Puracé National Park, Colombia – 1994

Scanned from Kodak TMax negative film (the last roll of B/W film I ever shot)

Colombia was hardly the safest place in the world when Padma and I lived near Cali between 1993-94. On one hand you had the ‘narcotraficantes’ – the drug lords. The Medellin and Cali Cartels were in their heyday. However, the drug lords pretty much just killed each other so as long as you stayed out of the cross fire you’d be safe.

A bit more concerning was the FARC, which was a revolutionary group who funded their operations with kidnapping and drug smuggling. Because of the FARC you had to use caution when travelling outside the cities. You didn’t have to go too far out of the city though.

I used to catch a ride to work with my boss Thomas Hargrove and rather than driving through the congested city of Cali, we’d bypass it by driving through the longer but more scenic rural roads through the sugar cane plantations. One day I stayed home to work and that was the day Tom was kidnapped. The FARC held him in captivity for 11 months while they negotiated with Tom’s family over a ransom. The movie Proof of Life starring Russell Crowe and Meg Ryan was inspired by Tom’s experience and his book Long March to Freedom.

The best thing that happened to me in Cali was that I met Belgian photographer Victor Englebert who had settled in Colombia and raised a family. Victor and I were eager for an adventure so we set out to climb and photograph Volcán Puracé – an active volcano in the Colombian Andes. Prior to the climb we explored the rarely visited Puracé National Park and found this waterfall surrounded by an other-worldly flora. It was a surreal setting as we were at a high elevation and only some rather strange plant life could survive in the area due to the elevation and the sulphur fumes.

The next day is one which Victor and I will never forget. We arose well before dawn in order to start our trek to the summit of the 4,500 metre high volcano before the morning clouds set in. As we approached the end of the road and the start of the trail, Victor’s jeep began to shake and we heard loud explosions. Victor stopped the jeep and we caught our breath while police in the guardhouse ran out in their undies and pointed their semi automatics at us. As it turns out the lazy guards had thrown land mines around their hut so they wouldn’t have to keep a night watch. The FARC used the remote areas of the national park as a base. Fortunately, Victor’s Land Cruiser absorbed the explosions and we still had our legs intact and managed to reach the summit moments before the clouds rolled in.