Mar
21
2009

Trek to the Lost City

I am back from the multi-day 52km trek to Ciudad Perdida happy, healthy, and just a bit wiser. It was a great experience, I want to do more of this sort of thing. How wonderful to have someone else dealing with the cooking, cleaning, and setting up camp! When backpacking, I’m so used to carrying my own food and campware, that this was a luxury.

The story of this area is still shrouded in mystery. The local indigenous people (mostly the Koguis but also the Arhuacos) are not particularly friendly to outsiders – understandably so, after 400 years of oppression. First by the Conquistadores, more recently by Hispanic farmers, miners, loggers, drug runners, paramilitary, you name it. In fact, they believe that while they are the Elder Brothers living in the Center of the World, all the rest of us are the Younger Brothers, too naïve to take care of the Earth Mother. The BBC made an interesting documentary about all of this.
A bit of history, courtesy of another blog:

In 1525 the Spanish landed at what is now the city of Santa Marta, their first landing in what is now Colombia. They encountered indigenous people – the Tayrona – whom they noted had a lot of gold artifacts. So many in fact that they soon came back and subjected them to Spanish rule. The Tayrona were cunning, however: unlike the Aztecs, they did not take the Spaniards for returning gods by showing them directly to their major cities. Instead they allowed the conquerors to believe that their major populations were on the coast, all the while hiding away in their actual strongholds buried deep in the densely forested and imposingly lofty sierra nevada. Having just trekked in them I can assure you that these mountains amount to a fairly effective barrier to any would be conquerors, but obviously not even knowing of their existence is an even better one. Unfortunately the mountains offered no protection against the epidemic diseases which killed two thirds of the indigenous population of the Americas after the Europeans’ arrival, and so the Tayrona were wiped out. Their capital, Teyuna (the Kogui word for Ciudad Perdida), lay ‘undiscovered’ until it was stumbled upon in 1975 by gold prospectors. In fact, the local tribes, who are all descended from the Tayrona people, knew the location all the while and it was ‘lost’ simply because they didn’t want anyone to know about it. Likewise they claim to know the locations of various other abandoned Tayrona settlements – in fact there is a rock in Teyuna which is supposedly a map of the Sierra Nevada showing all the ancient Tayrona sites, but the local peoples refuse to decipher it.

There are four companies that lead the trips – Sierra Nevada Tours, Turcol, Magic Tours, and I forget the other one. I think they’re probably all about the same. I got signed up with Magic Tours by Hostel Miramar. Ours was a relatively small group – one guide (Nicolas, who has only been a guide for two years but has been doing the trek for 14 years), one cook (Pedro, a sweet guy who was always there with a cup of coffee or a snack just when you needed it), one mule (which carried the food and bedding except for the final stretch which was impassable by pack animals, so Nicolas’ nephew acted as porter), and five tourists: an Israeli couple who unfortunately reinforced the negative stereotype of their fellow countrymen by being rude, arrogant and standoffish. It’s no wonder their country has trouble getting along with other nations with attitudes like that. Then again, perhaps it’s simply cultural misunderstanding – maybe in their country, that behaviour is considered direct and normal. Besides the Israelis, there was an Irish woman named Eimeir, an English bloke named Jon (who hitchhiked through Central America a few years ago!), and myself. The three of us hung together and bonded over the week. So let’s start at the beginning, shall we…

Day One: Monday

Muddy jeep

Muddy jeep

After picking everyone up in a rugged Toyota 4×4, we drove an hour and a half to the start of a dirt track. Then another hour and a half on a “road” that I would not have thought drivable – 3′ deep ruts filled with mud, strewn boulders to ricochet over, rivers to plow through, you get the idea. Several times we were at nearly a 45 degree angle. We did get stuck once, but luckily some laborers were nearby with shovels and a pickaxe to dig us out. Ironically at the end of all this, the road reaches a nicely paved little town! The name of the town is Machete Pelao, loosely translated as “Machetes Out”, giving me pause. We had lunch, loaded up the animals, said goodbye to showers and clean clothes for six days, and began hiking. The trail on this day was big and wide, a horse track, really.

"Hi there!"

"Hi there!"

No jungle at this point, it was all cultivated land, farmer’s fields, which afforded nice views of the Sierra Nevada mountains. We happened upon a coral snake that started coming after me when I bent down to say hello. I wasn’t worried, I knew that he knew that I was cool.

