Thankfully our next few days are due to be pretty chilled and with us both succumbing to the inevitable tropical stomach bugs we’re grateful not to be facing another couple of days of hiking.
So, loaded up on some much-needed Imodium, I manage to get through our three hour journey along the north-eastern part of Colombia’s Caribbean coast from Minca to Palomino without ruining Juan Carlos’ car. Turning off the main road we drive down a sandy street past hippie cafes, souvenir stalls, little restaurants, dogs roaming wild, basic guesthouses and shacks masquerading as bars. We knew Palomino was a haven for travellers but weren’t quite anticipating it would remind us more of the backpacker haunts of Goa than the rest of Colombia.
Arriving at our lovely looking accommodation, The Dreamer, with beautifully manicured grounds and a gorgeous central pool, featuring rooms with the names of countries from all over the world, we feel reassured that we’ve actually chosen one of the best hotels on offer. We check in and are given a ‘superior room’ appropriately named ‘Colombia’, on the top floor of a two storey cabin. It’s large and comfortable with a sizeable terrace on the balcony boasting a hammock to lie indolently in.
However, as dusk falls and the music starts pumping it becomes clear that this is not going to be a tranquil retreat. In fact The Dreamer, is more of a backpacker’s “party hostel” than the chilled hotel it first appears to be. After a few hours of thumping dance beats we decide to go in search of more suitable accommodation for travellers who don’t intend to party all night long but it quickly transpires that despite the loud music, our accommodation is actually as top-end as it gets, and being peak season any other prices are sky high for a lot less.
Seeing as we’ve already paid in full for four nights at The Dreamer, and with Coman now starting to come down with a bug too and lacking the energy to keep looking for alternatives, we resort to sleeping tablets and ear plugs and sleep as best we can. Feeling more recovered I’m actually up early and take part in an energising yoga class under the palm trees.
Coman however is by now feeling pretty rotten so spends the day in bed, while I potter along the beach and have lunch looking out at the sea, where surfers ride the crashing waves. It’s pretty much the first food I’ve been able to stomach in two days, and having been overcast since we arrived, the sun starts breaking through the clouds and Palomino’s laidback charms become a little more evident.
Yet on closer inspection, there’s trouble in paradise. Once famed for its pristine beaches, recent years have seen a dramatic increase in coastal erosion, particularly from a hurricane in August 2021, and Palomino’s white sands have now been hugely degraded. Whole swathes of beach have been washed away, leaving blackened sand and deadened stumps where once lay palm trees and sun-loungers. Hotels and restaurants have had to shore up their enterprises with sandbags, tyres and concrete and the surging seas are now dangerous to swim in with rip-currents sometimes proving fatal.
Sadly it seems some of the establishments haven’t weathered the storms, literal and metaphorical, of the past few years and there are a few boarded up or vacant premises. Nevertheless Palomino still draws visitors here for its chilled, backpacker lifestyle, cheap accommodation and proximity to Parque Tayrona and other nature-based activities. And that is one of the reasons we’re here too.
After a day of recuperation Coman is fit enough to face a morning of exploring the nearby Tayronaka archaeological reserve and Don Diego river. Juan Carlos picks us up once more with another new guide, Daniel, who is more reserved and less confident in English than his previous counterparts. It turns out that he’d spent twenty years in Parque Tayrona looking after horses he’d hire out to tourists but during the pandemic had to sell them as he couldn't afford to keep them. He used the pandemic to study and now makes his living as a tour guide.
Interestingly a lot of what he tells us about the indigenous people contradicts the information Andreas gave us so it’s difficult to be entirely sure what’s right and what’s wrong but he leads us off on a jungle walk, in light rain, pointing out wildlife as we go. We trek past ginger and cocoa plants, seeing red squirrels and keel-billed toucans, a green anolis lizard and orange-crowned oriole bird, as well as big spiders in heavy webs such as the nasty-looking golden silk spider.
But what we’re really here to see are the reconstructed remains of an ancient Tayrona settlement still used by the Kogi people today. It’s a more accessible experience than the arduous four-day jungle hike to La Ciudad Perdida (Lost City) buried deep in the Sierra Nevada. We stop first at a sacred stone where the indigenous people would ask for the blessing of the forest to enter their city and then walk the cobbled pathways to the elevated stone circles where buildings used to sit. These would be the meeting houses where, segregated by sex, men and women would meet to trade knowledge, stories and myth through their oral tradition as they didn’t have a written language.
Further on is a hut where the Kogi still meet and Daniel tells us about the initiation rituals for boys to become men and therefore eligible to marry. We also discuss the use of the coca leaf and how mixing it with the ground shells of a particular species of oyster shell activated the narcotic properties of the coca. Tribal leaders carried their special ‘poporra’ sticks to dip into the alkaloid powder and add to their masticating leaf mixture, enabling them to communicate with the forest and walk huge distances without getting tired or needing to eat.
After checking out the small museum, and having a drink of aguapanella (sugarcane water) we are introduced to a genial chap called Estevin, and led down to the Don Diego river. The three of us sit in big inflated tyres and, leaving Daniel to head off on a boat with our bag and shoes, we then float serenely down the river together towards the sea.
Estevin is great company, guiding us through the gentle currents, and pointing out fish eagles, cormorants, blue herons and kingfishers as we glide past banana plantations and ancient fiscus trees with huge lianas stretching into the waters. Spotting howler monkeys in the trees he manoeuvres us close to them so we can see the families together, calling to them with an uncannily similar sound and setting off their booming jungle roars which travel over vast distances.
Our tranquil sixty minutes end at a sandbank where the mouth of the river meets the sea and, after rejoining Daniel in the boat, we motor back to where Juan Carlos is waiting for us for a spot of lunch. That afternoon we spend lazing by the pool with a couple of daiquiris before an evening stroll along the main dirt track leads us to a pretty decent pizza at the Bikini Hotel.
The following day, Christmas Eve, is very relaxed, partly because the humidity makes everything feel like an effort. But borrowing yoga mats from reception we put our large air-conditioned room to good use and also take a final walk along the beach, having lunch at an elegant new vegetarian cafe called Holss and a very enjoyable dinner at the Tiki Hut restaurant opposite our hotel, where an Argentinian band keeps us entertained - at top volume.
After a slightly underwhelming start Palomino has proved itself to be a pleasant enough place to unwind and recharge our batteries, but tomorrow we treat ourselves to a real jewel of the Caribbean as our Christmas present. We’re off to one of the most beautiful cities in the Americas, the colonial wonder that is Cartagena… and a hotel where we can finally get a good night’s sleep!
