Just had a flick through my blog traffic. Who ever is in Egypt, Maccau, Russia and Colombia thanks for the support ~ ! ! ! Never ever would have imagined that my work would spread to these far corners of our little earth!
Sparkescito feasted his eyes on a #'Burns gap' and there was no stopping him from unleashing his bag of highly technical, street-manoeuvres that he developed in the early 2000's skateboarding various stair obstacles in Sydneys #CBD. #JavierCOCA and #JuanSebastian watched on in suspense as the young Sydney man #risked life and limb so papi papi (me) could capture 6 - 8 seconds of footage with his high definition #Cannon #60d equipped with a #Rokinionfisheye for an upcoming edit from the trip, that will maybe fool people into thinking we all have some reasonable level of skateboarding skills. But the reality is the 6 - 8 seconds may take 1-2 hours to capture #timewaste, #smokesomeweed, #daneburman.
After the skateboarding wizardry Javi and Sparkes were once again in search of a delicious juicy burger, a habitual behaviour developed by them in Medellin. If you would like to know where to get a good burger hit up https://www.facebook.com/cameron.sparkes.7?fref=ts . . . being a pofta vegertarian (well kind of) Dougy our adopted son from the Uk and always ended up searching for a more economical meal. Sancocho being the favourite.
Medellin is an incredible city nestled in the mountains with endless potential for the skateboarding traveller. Little Javier Coca de Thrasher came back and re-joined us for what would once again evolve into a bit of a wasters trip with a lot of partying and small amounts of skateboarding. We hit the bowl a few times and met some cool local guys. On the way back to the hostel one night we found this amazing stepping stone 'mega-mixer spot' and Javi was initiated into the family of royal bubblers.
We discovered the most dangerous mix of all time, Medellin rum with passionfruit. Alike one of Colombias finest exports the refined white powder extracted from a plant, sugar in english speaking countries got the two of us wired and would send us on a dancing rampage. Im extremely happy the camera stayed in my pocket for that part of the night. Earlier in the nigh we were lucky enough to meet the mayor of Taganga and her sisters who took this piss out of us, especially laughing at papi Camerons burnt gringo skin. And then we gronked it up and nearly fell into the claws of a terrifying but friendly woman who insisted on cornrowing my hair and embarrassingly kind of took on the role as our bodyguard. Most of the night is bit of a blur, mixed with dog photos and meeting hilarious locals.
The following day I dont think ive ever been more hungover in my life. The loud Rastafarian music blaring from the hotel speakers cut deep and we couldnt have wished any harder to be out of there so we rushed to the airport (1 hour away) to buy tickets, but they wouldnt except our credit cards. to make matters worse Sparkes contracted some severe food poisoning and was even contemplating the 18 hour bus ride to Medellin. In the end Papayo saved us booking us tickets for the following afternoon so we spent the next 24 hours in Taganga sweating profusely with regular visits to the toilet.
Once again the sun was shinning so we decided to try our luck and walk over to the next bay along crossing the headland. People from the hostel gave us the usual "dont go! you'll get robbed, a guy got kidnapped there a month ago" talk. The closest thing to that was 2 stoned teenagers asking us for a cigarette, maybe Cam-e-rons intimidating appearance scared them all off? We took to the seas with a little snorkel mission, watched dogs breed, milled about town searching for the finest passionfruit juice, skated a little manual pad and hit it home to drop the camera and get ready to burn up the dance floor!
So our Colombian homies were on their way back to Bogota for a week of work and would hook back up with Sparkes and I in Medellin at an uncertain date. Sparkes and I sadly watched the crew disappear in a taxi and we were on the next bus to Taganga, which I was told was one of the main spots for exporting cocaine.
Taganga is a small beachside town renowned for wild parties, sketchy encounters with armed bandits at night and a good place do some ocean floor exploration. We ended up ticking all of the above boxes but somehow evaded getting robbed, which was not the same story for most other travellers we spoke to.
It was our final day in the Caribbean paradise and we soaked up every second. Waking in my hammock was the silent killer, an 18 meter coconut tree which dropped a number of cocos during the night. lucky to escape a killer that takes more lives a year then sharks Papapyo and I decided to do a last minute hike up the little mountain to 'Pueblito' (Little village). The walk and sometimes climb cut its way through the moist, tropical jungle environment and sweat poured from our bodies as the humidity seemed to climb the further up we trudged. We explored the little Pueblito, rushed down the mountain, gathered our belongings and tried to do the 3 hour walk out in top gear as we feared that the Colombians Javier, Papayo and Algerian Saracita would miss their flights (which didnt bother me too much as I wanted them to stay around).
On the way out after a much needed 'jugo de maracuya' we saw something emerging from the deep green, jungle ahead and it was 2 young native children who believe it or not still inhabit the jungle with their tribe, living basically the same they have for thousands of years (may be a different story if you go to the village).