Heartfelt and high altitude coffee

The Heart of the World— a valley in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta.

We began our travels in the coastal town of Santa Marta– at this time of year it’s dry and gusty: ideal climates for drying natural and honey processed coffees in the full brunt of the sun. The city and it’s surroundings are desert-like: dry and hilly, scrub growing in abundance. The only greenery comes from cacti and mango trees, surviving by retaining water and digging deeply into the crumbly earth, respectively. During the dry season, the scenery leans into ochres and dusty greens, the ocean and sky blues sandwiching the neutral earth tones.

On our way out of town and into the mountains, Manuel Matta, our guide and the operations manager at Finca Nevacos, the central drying station, set us up with arepa con huevos and some V60 of his own farm’s coffee within SNSM. A good wake up and preparatory breakfast for what was to come. Our jump off point was near a truckstop, and we awaited our moto guides to take us to San Javier, the heartland of Delagua’s coffee program. From there, the plan was daily trips to nearby farms to speak with the growers and to get a full picture of the intense production that Delagua carries out in the mountains.

The central drying beds: coffee cherry comes down from the mountains in the background to dry near the ocean under a blistering sun. Come the rainy season, the drive down the mountain can take up to 48 hours.

Desert climate of coastal regions shifts while ascending the hills. Dry heat gives way to cool breezes and a change in vegetation.  With every 100m in altitude come new species of flora and fauna. The air turns cooler and fresher with the upward crawl. The ascent is slow and calculated: dusty and steep switchbacks are a practice in patience and driving skills.

The traditional manner of getting coffee (and any other goods) from high up in the mountains to the nearest cooperative.

It’s hardly a linear journey to San Javier. Despite only being 40km, as the crow flies, from Santa Marta, the ups and downs and winding single lane dirt roads make the trip something close to four hours. Motorcycling our way through the mountain ranges is an awe-inspiring expedition at this time of year; ridgeline rides and canopy covered jungle trails are the norm. However, in the rainy months, what is already slow and cautious becomes even more treacherous.

Lasting nearly nine months, the wet season offers a daily half inch of rain, minimum. Those dry and sandy roads quickly turn to mud, near-impossible to manoeuvre and next to impassable. The four hour commute to the central drying station quickly turns into a crawl. Though we didn’t experience it from the back of our motos, scars of wet seasons past live on: muddy hills mid-jungle display the rain’s methodical pummeling causing landslides, deep potholes and debris line the roads and nearby trees sport scars from where rocks slide down the hill or cars careen into them slowly but forcefully.  

The indigenous peoples of the region call the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta (SNSM) the Heart of the World. It’s hardly hyperbole; the emerald mountains are bisected by the lifeblood pumping through the region. The arteries of streams and rivers have carved their way into valleys, water flowing in every direction from peaks to foothills.

Walkways such as this are zigzag hillsides to easier access coffee plots. Come the rainy season, these roads turn to mudslides.

The mountain range’s lushness cannot be overstated: greens of every shade exist in an ecosystem perpetually haloed by clouds. The slopes teem with life that can be heard over the roar of the moto’s engine and smelt despite the exhaust and sand kicked into the air. Birds and marsupials of countless species call this home, as do the indigenous communities of the Native American Tairona Culture: the Kogi, Arhuacos, Wiwas and the Kankuamos, all residing here since time immemorial. The conservation of the waterways means a conservation of the delicate ecosystems and the peoples’ way of life. Life– both wild and domestic– work in conjunction with the Heart. There's respect and understanding; things move slower and with more intention. You can’t help but imagine a time before cars, and ultimately, before European contact. The SNSM has always been here sustaining and pushing life along. 

Bananas, lulo and yucca are planted alongside coffee on steep hillside polyculture farms.

As such, agriculture comes with relative ease in an area lush and rich in sunlight, water and varying climates, coffee being no exception. The region’s many microclimates and microcosms make for unique and regionally-specific coffees worth seeking out, as Delagua has made their vision. Historically, polycultures were capable of doing this in a meaningful way, creating an ecosystem wherein pests would be controlled by naturally occurring predators and soils would be nutrient-rich thanks to plant diversity.

However, with the rise of industrial farming in the mid 1900s, less respect was considered in regards to working with the land. Simply put, most farming was concerned with raising productivity at any cost, including exploiting the land for profit and easier farming. Chemicals would be sprayed to prevent pests and to feed crops. In monocrop settings, the plant is drip-fed an IV of life-preserving and production-enhancing nutrients; the sprays, which help the plant retain life, kill anything else that lives in the ecosystem, soil included.

