Minca
Colombia
It was raining when we left Cartagena and it was raining when we arrived in Minca almost 8 hours later. The tiny village of Minca consisted of 3 main-ish roads and only a handful of side streets, each as dilapidated as the next. All of them were half-paved, muddy and filled with puddles. It didn't look like a place that was ever dry. It took us 3 attempts to find our hostel, the maps on our phone being useless to us. There was nothing you could call fancy or picturesque around the hippy town, but the crumbling concrete buildings offered plenty of places to eat and drink, making us happy.
Miraculously it wasn't raining when we woke the next morning. Making use of the dry, overcast conditions, we commenced early on our 3-day hike up into the surrounding hills. It began on a road lined with dense, tropical forest that barely let any light in. Viewpoints were non-existent. Every now and then a motorbike or car would drive by, but it was never busy. A couple of kilometres in we detoured down a steep, unmarked trail to Cascada Escondida, also known as Hidden Falls. Staying upright on the damp leaf litter without stepping on the conga line of leafcutter ants was challenging, but we made it down unscathed. As is common in Colombia, music accompanied us the whole way, although we never found its source. The detour wasn't worth it. I was hoping to see some sort of waterfall but there was nothing but a few ripples in the water. We were the only ones there - if we had been up for a dip in the river it would have been lovely.
Not long later we found a bunch of tourists and locals hanging out by the side of the road, a signal that we had reached at our next stop, Pozo Azul. A long, muddy road gently carried us down to something that at least resembled a cascade. Dozens of people were already there, sitting in the freezing cold waist-deep water. Masses of people continued to arrive for the 20 minutes we sat and chilled on the rocks. Nothing could entice us to enter the icy stream.
Back on the main road, Danny acted as our animal spotter. He glimpsed toucans way up in the trees, a small hummingbird that flitted nearby, and a large family of howler monkeys swinging from tree to tree. Annoyingly the light was right behind them, so I could never take a decent photo. The best wildlife I found was a centipede.
Finally we turned off the concrete and down a dirt road lined with humungous bamboo plants. This felt closer to the sort of hiking we preferred. It only lasted a kilometre. We reached a coffee farm, where a guide told us in Spanish that we weren't allowed to go any further on this trail. I was slightly frustrated that our map had lied to us, but Danny took full advantage of the situation and sat down for a cup of coffee from one of more well-renowned producers in the area (this region is famous for its coffee).
Retracing our steps back to the monotonous main road (and adding 2 km to our total distance), we found the clouds that were previously sitting on top of the mountain had descended to our level. It was mind-numbingly boring. The final 45 minutes were along a dirt road, where there were multiple lookout points that presented nothing but a blanket of white.
Numerous people online had strongly suggested staying at least one night up in the mountains, so we splurged on a basic room for tonight. Loma Nevada was stunning. We chose the 'camping' option, which was a mattress on the floor of a wooden hut, with views straight across the valley. Clouds and rain came and went all afternoon, but they miraculously cleared just before sunset to reveal a spectacular vista. We were given almost 180 degrees of mountains to look out over, all the way to the city below and the Caribbean Sea beyond. With only 2 other guests staying here on the other side of the resort, we basically had the place to ourselves. We continually moved from our room to the bar to the pool to the restaurant, attempting to find the best angle as the sun slowly sank into the water. It mesmerised us for hours and was easily worth the additional cost (and the gigantic bugs they had out this way).
In the morning we sadly said goodbye to our amazing hotel and its clear morning views and continued on our trek up to our main destination, Cerro Kennedy. With patches of blue sky overhead, we set out back down the dirt street and returned to the main road. Mercifully, this lasted less than an hour before we turned up a wild and rocky trail that I'm sure not many would be brave enough to drive along (we were on it for hours and only saw 4 vehicles the whole time. I was actually surprised we saw that many). Small waterfalls ran down the mountain beside us, crossed the road then poured off the edge into oblivion. By the time we reached the first lookout, the clouds had taken over.
Only a few kilometres before our destination the rain started. At first we were protected by the canopy of trees above us, but over time it became too heavy. We donned the wet weather gear then trudged along until we found shelter in a cafe, where we waited out the worst of it. For the final 2 hours thunder rumbled all around us. The anticipated deluge never arrived, but light rain continued on and off. Like yesterday, the viewpoints offered us nothing. Other than a speedy fox and a giant snail, there was no wildlife spotting today.
The only accommodation closest to the peak was a basic hostel, offering a series of bunk beds in a wooden shack. The owner spoke no English but quickly whipped us up a delicious, overflowing plato tipico for a late lunch while we rapidly changed into our thermals. Even though the hostel itself only looked out at trees, through the trunks we could see distant mountaintops beginning to emerge above the clouds. In an instant we threw on our hiking shoes, grabbed our phones and headed up towards the peak of Cerro Kennedy.
Within minutes we arrived at a lookout with views to the east, away from the sea (all our other lookouts had been to the west). Rolling green hills dotted with clouds stretched out for an eternity, creating a captivating sight. As we continued up the hill I took more and more photos of exactly the same scene. The peak, at 2,850 m, was unattainable due to the presence of a military base. The moment we turned around to go back down, the clouds had reappeared. You had to be quick around here.
Although we had climbed over 2,500 m in last 2 days, our legs didn't feel too bad. The relatively easy, stable terrain has been kind to us. I wasn’t sure I’d be saying the same thing tomorrow when all we had ahead of was a long descent.
At sunset, we discovered the best view was from the roof of the hostel. It was similar to last night, but from a vantage point several hundred metres higher. Afterwards, we huddled around an outdoor bonfire that saved us from shivering all night until we could rug up under piles of blankets in our bunk bed.
The 5 a.m. wake up call after a freezing cold night with very little sleep was not met kindly. It was already light outside, so we begrudgingly threw on all the clothes we had brought with us and dragged ourselves to the viewpoint. Sunrise is the big drawcard for this mountain, according to online blogs, but clearly they were privy to a better spectacle than we were. For an hour and a half we watched clouds roll through the valley below, giving us glimpses of snow-covered peaks in the distance. I eagerly waited for the pinks and oranges to light up the sky, but they never arrived.
We devoured a quick breakfast then set off back down the rocky road we had ascended yesterday. The absence of rain made it a much more pleasant trip. Howler monkeys sang through the trees, their rough voices combining into something that belonged in Jurassic Park.
It was only a short walk down the main paved road before turning onto a dirt track that was less rocky and more muddy than the first. Here we encountered a steep uphill section, which was completely unexpected as we presumed that we would be heading down all day. The climb took us to a lookout, Los Pinos, which was clear enough to show us the nearest mountain but nothing beyond that.
Not long later the road finished and an overgrown singletrack took its place, which twisted directly down the side of the mountain. Finally, after all these kilometres, we were now really hiking. The steep gradient, slippery terrain and not being able to see our feet at all times due to the overgrowth meant we were moving at a snail's pace. We were extremely glad it hadn't rained yet today, or else it would have been a nightmare to traverse.
At the bottom we followed the road to Marinka Waterfall, the most popular falls in the area. I was hoping to take a quick photo and be on our way, but the hefty entrance price wasn’t worth the price of a photo. I also tried capturing a shot of a free swimming hole further down the road, but it required me to walk through the water to see a decent view. Too much effort. The road back to Minca was filled entirely with mud, with no way around it. We trudged through the muck all the way to town, and just as we arrived it started raining. Perfect timing.