Yes Güicán! But you just can't touch the snow-capped mountains

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

There are times when, contrary to the lyrics in the popular 1977 Fleetwood Mac song, you can't go your own way.

Snow go! This is as close as one can get to the Ritacuba glacier.

Well, you can't if the place you want to go to is inside a national park with various entry requirements, including the prohibition of unguided treks, forcing one to fork out for a certified guide.

Normally, I find such conditions a turn-off. 'No thanks, I'll do my own thing.'

Reaching Ritacuba

However, some sites are protected in such a manner for the very fact that they are special and thus need to be shielded from over-tourism.

And a number of these are places that are on my imaginary priority-visit list, among them being treks up to Colombia's highest peaks.

This is what brought me to the chilled-out town of Güicán in the Boyacá department.

At an altitude of about 3,000 metres, it serves as a point of departure for the Sierra Nevada de El Cocuy, Güicán and Chita. Generally, the first of these municipalities, El Cocuy, tends to dominate the naming rights, but all of the snow-capped peaks in this mountain range are actually in Güicán.

A lone frailejón: A little further down the mountain, there are thousands of them.

It was one such peak, Ritacuba Blanco at somewhere between 5,300 and 5,410 metres above sea level — I've seen various figures in that range given — that was on my radar.

A cursory internet check before leaving Bogotá did at least forewarn me that it wouldn't be a case of simply rocking up to Güicán and from there finding my own way to the snowcaps. Wishful, nay naïve thinking.

Even that rocking up to the town proved more taxing than it should have been.

Instead of the estimated journey time of nine hours, it took 15. This was due to an on-off mechanical failure with the bus, which eventually resulted in a wait for a replacement vehicle halfway through the trip. When taking overland transport in Colombia, it's best not to pack punctuality.

As it was a night-time departure, the longer-than-expected journey wasn't a big setback, arriving as we did at Güicán in the early afternoon. (I don't like to get to places I don't know after dusk.)

Being an impromptu trip — it's generally how I travel — the first mission on arrival was to find cheap accommodation.

That, I successfully did in the shape of Hospedaje Casa Grande — one can't go too wrong with a room for 25,000 pesos per night.

Retreating: The glacier is gradually disappearing.

Its owner, the helpful Wosvaldo, quickly got the necessary planning in motion for my trip to Ritacuba.

Wosvaldo also offers his taxi services to and from the control/entrance point, some 17 km from Güicán via unpaved roads and 1,000 metres higher up. So he, like most accommodation providers in the town, has skin in the treks-to-the-Sierra Nevada game.*

'The trek up itself, from 4,000 to 4,800 metres through kilometres of frailejón-filled land, is mild enough.'

First on that planning list was the need to source a guide. Wosvaldo, unsurprisingly, had one to hand: the rather genteel Luis Emilio.**

Once Luis Emilio confirmed his ability for the next day, the next step was to pay the entrance fee to the national park. For me, as a foreigner with a Colombian-issued ID, it was 41,500 pesos. For non-resident foreigners, it's about double that, for Colombians it's half that.

Ruana-clad guide Luis Emilio examines the frailejones. 

This payment is made at an office in the town, next to which is the company providing the compulsory insurance. For two people, the guide and me, that cost 15,200 pesos.

The final requirement was to connect to a roughly 30-minute online induction chat provided live by a National Natural Parks of Colombia (PNN) employee. That takes place at 4 pm each evening and covers the three permitted treks inside the Sierra Nevada de El Cocuy, Güicán and Chita National Natural Park.

Do note, the entrance fee is valid for three days so if one has the desire — and more limiting in my case, the dinero, the money — the three treks can be done over three days.

When going it alone, as in not through an agency, the guide and the insurance are daily expenses. There are various accommodation options closer to the park entrance, so one could save on travel costs to and from Güicán by staying in one of those.

Photos show that the other two treks are equally as impressive as Ritacuba but my focus was on getting as close as possible to the highest peak with the most extensive glacier. It is, by the way, prohibited to actually walk on or even touch the glacier and snow.

Snow show

The trek up itself, from 4,000 to 4,800 metres through kilometres of frailejón-filled land, is mild enough. Some may have issues with the oxygen-light air but thankfully that wasn't a problem for me.