Muddy track

Muddy track

I fell on my ass in the first of many river crossings. Because of all the river fordings, I did most of the hike in my sandals which was fine – I don’t need the ankle support a lot of people do, probably from all the years of skating. Jon got a big tick that held on tight when he tried to rip it off.
We passed a military camp, the first of many soldiers we would see. They are here to patrol the area, since it used to be controlled by the FARC and other paramilitary groups. In 2003, a group of 8 tourists doing this trek were kidnapped and held for three months. Others have said there was also a kidnapping a year and a half ago, but I can’t find anything about that on the net, so I suspect it’s another rumour. Anyway, the army boys get posted here just after basic training, and they’re out here in the woods for three months at a stretch. They must get bored out of their minds.
There was a nice soft “chipi-chipi” misty rain in the afternoon which I welcomed, since I haven’t seen any rain in over two months. Most of this day was uphill, in fact we gained so much altitude that our ears actually popped. After about three or four hours we arrived at a camp that was impressive in it’s structure for being out in the middle of nowhere.

First camp

First camp

There was electricity (hydro, we think), concrete foundations, a TV and a pool table! Crazy, considering all of this had to be brought on the backs of pack animals. I think at least one family lives there, and there is room for maybe 40 people to camp. Pedro got started on cooking, which is done cowboy-style in large cast iron pots over a wood fire. Dinner that night consisted of stewed chicken with tomatoes, veggies and rice. Nicolas set up our bedding, which consisted of hammocks with comfy warm woolen blankets and ingenious mosquito nets that are made to string from the ends of the hammocks, such that they form a cozy cocoon around the hammock but never touch you. By the way, while the rest of us were constantly applying 100% DEET (sure to cause cancer), the guides weren’t bothered in the least. I knew that it was possible to develop immunity to diseases like malaria, but to simple mosquito bites..? The plumbing in each of these camps is impressive for what they’re able to manage in the middle of the jungle. Water is carried from the river (or a spring?) to a series of PVC pipes which then run to various actual flush toilets, sinks, and taps. The whole thing is very Rube Goldberg and ghetto, but it works. The funny part is that usually the taps are just continually running. No need to shut them off, since they’re essentially just part of the river that comes up and goes right back down again.

Can I just say how happy I am to have my appetite back. This is the first day in over six weeks I’ve felt good enough to eat whatever’s in front of me. I hadn’t quite realized that I was subconsciously starving myself, since almost any food caused a war in my intestines, leading to a trip to the bathroom. But it appears that my extended bout of traveler’s diarrhea may finally be over. Hallelujah!

After dinner there wasn’t much to do so Jon, Eimeir and I got to know each other a bit, telling various riddles, talking about cultural differences, wondering how we were going to pass the time for the next five nights since none of us had brought cards. Being in the woods and reliant on the sun made us think it was about midnight when it was only 8:30. Being pretty zonked, we called it an early night.

The rest of the story after the jump…

Day Two: Tuesday

Being fairly close to the equator, Colombia experiences almost exactly 12 hours of daylight year-round, with the sun rising at about 6am, and setting at about 6pm. Our morning routine became Pedro beginning breakfast at 6, most of us getting up by 6:30, breakfast at 7, and hitting the trail by 7:30. It felt good. I had my first solid shit in two months this morning. Woo-hoo! As we were packing up, a group of schoolchildren walked by the camp on their way to school, along with their teacher. Every day they hike miles through rough terrain to learn. I know, that’s nothing compared to your childhood of walking barefoot through the snow, uphill both ways 🙂

Our trusty mule

Our trusty mule

Hiking with pack animals makes so much more possible – one would not normally hike with eggs, blankets, and cast iron pots. But mules make such luxuries possible. Another cool thing about them is that they act as compost recyclers – all of our organic trash was happily eaten by them.

The hike this day was not long, maybe only four hours. It included beautiful misty mountain views and a long downhill that made me scared for the way back up in a couple of days.

Kogui village

Empty Kogui village

We passed a couple of indigenous huts whereupon Nicolas smoothed the way by offering candy to the kids in exchange for us being allowed to take photos and talk a bit with the adults. They all speak Spanish in addition to their native tongue. They have beautiful, distinctive features – high cheekbones, long silky jet-black hair most of the way down their backs (men and women alike), and their clothes are all white. The older ones have deeply weathered faces. None of them wear shoes.

