The Rio Chicamocha in the Santander region of Colombia is dubbed a great intermediate paddle down one of the longest and remote canyons in South America. The drive to the river proved to be stunning and this 2-day run was expected to be a “warm up” for our Colombian paddling adventure.

The soupiness of the river somehow suggested that this might not be the case. However, the local paddlers assured me that this was going to be fine and that we were good to put on.
The first thing that strikes you about the canyon is it’s incredible beauty. While this is not the type of boxed in canyon that you would find on a remote class 5 stretch, the sloped walls go as high as the eye can see and a hike out would involve a great distance through thorned jungle.

We were committed.

One of the calmer sections of the flooded Rio Chicamocha.

As the river wound around corners, the silty waves got bigger and bigger. However, they were navigable and we were still able to spot upcoming hazards with sufficient warning. One of the major issues with paddling in water heavily filled with sediment is the inability to actually read the water. Whitewater without the white makes it that much more difficult to make out and react to features.

Soon enough, we came to the section of the river where the river bed narrows and constricts the flow. Ahead of me all I could see were brown explosions of water. I knew things were about to get interesting.

Our leader, Mark Hentze (the author of the Colombia Whitewater guidebook) charged ahead of the group down this massive section of whitewater. Before anyone realized this, we had all pulled off to the side, making an obvious decision not to follow.
We tried to figure out what to do. Mark was gone and a swim out of his kayak in this water would likely be fatal. We climbed up on the highest rocks we could find in order to try to spot him in hopes that he had already reached safety. He was nowhere to be seen.
As an expedition paddler these are the moments you dread. At that moment, I came to the realization that it was very possible that we had lost someone on the river and might not even recover a body.  That being said, we still had to get the rest of the group to safety by navigating what we could. Hiking out was not possible.

Along the right side of the river we could spot lines down the flow that would get us from eddy to eddy. Between one paddler getting out of his boat, communicating a possible line down the rapid and paddling the line himself this all took a great deal of time.

Our hopes of getting ourselves safely down this massive torrent quickly enough to have a realistic hope of finding and helping Mark if he was in trouble were slim. Not to mention that daylight was fading fast, and there was no end in sight to this rapid.

Out of nowhere, we heard the ringing of a cell phone. Cesar, one of the local San Gil paddlers had his cell phone on him. It was Mark, letting us know that he was safe downstream. Relief washed over us.

Mark had somehow been able to work his way through the rapid and get into an eddy about 1.5 km downstream. He would later tell us that he felt lucky to have done so considering the size of the whitewater and lack of eddies on the left side of the river.

With daylight fading and the group close to reuniting it was time to make a decision. We had to find a safe spot off the river to hole up for the night. We were properly equipped with supplies, but were far from any reasonable campsite.

We continued down the river between massive holes and breaking waves until we found Mark waiting for us on river left.  At this point it was twilight and it was time to move fast. A jungle terrain is not ideal for hiking at night with heavy boats and equipment.

We started the steep hike up the left side of the canyon. Each step in front of me seemed to look darker and darker and soon there was barely any light at all. Thankfully, in my overnight gear I had packed my Goal Zero charger pack to recharge my camera gear. One of it’s features is a handy LED light that became my main source of light that night.

Soon enough we found a little shelter for cattle placed in the middle of a marshy pasture. Relieved, we all took shelter among the cow patties, while stealing occasional glances at the massive bull staring back at us. We consumed what water we had and began to make a plan.

Before we knew it we saw flashlights heading our way. It was the local farmer with his 9 year old son. At first, he seemed angry at finding us on his land and in his barn. However, we finally realized that he was not upset but inviting us to his home to spend the night with his family!  It didn’t take any convincing for us to follow him to his house.

When we arrived 4 more small, shy children poked their heads out to see the unfamiliar gringos arrive at their home wearing strange gear. The shyness wore off when we handed them each a chocolate bar and they were all smiles the rest of the night.
They have a simple 3-room house – a kitchen with wood oven, a storage room, and one bedroom for the whole family.

They had a dog, a mule, cats, goats, chickens, and cattle all in the near vicinity. They provided us with use of their kitchen, hammocks, water and sleeping pads. They marveled at our cameras and the photos we showed them of San Gil and other areas.

A rural Colombian cocina.

Their life was simple and seemed to be filled with hard work and happiness.  The father told us that the kids were to go to school in the morning and that the Pueblo of Ordan was only a 25 minute hike from their farm. Perhaps there in the morning we could find a ride out of town and back to San Gil.  It was likely that the river was still rising and would only get more dangerous.

I’ll always remember this family’s warmth, kindness, and generosity. To me, this represented the people that I met all along the way in Colombia.

Another example of this was the next morning when we made our way to Ordan. Quickly we were taken into a local home and provided with a meal of eggs and sweet bread. It is hard to think of North Americans offering to take some stranded foreigners into their homes and sharing a meal.  The lady who cooked us breakfast then called the local driver to see about providing us with a ride out of Jordan. This would involve a trek up a 1500 M canyon on rugged roads. In fact, it was a path seldom traveled since the principle route was washed out by landslides.

A view of the canyon from Jordan.

After an afternoon of lounging in the local swimming hole, we met with our driver to load his mid-sized truck with six loaded kayaks and six paddlers. Epic on it’s own.  The ride out was bumpy and dangerous. Especially with two of our crew hanging off the side of the loaded kayaks. However, the views in the canyon were beyond spectacular. At every turn there was either a waterfall plunging into the gorge below or a jagged cliff wall that gave you chills to look down. This was a class 5 drive for sure.

Lazing around the local swimming hole while we waited for our ride.

We finally made it back to San Gil in one piece around 10pm that evening. Along the way, we had failed brakes and a wheel fly off the truck across a soccer field.

The things we go through for an adventure.

Photos by: Andy Atkins