Colombia Whitewater

Mocoa, Putumayo, Colombia, Some of the Best Kayaking in Colombia

2012-01-24T19:10:15-08:00

Kees Van Kuipers on the Rio Rumiyaco.

In the south of Colombia, just north of the Ecuador border, on the Amazon side of the Andes Mountains is the department of Putumayo. Putumayo is still considered “El Corazón” or the heart of the guerrilla territory, but in recent years security has improved around Mocoa, the capital city of the department of Putumayo. To the south and east of Mocoa, in “Los Llanos” or the plains which are part of the Amazon Basin, many areas are still controlled by the guerrillas and are not considered safe for traveling. Mocoa receives rainfall from storms that make there way over the Andes mountains from the Pacific Ocean and from storms from the Atlantic Ocean which cross the Amazon Basin making it one of the wettest places in Colombia. Where there is a lot of rain there are many rivers. The Andes Mountains abruptly rise to over 4000 meters just behind Mocoa, and they are covered by thick cloud forest and jungle vegetation. Mocoa is surrounded by rivers which are perfect for kayaking. Near Mocoa there are small technical creeks, such as the Rio Pepino and big volume rivers, such as the Rio Caquetá. In recent years a few kayakers have explored the rivers near Mocoa and have found some of the nicest rivers in Colombia, many of them within an hour or less of Mocoa which makes Mocoa one of the best places in Colombia to spend some time kayaking.

The Canyon of the Rio Caquetá. One of the most beautiful rivers in the world.

During January of 2011, Mark Hentze, Maud Verboven and David Kashinski spent about a week exploring some of the rivers near Mocoa. The Rio Caquetá is perhaps one of the most beautiful rivers in the world. Mark Hentze, Maud Verboven and David Kashinski did the first kayak descent in January of 2011. The only beta we had was a quick look at Google Earth and stories, or the legends, from the locals. The Rio Caquetá goes under a bridge on the main highway from Bogotá to Mocoa just 30 minutes from Mocoa and then flattens out in “Los Llanos” near the small pueblo of Puerto Límon. There is a police check point in Mocoa where they search for contraband such as the essential liquids necessary for the cocaine laboratories which are further south and east of Puerto Límon. To bypass the police check point the guerrillas fill 5 gallon cans with kerosene, hydrochloric acid, and other essential liquids, and float the cans through the canyon of the Rio Caquetá. The guerrillas accompany the cans by swimming and portaging the cans around the biggest rapids. The canyon of the Rio Caquetá is steep, dropping 300 meters in 50 kilometers, and a big volume river with many big class IV-V+ rapids. legend has it that some of the guerrillas drowned while accompanying the cans full of the essential liquids through the canyon of the Rio Caquetá. The canyon is sheer walled in many places and numerous waterfalls plummet from the walls directly into the river. Where the sheer walls give way to steep hillsides there is thick jungle vegetation, many colorful flowers and there are many white sandy beaches which are perfect for camping. Everything is massive in the canyon, the rapids are huge, the rocks are huge which makes portaging and scouting difficult. The Rio Caquetá will hopefully one day be a world class kayak trip. For now it may be a trip to avoid because of security. Some of the locals say it is safe and the guerrillas no longer use the Rio Caquetá as a liquid highway, and others say the guerrillas still use the river to bypass the police check point in Mocoa. During our January 2012 trip to Mocoa we did not paddle the Rio Caquetá because of high water and concerns about the safety with a big group of foreign kayakers.

Kees Van Kuipers on the Rio Pepino.

During January of 2012, Mark Hentze, Kees Van Kuipers, Charlie Watts and Julian Schafer, and a few others spent a couple of weeks in Mocoa and explored some other rivers. We found some great rivers and made a couple first descents, at least kayak first descents. About 20 minutes from Mocoa is the Rio Pepino, a steep and continuous class IV creek. The Rio Pepino is low volume, but almost always has enough water to paddle, and at low water it is crystal clear. The Rio Pepino is continuous class IV, but with a few pools in between the rapids. There are no portages, many nice class IV drops which are not too intimidating and easy logistics which makes the Rio Pepino a great afternoon run or warm-up run.

Maud Verboven enjoying the Rio Pepino with some Colombian children.

