Rewind - Volcan Totumo

A big highlight of our trip to Colombia was the Volcan Totumo--a 45 foot high pile of mud! Read on, if you dare.

One afternoon, against the suggestion of our hotel concierge, Baker, Riley and I grabbed a taxi out to the Volcan Totumo--what we had heard was a forty-five foot tall "volcano" full of mud. It sounded weird and weird sounded like fun.

The taxi ride took about an hour and along the way we passed through suburban Cartagena and the "George Washington School" (a private school primarily for expats) and a similar British-founded expat school. The kids and I discussed some of Colombia's recent past--drugs and violence. That was an interesting chat and reminds me of how travel provides the opportunity for so many lessons and discussions.

[By the way, a lot of people have asked us if Colombia was safe, given its reputation. We never felt in danger. Our understanding is that the president of the past eight years did a great job on reigning in the violence. While it may still not be entirely safe to travel to remote parts of the country, by all accounts the big cities (Cartagena, Bogota, Medellin) are quite safe. In fact, we did not even see a large police force, which I had entirely expected. There were not lots of AK47-bearing military police walking around to keep the streets safe. It was all quite peaceful.]

Fifty minutes down the road, we turned off onto a smaller road that soon turned to dust and gravel. And there looming before us--well, not quite looming, more like resting--was the mighty (not quite mighty, either--more like dusty) Volcan Totumo.

Volcan Totumo: Making a mountain out of a molehill, or in this case, a volcano out of a mudpile.

We climbed a rickety stairway to the top of Totumo and there our eyes met "the crater"--a 12' x 12' or so square pool of mud, inhabited by three people covered head to toe in the stuff. Turns out they were from Saskatoon. Really.

They appeared to be sitting on benches that I figured lined the side, the way benches do in a jacuzzi. I asked them about the benches and they said, "No. Were sort of just standing here."

"Well, how deep is the mud?" I asked one of the young Colombian men standing about to help people get in and out.

"Dos mil trescientos metros de profundidad."

"What? Really?"

"Si."

2300 meters deep! That's over 7500 feet. This thing was mud all the way down.

Back to the Canadians: "Well, it feels like we're standing. I guess it's more like we are floating."

They weren't treading or exerting any effort whatsoever. They were just there atop 7500 feet of liquid, standing.

Riley was the first to enter, followed by Baker and then by me. It is hard to describe the feeling of it, other than that it was very, very funny. We laughed most of the hour we spent in the mud. We laughed at the feeling of sitting in such thick ooze; we laughed at our vain attempts to dive under the ooze--we simply couldn't get down; we laughed at our looks, covered in the mud; and we laughed at our jumps into a 7500 foot deep pool.

It was a fun and laughter filled afternoon. When finally we decided to get out, we climbed down Totumo (with a bit more respect than when we summited) and were escorted to the adjacent lake where three local women helped us wash up--scrubbed us quite well actually.

I think in this case, in particular, photos are worth 1000 or more words; and video even more. See the photos below and check out this video on YouTube of our Totumo experience.

Three monsters emerge from the ooze of Totumo!

Baker in the batter.

Riley, hoping the cement doesn't harden!

Blue Man group ain't got nothing on us!

Baker looks particularly psycho in this photo, no?

Pura vida!