Thursday 8 August - Saturday 10 August

Minca, Colombia

Since Santa Marta itself is nothing to write home about and is predominantly used by travelers as a mere stop off point between Cartagena and Tayrona PNN, we decided to get out into the mountains that overlook the town rather than be in it. But first we had to find the 'collection point' to catch the ride up to Minca. The map we had led us into a rather unsavoury part of town which kept our senses heightened. We wondered around for a few blocks sticking out like Lady Gaga at Sunday service until some friendly chap guessed what we were searching for and helpfully directed us to the Minca collectivo transport point. As dodgy as parts of Colombia may seem, we were coming to the realization that the people are very friendly and helpful. 45 minutes out of Santa Marta we arrived in the one street mountain town of Minca. 10 minutes walk/hike up what seemed like the longest ladder in the world with our bulging backpacks we arrived at our hostel, Casa Loma (Hill House). We settled into our Den and ordered some lunch, easily our best meal so far in South America, a vegetable rice dish with that home cooked feeling. We wound the day down in hammocks reading and quenching our thirst with a few Aguila's, when two guys (Tim and Mike) from our boat returned from a waterfall hike who happened to be staying in Casa Loma as well. It had become fairly routine to be bumping into our boat people in random places, so no real surprises there. So a few more Aguila's over some catching up and we were ready for bed.

In the morning we went back down the ladder into town for breakfast and some internet time (no wifi at the hostel) to try book bus tickets and accommodation in Medellin, our proposed next stop. At breakfast on the side of the road we watched as two kids rode their bikes up and down the street. Well actually only one was riding because the younger one was struggling with his peddles. It didn't take us long to decipher the riders problem, his peddles were parallel to each other instead of being 180 degrees apart. This was quite hilarious to us, but not to the kid persistently trying to ride up the hill. His older mate seemed rather pleased that his bike was rolling just fine and rode off happily into the distance. After a few chuckles Mike did the noble and took over his leatherman to help the poor chico sort out his problem. Easy fix, had him back on the saddle in no time and cheerfully racing off to catch his mate up. Ten or so minutes later we watched as Karma came full circle, when the older kid who didn't seem to give two ticks about his troubled mate was peddling furiously up the same hill when suddenly his bike frame snapped at the fork and sent the kid flying over his handle bars, unfortunately for him right smack bang in front of us. We could barely contain ourselves - we roared with laughter. Luckily it happened going uphill so he wasn't hurt, but his angered look directed at us seemed to suggest it was somehow our fault. He even gestured the money sign to us as though we should help out again but there was nothing Mike could do about this one. He needed a welder not a backpacker with a leatherman. The memory of the bike incident still makes us laugh out loud when we think of it.

That afternoon we headed off on a walk with Mike to another waterfall, this one apparently with a rope swing into the pool below. On the way, in the middle of fairly dense jungle, we passed a local restaurant on the side of the road called Camalita's. Nothing much to look at, some wooden tables on hardened sand floor, mud hut and a fireplace. We thought maybe if we were hungry later we could stop there on the way back for a bite to eat. The waterfall was quite small with a nice swimmable pool below, the water however was not so nice considering it was drizzling and freezing cold. But we had walked fairly far and I was definitely not leaving here without trying that rope swing, and unfortunately you had to swim through the pool and climb up the rocks to get to the rope. Rope swinging done we decided to head back before it got dark and we were positively starving by now. It has also started raining so stopping off at Camalita's was a foregone conclusion. When we arrived an english speaking local patron welcomed us to "a whole new world of awesome". We weren't so enthusiastic, but hungry. She asked the owner to prepare a platter for three and told us we were in for a treat. She wasn't wrong! This one blew the homecooked veggie rice right out of the jungle. One platter with baked potato, avocado and yuka the other with pork rashers, steak and chorizo chopped into bite size pickings. Simple but outstanding. So good we ordered another round and a couple more Aguila's. Utterly satisfied we decided to leave when the owner (who'd smoked a few joints by now) started chopping the next days servings up with a machete in a haze of mist under the soft glow of a streetlight - it was a scene straight out of a horror film...hilarious and scary at the same time. We were in giggles yet again - oh how we laughed. All in all, a great idea to come up here into the Sierra Nevada mountains. Great, chilled out hostel with amazing views over Santa Marta way down below. We made our way down to the bus station in Santa Marta the next afternoon to catch an overnight bus to San Gil.