The city of Mocoa is located in the open valley of the Rio Mocoa and near Mocoa the river is mostly class II-III, but just above Mocoa and just below Mocoa the river passes through some steeper canyons which have many nice Class IV rapids. The Rio Mocoa also has easy logistics and the put-ins and take-outs are all less than an hour from Mocoa. Below the city of Mocoa, the Rio Mocoa passes through one more steep walled canyon and with medium to high water levels there are some big class IV rapids and many waterfalls which drop from the canyon walls into the river. At the bottom of the run the canyon walls abruptly open and give way to the “Los Llanos” and the river flattens out just above the take-out.

Kees Van Kuipers on the upper Rio Villalobos.

The upper Rio Villalobos is a medium sized creek and at the top the canyon was open and the river was not to steep, but we found a few nice class IV rapids on the first day of the two day descent. Because of a typical late Colombian taxi driver and a two hour drive to the put-in we only had a few hours to paddle on the first day and a couple hours before dark we found a nice beach to camp on. The next morning we did not get an early start either, most everybody slept in Colombian style, and it was about 11:00 am before the boats where loaded and we started paddling down the river again. We started the morning off with another stretch of flat water interspersed with a few bony class III rapids, but then then the canyon walls tightened up and the river bed steepened. The last few hours of the second day was full of great class IV+ whitewater, no portages, and most everything was boat scoutable. The upper Rio Villalobos drops through a beautiful canyon with steep walls covered by cloud forest and we saw parrots and two “Cocks of the Rock”, a rare jungle bird with a bright red head, and a black lower body and tail. The upper Rio Villalobos is another Colombian classic river.

Kees Van Kuipers in a typical boulder garden of the Rio Villalobos.

Putumayo is still considered dangerous by some, but many foreigners travel through Mocoa and venture into the surrounding mountains and the guerrillas seem to leave the foreigners alone, or maybe we are all just lucky....Our experiences have been that the people of Putumayo are warm, welcoming and friendly like all the Colombian people. There are still many guerrillas in Putumayo, probably some not far from Mocoa and random attacks still occur, but sometimes the risk is worth the beauty that can be found in places such as Putumayo.

El Fin Del Mundo.

Colombia Whitewater Nonprofit Promo Video

2012-01-02T17:44:02-08:00

Mark Hentze

Colombia Whitewater Book Promo Video

2012-01-02T17:20:18-08:00

Mark Hentze

Video Blog - Colombia Whitewater 2011

2011-05-20T19:16:18-07:00

Mark Hentze

Rio Suarez

2011-01-30T19:04:00-08:00

Mark Hentze on the Upper Rio Suarez

photo: David Kashinski

The Rio Suarez travels 172 kilometers between Fúquene lake and the confluence with the Rio Chicamocha. Fúquene lake has an altitude of 3,700 meters and at the confluence with the Chicamocha the altitude is 700 meters. The watershed is large and there are many class four and five runs on the Rio Suarez. Cesar Diaz of Colombia rafting pioneered commercial rafting trips on a short and stout class 4+ section of the Rio Suarez. Many veteran safety kayakers agree that the Rio Suarez is one of the most difficult commercial runs in South America, certainly in Colombia. San Gil is the kayaking capital of Colombia and most foreign paddlers that visit Colombia at some point pass through San Gil. San Gil is full of Colombian kayakers. Between just below Barbosa, which is about two hours from San Gil up the highway and along the banks of the Rio Suarez, and the top of the commercial section of the Rio Suarez is a 90 km stretch of class V whitewater which is some of the finest whitewater in Colombia. Until November of 2009 this stretch of whitewater had been overlooked by foreign and Colombian paddlers alike. Ron Fischer did the solo first descent in 2 days and with no portages. In February of 2011 Mark Hentze and David Kashinski made the second descent and the entire time we were asking ourselves “How did Ron do it?”