We started our ascent at dawn, just before 6 am, and arrived at the glacier shortly after 8.30 am, with a short snack stop included along the way. As guides go, Luis Emilio and I were pretty much in sync pace-wise.

The view from Peñón de los Muertos, with Güicán in the right middle-ground. 

While I may be accused of taking a very easy out here, particularly as a blogger, I feel describing the glacier and the sights all around with words is insufficient. To address this shortcoming, I recorded a few YouTube Shorts videos which you can find at https://youtube.com/shorts/ZHGESHxM0no and https://youtube.com/shorts/JhaN7B4D4x4.

'Güicán is up there as the ruana-wearing capital of Colombia. It's easier to keep track of those not donning this traditional garb than those with it.'

Having soaked in the splendour for half an hour or so, we started our descent to the entrance point just as the clouds began to roll in. Yes, luckily Mother Nature shone on us that morning. No doubt dark skies and precipitation would have dampened the wonderland experience somewhat — although a snow shower would have been nice.

My visit was during a tourist-light period, so Luis Emilio and I had the glacier viewing point to ourselves. I'm guessing it's different during high season. The Ritacuba trek, though, is limited to fewer than 80 tourists per day.

Güicán itself doesn't give off an obvious tourist vibe, whether one views that as good, bad or indifferent. There's certainly no international flair to it. It maintains its basic Boyacá market-town flavour.

It's also certainly up there as the ruana-wearing capital of Colombia. It's easier to keep track of those not donning this traditional garb than those with it.

Respected traditions notwithstanding, one might expect Güicán to have at least one establishment that prepared coffee to more cosmopolitan standards i.e. not greca-brewed fare that at best merely gives a hint as to what good coffee can taste like.

Offering quality, machine-brewed fare wouldn't exactly be a portent of pernicious change, would it? Other similar towns have seen the light. Both Luis Emilio and Wosvaldo were receptive to my suggestion in any case; it seemed to spark a business idea in them. I hope they don't forget me when the pesos come pouring in.

Death valley

Coming back to natural attractions, outside of the Sierra Nevada treks, there are plenty of walks to other sites that one can wander cost-free and unguided.

One of particular interest is Peñón de los Muertos, Rock of the Dead, seven kilometres to the east of Güicán and a few hundred metres higher.

Here, so the story goes, many U'wa indigenous took the roughly 400-metre suicidal plunge to the River Cóncavo below rather than be taken captive by the Spanish conquistadores. The ultimate flight reaction to a threatening situation.

Fancy a cool dip?! The glacial waters of the River Cóncavo.

Mentioning the River Cóncavo, but not at all in a macabre sense, relaxing by its fast-flowing glacial waters is a nice way to waste away an afternoon, particularly when the sun shines, as it regularly did during my four-day stay.

Indeed, with nobody about, it's perfect for a chilly skinny dip, if it can be braved. It works wonders to clear away any cobwebs.

So you see, you can go your own way in Güicán and have plenty of innocent enjoyment in the process.

Going to see the Sierra Nevada snow show is another matter. It's well worth the extra effort, though.

*Wosvaldo, the owner of the cheap and cheerful Hospedaje Casa Grande and offerer of chauffeur services to the national park, can be contacted by WhatsApp on +57 313 8682814.

**The certified guide Luis Emilio's WhatsApp number is +57 314 2904721. One guide can take up to five people, so going with others is one way to keep costs down, in terms of both paying for the guide and transport to the National Park control point.
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'An alcoholic?! Me?! No way!'

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

A barrio acquaintance, one who is not only very fond of marijuana and the hip psychedelic tusi but has also been a petty peddler of same, called me an alcoholic the other day.

A case of, an outside observer might say, one addict knowing another.

One man's alcoholic is another's merely mild drinker, right?

However, seeing how this acquaintance, in her early 20s, has barely worked a day in her life — outside of her minor drug dealing — and usually appears more out of it than with it, I initially shrugged off her labelling me an alcoholic.

Yet, as an Irishman who likes the occasional beer that often leads to a questioning of my relationship with alcohol, her remark did end up bugging me a little.

'Am I an alcoholic?'

Habit addict

To answer that, we must define what an alcoholic is.

One dictionary definition describes an alcoholic as 'a person addicted to intoxicating drinks.' Another definition is 'somebody who drinks alcohol to excess habitually.'

