A Pauna cracker: Somewhat satisfying and not too dry

@wwaycorrigan

[For a YouTube version of this blog entry, click here.]

After having visited over 50 of Colombia's Andean towns, in particular in the Boyacá, Cundinamarca and Santander departments, I do feel I'm in a strong position to evaluate the region.

Pauna has its plus points. 

Yes, I'm well aware that what's important for me may not be too critical for another. Then there's the fact that I'm quite the minimalist and have rather modest wants when I explore a new place.

Distant beauty

Those looking for close-to-high-income-nation standards in terms of accommodation, food and general tourism infrastructure will be disappointed in the vast majority of Andean towns. 

The exceptions are the likes of Barichara, Girardot, San Gil and Villa de Leyva, places with a now-established reputation, having been popular with international tourists for years.

Most other towns are either only beginning to discover their tourism potential or remain seemingly indifferent to it.

That pretty much every one of them, no matter how small, has some sort of accommodation available for visitors usually has less to do with tourism and more to do with business e.g. emerald mining or some major construction project that had/has been going on for years. Indeed, from my travels, only Saboyá fails on the hotel front.

Nonetheless, if it's simply just a bit of bucolic bliss in a majestic mountain setting you're after and you're not terribly fussy, then a case could be made for any Andean town. Even more so if you like to wander around hilly countryside without the need for a guide.

Those looking for warmer climes — warmer than Bogotá that is — should seek out places below an altitude of 2,000 metres. It's generally short sleeves with shorts day and night, all year round, in such places, save for the need to cover up from tropical downpours.

The Boyacá town of Pauna, at 1,215 masl, firmly fits into that category. With an unusually dull and rainy early January in Bogotá, the feeling that I was being unfairly denied some sun sent me in Pauna's direction. Well, that and the fact that the brothers who own my preferred panadería "office" are from there, so on hearing this, I thought it would be as good as any place for an unplanned escape.

Briceño's beauty is a little more obvious than Pauna's.

Weather-wise, it wasn't quite the sun-drenched spot I was hoping for — the whole Andean region is enduring a protracted rainy season. It was, though, still quite warm, with afternoon highs around 25 degrees Celsius.

The main tourist attractions appear to be the various swimming pool "resorts" on the town's outskirts. Seeing as how my visit coincided with high season, I gave these pools a wide berth. Surrounded by screaming, water-splashing children together with tipsy adults blaring out music is not my idea of relaxation.

'In a land of plenty when it comes to tourist attractions and natural beauty, a place does have to offer something different to entice potential visitors.'

Architecturally, Pauna has little going for it. Its main square and church certainly won't win awards for beauty. In contrast, in nearby, smaller Briceño, 12 kilometres away via undulating, largely dirt-track, traffic-free roads — yes, I did walk there and back — the main square and church are quite picturesque.

Cascada la Tunera: Click here to get a better idea of it.

Pauna's prettiest side is from a high. There are a few hilltops around from which to view it, although the best one is from a private residence that's used as a holiday home. Thankfully its temporary occupiers allowed me in for the obligatory photo and a YouTube Shorts video. Cheers, Horacio! The two Aguila beers he gifted me were also well received.

Pauna's people power

The biggest draw for nature lovers is surely Cascada la Tunera. This impressive, somewhat hidden waterfall — it can be heard well before it's seen — is about five kilometres from the town. An internet search tells me that the fall is about 50 metres — I would have said more.

There's also a far gentler tributary waterfall next to it that is quite alluring thanks to the golden-brown soil over which it flows.

Back in Pauna, another area where it won't be winning awards is for its coffee. Yes, this is a coffee-growing region but the townsfolk don't make a good brew. Unsweetened, strong coffee is hard to find. There is an exception, though. Páramo, the fancy ice cream shop on the main square, makes a panela/sugar-free, tasty tinto for an agreeable 1,500 pesos.

Alluring: The golden-brown soil over which this waterfall flows seems to sparkle.

Coffee concerns assuaged, with all the wandering I did, it would have been nice to refresh with my preferred Poker beer offering i.e. a litre bottle. Or at least the 750 ml serving. 

Alas, similar to some other small towns I've visited, only the 330 ml bottles are available at 2,500 pesos a pop (in my Bogotá barrio, one can still get a litre bottle for 4,000 pesos). On the plus side, sticking to my not-too-strict beer budget, it meant my alcohol consumption was kept in check.

Considering there are easier towns to reach from Bogotá — Pauna is over a 160 km drive away and the windy road after Chiquinquirá is, well, rustic to put it mildly — it's unlikely to attract the masses.

Having said that, my trip coincided with an annual five-a-side football tournament. With a not-to-be-sniffed-at winners' prize of 12 million pesos, the competition attracts teams from far and wide. Thus, the town was heaving for my last couple of days there.