David and I set out in the morning, purchased food for three days, found transports, meet Kees and Maud for a coffee at the bus station, waited three hours for a bus and finally at about 4:30 pm we put on. About a 20 minutes later we found ourselves at the top of a perfect bed rock waterfall with some more nice bedrock drops just below. We decided to camp on the ledge just above the waterfall and run the waterfall and the next canyon in the morning. The next morning we paddled about three hours of some of the best whitewater in Colombia. At this altitude the Suarez is smaller volume and steep more like a creek than the often paddled runs down below. There is a five meter waterfall immediately followed by a series of shorter drops, then a couple perfect bedrock slides, and even some technical boulder gardens. The upper Rio Suarez has it all. After a full day of paddling we found a nice camp with a clear side stream for drinking water. The second day was a lot of flat water with a nice rapid every hour or so, which made the flat water tolerable. After a full day of paddling we found ourselves at the top of a canyon full of some of the biggest rapids on the Rio Suarez. Ron Fischer compared this section of the Rio Suarez to a little Baker River. Lots of big class five, all runnable, at least if you are Ron Fischer. David and I portaged a couple of times. David and I paddled a couple of the rapids at the top of the canyon, it was getting late, we were tired, we still had who knows how many kilometers and according to the GPS 200 meters of elevation to drop. No choice but to camp. We were planning on being to the take-out in two days, but even two long days of hard paddling and some portaging we were no where near the take-out. That is when we really began to question how Ron did it. The third day was full of more class IV to V+ rapids, all runnable. David and I did not make the take-out until the end of the third full day of paddling.

Mark Hentze on the Upper Rio Suarez

photo: David Kashinski

The upper Rio Suarez has some of the best runnable class IV to V+ whitewater in Colombia, at least that has been discovered to date. The Rio Suarez is near San Gil, the kayaking and adventure sports capital of Colombia. Three days with some great camping and great whitewater. It will surely become a Colombian classic, hopefully paddled by many.

Southern Colombia 2011

2011-01-30T15:20:49-08:00

In Colombia, just north of the ecuador border, the Andes Mountains are cut by the Rio Cauca and the Rio Magdalena into the three cordillera that sprawl north across Colombia. In the South of Colombia, near the headwaters of the Rio Caucua and the Rio Magdalena the Andes Mountains are a wide and sprawling mountain range and Colombia’s greatest concentration of white water rivers is found in the South. Previously the furthest south I had explored in Colombia was around San Agustin. When I arrived in Colombia this year Kees Van Kuipers and Maud Verboven were in Ecuador and on their way north to Pasto, in the far south of Colombia. I landed in Bogotá on New Year’s Eve and I paddled a couple rivers near Bogotá while I waited for the holidays to end and for the map shop to open again. The holidays in Colombia last forever and the urge to get out of Bogotá eventually overpowered my desire to buy some maps, so I caught a bus to Pasto in the south of Colombia and I met up with Kees and Maud. We spent a day or two in Pasto and then caught a bus to the nearby pueblo of Buesaco. Buesaco rests on a ridge above the Cañon de Juanambu. The ridge the Buesaco rests on is narrow and the pueblo is only a couple of streets wide and long and narrow and the views are amazing.

Mark Hentze dropping into the Cañon del Rio Juanambu

photo: Kees Van Kuipers

The mayor and director of tourism in Buesaco warmly greated us and helped us make shuttle arrangements and showed us around the area. The day after we arrived in Buesaco, much to the dislike of Kees, we caught a shuttle vehicle at 7:00 AM to the put in for a run on the upper Juanambu. Kees made a horrible fuss over our hour of departure, but the mayor did not give us much choice. When we arrived at the put in a few of the locals told us the river was flooded, but we did not really believe them. The river was indeed brown like it had rained previously, but the first rapid looked bony so we assumed a rain shower from the night before had washed some sediment into the river. We paddled the first kilometer or so and the river was indeed high, the rapids were big and pushy and pools between rapids were few to none. Maud decided to hike out so we left two boats on the side of the river and helped Maud drag her boat back up to the put in. The next morning Kees and I returned to the put in and swam and waded back down to the boats. The water was still high and the Rio Juanambu drops through a narrow jungle canyon and portaging most of the rapids was not an option. Scouting was difficult and usually was done from a rock just a few meters above the river and above the rapid. Moving up and down the side of the river was almost impossible in the canyon. But, all of the drops in the upper canyon were good to go even at higher water. Just above the last gorge we portaged the hardest rapid of the run. After the portage the Rio Juanambu drops through a deep sheer walled gorge. The view of the gorge from the river and from the bridge above is spectacular. The Juanambu is one of the most scenic rivers in Colombia. Below the Cañon de Juanambu is another canyon that drops down the Panamerican highway, but Kees was out of time and had to head north to Medellin. Some non paddling mission, poor guy.

