We had been hiking for two days when we arrived at the spirit house of Valencia, also known as a Maloca. The trail had been difficult, but at least there was a trail. The rocks, placed carefully by indigenous peoples centuries ago, formed this sacred route winding against cliffs and underneath waterfalls, eventually ascending from the jungle into the clouds. Here our vision was constrained, and the wind pressed the chilling dampness of the clouds through our jackets and into our bodies. All around us, the Paramo spread out into the mist. This sponge-like ecosystem is thousands of species of plants woven together as if a single organism. There’s seemingly no bottom to the damp, spiny vegetation, but its surface flourishes with millions of tiny delicate flowers, dancing with clouds. After days of walking, we stood for a moment and looked down to where the source of the Caqueta likely was. We couldn’t see it, but its presence was felt. We then turned and began hiking down the other side of the mountains, eventually leading us to the Maloca in Valencia, near to where the river drew enough water to float a kayak.

We hugged our indigenous guide Julian, who had been with us for three days, and said goodbye. He turned to walk away but paused, his body momentarily blocking the bright light flooding through the doorway from sunlit fields. He looked directly at Jules and simply said, “Be careful”.

Something about how he said it made my hair raise. It was as if he knew what we were about to attempt. He turned and was gone, the light slanting back onto the dirt floor of the Maloca. The first page of our journey had turned.

“And you?” The Taita eventually asked, looking at me as if knowing Jules had only told half our story. 

 After a similar introduction and expression of gratitude, I told the story of my personal journey on our original expedition, my sickness with a flesh-eating parasite, Leishmaniasis, which I contracted on the expedition. How it ate at my lips, deforming my face, and the months of chemotherapy to treat it. I told him that I felt as if I'd encountered a dark energy on the expedition, and spoke also of the recent death of my father. My dad’s passing had led me on a journey back to Colombia the previous year to seek out powerful Taitas, and plant medicines to help me heal. Dad was my best friend, mentor, father, paddling partner and our bond was inseparable. In his passing, I knew if my path was to follow his, I would need to take a great leap and expand my spiritual path. This path led me to Colombia, and it was from this journey that I had the vision of reconnecting with the Caqueta and to again, seek the plant medicine to assist me on my spiritual path to heal.

For me, this trip was incredibly significant. I was going back to face my fears, to heal, and connect with my father. I was hoping to lift the energy which had enveloped me since our original expedition. 

It was an unassuming start to the expedition; a peaceful burbling brook, a sunny field, easy banter and welcoming weather. 

 We offered some coca leaves to the river, said a silent prayer, and watched them float downstream. It was like seeing a 1/100th scale of our past-selves being flung like leafs through the flooded canyon downstream. 

Tyler Bradt

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