La Guajira, Saving a little bit of the best for last...

After leaving Bogota we arrived to the warm, but pleasantly breezy temperatures in Santa Marta. Tigre, the kitten we had grown to love a few months ago at our favorite hostel in Santa Marta, by now had grown into a full grown cat. And because of the continued presence of his testicles, he was much more aloof than he was as a kitten.

But our main goal in coming back to Santa Marta was not to visit Tigre, but rather was to organize a trip to La Guajira and Punta Gallinas, the desert peninsula that forms the northern most point of South America and has a reputation as a wild, remote location. The area is also well known as the home to the indigenous tribe the Wayuu, known for their strength and unique culture. During the time of spanish conquest, while all of Colombia was taken by the spaniards, La Guajira was the sole location where the indigenous people held their ground and repeatedly defeated Spanish efforts at conquest. In addition to a general rough, and tough presence, this in compounded by the fact that many Wayuu women observe tradition and paint their faces completely black with paint....which is very intimidating. Because of the remoteness of the area and the lack of roads, most travellers who venture into the area tend to go with guides in jeeps. Additionally, Venezuela occupies a tiny strip of land on the far southeast of the peninsula, so smuggling in all shapes and forms is a reality in the area. While we had anticipated having to contact numerous agencies, or do more limited travel independently, fortunately our hostel was able to help us arrange a tour within a couple days. After a few days of relaxing in Santa Marta, we took an early early bus to the city of Riohacha to meet up with our guide and begin the drive northward.

Our first stop was at a small local village centered around a salt factory, which produces salt via evaporation. The blue carribbean sea, the golden desert earth and the giant mound of freshly washed white salt created a rather stunning visual image, and much like snow, as we got closer to the salt the light reflected and resulted in very hot conditions. Definitely difficult work for the men responsible for shoveling fresh salt out of the pile and into bags all day long...












After visiting the salt pile, and a few hours of scenic desert driving on dirt roads we ended up on a beautiful beach for the typical fried fish lunch. The water was calm and refreshing, and food was good and the local children were very upset at our refusal to buy bracelets. After we were adequately fed and refreshed, we piled back in the car to continue to the next destination...

At what is typically the end of the line in regards to civilization lies the tiny town of Cabo de la Vela. Known for its kite surfing, there's not much in Cabo de la Vela. It's a lot of cactus wood buildings, and because of government efforts to expand eco-tourism, every other house advertises itself as a hostel, meaning they'll cook you dinner and give you a sheltered place with a hammock. Running water doesn´t exist, and as can be expected in the desert, fresh water is at a premium. All electricity is done with generators (but they have satellites for cable TV) and the government has installed a single location in town with community internet access. After a brief visit we threw our bags in storage where we were staying the night and visited a very pleasant beach where I was able to swim far enough out into the water to be within yards of pelicans floating and diving from the sky into the sea for food. After watching the sunset from the "lighthouse" (which isn't a house at all, but rather a couple lights at the end of a twenty foot tall metal tower) we ate a tiny meal of fried fish (our second for the day), bathed with buckets and retired to our hammocks.













The next morning we headed out to a nearby beach, where I hiked up to a nearby lookout point for an outstanding view of the desert and salt flat leading right up to the ocean.


Because the villages beyond Cabo de la Vela are even poorer and more remote, it was necessary for us to stock up on all necessary drinking water before heading further out onto the peninsula. After this, we made our way through several standstorms and hours of driving through mazes of desert roads to our lunch spot, a small building which serves as a community store and gathering place for people in the area. While our introduction to the place was a herd of goats outside and a freshly killed goat hanging inside, we were actually only served goat soup, and had another serving of tiny fried fish (fish meal #3).

While we had read stories about giant sand dunes, and a gorgeous beach, we anxiously drove away from lunch and after an hour or so, could spot a giant sand dune looming on the horizon. After passing through several gates and paying locals for passage we arrived at a sahara-like dune, which parts were covered in shells, despite the fact the ocean was nowhere to be seen. As we hiked into the dune, the span and size of prestine sand was amazing, but as we reached the crest we realized that the dune dropped directly and very steeply into the ocean. While our photos were unable to capture the steepness of the dune, it was definitely a very special place, with not another soul or footprints to be seen, aside for a few hardy goats and burros.

We spent a few lovely hours on the beach, swimming and hiking around the dunes before heading to the nearest village, about a dozen houses spread out across the desert on the cliffs above a giant mangrove forest. The tenacity and toughness of the locals was inspiring, as the environment was not exactly what you would call hospitable. But it is their home, and the guns on their belts and presence for centuries is a testament to their strength.

We ate another tiny fried fish meal (#4) and retired to our hammocks. A little sunburned, and feeling like we were really about the furthest away from anything we'd been the entire trip.

The next morning we woke up and after beakfast (thankfully not fried fish) we headed to Punta Gallinas, the northern most point is South America. While there was a pretty beach, and a weird little abandoned building with grafitti that was litterally surrounded by goat carcasses (it was like some weird place all the desert goats go to die), there wasn't a ton to see. Snap a couple photos for the folks and back home and get back in the jeep. Because our guide told us there was a cultural festival in the indigenous capital, we hurried back to town, only to find the festival didn't start until the following day. A little bitter at his misinformation, we had a mediocre lunch (yes, fried fish #5), and watched everyone assembling everything for the big party the following day.

All in all, we were quite glad that we headed all the way back across Colombia to go to La Guajira. The scenery was spectacular, the people few and far between, and the presence of other tourists pretty much non-existent. As Colombia opens up for tourism, the government has already made progress in plans to open La Guajira up to major ecotourism expansion. While this will hopefully be done responsibly in such a way that conserves its ecological and cultural integrity, it was a pleasure to visit an area that is definitely in the very early stages of being accessable to tourism..