Mark Hentze on the Rio Juanambu.

photo: Maud Verboven

From Buesaco Maud and I made our way to San Agustin where we met up with another American paddler, David Kashinski. It had not rained in days and the only thing worth paddling near San Agustin was the Rio Magdalena, which is certainly a worth while run while in the area. After a few days of paddling on the Magdalena and on a whim we traveled a couple of hours back to the south to Mocoa in the department of Putumayo. Between San Agustin and Mocoa, on the Eastern slope of the cordillera is the watershed of the Rio Caquetá, one of the largest rivers in Colombia. Putumayo has just recently become safe to travel in, but if one travels much further south from Mocoa the risk of encountering guerrillas is high. The Rio Caquetá passes near Mocoa and after some hasty studying of google earth we dropped into the upper canyon, about a 30 km section which drops about 300 meters. After about three hours of some fine class IV-V paddling the river steepened a bit and then dropped into a deep sheer walled gorge. The entrance to the gorge is a must run 8 meter waterfall, and once you drop in you are committed to running the gorge. We spent four or five hours with machetes in hand trying to scout the gorge, but the canyon walls were too steep and covered with thick jungle vegetation. We still had 200 meters to drop and after the first waterfall we could see another horizon line, but no way to scout or portage the second horizon line. We decided to hike out. Just upstream we found a trail that was most likely constructed by the guerrillas. We carried the boats part way out the first night and returned the next morning to carry the boats the rest of the way out the canyon. About 300 meters of climbing up to the highway.

The upper Rio Caquetá where we were gorged out.

photo: David Kashinski

When we returned to Mocoa, David and I were exhausted and sore and Maud was ready to go paddling. Maud had been studying maps, google earth and talking to people while David and I explored the upper Caquetá. After laying on the bed for an hour or so I was mostly recovered from the upper Caquetá mission and ready to pack up for the lower Caquetá. The lower Caquetá cuts a deep gorge through the Parque Nacional la Cueva de los Guacheros and in 50 kilometers drops about 240 meters. The first 10 kilometers and the last 10 kilometers are fairly flat and the majority of the gradient is concentrated in the 30 kilometer long inner gorge. The river was once used as a clandestine route to transport illegal liquids past Mocoa to the cocaine laboratories further south in Putumayo. A couple of “muchachos” would escort a bunch of 5 gallon jerry cans full of kerosene, hydrochloric acid and other essential liquids for the laboratories. The Rio Caquetá is a massive river and the rapids are impressive in the inner gorge. The scenery is equally impressive, numerous waterfalls plummet down the sheer walls of the gorge. All of the side creeks are clean and their water is crystal clear. There are not many house or pueblos on the upper Caquetá thus even the river is clean and unpolluted.

The entrance to the first gorge of the lower Rio Caquetá.

photo: Mark Hentze

We finished the gorge in two days after four long and grueling portages. Two of the rapids we portaged were long class V+ rapids, one of which ended in a mandatory portage, but I think they both had a line or two. The mandatory portage is where the entire Rio Caquetá disappears under two massive boulders that are choked into the bedrock gorge. The lower Rio Caquetá is one of the most beautiful rivers I have ever paddled. The gorge is full of quality big water whitewater, clean sandy beaches for camping and the scenery is impressive. The take out in Puerto Límon, is a small pueblo on the banks of the Rio Caquetá and the people are very welcoming and friendly, While we waited for transportation back to Mocoa, most of the people from Puerto Límon came by to great us and ask us about the canyon. A friendly women repaired Maud’s shorts and most everybody invited us to stay for a while. I believe the lower Rio Caquetá will one day become a world classic.

Mark Hentze and Maud Verboven scouting the Rio Juanambu

photo: David Kashinski

After exploring the Rio Caquetá we ran out of rivers to paddle near Mocoa so we caught a bus to Melgar, did a quick day trip on the Rio Sumapaz, and now hear I sit temporarily eddied out in Bogotá. Next is Santander and Antioquia.

