Imagine a small village nestle by the coast; with a sprinkling of people soaking in the tranquil atmosphere along the beach; pelicans that glide effortlessly inches above the water; an inviting river that meanders into the sea and a light breeze to cool you from the searing sun.
I’d heard good things off other travellers. And from the various blogs. So decided to give it a go.
The bus from Santa Marta cost 10,000 pesos ($3, €2.80, £2). This can be caught close where Calle 11 crosses Carerra 11 (just ask for the bus to Palomino), which is about a 15 minute walk inland from the coast, through the town. The journey winds its way out of the city, past small villages that seem to cling tightly to the road and lush green tropical forests.
On arrival you are set down next to some awaiting motorcycles. I had been told it was about a 30minute walk to the beach (and they were right). With the sun beating down and a heavy rucksack the 3000 peso ($0.90, €0.80 or £0.60) was very reasonable.
Along the dirt road down there was a variety of accommodation to suit (camping, hammocks and tents- so don’t worry somewhere is likely to have a bed). I was dropped a short distance from the beach. About 5/6 hostels front onto the sea but many were full. Luckily the final place had a bed. Well hammock.
It costs 15000 peso ($4.55, €4.10 and £3.00). Surprisingly comfortable. The sea breeze and the fan even makes it feel cool at night (so think about going to bed with your towel or blanket). The hostel kitchen also makes food for most of the day (fish, chicken, beef, spaghetti) for around 10,000-35,000 pesos/dish ($3-10, € 2.80-9, £2-7). And with free coffee in the mornings I was set. To explore.
To the west, in the distance, over the sandy beaches, is a head land that juts out into the sea. Getting there became my mission. It was going well. For the first 10 minutes. Until you come to the point where the river meets the sea. It is hard to gage the depth.
Two local boys were fishing with spears they had carved from tree branches. And had quite a haul. As such assumed that they knew the area well so I asked them about the crossing. They assured me that the water would only come up to chest height. Now I felt foolish not crossing over.
I removed my camera, money and cigarettes from my pockets. Taking a deep breath, I begun the crossing. The sand crumbles beneath your feet plunging you lower that you were initially expecting. While I agree with the boys about the water height, what they didn’t warn me about was the current. This whips through the channel into the sea. My legs as such went and I found myself fully submerged. Hat and all. Simply my one arm out of the water like a beacon tightly gripping my belongings. I struggled like a dog with three limbs to bundle myself to the other side.
I got onto the other side before I was swallowed up by the sea and its thunderous waves. Dragging myself onto the sandy banks I found a small piece of dry drift wood to sit on. I had a cigarette to celebrate. Admiring the view I noticed a number of tourists looking in my direction. Couldn’t decide if it was shock, relief or comedy on their faces. Anyway I’d made it.
The stroll along the rest of the beach was rather uneventful. Although peaceful, as you are almost completely alone. Judging by the lack of footprints in the sand, few venture this way (I could see why after my previous adventure). It took me about an hour to reach the headland.
At this point you can wonder off the beach and back to the main road. Which takes you through the village. A line of single storey roughly put up buildings. With a mix of convenience stores, a pool hall (well two tables), petrol station and pharmacies.
justindvblog 
Very nice
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