A day in Tobia

Our first day of spring break promised to be good as a peak out the window revealed a beautiful morning. I awoke sleepy teens, packed up the car and headed to a day of adventure in Tobia. Little did we know...

After slowly battling traffic to get out of town, we crossed the rim of the basin that Bogota is settled in and the view unrolled before us. Lush, green, forest covered peaks rising all around us. I opened the sunroof and enjoyed watching the temperature rise as we dropped in elevation.

Following my friend's car we turned off the main road and onto a dirt road. Up went the windows and I closed the sun room as we squinted to see through the fine dust being kicked up. We passed through the very quaint, in its Colombian way, town of Tobia, turned off the road and descended to Mariposa Azul, the company that would take us on our rafting trip.

After stretching our legs from the 2 ¼ hr. drive we loaded into an old Land Rover and headed up river. Our safety demonstration was conducted in Spanish and hand gestures with a bit of English sprinkled in. After deciding that Maddie & Elena would go with our friends and I would go with Damon and the other two teenage boys, we loaded into rafts and shoved off.

Our white water excursion was on the Rio Negro or Black River. (The boys got a kick out of that oxymoron!) A fine, grey silt giving the river a muddy look must have provided the inspiration for the name. The stretch we were doing was a class three. Very comfortable for us all! On the smooth parts our guide encouraged us to jump in then hoisted us up before we needed to paddle again. We enjoyed the fun rapids and gave a hearty “hoorah” after passing through. All was well until...

The “hole” was not visible as we paddled down the river. The next thing I knew, we turned backwards and water began filling our raft. Within moments it appeared we were sitting on the water because the raft was completely submerged and more water was continuing to pour in as the nose was pushed farther and farther under water.

In retrospect I realize the guide most likely steered us directly there to give the boys a little fun. What he didn't realize was the way the one woman in the boat would react. Having a deep-seated fear of dying through drowning I began screaming. Not the “it's so fun to be flying on this roller coaster as my stomach flip-flops around”, but rather the “I don't want to die” scream. All I could see was a wall of water churning into our raft and I could only think of falling into the water, being turned around and around like the clothes in my washing machine, never reaching the top to breathe again. The raft shifted a bit putting me a few inches closer to the churning water. I clawed my way in a frantic fashion over my son, who patted me on the head, to the other side of the raft. I hugged the wall for dear life and let the teenagers get over their staring at me to get us out of this predicament.

Of course we broke out of the hole, the raft drained and we were happily, although shakily, on our way. The tour ended, we piled back into the the tuck and jumped into the pool for a cool off before lunch.

Lunch turned-out to be the most delightful affair. Women in the open-sided kitchen prepared food as we settled into chairs under the open air shelter. Just as clay bowls full of steaming beans and rice were placed before us, thunder cracked overhead. Soon the skies opened and rain poured down around us. We rejoiced in our beautiful morning on the river and the secret lunch we were now having, curtained from the world by a sheet of water. Conversation flowed, lunch delighted in and rest washed our souls. Just as we finished eating the rain abated and our thoughts turned towards home.

As we gathered our things we noticed that my car was sitting in a puddle with a very flat tire. My friend who is overly familiar with all the troubles I have had with this car was very gracious to offer the services of her driver. Fabian took charge and had the spare on in no time. With tire spinning we gunned it up the hill and out of the rafting oasis.

The boys had noticed an ice cream shop in town on the way in. The sun was now shinning and sweat dripping down our faces as we pulled over for a snack before the long drive home. As the kids huddled around the ice cream case Fabian asked me if I would like to get the tire fixed right away. My mind had already begun to think about the long drive home on gravel and paved roads twisting and turning through the mountains – with a spare tire. I was a bit nervous about it. Then the thought of trying to find a place and communicate in Spanish to have the repair made. “Yes, I want it fixed now” (while I have some help!).

A few inquiries by Fabian from people mingling in the street and we were soon headed a few blocks away to the repair shop as everyone else enjoyed an icy treat.

Fabian pointed and we stopped in front of a shop 6 feet wide and 12 feet deep. This was no Discount Tire. Old bikes who had seen better days hung on one wall. Worn-out tires suffering from dry rot hung from the ceiling. Dust, dirt and grease coated the room. The man pulled my tire from the trunk, spun it around and found the culprit – a nail. He pulled it out, patched the spot, washed it off with gasoline, cranked up the car and had the newly repaired tire on in no time flat. I glanced at my watch. We had pulled up 8 minutes ago. I smiled, the ice cream would not have even had time to drip down the side of the cones. “How much?” I asked. $5,000 pesos - $2.50 USD. My smile grew.

At the ice cream shop we found the others engaged in a game of soccer with some kids from the town. Fabian and I got our snack and sat down to watch. We piled back into the cars - sweaty, full, tired and all satisfied. The teens fell asleep. I turned on some Gungor and soaked in the view. As we climbed in elevation I watched the temperature drop. I drove home in peace and without a worry.

These days away and out of town are good. They always fill the soul and provide an unexpected adventure!

• Kris

Mariposa Azul

www.mariposaazul.net

Tobia, Colombia