Suesca

For Thanksgiving Break (three days), Becky and I went to Suesca, a small town about an hour out of Bogota.  I flew in Friday morning and met Becky at the bus terminal.  As soon as we exited the bus, Juan Fernando Petersson, our guide, was there waiting for us.  We joined Mario, an experienced rock climber and aide to Juan for the weekend, and ate lunch where we got to know each other a bit more.

(Note: Throughout this entry, I will refer to Juan Fernando Petersson with a variety of names as I did over the weekend.  He goes by just about anything:  Juan, Juan Fernando, Juancho, Peter, etc.).

Once done eating, Juan decided to test our abilities on the humongous rock wall Suesca is famous for....all while we were still in our jeans and nice shirts.  He outfitted us with special climbing shoes, a helmet and a harness, and we walked the half mile or so along the railroad tracks to our first climb.  

Now, let me just give you a little background here.  I'm terrified of heights (although I've gotten better over the years), especially where there is a cliff's edge.  Oh, and I hate free falling.  The first time I climbed a twenty-foot rock wall at the State Fair about fifteen years ago, I got stuck at the top because I didn't want to let go and trust the rope to hold me.  Climbing the swaying, thirty-foot rock wall at Science Camp a couple of times has been my only other experience.  

The wall as seen from Peter's house.

The first route, El Canal de Panama, didn't seem so bad, just twenty meters or so.  Becky went first since she has more experience and pretty much flew up the wall then rappelled back down. 

 I enjoyed this climb because there were hand and foot holds everywhere and I was able to reach the top without much ado.  Of course, the rappelling down was an entirely different matter.  Leaning back into the harness and straightening my legs just does not sound like a good idea when I am comfortably perched on the wall.  Alas, it had to be done, so I not-so-gracefully bounced my way down.

The second climb, La Placa de Libro Negro (20 m), was a tad bit more difficult but about the same height.  Although I wanted to continue climbing, darkness was descending, so we headed back to town where we bought a bottle of wine and veggies for dinner.  Juan Fernando bought us drinks at a nice hotel where we met both the owner and manager and sat chatting around the fireplace.  My vino caliente was perfect for the chilly air.

When I reserved Juancho as our guide, he offered us a room in his house for the couple nights we would be there.  He lives a couple miles out of town up a hill with a spectacular view.  It's surrounded by farmhouses and was a more authentic experience all around.  Plus, Peter is an excellent host.

When we arrived at his place, the men, Peter, Mario, and Otto (another guide staying there) started preparing dinner while Becky and I opened the wine and made ourselves comfortable.  (Don't worry: we washed the dishes after eating.)  Carlos, the hotel owner, had decided to join us for dinner and sat enjoying a doobie.  

Dinner was delectable: spaghetti and homemade sauce with fresh veggies.  It was a perfect way to end the day.

Our room was located just up the stairs.  There was no door, we slept in sleeping bags with both cats cuddling with us, and we had 360 degree views.  The only issue was the @#$#%#$$# roosters deciding to wake the world up at 3:30 each morning.  

The "door" to our room.

Breakfast on Saturday and Sunday was the specialty of the house: eggs cooked with fresh produce, bread, cut up fruit sprinkled with bee pollen and coffee.  Absolutely delicious and a great way to start off a day of climbing.

The next morning, we set off around nine.  This time, we were able to bring a little backpack with our cameras and water.  Peter and Mario, on the other hand, carried all the equipment needed for our climbs.

Both the first (CAEC: 80 m) and second climb (Mañana Gris 120 m) had at least one stop along the way to reset our ropes and find new places to put the gear in the wall.  There were times when both Peter and Mario went up first, so Becky and I were left to find the hand and foot holds alone.  Other times, they would be below us calling out "good" footholds jutting out about a millimeter, telling us to trust our toes.  Yeah, right.  I don't think so, buddy.  

I realize it looks as though there are tons of spaces to put hands and feet, but that is extremely deceiving.

Chilling on a narrow ledge about 60 meters up waiting for the guys to reset the equipment.

There was this Spanish moss (looks like an old man's beard) hanging from many of the rocks.

For the first two climbs, we went all the way to the top of the mountain and hiked our way back down.  That was probably the most dangerous part of the whole trip since the "trail" was steep and we no longer were attached to anything.  The scent of eucalyptus hanging in the air made it well worth it, though.

These are some of the rock faces we scaled.

It's incredible, but all the routes were slightly different.  Although the last one (Primer Largo de La Diagonal o El Espolón de la Diagonal 25 m) was shorter, the technique was more of putting my arms around a giant rock and sticking my rump out.  It was great fun.  Of course, I was a bit dramatic on the way down, but that is just my coping mechanism for rappelling.  Luckily, Peter has the patience of a saint and lowered me down incredibly slowly.  I'm sure one of these days I'll be able to launch myself off a cliff with ease, but for now, it gives me something to freak out about.

As I was hanging from the cliffs trying to figure out which tiny crack I should dig my nails into next, I surveyed my surroundings and concluded that life really doesn't get much better.  Here I am in the middle of Colombia, in good company, outdoors, trying something new, and I couldn't be happier.  Hans Christian Andersen summarized my thoughts pretty well with this quote:

“To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,

To gain all while you give,

To roam the roads of lands remote,

To travel is to live.”