Colombia Whitewater Blog

2010-05-10T18:31:38-07:00

Announcing the Colombia Whitewater Blog. A place to share river stories and record the history of river exploration in Colombia.

Baby on Board

2008-03-06T16:04:00-08:00

I am home in Santa Elena, after an excruciating eighteen day stay in Bogotá and one of the strangest road trips of my life. Bogotá is a rough city situated at high elevation and despite being within the tropical latitudes, Bogotá is cold and it rains often. About half the taxi drivers in Bogotá try some sort of scam to extort more money from their passengers. Soon after I arrived in Bogotá from Pacho in tow behind a tow truck, I left my van in the shop, I lost a credit card and I was temporarily left without access to the little money I possessed. A few days later my tax returns were electronically deposited into my bank account, my house tenants made a punctual deposit of the monthly rent and I again possessed money and I was content and enjoying the hard life of Bogotá. About twelve hours after the money was deposited in my bank account a mob of thieves stole my wallet, which contained my credit and debit cards, my driver’s license and a collection of monetary notes from different parts of the world. In a few minutes I went from a moderately content gringo stranded in Bogotá, to an extremely stressed, somewhat frantic gringo without access to one peso or any hope of escaping Bogotá. After a number of phone calls and hours on hold I cancelled my credit cards, arranged for American Express to send me money via Western Union, arranged for a new debit card to be sent to the hostel where I was staying and thought I had solved the majority of my financial woes. A few days later a new debit card arrived and I went to the bank to withdraw money and discovered that the bank had changed the PIN number. After a few more days and a few more hours on the telephone, mostly spent waiting on hold, I learned that the new PIN number was never mailed to Bogotá, but I at least activated the new debit card and I was able to make with-drawls at the bank window, which are only open weekdays from 9 to 5.

On my sixteenth day in Bogotá the mechanic finally finished rebuilding the motor of my hippie van and worked late into Saturday night because of my presence and insistence and mounted the motor. Finally at about 10:00 PM the van started up and whistled like a Volkswagen whistles. I had managed to make enough cash advances and Western Union transfers to pay the hefty bill for the rebuilt motor. I paid the mechanic and left the shop en-route to my hostel where I intended to stay one last night and prepare for an early morning departure from Bogotá to Santa Elena and my finca just outside of Medellin. About five minutes after I left the shop the van stalled in front of a brothel in a less than desirable barrio of Bogotá. The van would not start so I hailed a cab and returned to my hostel. I summoned the help of a Colombian friend; a tall brute of a man with the build and mentality of a North American football player. We pushed my van aimlessly about Bogotá for a couple hours, mostly as a demonstration of brute strength and masculinity and finally arrived at safe place to park in the streets of Bogotá for the remaining few hours of the night. Finally Monday afternoon about 3:00 PM the mechanic made the last of the repairs and adjustments, I was satisfied with the performance of the rebuilt motor, all of my belongings were packed and I set out on the eight or nine hour road trip to Medellin. In my hasty exodus of Bogotá I failed to withdraw more pesos for the road trip home. What I had in my pocket was just enough to pay for gasoline and the various tolls along the highway and if absolutely necessary a cheap roadside hotel. My debit card was still without PIN, thus a roadside ATM was not an option.

The police stop and search vehicles and check for documents at random check points along the highways of Colombia. I expected to be stopped by the police between Bogotá and Medellin so I devised a story that was mostly the truth to explain why I was traveling alone and without a driver’s license in an uncertified van. My story was something to the effect that my van broke twice, once in Villavicencio and once in Pacho. I arrived in Bogotá in tow behind a tow truck, I spent eighteen days in Bogotá waiting for my van to exit the shop, while I waited in Bogotá a mob of thieves stole my wallet which contained my driver’s license and all but one of my credit cards and that my only remaining credit card was nine hours away in Santa Elena.