Those definitions, however, in using words such as 'addicted', 'excess' and 'habitually', are open to much interpretation.

Some commentators and scholars on the subject dismiss the concept of addiction outright. They see it as a mere cover for one's failure to take responsibility.

According to this school of thought, it's not an innate, incurable addiction that's at play but rather a very fixable fixation. It's a harmful habit that can be replaced with a more beneficial — or at least less-bad — one. What's lacking is willpower, as well as any real desire to change in many instances.

'That four-day booze-free stint coincided with an annoying head cold. Was my body telling me something? A case of a beer a day keeps colds at bay?'

In other words, people know they're doing something that's not good for their overall well-being but they do it anyway. (Of course, few of us live vice-free — even exercise can become a problem if one overdoes it regularly. Some vices, though, are more damaging than others.)

Mild imbiber

Returning to our definitions of alcoholic, it's easier, at least officially, to find consensus for what excess and habitually mean.

In Ireland, a standard drink is defined as one which contains 10 grams of pure alcohol. The advice is that a man should drink no more than 17 such servings a week, a woman no more than 11.

If one drinks alcohol more days in a week than not, few would argue that this is habitual.

On that last one, despite publishing a few months ago a hopeful post, Abandoning the beer standard, I've been quite the habitual drinker of late.

The longest run I've had without a beer in 2023 has been four days, and that was on one occasion only. Frustratingly, that four-day booze-free stint coincided with an annoying head cold. Was my body telling me something? A case of a beer a day keeps colds at bay?

Plenty of downtime this year and not wanting to be in my shared accommodation for too long at any one time are two big reasons for this regular revelling, tame as it normally is.

What's more, as a pastime, sipping on a Barrio Santandercito tienda beer is a fairly economical activity compared to some other pursuits one could get up to in Bogotá.

As alluded to, in terms of excess, my consumption levels each time I drink are nothing like they were in the past.

Where previously when I would go at it, as we Irish say, I'd have at least four litres of Poker beer or the equivalent, these days I'm usually looking for the exit door after two or at most three. (Do note, Poker's alcohol by volume [ABV] is four per cent.)

So my binge-drinking days do appear to be largely behind me. Compared to other regular drinkers, I think it's fair to put me in the mild category. I'm certainly no Brendan Behan — no sniggering — who described himself as 'a drinker with a writing problem.' Some might say writing is my main problem and I should give that up!

Constant craving

Whatever the case, there is another factor to be considered: cravings.

This ties in with addiction, whether one believes addiction to be a genuine disease or not.

I surmise that people who I consider to be alcoholics crave alcohol, it's constantly in their thoughts. When they get up in the morning, if a beer or whatever was put in front of them, they'd have no issue downing it. What usually prevents such types from doing so is a job commitment or suchlike.

I, on the other hand, rarely if ever desire an alcoholic drink first thing. For me, imbibing has a time and a place — the time is normally late in the evening, the place is a tienda/public house, certainly not my own dwelling.

And as I've already pointed out, I'm more than content to retire to my bed after a couple of litres. Where perhaps in my earlier drinking days I suffered from fomo, fear of missing out, these days I'm more in the jomo, joy of missing out, camp.

So, yes, I do like beer and I may regularly drink more units of alcohol per week than most health experts recommend.

Nonetheless, life in my late 30s doesn't revolve around the next alcohol-fuelled session like it did to some extent in my 20s and early 30s.

Of course, how I feel and what I believe is one thing. How others view me is another. Perception is reality in this regard. Yet, it's only the perceptions and opinions of certain people in my life that I should really value. Others are best ignored.
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Colombia's credit contradiction

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'We only give credit to those older than 90 and who bring one of their grandparents as a guarantor.'

Bottle-cap accounting: Foolproof?

That's the English translation of one version of the various we-don't-give-credit signs you'll see displayed in many Colombian tiendas, convenience stores that sell products ranging from beer to brushes and much else besides. (Although some tiendas' chief business line is beverages and sweet and savoury snacks.)

What such signs really mean, of course, is that credit is not given whatsoever. (Perhaps, in a few generations, a 90-year-old might expect his/her grandparents to still be alive. Then again, in a few generations, humanity might be extinct.)

The reality is, however, that in many beer-serving tiendas, no-credit signs on display or not, the payment model in operation leaves the establishment at risk of being what effectively amounts to a moneylender.