In a land of plenty when it comes to tourist attractions and natural beauty, a place does have to offer something different to entice potential visitors. So credit to Pauna on the football fest.

It gets less credit for its slogan of being the 'green gate to Colombia'. No doubt many other municipalities would contest that one.

For me, alongside the setting, Pauna's big pull factor is its people.

*Accommodation info:
Hospedaje El Mirador has quite spacious, bright rooms available for 25,000 pesos per person with good WiFi.
I also had a night at Hospedaje Doña Evita for 30,000 pesos (this was forced on me as El Mirador was booked out for the football tournament and I had no reservation). Doña Evita, ran by an affable elderly couple, is more like a house than a hostel/hotel. No WiFi is a drawback, though.
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A balmier (and wetter) side to Boyacá

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

When one thinks of Colombia's Boyacá department, if one thinks of it at all, it tends to conjure up images of the awe-inspiring Andes, clean, cool country air and the odd superstar cyclist.

It's generally not thought of as a tropical paradise. That's because, for the most part, it's not one.

First impressions: Santa María on a sunny day.

Right as rain

Yet, Boyacá does have its lower-lying areas and, as Colombia is in the tropics, with that comes hotter weather, day and night (the sun can and does show its force during the day in the loftier parts, as I discovered in Tibaná recently).

One of those balmier Boyacá places is the small town of Santa María in the department's southern Neira Province. Warm it may be (at an altitude of 850 metres, the average low is 23 degrees Celsius), its tropical monsoon climate means it gets plenty of rain. I just so happened to plan my brief visit at the start of its wet season. Oh well.

Santa María gets its fair share of rain, especially between April and November.

Thus, the idea of a sun-kissed trip to Santa María, bronzing oneself up, didn't really materialise. It was far from cold, though, of course. And the sun did peep through on occasions. In further mitigation, the heaviest, most intense rain seemed to fall at night. Indeed, that helped to make things more relaxing in a way, listening to the rain hammer down on tin roofs whilst cosily tucked up in bed.

Alongside that, for some relative peace and quiet compared to the Bogotá bustle, it certainly comes good.

Now some of you may be aware that I do like to get it in some hillwalking where possible and on that front Santa María has various options.

'Perhaps the townsfolk figured it would simply be a waste of time and money building a big church, competing in vain with the beauty that nature has to offer all around.'

La Cristalina is an "official" — i.e. signposted, for the most part, anyway — roughly four-kilometre (one-way, from the town centre) trek through rolling forested hills, incorporating a nice view of the town from the south and leading to a small waterfall.

From calm waters to ...

Close to the beginning and at the end of this walk, the largely fast-flowing river does provide some refreshing bathing spots. These are well-received when the sun is out.

... the river wild.

A dam good place

Immediately to the north of the town there is an alluring peak that I had to try to master. Alas, with just vague instructions on how to arrive at the summit, I only managed to get about three-quarters of the way, wading through some thick grassland en route, before encountering some rather dense forest. I figured it was best to make a safe retreat at that stage. At least I made it far enough so as to get a good view of Santa María well below.

I subsequently discovered some other walks along quiet country lanes, passing through both farmland and forests. (A special mention to 76-year-old and father of a five-year-old daughter, Gonzalo, who generously fed and watered me with guarapo [a sometimes fermented sugarcane juice, in case you're wondering] and arepas after I stumbled upon his secluded homestead on one of the various hills I wandered up. The refreshments were well received following about six hours of ascending and descending.)

A view of that alluring peak to the north of Santa María.

Santa María itself, unlike most towns in these parts, is devoid of an impressive Catholic church on its main plaza. For sure, it has a church, it's just not that aesthetically pleasing. Perhaps the townsfolk figured it would simply be a waste of time and money trying to compete with the beauty that nature has to offer all around. If that is the case, I'm in agreement.

Top man: Gonzalo came good with copious amounts of guarapo and a couple of arepas.

As for a place to lay one's head, for a small settlement, it has, somewhat surprisingly, at least five accommodation options. I was told this is a legacy of the construction of the nearby and visually stunning La Esmeralda Dam, built in the 1970s for hydroelectric power (see video below).

I opted for Hotel La Posada, with rooms from a very reasonable 25,000 COP per night. Going by outward appearances, the other hotels may be a little fancier but, I must confess, I didn't check them out. This was for the simple reason that Don Jaime and his wife Margarita, La Posada's owners, are a delightful elderly couple so I was content to stay put.

Spying Santa María from the hills to the north.

In fact, Don Jaime insists I should return, preferably in the dry season (I don't mind the rain, Jaime!), as he wants to bring me to his farm on the outskirts of the town, where he herds about 80 cattle.

