Airs of Gavidia

This time I visited, for the second time, the Gavidia páramo located in the Sierra Nevada of Mérida. The village can be reached from a Jeep stop in Mucuchíes, and once you are in the village you can set out on the trek up the mountain. It is worth noting that the jeeps that carry you up to Gavidia drop you off practically in the center of the village; you will have to walk at least half an hour (depending on your fitness, more or less) to reach the point where the trail begins that can take you to the Laguna del Alto Santo Cristo. Our intention was to reach the Alto de Santo Cristo and turn back if the weather was not favorable, or to keep exploring the surroundings if we were lucky with the conditions. The opening stretch of the walk, however, wore out my trekking companion, since we had not reckoned that the village and the starting point of our route would be so far apart. I remember that the first time I went I did not notice this detail, because I suppose that on that occasion they dropped us off much closer. My aim on this trip was precisely to refresh my memory of those details that make you truly know a route and be able to handle yourself properly. Once we reached the first camp, the weather did not improve; in fact, what I feared most came to pass: it began to rain while we searched our bags for the tent, which we had split between us to share the weight more evenly. I had already weighed the possibility of pitching tents in the rain, but even so, not being able to feel your fingers as you try to drive a stake properly into the ground, with the temperature near 5 degrees and the force of the wind constantly threatening our attempts to set up camp, was enough to sow the seed of despair. We drove in all the stakes as best we could, along with the rainfly. Since the wind was still strong and it kept raining, I took all our belongings and placed them inside the tent; at least that way I made sure it would not blow away while I assessed the stability of what would be our dwelling in those days. The wind kept shaking the scene violently, and I decided to step into the tent in search of shelter; soaked and with the wind refusing to let up, I was flirting with hypothermia. The usual expectation is to pitch the tent and settle down to rest, but it was not only our clothes that were wet—so was the tent, since the wind was strong and it rained while we set it up. There was no way to avoid this; at least it was only a little, and we dried it off with a cloth. The only day of good weather was the day we headed back; everything else was rain and clouds. Curiously, the same thing happened the first time I went. Climate change, however, played a nasty trick on us, since the dry season was supposed to fall roughly around the time of year we went on this occasion, but the reality proved otherwise. Once the trek was over, we decided to go and see one of the highest cable cars in the world, located in the city of Mérida—a most pleasant and thoroughly recommendable experience. I would set out on this route again without a second thought (Gavidia – Laguna de Santo Cristo). We spent a little over 3 days disconnected from civilization, without contact with another soul in all that time. For my companion it was as if time had stopped, or as if we were in another dimension—one where problems, anxieties, wants, the future, plans, ideas, and fears reach no further than what you must face in the present; in short, you live one day at a time. Life becomes basic, simple; you are in survival mode—you get up, you walk, you rest, you eat, you take shelter, you ponder the beauty of things and how you can ignore, for so long, the magnificent experiences the universe lays before us. I already knew what that experience is like, because I often go on treks, but this time I wanted my companion to understand, even if only a little, the nature of these activities and how enriching they can be. This trip struck a positive balance despite the harsh conditions we met both on the mountain and on the journey itself. Getting there was troublesome owing to the lack of transport, and the return was the same story; we had no certainty about our arrival or departure dates, which is why flight or inn reservations were not part of this plan—uncertainty was the constant. On the other hand, I had the chance to practice some night photography. It is astonishing how the moon can light up everything without the need for flashlights. At 2 in the morning I found a moment when the wind dies down, loses all its force, and you find yourself in the most absolute silence; it seems that even the animals rest at that hour, and so you come face to face with the sky, the giant valley surrounding you, and the awareness of your insignificant presence in the universe, as well as of the good fortune of being alive to witness it. © Alejandro Guipe | All rights reserved.