Drink now, pay later

This is because the tab system dominates in such environments in Colombia; you pay your bill when you've finished imbibing. Rarely will you be asked for payment upfront, as is generally demanded in pubs in Ireland and the UK.

In theory, paying at the end makes more sense than doing so each time you order, particularly when we're talking about the consumption of multiple beverages.

This is even more so the case in places where cash is still king (working-class Colombia is, thankfully, in that category). It can be cumbersome having to deal with change for each order.

Nonetheless, the tab model can be easily abused, by both the customer and the owner/staff.

The former can do this by simply saying, be it true or not, that he/she doesn't have enough money to pay the bill.

In a country where the financial situation for many is far from stable, this I-don't-have-the-cash-right-now defence is commonplace. I've seen it cause plenty of beer-fuelled, heated discussions.

That much of working-class Colombia falls into the low-income bracket makes the popular use of the tab system even more of a head-scratcher.

That it persists suggests that businesses feel it's the best way to operate. They'll get the money at some stage — as long as the debtor doesn't die with the bill still outstanding. Or it could be one of those just-how-it-is scenarios that I wrote about before.

Bottle battles

As for tienda owners or staff, they can game the system by adding more products to your tab than were actually ordered.

This abuse is, unsurprisingly, far easier to carry out when the product in question is alcohol and the customer is drinking on-site, getting merry in the process.

I'm not the only one who has questioned the amount owed at the end of a session. It can lead to a tetchy tienda environment, if not to something more untoward.

Linked to all this is the method some tiendas use to keep, um, tabs of the tab.

Counting the bottles consumed is one way, something I see less often these days.

'If you happen to have a less-than-attentive tienda keeper, bottle-cap counting could work to your advantage.'

This may seem sound — and it explains why bottles are left on a customer's table until the session has finished — yet a couple of other foreigners and I were the victims of its flaws a few years ago in Bogotá. I wrote about that incident at the time in a blog piece titled, 'You've been had, Bogotá style'.

Summarising that episode, a guy who we'd befriended and who we thought had bought us a few beers actually pulled a fast one on us, or so it seemed.

As he left before us, we ended up being charged for all the beers he'd drunk, even those he'd had before joining our company.

Of course, he could have been — indeed, probably was — in cahoots with the tienda owner. Or the tienda owner might have seen an opportunity to charge for the same beers twice.

As we were in an unfamiliar place, after airing our displeasure we took the financial hit and promptly left, never to return.

Top cap

An alternative accounting approach with tiendas is the bottle cap. For each beer opened, the cap is placed on what we'll call the payment counter.

This is open to some of the same abuses as outlined with bottle-counting, minus the problem of another customer adding to your bill.

One particular flaw it has is with bottle size and associated price differences.

For example, to use my tipple of choice, Poker, very often the cap on a litre bottle is decorated the same as the 330 ml presentation.

So, if you're in a round consisting of bigger and smaller bottles of the same brew, you could be deemed to have had more bigger ones than smaller ones when the reality was the reverse.

Now, if you happen to have a less-than-attentive tienda keeper, bottle-cap counting could work to your advantage. 'Oh no, of those five bottle caps, only two belong to litre bottles, the rest were 330 ml.' One can plead ignorance if caught out.

Pen power

Slightly more watertight than the aforementioned methods is the radical pen-and-paper approach to tab-keeping.

Yes, some tienda workers write down your name — or some title that identifies you, such as gringo or mono — in a copybook and note your orders as they come. Revolutionary.

Again, it's not abuse-proof. If you lose track of what you've had, a few additional beers might be added to your tab. (And yes, this isn't exclusive to rudimentary tiendas. It can happen in fancy establishments using a digital system.)

Also, particularly in a lively tienda, a crafty fellow carouser could get his beers added to your account. Those behind the counter don't always check if a beer has been invited or not, as long as it goes on some customer's tab.

So, like many things in these parts, the no-credit policy is something of a contradiction with these tab systems in operation.

Yet, contradiction aside — and again like many things around here — tienda transactions normally pass off without much ado.

For sure, there will always be those who try to abuse it. They would do well not to, though.

A move to more advanced methods in this digital age may see them easily locked out of the market altogether. So scorn not the simplicity of the tienda's status quo.
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