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Trekking to a Lost City and turning 21

While my friends' summer holidays drift into an autumnal return to university, it feels like a new phase of my time in Colombia. The reality of the fact this isn't just a brief period of travel, but an entire year of immersion within a new continent leaves me feeling like the luckiest girl alive.

I have just returned from a 10 day break from my already dreamlike existence in Bogotá, during which I trekked 44km, found a Lost City, turned 21, learnt to (pathetically) use a machete, rode a motorbike, won a limbo competition, got food poisoning, experienced a jungle storm, and got bitten a grand total of 86 times. It has been epic.

The Lost City trek was one of the first things I circled in my Lonely Planet Guide to Colombia as a must-do. A 4-day hike through the dense jungle grants those brave enough the privilege of reaching a city lost for generations. Believed to have been founded in 850AD, the remote site was only rediscovered in 1975, after disease brought over by trade links killed off its population, hundreds of years before. Though Morgs and I knew it was bound to be challenging, our ignorance to just how tough it would be was a blessing. It was the single most strenuous physical challenge I have ever embarked on. Each night's jungle sleep was spent in a less than effective mosquito net, and at 5.30am, without fail, our alarm clock of a toe-wiggle given by our amazing guide Pedro would be greeted by silent disbelief that a full day's trek was ahead. Our group of 5 would heave on our jungle-wear and sodden boots, and sit down to a plentiful breakfast, extraordinarily made by our personal chefs, who would have to hike extra fast each day to reach our camp destinations in time to prepare our food. The hiking varied from day long inclines on clay-like terrain, to waist-deep river crossings, to genuine rock climbing; all with huge backpacks on, just to add a cheeky extra challenge in terms of a dodgy centre of balance. At my most drained point, bizarre delirious imaginary conversations would keep me entertained for a good 20 minutes before I realised that they were solely in my head. Frequent high-fives with Morgs genuinely served a hugely motivational purpose when words weren't enough. It was such an amazing lesson that pushing yourself past the point of comfort reaps such huge benefits; the Lost City was simply mind-blowing. As we climbed the final 1,200 steps to enter the site, an overwhelming feeling that we were somewhere incredibly special overcame me. It felt even more unique that I could only attribute my own two blistered feet to my being there.

Starting out remarkably clean

An indigenous town of the jungle

Up in the clouds

Battling sweltering temperatures

And full blown tropical storms

River swims

The Lost City

TREK COMPLETE!

We put off returning to reality with a blowout 6 days on the Caribbean coast. We spent our time in both Costeño Surf Beach - a haven of secluded beach fun - and Palomino, a favourite from our previous trip to the coast.

A group of uni friends also on their mid-term week off met us there, and what ensued is an incredibly drunken haze of celebrating my 21 years, concluding with a naked faceplant into the double bed of our private room (sorry Morgs). I couldn't have wished for a better birthday, and felt so so grateful for all the love I received from all over the world!