noon. My feet sore and my back burnt, and no further interest in swimming, I decided to hike back that day instead. Bought a big thing of water at the little store and then cannibalized the sleeves of my dirty hole-filled T-shirt to make "socks" to protect the soreness on my feet. Along with a healthy amount of vaseline, my feet made it safely and painlessly back to the main road. This day was much sweatier than the previous, and the big thing of water was all but finished during the walk -- more than 8km in less than 2.5 hours, which considering my ailments and the up-hill and over-rocks nature of the walk, is not bad time. Proud of myself, I parked into a seat on the micro back to Santa Marta and rolled open the window, soaking in the cool air rushing past. Of course, halfway back to the city the bus blows not one, but two flat tires and we all have to stand on the side of the sun-baked road for 30 minutes while the massive tires are changed.

This morning I cleaned myself up -- haircut and shaved back down to the moustache -- and packed up, re-organzing my backpack so all the cold weather gear goes into the bottom of the pack where it may not be used until I am back in the States. Soon, on to Cartagena, which is supposed to be beautiful and historic. Which is how I like my cities.