Sure enough the police stopped me twice. The police of Colombia are mostly young men in their early twenties that roam the streets and highways of Colombia with machine guns, motorcycles and adrenaline and as a result they are often mischievous. Both times the police stopped me, they asked for my driver’s license and then I gave them my story about my van breaking in Pacho, being robbed of my wallet and driver’s license in Bogotá and that I only had enough money in my pocket to pay for the gasoline and tolls for my return trip to Santa Elena. Both times the police fell into fits of laughter at the spectacle of a gringo in an illegal and uncertified 1955 Volkswagen hippie van somewhere between Bogotá and Medellin, with no driver’s license, and without one peso. The police told me that I had to park my car and take a bus to Medellin and return with a friend with a valid driver’s license. Both times I bought the police a round of coffee and spent a good half hour discussing the women of Colombia, the rivers of Colombia and the climate of Colombia. After the police thoroughly harassed me and entertained themselves for the evening they released me from detention and sent me on my.

I drove late into darkness and my van was running well and consuming gas at a reasonable rate. I considered finding a roadside hotel for the night, but I was confident that my van could cross the cordillera without problems and momentum seemed to be on my side. I was enjoying the warm tropical breeze from my open windows and quite content because my Spanish had progressed to the point that I could lie to the police like a Colombian. After driving an hour or so north up the Magdelena River, I turned west towards the Central Cordillera onto a stretch of highway that until recently was considered dangerous, and is still heavily guarded by the army with tanks and heavy artillery. Now the highway is safe, but the few pueblos that are just a few kilometers up the side roads are not safe pueblos for a gringo or even most Colombians to stop. As I approached the Central Cordillera, I could see the flashes of lightning in the towering cumulus clouds of a heavy tropical thunderstorm that covered the mountains.

Close to Rio Claro and the beginning of the ascent into the Central Cordillera, I finished a large borrito that I had been saving for a week and all was well, quite well. Then the Army stopped me for what I assumed was either to tell me to find a hotel and travel by day because the guerrillas were restless further up the highway, or to check my documents and harass me for driving an uncertified vehicle without a driver’s license. However, to my surprise the army officer pleasantly greeted me and asked me if I would take two young women, one who was sick, to the nearest hospital in Santuario about two hours away. I agreed and the two young women, I would guess in their mid teens, and a child of six or seven years crammed into the front seat with me. We continued up the cordillera and into the heart of the tropical thunderstorm. Heavy rain pounded the metal roof of my van and the bright flashes of lightning against the black night temporarily blinded me. I leaned over the steering wheel and concentrated on following the yellow line that was obscured by the storm. The girl who was sick, the older of the two, vomited out the passenger window and moaned in agony every five minutes or so. The younger girl was talking on the phone with her mother, but I could not hear much over the road noise of my hippie van and the continuous thunder of the tropical downpour. We continued this way for about an hour and then I overheard the younger girl say to her mother “Es como viene el bebé” or “It is like the baby is coming.”

I took another look at the girl who was ill and she was rubbing her pregnant belly. I asked a few question and learned that the girl was seven and a half months pregnant. We passed by two small pueblos, San Luis and San Francisco, but the girl’s mother said they were not safe places to stop. We kept driving up the cordillera into the tropical rainstorm towards Santuario and the nearest safe hospital. Just past Cocorná, only twenty minutes from the hospital in Santuario, the girl’s moans were getting louder and she moved her feet to the dashboard, so I took a look at what was going on and a head had emerged. Less than thirty-seconds later I stopped on the side of the road, exited my van, walked around the front of my van and opened the passenger side door. The girl was amazingly calm and said to me “Can you pass me my baby?” I looked to the rusted steel floor and a little boy was silently squirming around. By my GPS it was exactly midnight, in a tropical thunderstorm, in my 1955 Volkswagen hippie van, on the side of the highway between Bogotá and Medellin. I picked up the little boy and passed him to his mother. We covered the child with my shirt and jacket and continued up the highway towards Santuario. Ten or fifteen minutes later we arrived at a police check point and called an ambulance. The ambulance arrived within minutes and the two girls, the young boy, and the new born boy all loaded into the ambulance and continued to the hospital in Santuario.

At the police check point in Santuario I found a bucket of water and a broom and rinsed some of the mess from the passenger seat, rinsed the vomit from the passenger side door and drank a cup of coffee with several police officers who wanted to spar with me in martial arts and trade a machine gun for my kayak. After a cup of coffee and some strange and random bartering with the police, I continued my journey from Bogotá to Medellin on what had become one of the strangest journeys of my life. I was lost several more times before I finally found my way to Santa Elena and my bed at about six in the morning. I have since talked to the mother that gave birth in my hippie van, and all is well with her new little boy.

