We've departed Colombia's wonderful and humid Caribbean coast and headed inland towards mountains, forests and extreme sporting activities. After taking an overnight bus to Baccaramanga, we emerged from our bus ride at 5am, sleepy-eyed and keen to get to our next destination. By 5.30 am we were on another bus and headed for San Gil, an historic Colombian town famed for its tranquillity and extreme sports - quite the juxtaposition.
After hooking up with a gorgeous young lady from Santa Barbara called Rain, the three of us boarded a bus That took us from sea level to over 1500-meter elevation, all in what seemed like less than 30 minutes. The road twisted and turned around hair-pin bends climbing at a rate that would make a mountain stage in the Tour de France look like a gentle cycle through the French countryside. Oil tankers, lorries, coaches and motorbikes all vied for overtaking space on roads that had no barriers and several hundred metre drops on either side. Our bus driver being clearly so adept at the route that he was quite comfortable texting and chatting on the phone while navigating our ascent at 80 km an hour past all manor of vehicles. There was nothing to do except sit back, hold on and enjoy the view. And what a view it was; I'm just sad my tired little brain didn't have the sense to film or photograph our journey.
We safely arrived in San Gil two hours later with body and luggage still intact. We made our way to our hostel and consumed copious amounts of coffee in order to properly wake ourselves up.
San Gil is not what we expected. Set in a high valley with steep cobbled streets that would give San Francisco a run for its money, it felt a little like a European provincial town caught in a bygone era. The town is set around a pretty square filled with locals chatting, drinking, watching the world go by, buying and selling empanadas and arepas, and just generally relaxing in the beauty of their surroundings. As soon as we arrived we realised that San Gil is one of those special places that draws you in and instantly makes you feel at home. We discovered it was going to be very hard to leave.
We began our first day at the local market with a breakfast that looked straight out of the original Freaky Friday film - fresh fruit topped with granola, coconut, grated cheese and a bonus scoop of tutti-frutti-flavoured ice cream. Revolting, it should have been, delicious it certainly was, and I happily chomped my way through the entire bowl. At $1.25 a pop it tasted all the sweeter.
Lucy and Rain contemplate breakfast, San Gil style
Forks at the ready
Armed with full stomachs and a sugar rush that would surely last until lunchtime we took a recommendation from our hostel and boarded a local bus to a nearby village where you could swim in a freshwater river and hire tubes to sail down gentle rapids. We were dropped off at the edge of the village and told to walk 45 minutes through the Colombian countryside until we could hear the sound of running water. The surrounding scenery could not have been more beautiful. Here, jungle flora meets high-altitude plants and trees - green hills were covered in vineyards, evergreens scaled the heights of hilltops, while palm trees fanned out from the valley below. It was quite magical and would not have looked out of place in a Tolkien novel. Ambling along we were beckoned over by a local couple who seemed concerned at our lack of supplies. They called us to their gate and asked us wait while they filled a bag with fresh mangoes that had recently fallen from their trees. They washed them for us, wished us well and sent us on our way with big grins on our faces. Who would have thought - eight mangoes given to us for free, just for walking past their house. We are constantly surprised at how friendly Colombian people are, and their willingness to share in the beauty of their country.
We arrived at the fresh-water stream with mango juice dripping down our chins and enough fibrous tissue stuck between our teeth to horrify any dentist, and went about the afternoon navigating our way down-river sat on huge inflatable rings, much to the amusement of the locals. I, of course, got stuck, fell out, slipped, stubbed my toes numerous times (yes, my uncoordination is in full swing at the moment - just stick me near some wet rocks, sit back and enjoy the fun), but it was a fantastic way to spend our first afternoon in San Gil, and made our introduction to Colombia's heartland totally unforgettable. With the sun setting behind us, we returned our tubes, wandered back up the hill, and returned to San Gil just in time for dinner.
Tubing in nature
San Gil CBD
Chilling out at the hostel
So enchanted were we with this little town that we signed up for a two-day intensive Spanish course. It has been our one regret since embarking on our journey that we didn't undertake a language course before arriving here. English is only rarely spoken in Mexico and Colombia, and it was ignorant of us to expect that everyone would be able to communicate in the Queens English. Hand gestures will only get you so far, and you receive a much warmer welcome if you can converse in just a little Spanish. The course has certainly proved useful, although we still have the ability to forget everything we've learnt as soon as we're in a situation requiring us to speak Spanish. Practise, practise, practise is the key - just as well we've still got Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Spain to go.
On our third night we were investigating a new hostel in San Gil, just for a change of scenery, where we bumped into the wonderful Ben and Alex (who doesn't like cheese!), a fabulous couple from London who we had met in Taganga. Reunited with our new friends we immediately moved into our new digs and signed up for our original reason for coming to San Gil - white-water rafting.
We set off early the next day with trepidation and croissants in our tummies (there are bakeries on every street corner in San Gil, and they bake twice a day - the smells of which waft through the streets enticing you in. It's so sad, but I'd completely forgotten the aroma of freshly made bread and doughnuts, accustomed as we are to everything coming pre packaged from a shitty supermarket. My favourite treat has turned out to be a jam and cheese croissant. Sounds disgusting, but don't knock it until you've tried it), and boarded a small bus with two giant rafts on the back filled with life jackets and helmets. We arrived at our destination at an extremely fast-flowing river, and given the most comprehensive and scary safety briefing I've ever experienced. Fair enough though, we were about to embark on class 4 and 5 rapids with no previous experience. Only Alex (who doesn't like cheese) had been rafting before and even he looked a little petrified about the level of detail our guide was going into.
Before we knew it, we were wedged into a raft with three people on each side and a rather handsome cox (not sure if that's what you call the person at the back when your hurtling down the river at 50 miles per hour, but I'll stick with it for now), paddle at the ready and gripping on for dear life. Alex (who doesn't like cheese), was immediately told to jump in the water so we could practise saving him. Turns out people are rather heavy when trying to drag them into a raft and it took both Ais and I to haul him back to safety. Not completely convinced that we could do this while navigating class 5 rapids, we dubiously set off down 'the river wild' determined not to fall in. The first rapid was only stage 3 and I (being stuck at the front) was immediately thrown from my seat and sent flying (thankfully) into the interior of the boat. I quickly recovered and vowed to hold on even tighter. Sod everyone else, I was not going down with this ship!
It turned out to be tremendous fun, similar to being on a two-hour roller coaster ride that sent you crashing through waves, launching from rocks and getting thoroughly soaked, much to the amusement of our guide, who we swear was purposefully directing us into the most dangerous part of each rapid. In between the fun there were periods of gentle stream where we could sit back and take in the breathtaking countryside. We even jumped into the water and let our life jackets carry us downstream for a while before struggling to get back on the raft before the next rapids commenced. We finished the trip thoroughly exhausted, over-excited and vowing to do it all again as soon as the next opportunity arose. It really was the best fun.
Yikes!
Victory! Although it looks like I've obtained a moustache along the way...
The winning team, complete with grumpy Scotsman photo bombing us in the background.
We returned to our hostel with dripping wet clothes, smelly trainers and big smiles. We collapsed in our hostel's swimming pool (sorry, over-sized bucket), drank cervezas and contemplated our next challenge in San Gil.
Celebrations around the pool!
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