Coca plant

Coca plant. Hard to believe governments spend billions of dollars trying to eradicate this innocent little plant.

Like most indigenous people in South America, they all chew coca leaves, which acts as a mild stimulant and hunger suppressant. I tried it, but didn’t feel anything other than a mild numbness in the mouth. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t use a poporo, a sacred device they use to help break down the leaves into a paste. I didn’t quite understand the explanation, but somehow the poporo represents both the womb and the penis, and the shaft gets larger as the stick is rubbed on it. I am not making this up.

Poporo

Poporo

Nicolas handing out sweets

Nicolas handing out sweets. Love the outfit - rubber boots with shorts and machete sheath covered in fringe.

An awkward moment

An awkward moment

Cute Kogui kids

Cute Kogui kids

Pedro preparing a snack. He chopped a few leaves from the nearest banana tree and used them as a platter.

Pedro preparing a snack. He chopped a few leaves from the nearest banana tree and used them as a platter.

Mudbrick (adobe) house that's seen better days

Mudbrick (adobe) house that's seen better days

Enormous mortar and pestle. Look how short that doorway is! Them's small peoples.

Enormous mortar and pestle. Look how short that doorway is! Them's small peoples.

The largest village we passed was empty – apparently they were all out in the fields farming (?) Nicolas also said something about it only being used for ceremonies. Clearly we lost a lot in translation. The families we did see all had lots of kids and a fair number of animals – chickens and pigs mostly.

We arrived (at noon – easy days!) at the next camp to an army unit carrying large assault rifles. Ah, the calming effect of nature. This camp is more rustic than the last one, just dirt floor with a tin roof. It has showers, toilets, and sinks, though. The camp overlooks a large river that we swam in for all of 30 seconds, before our bums were half frozen. The rivers are getting colder the higher we ascend. I washed out my clothes which were dripping in sweat, but learned the next morning that nothing ever dries here because it’s so humid. Oh well. We laid around the hammocks drinking cowboy coffee, wishing we had brought books. Actually, I had brought one magazine that we traded back and forth, savoring it. After a nap, Jon, Eimeir and I eventually got up the energy to go bouldering upstream until it started raining.

The kitchen

The kitchen

Lunch was a yummy veggie soup with rice. Dinner consisted of lentils, beef stew, and rice. Nicolas cut leaves from the nearest coconut tree and used them to cover the rice, to lock in the flavor. In general the food was quite good and we were always offered seconds or thirds, which was great – you never want to feel hungry in a situation like this. None of us got sick, either. I think the water they served us was purified with chlorine tablets. I continued to use my nifty water purifier just to be safe.

2nd night camp

2nd night camp. Note the genius mosquito nets.

We had the camp almost totally to ourselves until the evening when several other groups showed up, and we ended up with about 35 people sleeping in an area roughly 15m x 4m. Cozy! Some were headed back down, including a bunch of government VIPs (accompanied by military escort) who had helicoptered into the site and were hiking out, in order to only take two days to do the trip. What took us four hours in a Jeep and two days of hiking took them 15 minutes by helicopter! Apparently they were the directors of the parks department and other agencies who had come to check out the condition of the camps and trails. Imagine the Secretary of the Interior hiking and camping in Yellowstone, just to check on the condition. They were accompanied by journalists and documentary filmmakers invited by the director of communications for USAID in Colombia, an interesting woman that I got to talking with a couple of days later. We had mixed feelings hearing about their recommendations – on the one hand, cleaner, more organized camps would be nice, but “safety” and “progress” inevitably means “dulling down”. One of the reasons we come to places like this is because they are so rustic and real, not pampered up for tourists.

There being no electricity out here, one sees by candlelight. It works surprisingly well when they’re spread all over the rafters. After watching the hypnotic fireflies for a while, we called it another early night.

Day Three: Wednesday

Breakfast consisted of grilled cheese sandwiches and coffee or hot chocolate. Pretty basic, but we did get fruit for snacks throughout the morning hike. The mules were left at camp since the trail soon turned impassable for them. Which meant that our guides carried everything. I tried to offer help since I had room in my pack, but they wouldn’t hear of it. I guess they’re used to it. Today we successfully forded three rivers with no one falling in. We passed another indigenous house where Nicolas bought some fruit from them to give us a snack. I like the way he supports the locals in this way. He also gave them any leftover food we had, since these people are dirt poor. Nothing goes to waste.