For the old farmhand that I am, it's a very tempting invitation. As the saying goes, you can take the man out of the farm but you can't take the farm out of the man.

I guess it's why I have a liking for these rural retreats.

*There are almost hourly buses to Santa María from Bogotá's northern bus terminal (Calle 193) with Flota La Macarena and Flota Valle de Tenza the main operators. A one-way ticket costs 35,000 COP during normal times (expect to pay more during holiday and festival periods). The journey time is about 3.5 hours.

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Tibaná time

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

I do sometimes feel a bit torn after getaways to Colombian pueblos — pueblo pick-me-ups as I like to call them — due to my desire or at least perceived need to blog about them.

Tranquil Tibaná (at least when it's not market day!).

It's because, as mentioned before, they're all pretty much the same, superficially at least. This is arguably even more so the case in the Andean region.

Not-so-manic Monday

So for a town a short distance from one just recently visited and written about — that is to say Tibaná, just 10 kilometres south of Jenesano in the Boyacá department — it would seem pretty pointless to post about it.

Yet, the many similarities aside, each pueblo has its own peculiarities, however small and insignificant they may be. Each one has its own distinct characters, too.

What's more, regardless of the place, the time of a visit plays its part in the experience. I could return to all of the previous locations I've written about and come away with a completely different perception, for better or for worse.

So, with that in mind, my two-night stay in Tibaná deserves its own entry, hence these words. (This also helps me to keep track of where I've been!)

For this part of the country, it almost goes without saying that folk are friendly but not overbearingly so. They'll converse when the feeling is right or they'll leave one to one's own devices if such a vibe is given out (silence can indeed be golden).

'While tempted to join some of the hardy souls drinking beer at 8 am, I stuck to the tried-and-trusted plan of getting in some hillwalking, including the now obligatory visit to the Virgin Mary on a high — she tends to occupy some of the best viewpoints in rural Colombia.'

Strangely enough, two of Tibaná's initial offerings were things that in another context would have been deal-breakers.

Arriving close to dusk on a Monday and after, eventually, finding a hotel — the more-than-acceptable, well-kept Provincia at 25,000 COP per night — I went in search, as is generally my wont on such trips, of a nightcap beer.

Friendly locals!

My tipple of choice, a litre of Poker, was available, but only at room temperature — 'al clima' as they say. Yet, I found it more than drinkable; it had a slight chill to it in any case.

Then, seated in the tienda sipping on my beer, a couple of dogs invaded my personal space. I'm normally not a fan of excessively clingy canines but this pair won me over. Perhaps it was the bucolic air that led to this rare amenability on my part.

The aforementioned friendly locals — Tibanenses to give them their demonym — with a special mention for the softly-spoken tienda owner, Jorge, also played their part.

Sweet but savoury

The next morning, Tuesday, Tibaná's market day, while tempted to join some of the hardy souls drinking beer at 8 am, I stuck to the tried-and-trusted plan of getting in some hillwalking, including the now obligatory visit to the Virgin Mary on (a) high — she tends to occupy some of the best viewpoints in rural Colombia.

Tibaná: The town down in the valley-o!

What I hadn't really prepared for was a strong sun. At an average altitude of 2,100 metres, I erroneously thought the weather would be something similar to Bogotá. Relaxing in the rays for a couple of hours in splendid isolation — well, apart from the Virgin Mary next to me — my skin got a bit of a shelling. It felt good at the time, though.

Thankfully, refreshing refrigerated beers were on offer back in Jorge's tienda on my return to the town.

Rolling hills to wander and on which to unwind.

Tibaná may be tops for its tranquillity. However, it's more of a flop when it comes to the coffee on offer in its various establishments. It's not unique in this regard. This is a common complaint in many small towns, ordinary-at-best coffee, of the 'I can't believe it's not coffee' variety one could say.

Worse still, many seem to think that everybody wants his/her hot brew sweetened. 'Oh, but it's with panela. It's good for you.' Eh, no thanks.

Sweet, watery coffee aside — well to the side that is — Tibaná did the trick in terms of a pueblo pick-me-up.

More demanding, high-maintenance types might not be too enthralled with it. This shouldn't bother the Tibanenses too much. They tend to move to their own beat.
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Gachetá if you can

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

I've generally been reluctant to leave Bogotá during Colombia's tourism high season or at long weekends. So the first holiday Monday of the year is a negative on both fronts.

In case you forget where you are, most Colombian towns now have their name spelt out in big letters to remind you.

However, feeling somewhat annoyed and frustrated with my rather bland routine in the capital, I took a gamble and escaped during the January holiday weekend.

Pueblo peace

My default option these days is to travel north of Bogotá as I live a convenient five-minute walk from the northern bus terminal. 

