We were meant to be up at 5am. It was now 8am. It wasn’t looking like a great start to the day. Our plans had long since fallen through on account of a late night and a migraine keeping me up most of the night. On the positive side, at least my pain had subsided.
But now what?
We had no plans. No idea what we were doing. And we had to be out of the hostel by 11am. We had less than 3 hours to come up with some sort of plan and really didn’t have any idea what to do. Over coffee and breakfast it was a mad dash search – pouring over blogs, you tube videos, and booking sites trying to figure out what to do, where to go, and where to stay. In the end we threw a ring to the bottles and hoped for a winner. It was a total shot in the dark, but what else could we do? We didn’t want to stay in Santa Marta any longer, especially considering the days left when we could visit Tayrona were quickly dwindling. We needed to get out of Santa Marta and head closer to the park.
By 10:30am we still had next to no idea what we would do, but at least we now had a place to lay our heads that night. The next decision was on how to get there. It was either 150,000 pesos ($50 CDN) to hire a taxi, or a 10,000 peso ($3 CDN) bus ride…
So… we loaded up out bags, stepped out of the hostel into the blinding light and started out on foot for the bus station. The main bus terminal also happened to be at the Central Public Market, so it was a pretty easy find. And to make things even easier, the bus heading towards Tayrona was the very first bus we saw and left just seconds after we hopped on.
As much as I love public transportation while traveling, one of the downsides is that you have no control over what you’re walking into. And this was a great example. Because we were nearly the last passengers to board the bus, it was already packed. We weren’t able to sit together, but at least we managed to grab seats – versus a couple who boarded after us that literally had to sit on the floor in the centre aisle. There was also no AC, and the open school-bus style windows did little to add to a cooling airflow. So, it was hot, stuffy, and as there was also nowhere to put our bags, they sat atop our laps. Add to that the bumpy roads and the live musical entertainment (a guy with a portable speaker and a microphone), and it was a perfect combination that just lulled me to sleep. I was squished into a tiny warm womb that rocked me back and forth… how would one not fall asleep? Public transportation may not always be ideal, but if it allows me to sleep, who am I to complain. By the time I woke up we were nearly there.
… or so I thought.
Although I’d booked us a place that was near the park entrance, I didn’t check it’s exact location. So, it came as a massive surprise to me while I was trying to find the hostel on google maps and anticipate what stop we needed to get off at, that it was actually in the middle of the jungle… with no road access.
“It’s ok. Everything was fine”, I kept saying to myself as I tried to get the bus driver to stop as close as I could get us to that little red marker on Google maps. We piled off the bus, making sure to not forget any needed items (like a phone, which we’d already nearly forgotten in many places already) and then attempted to navigate our way to the hostel with our amazing (not-so-amazing) Spanish skills.
After a bit of back and forth with a helpful shop owner, it seemed that we got everything figured out. And actually, it seemed like it was going to be pretty easy – just a $3 CDN moto-taxi ride back in the same direction we’d already come from. We jumped on the back of some motos and off we went down the highway… for about 3 minutes until they dropped us off on the side of the highway beside a few guys waiting along a fence behind their dirt bikes. Apparently that was only part 1. Part 2 wasn’t fit for moto-taxis and required much more hearty bikes to take us the rest of the way, so it was either dirt bikes or hike it. Well… this was an adventure now. And you don’t take the easy way out on an adventure! We nixxed the bikes and started hiking down the gravel path towards the river.
Right, well, we were lost already. There was a river in front of us, and no signs pointing us left or right. Thankfully, a guy in the make-shift river-side stick-and-tarpaulin store was kind enough to let us know we had to venture to the left… over the sketchy suspension bridge. So, the thing is, I was never really scared of heights as a kid. As an adult though, whole other story. It seems as though I’ve developed an intense fear of heights and falling. And this rickety suspension bridge that lacked any kind of safety supports to prevent you from sliding off the worn, wood panels into a rocky death below was terrifying me the eff out. It took me more time than I care to share to work up the courage to get across that bridge. And although “A” ended up with an awesome photo of me looking like I’m confidently and effortlessly walking across this bridge, Instagram is NOT reality. If you look closely I’m nearly white-knuckling that wire and the reason why the photo is not a cool, quick-moving action shot is because I was literally moving at a snail’s pace reciting motivational mantras over and over again in my head, praying that I would live to see the other side.
And wouldn’t you know. I did. And somehow “A” practically ran jumping across the bridge after me and somehow he did too. (Yes, he was nice enough to listen to my urgent pleadings to not walk across until I was safely on the other side, lest his movement of the bridge caused me to lose my footing and fall to the impending doom below.) (And yes, I realize it’s irrational, but let’s not dwell on those details.)
