When I could feel the sweat dripping down my legs as we hid from the mid-day heat in Taganga, I made I solemn oath to get our butts somewhere cooler. We opted to head into the hills southeast of Taganga to the village of Minca. 700 meters above sea level meant the difference between melting and comfortably swinging in a hammock looking over Colombia’s Sierra Nevada.
Hotel San Souci where we stayed has a beautiful outdoor cooking space. As we pulled in, one of the owners stood protectively in front of the brand spanking new island. Apparently someone destroyed the former island by rear-ending it. Our truck’s proximity to the island was making her nervous. We immediately vowed not to hit it. Our group congregated in the outdoor cooking space every night much as you would in your own kitchen. We grilled fish on the fire and enjoyed being disconnected from the internets. George even found time to perform some surgery on his pillow. He cut it in half length wise and sewed it back up so that he could fit in the tent fully stretched out.
Our first stop heading north was Taganga, which has some mediocre okay beaches but is primarily used as a jumping off point for other attractions like Tayrona National Park. The G and I were just happy to be together back in Vida and sleeping in Taj.
The local fisherman were bringing in the day’s catch as we were walking along the beach our first evening. G was all over that and picked up a fish in the tuna family (much smaller of course). Now, the pair of us are incapable of remembering names (especially Spanish names), so we have no idea what kind of fish it is. I will hence dub it “delicious mini tuna fish”. George took care of the cooking duties.
Doing it all over, I’d would skip Taganga all together and head directly to Tayrona. Taganga is not a pristine little fishing village, it’s something else entirely. A few days after leaving, we heard some disturbing stories about backpackers getting mugged in the street and a hostel getting held up.