Any destination to the south requires a trek across Bogotá to either the main terminal in Salitre or the satellite station in the far south. Avoiding Bogotá's public transport and traffic is good for the body and mind at any time.

In terms of the destination, as readers of previous posts detailing small-town (pueblo) visits will know, the location itself isn't the most important aspect.

Almost any town within a 200-kilometre radius of Bogotá will have a reasonably priced hotel, a picturesque main square, a panadería with drinkable coffee, a tienda with affordable beers and a few hills to wander around to work up a sweat and enjoy a little bit of nature. 

It's a bonus if there's a relatively clean river or lake to chill out by and even bathe in. On the minus side, one usually has to be prepared to encounter some mad dogs — nothing's perfect.

This time around, I wanted somewhere warmer than Bogotá but not ridiculously hot. Looking at the map, for some unknown reason I was drawn to the town of Gachetá.

A scenic resting place ...

Capital of the Guavio Province in the department of Cundinamarca and situated about 100 km (depending on the route taken) east of Bogotá, a Google search told me it's at an altitude of just under 1,800 metres with average daytime temperatures of over 20 degrees Celsius and no colder than eight degrees at night. The jacket can stay in the bag.  

A mistake, however, was to assume that buses from Bogotá to Gachetá leave from the northern terminal. They don't. Thankfully, though, I didn't have to go to the other terminals. Gachetá-bound buses leave from Calle 72 with Avenida Caracas, a 40-minute Transmilenio journey from Terminal Norte.

'No Colombian town is complete without a hilltop statue of Mary or Jesus to "discover".'

That minor miscalculation aside, another anxiety I have about leaving the city on the Friday of a long weekend, heavy traffic, mercifully didn't come to pass on this particular route. In fact, it was largely congestion-free.

The only slight inconvenience — down to my terminal mix-up — was that I arrived in Gachetá after dusk. Normally, I like to get to a new place before nightfall. However, for a small and very safe country town where the bus terminal is a short walk from the centre, this is less of a concern. Rocking up in an unfamiliar big city at night is another matter entirely.

The first item on the agenda, then, was to find a reasonably priced hotel. That came in the form of Hotel El Portal de la Cuarta. 

At 25,000 COP per night for a spacious ensuite room with a hot-water shower (not that the hot water was needed), a comfortable double bed, cable TV and, of course, the essential steady WiFi, one can't go too wrong. Wilmer, the mild-mannered owner, is also on hand to give some sightseeing tips.

Scenery to die for

One of those tips, perfect for the hillwalker that I am, was the Ruta del Agua (Water Route). This incorporates a four-kilometre trek (taking the most direct route) up to a statue of — go on, give a guess  — yes, that's right, the Virgin Mary (no Colombian town is complete without such an attraction. If it's not Mary, it's Jesus). The spot offers a nice view of the town and surrounds.

Looking down on Gachetá en route to the loftier Junín.

It's not a cul-de-sac trail, but whether you go the shorter way or take the slightly longer route via Carrera 5 and a townland called La Chamba, you'll cross the Río Salinero. This predominantly shallow, fast-flowing river does have some deeper spots where you can have a refreshing dip — in rainy season it might be a different animal altogether.

Mentioning Carrera 5, exiting the town taking this street is where you'll pass what is arguably one of the most scenic cemeteries in the country. It is, um, to die for. Sorry!

Río Salinero: It does have some deeper spots in which to submerge oneself.

The hill on which the Virgin Mary stands is perhaps about 100 metres higher than Gachetá. So for those looking for something a little more taxing in terms of a trek, a walk to the nearby village of Junín offers just that.

At an altitude of 2,300 metres, it's a good 500 metres closer to the stars than Gachetá. The shortest, largely traffic-free, rustic approach is just six kilometres away. It does, though, involve a few decent inclines. It certainly puts the legs to work. The reward is getting to take in the quaint Junín, sipping on a coffee and arepa or, whisper it, a cold beer.

Win-win in Junín!

It would be remiss of me not to go into a little more detail on the arepa, Colombia's traditional cornflour snack, available in these parts.

Each region of the country has its own take on them but I have to say the cheese-filled, unsweetened ones in the Guavio Province are about as good as they get. (I mean this in terms of plain arepas, not the delicious Venezuelan ones that are stuffed with all sorts of fillings or the egg/meat-filled arepas originating from Colombia's Caribbean coast.)

Back to Gachetá, some might say that it is the least impressive of Guavio's towns. From what I've been told, the similar-sounding Gachalá, for one, on the banks of the Guavio Reservoir, a very scenic man-made lake, is more idyllic.

That may be so, but in terms of a quiet rural retreat, Gachetá grades well. It beats being bored in Bogotá anyway.
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