Sierra Nevada del Cocuy

Laguna de la Plaza (14,000')

La Sierra Nevada del Cocuy, Colombia's rooftop range and "premier mountaineering destination." With peaks topping 17,000 feet and all the trimmings, it was one of a handful of places in Colombia I knew I had to experience. It was awesome. Glaciers, snowfields, wild geology, plumes of whitewater thrashing the mountainsides, lakes all over and mysterious, dense clouds that churned up out of the valleys, like beer suds overflowing a glass. In all directions, páramo cloaks the flanks of the sierra. Found only the northern Andes, this is a unique ecosystem, an arid world occurring over 9,700 feet, composed mainly of brown grasses, shrubby trees and the wondrous, Seussian mascot of the park: the frailejón.

Frailejones in bloom

We took an early morning buseta from Villa de Leyva back to Tunja, where I had a brief conversation with a grim-faced bus agent. Bus to El Cocuy? Yes. How long? Eight hours. Green pastures of holsteins gradually gave way to brown grass and cactus. After passing a few barrels of boiling tar, donkeys pulling carts, hundreds of political advertisements and a goat tied to an old truck axel, we rattled along a canyon bottom for the last few hours and into the town of El Cocuy. The guys at the camping store in Bogotá warned me to take everything I needed because the town was so small: No hay nada allá. Those guys must eat sushi every day, because Cocuy is a normal Colombian town with the same food, stores, beer and bread I've found everywhere else. There's plenty of fresh milk and cheese, a bank with an ATM and machine gun nests in front of the police station. (Apparently one of the paramilitaries had a prescence here not too long ago.) The pretty cathedral fronts a plaza containing a diorama of the national park. It's the kind of small town where very traditional-looking men in woolen ponchos and hats can be seen eating an ice cream cone at 7 in the morning - and starting in on the beers at 10.

There's a popular six-day trekking circuit that circles the main range, but the rangers told us it was closed. Still plenty to do, so we hopped on the milk truck that leaves the plaza every morning at 6am. The back of the truck is flatbed with high, wood-slat sides and a roof. Along with a few tanks, sacks of feed and fertilizer and locals heading for the hills, there's plenty of room for a few backpackers. It's the only "public" transport that services the park, as it swings high up into the hills where few cars go. Along the way, men, women and kids wait by the side of the road with all sorts of containers. The truck stops, fresh steaming milk is poured into the tank and the bucket man calls the amount to the driver. They all know each other up there, and sometimes there are just a few pails on the bank, the farmers busy off moving cows or tying up a goat somewhere. We didn't see any other vehicles, just plenty of folks traveling by foot or on horseback.

We jumped out at the start of the circuit with no real plan. We decided to just start hiking and see where it took us. On the way up the scenery had been getting gnarlier, and suddenly we could see big jagged peasks, and glaciers. We walked down into a valley where we had a chat with the Herrera brothers at their farm, the last house on the trail. An hour later we passed a sometimes-staffed refugio, owned by the park with bunks and food. It was only midmorning at that point so we kept going. It ended up being a pretty burly seven hour day, and the altitude made the going tough. We gasped up a crack in the mountain to the top of clouded-in Paso Cusini and tried to catch our breath. A bunch of guys from Madrid passed us going the other way with a guide, encouraging us to try and make Laguna de la Plaza, the high lake we were heading for. We wished them well and stumbled down rocky switchbacks and out of the clouds.

Wondering how much further at 14,000

The rest of that day was a push to the lake. Our map was terrible, but the trail was clear and well-signed, so there was nothing to do but go on. Clouds were all around but on the move, revealing floating peaks, dropoffs, ravines, and looming rock walls. Down to a river and up a series of benches, skirting a bottomless chasm and past a set of caves. When the lake finally came into view, I was amazed both at the stunning surrounds and how absolutely wiped out I felt, though S was holding up fine. We set up the tent, took off our boots, changed into comfy camp clothes and I passed out. The hike and the altitude caught up with me, and I fell into my bag as the clouds came down and a light rain started to fall.

The Pyramid dwarfs our tent at Laguna de la Plaza

We camped at the lake for two nights, exploring the area and just digging the mountian vibe. After some tomato soup and crackers and good sleep, I woke up the next morning to a clear sky and some mind-blowing mountain vistas. The lake sits at the backside of the glacier-topped Pan de Azucar, one of the most famous mountains in the park. Looming over our campsite was El Pyramid, while a series of sloping shelves forms the western shore. Wild mountains everywhere: in the distant north was a black, serrated knife ridge and off to the south, cliffs and a deep valley leading up to more peaks. Before deciding to camp a couple nights and head out the way we came, we'd played with the idea of trying the circuit anyway. We were very lucky we didn't hike further, because the weather taught us a sobering lesson.

Taking advantage of the blue sky, we decided to follow the trail a ways north, across the shelves and ledges across the lake. What looked flat from a distance turned into huge shelves up close, broken up by ledges and cracks, rising and falling from 10 to 60 feet. Yesterday's signs had given way to a scattering of cairns that proved difficult to follow. After two hours, we were lunching at the north end of the lake when I turned to look back toward our campsite. The mountains and sky beyond were gone. Suddenly, thick clouds had just turned up out of nowhere, and they were moving fast. We tried to make it back but the clouds caught us. Before long, we were inside the cloud as droplets condensed on my eyelashes and hair. Visibilty fell from 100 yards to 50 to 10. Peering into the fog, looking for cairns. . . suddenly the rippling water was ten feet away, and we were able to use the lake to find our tent. The next 14 hours we were captive in the tent, but a least I could make coffee.

We spent five days in the park. When we woke to clear skies after The Fog, we packed up and hightailed it back over the pass. We stayed at the Herrera's little farm that night, in a little room with chickens pecking at the door. No electricity but Señor Herrera invited me to the cook fire and we talked about mountains. After a predawn hike to catch the milk truck again we spent our last two nights in a little cabaña at the other end of the park, staring up at snow-covered Ritacuba Blanco. Great little cabin, shared with a very chill guy from Colorado we'd seen around. We played hearts in front of the fire after delicious, hearty suppers. (Thanks Mercedes!) The days were spent watching sheep and one morning we climbed up to snowline, face to face with the mighty Blanco.El Cocuy was a major highlight, and I'd love to come back and do the circuit someday. With a guide.