Once across the bridge it was more the same as pre-bridge. A complete lack of signs. Honestly, it’s like this place didn’t want to be found.
… or didn’t actually exist and had us wandering around in the jungle on a wild goose chase. Ok, my anxiety was clearly amping up. I needed to settle. The name existed on google and our little blue dot was moving closer to the pin that hovered over “The Valley Hostel.” Everything was going to be fine. Poor “A” having to put up with my terrified nonsense. What a good sport.
Finally, after 2 river crossings, about 20 minutes of walking, and eventually discovering small, seemingly hidden hand-painted signs citing “The Valley”, we came to the top of a hill and an open gate leading to hostel. And, ok. Now I’ve stayed in my fair share of hostels over the years. There have been some fun ones, some ok ones, some shady ones, some amazing ones and some I’d just like to forget. But this one… I think this one was hands down THE BEST hostel I’ve ever stayed at. Anywhere. This hostel was incredible. It’s set within the jungle and spread out over rolling hills. Each private room is unique and boasts an open-air, living-right-in-the-jungle experience. Seriously though. We had a walk down a grassy hill, through a banana tree forest, up a stone staircase encased in palm leaves (like, you had to brush them aside like you were treading through unchartered territory), and then appeared at a bamboo room on stilts. When you walked up the 3 wood plank stairs, through the curtain door, it was one large open room (seriously, just a floor and a wall on one side). There was no proper roof or walls, just a simple chest-level piece of bamboo and filmsy bamboo lattice that attempted to prevent you from walking over the edge. And the rest of the room? Just views. Views for days of rolling green hills. The shower was in the corner of the room and was just a small PVC pipe that spit water down on you for all to see (no privacy curtain). On the other side of this large room was a bedroom area and small bathroom (which yes, did have walls around it…there are SOME things that should be left to the imagination afterall). The mosquito-net shrouded bed had a red tin roof over it to protect from the elements, but the walls remained more or less absent. Just views of palm trees and rolling hills. And what was even more incredible was that with all this open space and lack of walls that the rooms were somehow designed to maintain privacy from the others. You felt remote and alone with nature. Just living in a treehouse, deep in the jungle.
Then of course there were the spread out common areas of the hostel. The strategically placed end-of-the-world swing, the lounging nets to watch the sun rise or set, the terraced restaurant, the hammock maze, and the open bar with a view and (of course) more lounging nets. Hands down the most amazing place I’ve ever stayed.
Check-in was quick and efficient and we acquired loads of information on the best way to explore Tayrona. All I can say is thank goodness things didn’t work out that morning, because this was going to be way more epic than what we had initially planned. See – everything happens for a reason.
And speaking of epic. What sounds better than chilling in a net with a drink in hand? How about a trek through the jungle to a natural pool? Ummm… yes please (but we still had time for a drink in the net first). The volunteer working at the check-in desk was off shift in just a few minutes, and was offering to take some people on a “short” hike from the hostel to a natural pool “not far away.” We were keen. There were a bunch of people going and it was a great opportunity to explore the area and meet some new people. We loaded up a shared backpack and set out with a group of about 10 other people.
The guy leading the way was chill and not at all worked up about the trip there. In fact, he showed up just wearing a pair of shorts. That’s it. No shoes, no flip flops, no shirt, no hat. Just shorts. Ok… must be a pretty chill hike. We felt confident that our choice of flip flops and “dad shoes” (ie. KEEN web sandals) would be enough. We set off down the road and into the single-track bush. The path was rocky but manageable. We kept a good pace going but still managed to maintain conversation with a Dutch couple we met who were on an epic 7 month journey through South America. I wasn’t really paying much attention to the terrain or where we were going, just following suit like a little duckling. Soon we dipped off the path towards a small river. Although, I use the word “river” loosely. It was more like a creek, with a bit more flow to it. Oh but the rocks. The bed that the river was set in was covered with rocks and crunchy autumn-coloured leaves. Rocks of all different sizes from small pebbles to boulders that jutted out of the water and begged to be climbed on. We excitedly jumped from rock to rock, trying to find the most adventurous line without losing our footing and falling into the water. It was a ton of fun and the sun bathed us in perfect lighting. Picture perfect. But the more we hopped from rock to rock, the less distance that we seemed to be covering. The river was flowing downhill and we although we were covering ground and moving in an upwards direction, the rocks just kept appearing. More and more rocks of larger and larger size. It seemed to go on forever and it was getting quite a bit more difficult. The group had spread itself out by this time, owing to differing levels of fitness, and every time I looked up the end didn’t seem to be anywhere near. We could no longer walk from rock to rock, it was now a full body task and the flip flops weren’t going to cut it anymore. This adventure suddenly called for bare feet. So, through my hands and around my wrist went my flippies, and suddenly I was scaling the rocks in a bouldering fashion.
