Chapter 6: The Wolfpack on a Boat

We spent two glorious days in the tiny town of Guatapé where we encountered much friendlier people and cleaner bodies of water than Medellín (Río Medellin=WOOF.) Guatapé is a massive, partially man-made lake with dozens of islands. We arrived on a festivo Monday and the malecón or lakefront walkway was crawling with mainly Colombian tourists. There were vendors every few feet successfully tempting us with grilled papas criollas (the most delicious baby potatos on earth) and chorizos, empanadas and arepas, michelada beers, ice cream, obleas and the standard spread of souvenirs (with all these italics I feel like I should probably write a blog about Colombian food.)

The shore was crowded various watercraft for rent, and it was a beautiful, sunny afternoon so we shelled out about 6 USD apiece for a 1.5 hour lake cruise. The four of us didn’t chat much while on board because I think we were all too busy thinking the same exact thing: there is no where on Earth I would rather be right now. And let’s steal that beagle.

We stayed in a beautiful lakeside hostel that Kate’s mom recommended to us after she saw it on House Hunters International. (um, Brig’s mom, where were you on that one?) One morning was dedicated to casually climbing 739 stairs to the top of a strange geological structure called El Peñol, known as The Rock. The ascent was exhausting yet quad-burningly refreshing (if no comparison to Cotopaxi) and well-worth the views at the top.


If only there were a Guatapé closer to Bogotá.