-Mark Hentze

Majuas Adventure

2006-01-10T16:58:00-08:00

Florian Daltrozzo scouting the Rio Majuas

photo: René Boom

One of the most memorable exploratory trips I have done in Colombia started out strange as usual. Before ever leaving we postponed the trip for 5 hours. I remember walking down the streets of San Agustin trying to find a taxi to take us up the Magdalena Valley. Normally the streets have a wild-west feeling, but this day things were even more unorganized. I walked past a motorbike driver who was lying half asleep beside his motorcycle in the middle of the road. As I walked by, I was not the only person looking at the scene: Another guy driving his motorcycle down the street looked at the sleeping man and crashed at the same moment. After all, it might not have been a wise idea to try and leave town for a multi-day mission on New Years day in Colombia! At least not at 11 a.m. with a hangover….this hour still belongs to the night in this country full of people who love to party. I have enjoyed a few New Year parties in Colombia and should have known better. Time to postpone the trip and catch a few more hours of sleep...

So around four o’clock, we managed to find the only available taxi driver in town to take us to Quinchana, a few hours drive up the Rio Magdalena. There were four of us: myself, Rene, Emiel from Holland, and the Italian Flo. The plan was to paddle a part of the river, which we did not explore the first time we headed up the valley. As soon as we took off, we also noticed that the taxi driver was still in the “party mood” from the night before. To say that he was totally drunk would be exaggerating, but to say he was sober would be lying as well. After a few problems with the engine we finally got to Quinchana from where we would have to hike up the hill for half an hour to get to a shed to crash for the night. It was already dark when we started the steep hike. The next day we loaded the mules and began the 6-hour hike to the put-in.

When we got to the puente Barandillas it was still early. This is the point where we put in on the previous trip because the Magdalena further up looked too high. This time it looked really low, so while we walked another two hours to get to the village of San Antonio we were already thinking about an alternative. The walk is high up on a ridge with another river on the other side: the Rio Majuas. All we could see from the ridge were two drops and both looked un-runnable to us. We spent the night talking with local farmers and they all agreed: a few fisherman have been down to the river, but just in one place where there was a path going down. We made up our minds and decided to take it on (we just had to think what else the river had to offer beside the two drops). The geographical maps showed that the river drops around 200 vertical meters in the stretch we were going to paddle. We thought this would take around 4 hours to complete.

With nothing to do but enjoy the nature, we went to bed early followed by an early wake-up call. We still had to walk two hours to get to the river from the ridge. Before leaving the eddy I had a last talk with Alvaro, our local guide. He would bring the mules to the take-out so we were not stuck there with our boats. I also told him he could expect us to be there in 4-5 hours. I told him if we didn’t make it back today, no worries, but after two days he should go for help.

It was a beautiful canyon starting off with some really nice rapids. After some relatively easy kilometers we came to the double drop we saw from the ridge the day before. As we expected, this one was a hard portage. Portaging in Colombia often means making your own trail with a machete. Immediately after the first portage we found another portage, which required jumping off a huge rock to make it back to river level. Around the corner came the next surprise: an 8-meter waterfall that twisted sideways with a bad cave at the bottom. It took us quite a long time to get everybody and all the boats through here.

It was after this drop that the river started to be really enjoyable: not too flat and not too steep. We continued for a few kilometers before Flo signaled us to stop in an eddy. When we got out to scout all we saw was a huge horizon line and the whole river dropping between two walls. We decided to take a better look, and climbed up the right side of the river. It was steep and slippery, providing us with the first few thorns in our hands as we tried not to fall. Unfortunately sometimes it was necessary to grab the wrong plants.

What we saw made our hearts beat fast. After two holes the river split up into two channels as it took a sharp turn right. The right channel landed completely on rocks and the left channel looked like a marginally runnable 10-meter drop. To see the landing we had to climb quite a bit more. In the meantime it was getting dark. Time to make decisions! Four people with four different opinions is not always easy, especially when daylight is running out as suddenly as it does in Colombia. The options were: running the drop now, running the drop first thing in the morning, hiking out with the boats, or abandoning the boats and hiking out. We decided to sleep here for the night and let everyone have the time to think about what to do next. The decision was made a bit easier when I accidentally kicked Flo’s boat into the river and watched it go around the corner.