Sugarcane mill

Sugarcane mill

I noticed a horse mill next to this house, used for turning sugar cane into sugar juice, or whatever that’s called. Smart that they do the processing on site, rather than packing all the raw materials down the mountain and then processing it. I guess they figured stuff like this out after a couple thousand years! Although I’ve read that the Tairona never invented the wheel, this mill had gears, which are of course simply wheels with cogs attached. It’s ingenious – the mule is attached to a strong beam which turns the cogs which crush the sugar cane which causes the sap to drip down onto banana leaves which act as a funnel into a pot. There was even a stick in front of the working beam to which a carrot is presumably attached. It’s hard to believe they’re that stupid, to continually chase a carrot all day long. Hopefully they actually get the carrot at the end of it all.

Cute kid

Cute kid

Nicolas explained that the indigenous people grow nearly everything they need – beans, bananas, rice (although we wondered where they hide the rice paddies, since we didn’t see any), avocado, etc. The only thing they trade for or buy is salt, and cotton to make their clothes. I wonder if they use looms or what. We saw some locals weaving bags out of palm fronds that are both used and sold. Apparently the families don’t live in one house year-round – they rotate their fields (and therefore houses) every three months. We passed a wonderfully weatherbeaten, rugged old man sitting elegantly upon his horse. I was dying to take a photo but resisted out of respect. We also met the chief of the tribe who looked surprisingly young, although his teeth were something to behold. You can tell he’s a chief because of his pointy hat.  He told us some cockamamie story of the hat representing the world, with the folds being rivers, the ridges mountains, etc. We were sure he made the story up for tourists.

From the second camp up to the lost city itself, there was a large military presence. I’m not sure if we were escorted by the boys out of safety, or if they just happened to be going our way. Or if they simply wanted in on some of the snacks that Nicolas kindly fed them. It’s pretty surreal to be hiking through jungle next to Colombian military dudes toting machine guns. The Israeli in our group recognized them as Israeli-made weapons, interesting. They’re all kids, too – none of them look old enough to grow a beard. Jon and I wanted to get photos of us and them posing with their kit, but we were too chicken to ask, so I just snuck some shots. We crossed a lot of rivers today. Maybe it was all the same (Buritaca) river, I’m not sure. Some of the time it came up to our waists. It must be quite an adventure in the rainy season when the rivers are swollen. The sun came out as we bouldered along the banks and I got sunburnt. After four hours of muddy hiking, we stopped for lunch at the foot of the famous steps leading to the Lost City and swam under a freezing waterfall.

The Chief. I (who am short) look enormous!

The Chief. I (who am short) look enormous!

Pedro loaded down with cookware

Pedro loaded down with cookware

Hiking with soldiers

Hiking with soldiers

Tough guy (kid)

Tough guy (kid)

I have no idea what all these bites are from, but most people got far more.

I have no idea what all these bites are from, but most people got far more.

Refreshing

Refreshing

Nicolas and his nephew the porter

Nicolas and his nephew the porter

Taking a break from slogging

Taking a break from slogging

Lunch stop

Lunch stop

Back to those steps – they rise out of the river and go straight up into the jungle for ages. There are nearly 2,000 of them, to be precise. Can you imagine being the first person to see these after hundreds of years of neglect? Thrilling. I’m also trying to imagine what they would have looked like when they were built 1200 years ago. I’m sure they were immaculate. With every step we took up them we felt giddy with anticipation. Chills up our spine. OK, simply excited to see what lay at the top.

The Steps

The Steps

The city was the urban center of the ancient Tayrona culture. It must have been a feat of engineering to have survived the enormous rain that falls here. They built a system of terraces connected by stone paths and supported by a canal circuit. At its peak, the population was between 1,400 and 3,000 residents who lived in circular stone houses with thatched roofs on about 250 terraces. Only 10% (2km) of the 20km of ruins have been excavated. The rest is buried in jungle, waiting to be discovered. That’s either out of respect to the requests of the indigenous, or for lack of money. I suspect it’s the latter, since we heard talk of a cable car being planned to whisk the tourists here. Great. The thing we couldn’t fathom was how they chose this spot in the middle of friggin’ nowhere. I mean, to clearcut the side of a mountain and build at this altitude was not a simple task in those days of limited tools. Speaking of, no one knows exactly how old it is. I’ve read that it was built some time between 500 and 800 A.D. I suppose it’s difficult to date those things.

