Rio Claro

Our next stop was Rio Claro, a large nature reserve east of Medellin. That's right: we had to take yet another bus, this time for a three-hour ride.  

The bus dropped us off at the side of the only highway through the area.  Right away, we could feel the delicious humidity and warmth.  Okay, those are my words.  For some reason, I don't think Mama and Dad were feeling the same way, especially after they had to lug their suitcases two miles over rocky terrain to get to our cabin.  (This is when I LOVE my backpack.)

How shall I put this...?  The cabin was rustic.  There were no windows, only open-aired "walls" with beautiful views overlooking the river and forest.  The bathroom was fine, except for the fact that privacy wasn't really an option.  From my top bunk, I could look over and see whatever happened to be going on in there (not like I wanted to, but there was the possibility).  Plus, the only water coming out of any spigots was cold, which I am used to.  Mama, on the other hand, gave Dad and I a concert every time she stepped under with shrieks and gasps.  Heehehehehehhehehee.  Welcome to my world.  

There was only one dangling light bulb for the whole room and no fan.  Needless to say, I got the best sleep I had had in weeks there.

The view from our room.

In the two days we were there, we did many activities.  The first was going rafting down Rio Claro.  Although there were only class one and two rapids, the scenery was beautiful (the whole reserve is either marble or trees), and it was a terrific way to see the area.  Plus, our guide, Johnny, was entertaining, and there was a friendly Colombian family with us.  The other two paddlers in our boat were French guys, and boy, did they fit the description.  Although they sat in the front and were supposed to be the leaders, most of the time they were either talking, taking pictures, or lightly dipping their oars into the water.  Thank goodness we weren't on a major river where we would have had to rely on these guys!  Luckily, they gave the rest of us something to chuckle over.  

This was after rafting.

Another activity was ziplining.  Since there were only three rather short lines, it was more of just something to do than a thrill, but we were able to chat with some of the guides working there and hear more about their lives.

Open-mouthed screaming.

Casually cool.

The pièce de résistance, though, was the Cueva de los Guacharos.  Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures because any cameras brought on this adventure would have been either lost or damaged.  

Our escapade started with an hour and a half hike through the forest, over giant, mossy rocks and a couple river crossings.  When we finally made it to the cave, the three of us took to the back and soon got a little behind the rest of the group.  The only items we had between us were two small flashlights and a water bottle.  

Wading through the start of the cave into the darkness, we began to hear this awful screeching sound like dry-throated, infuriated hissing witches.  To make matters even worse, giant, flapping wings beat just overhead, threatening to come down and pulverize us.  All of this pandemonium was coming from the guacharos (wailers), nocturnal birds that feed on fruit (they didn't tell us that beforehand, of course) and use echolocation to navigate at night. 

Click on the first soundtrack to just get a taste of the guacharos' screechings, and try to imagine being in a pitch-black cave.  https://archive.org/details/JoseRicardoDelgado-PaysageSonoroColumbiagfr054

(Begin Indiana Jones theme music.)

For an hour and a half, we waded through guacharo-poop-filled water, sometimes getting chunks of rock into our water shoes.  No problem, right?  Well, then came the acrobatics.  There were several parts where we had to jump or slide off ledges into pools below, holding our flashlights above our heads so as not to get them wet.  (Without a flashlight, you're a goner.)  This never would have been allowed in the United States.  Instead, there would be lights placed strategically throughout the cave, stairs instead of jumps, and a smooth surface to walk over.  Occasionally, our guide would try to inform us of some interesting fact, but he was almost impossible to hear over the running water and guacharos.  At the end of the cave, we had to swing our legs over a ledge and climb down a rope ladder the guide was holding before crossing the river one last time.  It was amazing and definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

The end of the cave.

That evening, Dad and I meandered back to the end of the cave to watch the guacharos fly out for their evening meal.  As the light faded, we began to hear the slapping of wings and awful screams again.  Slowly but surely, the monster birds started bursting out of the cave.  Being across the river, Dad and I figured we'd be safe.  Ummmm....no.  The creatures began swooping all around us until we had backed away several yards, not wanting an episode of The Birds happening.  We finally decided it was time to leave when something wet landed on my mouth from the tree above.  Ewwwww.....