We rise at 6AM after our first night out in the jungle, to visit a local coke factory before we start the days hiking. If I am expecting underground tunnels and rows of microwaves and test tubes being worked by mask-covered workers, I am disappointed. Instead we visit Mario and his one-man tourist operation, for a walk-through of the coke-making process from raw coca leaves to the finished powdered product. Apparently, six chemicals are needed to turn the leaves into coca paste, and a further four to turn it into powder. Apparently Colombians most infamous export leaves the jungle factories in Northern Colombia as 100% pure cocaine paste, bound for Santa Marta to be turned into 10-20% pure powder and either sold to tourists or shipped overseas. Apparently, those that want to can enjoy a free sample after the tour, and make a purchase from his gift shop if they like it.
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We swim in crystalline rock pools during rest stops. The scenery around us is 'Gorillas in the Mist', the indigenous locals straight out of the 'Emerald Forest', the weather and terrain similar to that when Michael Douglas rides down a landslide in 'Romancing the Stone'.
- 'This certainly beats sitting in an office in London.' I remark casually to James the ex- Coutts fund manager.
- 'Yeah Man.' he replies blithely. Its all that really needs to be said.
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I havent learnt a new card game in several years, but tonight we are introduced to Yanneth by James the Englishman. It keeps two Irishwomen, a Scotsman, an American and a German couple entertained for many hours as the sun goes down and the fire flies start to dance in the darkness. Perhaps its the camaraderie of internation bonding that keeps us all up long after we all start feeling tired, or perhaps its the mouldy bed mattresses that await us in our second night of sleeping out in the jungle.