Ancient wall

Ancient wall

After exploring the site a bit, we wandered over to camp where Pedro was whipping up some popcorn and coffee, bless his heart. It gets chilly here as the sun goes down. We made friends with another group at camp, a couple of Canadians and a New Hampshirian. Dinner was hearty spaghetti and salad – I appreciated the fresh veggies. We roasted marshmallows on candles and talked of foreign adventures. The guides made a batch of coca tea, which is meant to help digestion and calm oneself, contrary to what you would think. I met a couple of Chileans doing the hike in only four days (at this point we were still thinking it would take us six). That would have been possible, but I probably would have ended up like one of the two, throwing up at the end of the day. I suspect he was just dehydrated and exhausted, but I gave him some of my plethora of medicines anyway. We were all pretty sore and in bed by 8:30 again. This night we had actual mattresses on the floor, each one encircled by an ingenious rectangular mosquito net that Nicolas set up in about 30 seconds flat. That guy can do anything.
Earlier in the evening one of the guides spotted a scorpion walking around camp. He cut off it’s stinger with his machete but let it live, which I thought was a good solution at the time. Upon reflection, though, I’m not sure whether it can feed without it’s stinger.  

1200 year old map of the entire region. Archeologists are still trying to deceipher it.

1200 year old map of the entire region. Archeologists are still trying to decipher it.

Bored out of their skulls

Soldiers bored out of their skulls

Jon contemplating the state of the world.

Jon contemplating the state of the world.

3rd night camp

3rd night camp

The grand view

The grand view

Day Four: Thursday

The boys made an interesting breakfast of empañadas from scratch. Impressive, given our limited facilities. They made the dough from powder, made the filling from canned tuna and veggies that they fried up along with grated cheese, and formed perfectly looking empañadas using cut up trash bags and the lid to a juice pitcher. Then they dropped them in boiling oil. I tried to think of other things we could deep fry, but was not awake enough yet for that level of creativity.

Nicolas then took us on a 3-hour tour of the site, where his credentials as a guide really shined. Unfortunately, I only got about 20% of what he said. He tried to speak slowly and simply, but my Spanish was just not up to it.

Your author sitting on the throne (not that kind!)

Your humble author sitting on the throne (not that kind!)

Here are the pieces that I got – the large prominent rock sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the site is a frog, which was their symbol of fertility. The women bore children every year from the age of 13. The Grand Jefe lived on the top mound you see in the photo above. Or maybe that was reserved for ceremonies, since all of the housing was elsewhere. Anyway, before climbing the thousand steps to see the Big Dude, pilgrims were purified. With hand soap or what, I don’t know. But I got to sit on his throne! They had a whole system for diverting the rainwater from the walkways. We’re not sure if they collected and stored the rainwater, or simply got water from the stream. Nicolas showed us several old-school mortar and pestles they used to grind grain. We also saw a big stone hole in the ground that served as their prison for people who were lazy. And.. that’s about all I understood.

Getting arty

Getting arty

We had lunch back at camp (beans, rice, veggies) before packing up to head back down the mountain. Man, there’s a lot of those durn steps! Slippery and steep. We crossed 10 rivers today. I keep seeing streams of leaf-cutter ants winding their way through the woods. These have got to be one of the coolest creatures alive. They cut and carry leaves 20x the size of their bodies (equivalent to you picking up a one-ton load) for long distances, wearing paths through the underbrush like a superhighway.

A light rain started midway through our hike back down, giving everything a pleasant freshness. Lush and warm. Rather than ford one particularly large river, we jumped into a rusty old teleférico and got pulled across.