It took ages to reach a point where it finally levelled out and when I looked back to see what we’d done… well, it was breathtaking. The perfect golden sun shining down on the jungle greens and the massive grey boulder pathway that we’d just conquered. And back the other way, just up ahead, I could see part of our group already nestled happily within a small clearing of water. It was a natural pool, yes, but not exactly what I was expecting. A bit anti-climactic actually. BUT, it was worth the 2 hour journey, if nothing more than for the adventure of getting there. Now, the journey back… a whole other story.
We were gearing up to leave in order to make it back to the hostel before dark. But, boys will be boys and of course they had discovered a vine. That’s right. A Tarzan vine hanging down from the tree. Which meant they couldn’t just keep walking and ignore it. Oh no. They had to swing on it. And it was all fun and games, until it broke. Unfortunately, it broke while “A” was swinging on it. But it wasn’t just a snap and a fall into the water or on to the dirt ground. He fell spine-first, directly on top of a pointed rock which arched his back over the rock and caused his head to smack the ground.
MOST. TERRIFYING. THING. EVER.
I swear I thought he wasn’t going to get up. I thought for sure he had snapped his back. It was pure terror for those few seconds before he stood up, miraculously unharmed. I have no idea how that happened because I can’t even describe how bad it looked.
Once I was sure he was alive and not going to keel over on me, we started on the route back, attempting to catch up with the group that had started out already. I thought it was going to be easier on the way down, but it was most certainly was not. It was much, much harder. In fact, as I navigated down the same path I’d just climbed up not long before, I wasn’t sure how I even made it up in the first place. There was a lot of bum sliding and meticulous limb placements that had to occur (all whilst trying to avoid these disgusting black spiders that perched themselves on top of all the best rocks that I needed). Somehow we eventually made it down with Camila, a Chilean engineer on her own crazy adventure around South America (I think she was on month 7 or 8). Once at the bottom, where the river leveled out again, we figured we’d be meeting up with the rest of the group. But, as it turns out, we were flying solo. Nobody had waited or left any flags or breadcrumbs for us, and we had zero idea where to go. I mean, I guess there were only two options, but neither of them seemed familiar. We were pretty sure this was the point we had entered the river valley, but none of us were entirely sure. We tried one way, but the further we got the more unfamiliar it looked. (None of us could remember chickens wandering around in a fenced area, or dogs barking at us.) So we tried the other way. Still unfamiliar, but at least we felt like it was going in the right direction. It was turning to dusk though and we had no food, no water, just 2 empty beer bottles and phones without any reception. It was fine. We’d figure it out. Camila, being Chilean, spoke Spanish, so we had that going for us at least. But the longer we walked, the more lost we got. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing.
Finally, a moto-taxi ripped past us with their passengers. We tried to ask them where the hostel was, and they gave us directions…but it was at least another 30 minutes of walking. It was for sure going to be dark by then, if we even managed to find it the first time. But we had no choice. We had to keep walking. Which we did. Until those same moto-taxis rocked up behind us a few minutes later (sans passengers) and offered us a ride back. SOLD. Moto-taxis to the rescue.
And sure enough, we NEVER would have found our way back. It was way further than we expected. I guess I should have paid more attention to my surroundings on the way there, cuz man… that did not go as planned.
But we did safely arrive back, coincidently at the exact same moment that the first group was arriving back. Right on time to give them shit for leaving us. What the hell!
But, it didn’t matter. We were all still alive, no bones were broken, and no paralysis was sustained. That deserved a beer. Not quite in time for sunset on the net, but it tasted just as sweet.
Up next…. Tayrona.
To check out the video from our day… click below:
TRAVEL TIPS
Pro tips learned from and for the Tayrona area
- The Valley Hostel
Honestly, there isn’t much more to say other than stay here! The owner is a Dutch expat and he literally built this place from scratch. The food, the drinks, the rooms, the views, the hospitality and helpfulness is all second-to-none. I can’t say enough good, and although the photos alone can speak for themselves, even they don’t really capture how insane this place is. Trust me. You won’t be disappointed.
Teryn Warnke 
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