We left Bogota and the pollution cleared. The air smelled like eucalyptus and cow dung. As we rode through the peaks of the Andes, we passed grazing sheep, the purple flowers of potato fields, and forests of pine trees.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” our guide Claudia asked.
Shortly after leaving Bogota we were greeted by amazing views of the Colombian countryside.
Claudia and her driver Pedro were taking my fiance and me on a tour of Lake Guatavita and the Zipaquira Salt Cathedral. Guatavita has served as a worship site for hundreds of years and Zipaquira is one of only three underground churches in the world. The tour included lunch, transportation and entry fees. Our only job was to listen as Claudia told stories about our destinations’ histories.
Indians trekked days, sometimes months to Lake Guatavita, Claudia said as we turned onto a dirt road bordered by adobe walls. They tossed gold plates and rings into the lake as offerings to the goddess of water. When the Spaniards caught wind of this tradition, they looted the lake and attempted to drain it multiple times. Much of what was recovered from the lake is now on display at Bogota’s Gold Museum.
Pedro parked the car at the base of a brick path we would climb to the sacred lake. Guatavita sits 3,000 meters, or 9,800 feet, above sea level. We climbed. And climbed. The brick path gave way to stone and dirt. The trees cleared to reveal epic views of the Colombian savanna. Around us hills covered with rosemary and wildflower shrubs were dwarfed by the Andes. Wooden fences and tree lines divided the mountainsides into pastures. Grey clouds hugged the grassy peaks.
We turned a corner and there it was, Lake Guatavita. The crater of water appeared completely out of place in the mountain top. Birds chirped and the wind shook the spiky grass on the other side of the observation point’s wooden fence. We were alone and it was easy to imagine the awe tribes felt after their long hikes to worship here.
The surprising mountaintop cauldron of Lake Guatavita
Claudia said the water reflects the sky and its color depends on the weather. Today it was pea soup green, flat and still. It appeared the length of a football field. Claudia tsked at a sign stating the lake was 25 meters deep.
“The true depth is not known,” she said.
Guatavita is still used as a ceremonial site by some tribes, Claudia said as we left the lake. Another tour group had arrived, breaking our trance.
The walk down from Lake Guatavita was significantly easier than the climb up.
Within a few minutes we were back in the car, on our way to Zipaquira.
Our first stop was the Funzipa restaurant, a former salt factory. Salt-stained brick columns towered over us as we dined on a set menu of soup, chicken, rice and dessert. We were starving. The food was delicious.
The salt cathedral was a short drive away. Claudia explained the history as we followed a stone hallway into the cavern. The area around us has been mined for salt, coal and sulphur since the 16th century, she said. In the 1930s, miners carved a sanctuary into a mine for protection and a place to worship. The sanctuary was expanded in the 1950s but shut down about 40 years later due to structural concerns. This new cathedral was opened in 1995 after four years of construction.
As we descended, the cool air smelled alternately of sulphur and incense. At each step, motion sensors illuminated the dark cavern around us. Salt crystals sparkled in the ceiling and walls.
A cross made of salt at the Zipaquira salt cathedral.
Claudia stopped briefly at the 14 chapels carved into the mine’s walls and pointed out crosses, angels and even confessionary rooms made of salt. From somewhere in the pit, a recording of the Ave Maria echoed off the 50-foot ceilings.
A manger scene made out of salt.
At the bottom of our 190-meter descent we discovered a cavernous cathedral and the world’s largest underground cross.
A salt replica of the Creation of Adam. In the background you can see the world’s largest underground cross, also made of salt.
I expected Zipaquira to be hokey but instead I found a dignified worship site. Sure it was carved from salt and lit by purple and blue LED lights, but the haphazardly placed candles that burned in the cathedral’s altar had obviously been lit and prayed over by someone devout.
As the car idled in traffic heading back to the city, I thought about the surprising solemnness of Zipaquira, the jaw-dropping beauty of the ride to Guatavita and Claudia’s enthusiasm for her country.
The tour reinforced that Colombia was way beyond my expectations.
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