Dodgy river crossing

Dodgy river crossing

Good fun. There were some indigenous kids there who had just hiked up the entire mountain with cases of soda strapped to their heads while their father was carrying nothing. Harumph. We passed a lot of pretty waterfalls. Finally we arrived back at the same camp as our second night. We splurged and bought beers that we cooled off in the river. Talked with some interesting people and ate a fine dinner of chorizo, beans, rice and salad. In bed by 8:30. The Israelis had had enough of this madness and requested that we hike all the way back out tomorrow, effectively turning the six-day trip into five days. The rest of us were fine with this, since it otherwise would have been a very short hiking day, with the rest of it spent twiddling our thumbs. Why not just turn it into a six-hour hike and get back to civilization.

Goofy horse

Goofy horse

These girls just finished schlepping those cokes 30km uphill.. on their heads.

These girls just finished schlepping those Cokes 30km uphill.. on their heads.

Day Five: Friday

Leaving camp just after dawn

Leaving camp just after dawn

Up early to a breakfast of scrambled eggs with veggies, bread, coffee and hot chocolate. And then… Nicolas told us that since the mules didn’t have to carry food anymore, they were now free to carry our backpacks. Woo-hoo! Now we could fly down the trail without that weight. I took this as an opportunity to race the people who had paid extra to ride on horseback. Up and down and up and down again through mud. Good fun.

Buena vistas

Buena vistas

One of the people on horseback was Victoria, the woman I mentioned earlier who works for USAID. Interesting stories. She is one of only 3 Americans out of 200 employees of USAID in Colombia. Very smart, they hire almost entirely local people who therefore know who needs help in what areas and how to best get the word out. The U.S. isn’t so imperialist when it really tries. Victoria spent 10 years in Manhattan before moving down here, so we talked about our respective reasons for leaving the rat race.

We got to the first camp we had stayed at by noon. Glad to not waste the rest of the day hanging around here. The only thing I’m slightly bummed about was not doing the tour of the cocaine factory. Although Nicolas never told us about it, we had heard through the grapevine that nearby this camp is a small cocaine production factory, mainly operated for tourists (the final step in the process is not done here, because the chemical is illegal.. unlike the rest of the operation?? You wonder, if the tourists know about this operation, surely the government does too.. so do they just turn their heads because it’s such a small operation?) I decided not to seek it out, partly because they were charging an outrageous sum ($10!) and partly because I just wanted to keep trucking.

But check out this blog entry (scroll down) for one tourist’s experience. A lot more chemicals and processes go into producing cocaine from coca than I realized. One dad we spoke to said he was happy to have his teenage son visit it, so he sees all the nasty chemicals that go into the final product – maybe it will keep him off drugs. It takes 1,000 kgs of coca leaves to produce just 1 kg of paste. And then it needs to be refined further. And of course every middleman it passes through on the way to your country cuts it even further, jacking up the price and lowering the quality. I can see how Pablo Escobar became a multi-billionaire. I say legalize the stuff and tax the hell out of it. That would instantly end the violence and produce a ton of money for desperately needed infrastructure. Interestingly, the woman from USAID agreed with me, but she pointed out that the entire “war on drugs” industry (prisons, lawyers, military) has a lot at stake, and continuing the status quo is in their best interest. It makes me sick.

You also have to wonder how someone invented cocaine in the first place. This bizarre process involving gasoline, acetone, iodine, hydrochloric and sulfuric acid.. did they just happen to be messing around with these ingredients or what?

Anyway.. after skipping down a lot of hills (I’d forgotten how much elevation we’d gained), we hit pavement at 2pm. Whereupon we discovered Pedro, chilling with the boys playing pool and waiting for us with lunch. He had left camp at 5am and gotten back at 9am, wow.. I guess it ain’t his first rodeo!

Almost there!

Almost there!

Our backpacks.. not on our backs!

Our backpacks.. not on our backs!

Pastoral scene

Pastoral scene

Civilization!

Civilization!

Written by in: Colombia | Tags: , ,

3 Comments »

  • Say says:

    WOW! I am missing you bunches right now!!! Thank you for bringing the adventure to the rest of us. XOX

  • Marissa says:

    Jeez, that sounds amazing. So glad that you wrote such detail about the trip, I almost felt like I was there with you (without the mosquito bites).

  • Judith Johnson says:

    What a trip!!! Very adventurous. Fording so many rivers!. 2000 steps up and down?? How is it to sleep in a hammock? I like to sleep on my stomach, nothing doing I guess. Can you sleep on your side or only on your back? Thanks for the great report. JJ

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