Emiel Beukenkamp, Kees Van Kuipers and Florian Daltrozzo after the hike out.

photo: René Boom

The night was horrible because we did not plan for a multi-day trip and had nothing that could function as a tent, sleeping bag, food or clean water. At 2200 meters above sea level, and in a drizzling rain, it was a rough night. Rene and Flo ended up in a cave they found. Emiel and I found the only other suitable place to try and sleep, a very small beach. It was my first night ever to sleep with an emergency aluminum blanket. It was also my first night ever to sleep while hugging another guy. Try to sleep at least. Maybe instead of the word sleep I should say: “waiting for the daylight”. As the daylight came, our faces were full of insect bites. After another climb downstream to see what was around the corner, we decided to try and find a way out on foot. The idea of trying to hike out with the boats was forgotten within ten minutes as we realized the climb was too difficult. We tied the three boats to a tree and began moving. Flo showed his talents by climbing up, making the “path” for the rest. He had to climb using the trees lying on the vertical walls. After the second or third climber the little trees were gone, leaving nothing but a wet vertical wall. Finally we got to use the climbing equipment that we all had carried on every trip.

We lost the way quite a few times, but after a few hours we saw what we thought might be the last vertical wall before getting to a flatter part. Unfortunately there was absolutely no way to climb up this last vertical wall. We were forced to return to the river, trying to motivate each other whenever someone had a bad moment. How many times did I think to just go back to the river, spread out the boats and wait for the chopper? After all, I had asked our guide to call help after two days. This thought always left the mind as fast as it came in because of the reality: “hey man, we’re in Colombia, no chopper-service here”. And on we went. We were out of food and water, but we were lucky it was raining softly. Using the giant leaves to collect the water, we at least could drink a little bit.

It was time for our second route, a gulley going straight up. As we progressed well, it started to get dark again. As soon as we found a little flat part we decided to try and sleep again. Flo and Rene were a bit further up the hill than Emiel and myself so we again had the luxury of separate bedrooms. We tied all the gear on a tree and tried to share the same blanket again, even though it was torn in two. No sleep at all this night!

After an hour of hiking the next morning we reached what looked like the top. All we had to do now was walk upstream to reach the path from where we had seen the double drop 3 days, or a lifetime, ago. It took us two more

Florian Daltrozzo greeting the police in Quinchana.

photo: René Boom

hours of bashing through the jungle to get there. Happy we had made it out we collapsed as soon as we saw the path. The last hour of walking to reach the first house seemed like another day. When I took a rest I saw Alvaro our guide, racing up on a horse. He just came from town where he warned the police. We didn’t give a shit about that; all we wanted was food, water and a mattress.

The first house we past had a nice fire burning and the inhabitants made us the local agua panela with cheese. After a long rest we finally reached San Antonio, which is not a village but just a house with a few beds to share. After a huge meal we slept for at least 17 hours into the next afternoon. When we turned on a little fm radio we heard the news. They talked about the lost foreigners who had been found and that the Italian embassy had been worrying a lot. Instead of returning to town the next day we went fishing and relaxed.

In the early evening two guys showed up: one with Arabic features and the other a dark costeño. They told us they were policemen and insisted on getting us on their video cameras. We had to convince them that we would not make the 6-hour horseback ride that night, and were allowed to leave at 5 am. They wanted to leave the area right away because this area was known as guerilla territory. To get here, they had pretended to be tourists, but with a mission.

In the meantime two locals had tried to go to the river where we were stuck to collect the boats. They had heard about the price of one boat being worth a year’s salary. We told them not to, and we would not pay a penny for two guys trying to commit suicide. Nevertheless they went and somehow managed to collect two of the three boats, they lost the third during the climb. “Never again” was all they could say afterwards.

When we reached Quinchana we were surprised by the number of people and cars waiting for us there. 4 Police cars and 2 ambulances were waiting. After taking photos with the military we went back to San Agustin where we were taken to the hospital and had to do a lot of interviews with the national television. When we saw the papers of the last few days we saw why: we had been front-page news. This was the first time in years that the police had gone into a guerilla area to rescue tourists!

-Kees Van Kuipers