Palomino, Colombia: The Last Hurrah


Topping Out…In Style

Palomino, Colombia. The last hurrah, it was inevitable. The end had come.

The end of the road or, at least, the end of our northerly trek. The part of the trip where the old adage saying, “What goes up, must come down” would come into play and see us have to start the long backtrack from the Colombia’s Caribbean coast all the way south back to where the Yellow Brick Road began what seems so, so long ago in Santiago, Chile.

Yes, somewhere had to be the last hurrah. Somewhere had to be the epicentre for that mental line of demarcation separating the uncertain allure of the next bend in the road from the monotony of the old and the familiar.

For us, that spot would prove to be Palomino, Colombia. And this would prove a good thing. Because let’s just say, there’s a lot worse places to find yourself reliving random scenes and memories of the past year than this yet to be completely overrun village located on the eastern doorsteps of Colombia’s Tayrona National Park.

Two to three bussing hours from Santa Marta, Palomino awaits. A little town tucked between two rivers and wedged between year round, snow-capped peaks of the Sierra Madre Mountains at its back and a virtually unspoiled beach with a jungle full of towering palm trees caressing the water’s edge out front.

Assuming she remembers anything, this will be the place Kaia may come back in twenty years and reminisce about having managed to visit back in the good ol’ days. Back before that five star hotel out on the point did away with the endless palm trees and the backpackers roughing it in sweat box tents on the sliver of land separating the Palomino River and the Caribbean.

Back when you could tube for close to three hours along the Palomino River and not see a single condominium complex along the entire stretch.

But most importantly, back when her parents were ‘somewhat cool’ and still her ‘best friends’. Back when, after a full year of wandering around South America, she and her now feeble minded, curmudgeonly and overprotective parents found themselves basking in the finishing line-like festivities of having made it.



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