Agriculture is not the only culprit in environmental degradation; it spans all industries and our actions can be witnessed in delicate and dwindling biodiverse regions the world over. For generations, we forewent what our indigenous communities have told us, seeking profits and production over respect for and understanding of the planet. As such, the Heart suffers; cold clean water that pours readily from the mountain range’s peaks and gullies is undrinkable and contaminated in the foothills and coastal communities.

A depulper sits unused awaiting the harvest. With freerunning springwater high in the hillsides, washed coffees are an easy go-to with a potentially high environmental impact.

In the highlands, coffee farmers use the seemingly infinite supply of clean water to wash their coffee beans, a process whereby mucilage is removed from the bean with fresh running water. A norm, despite how detrimental it is to the water table: separating the bean from its pulp, skin and mucilage leaves the water with residuals of fermenting materials, acetic acids and a dangerously low pH.The washed-off fruit and water are typically  drained back into the soil, contaminating it as it flows downhill, it’s lack of oxygen wreaking havoc on plant life. What’s more, the process uses exorbitant amounts of water: up to 40L of water per kilo of beans. Pulling back, a single bag of green coffee (36kg) would contaminate 1,440L of water. 1,200kg– not a terribly large output would affect 50,000L. 

That’s not to say that anyone is actively aiming to destroy water sources; in fact most are acutely aware of their impact and want to do their best. Even a rough filter is better than nothing, removing the biggest particulate is a start. Dry processing or honey processes are a great alternative as it cuts out water use altogether, saving thousands of litres simply by easing the farmer’s workload. Speaking with many of the region’s farmers, the capacity to make a difference is challenging: prices of tools, fertilizers and composts are constantly rising; commodity coffee’s pricing doesn’t rise with the same vigour. Trying to balance their ecological conservatorship with the desire to give their children a better life is a hard line to follow.

There is only so much that a single farmer operating on a small plot of land can do. With the right support structures in place, an active change could happen: already we saw farmer’s who sold exclusively to Delagua, meaning zero water contamination on their part; others focused on retaining a healthy spring source further up or built their own filtering vessels. The desire and aim is there. Farmers in general understand the importance of a healthy ecosystem: when working the land is a daily operation, the nuances and little things most of us would miss are huge red flags to them.

Don Edwin’s yucca, planted alongside coffee helps promote soil biodiversity and health, while providing extra crops for market and his family.

Beyond growing phenomenal coffee cherry, farmers are growing alternate crops to help keep the soil healthy (while providing them with secondary incomes), introducing compost and vermiculture to their practices. Delagua’s mission is to support these farmers by buying ripe cherry at a premium. They will then transport it and process it on their own dime, cutting out farm labour and saving money on the farmer’s end, giving them time to focus and evolve their own practices that help the environment. In supporting quality coffee production, Delagua is able to raise the banner on water conservation: showcasing the region’s uniqueness without depending on washing techniques, helping to highlight the project’s abilities.

After purchasing the cherry, a daunting road trip to the central drying station begins: in the midst of the rainy season, Delagua’s drivers will commute down the sides of mountains, trucks loaded with fermenting cherry. Muddy one-way mountainside roads are the main condition for the SNSM cherries to develop and ferment in. Anaerobic fermentation in small plastic totes is the name of the game: without temperature control, or control of any sort considering all is at the whim of Mother Nature, the smaller vessels help stabilize the fermentation. As it can take upwards of a day for the cherry to make it to the coast, a somewhat manageable backseat fermentation is necessary. Anaerobic whole fruit fermentation gives the final coffee a juicy acidity and fruit-forwardness.

Upon arriving at the central drying station, Colombia’s biggest outdoor facility, cherries are loaded onto drying tables by lot and left to slowly dehydrate over a fortnight. The coast’s hot days and cool breezy nights are ideal drying conditions; they help remove excess water and prevent moisture from building up, which could cause havoc as it’s also the ideal climate for mould to develop. 

Manuel Matta assesses the maturation of the dehydrating coffee cherry.

A slow and consistent drying is what Manuel Matta looks for in the cherries; the slower the cherries reach 13% humidity, the better; it allows for a greater retention of flavour and character. The sun’s heat, if left undisturbed, would unevenly dry the cherry in an afternoon. As such, the Finca Nevacos team has to regularly overturn and spread the beans, raking each lot about eight times a day for the entirety of their drying process. As important as the facility’s climatic conditions are, consistency for each lot is crucial.

The care that the Delagua team puts in place from picking only the ripest cherry to their drying is nothing. Yes, it creates some truly stunning coffees that are incredibly unique and terroir-driven. But it’s exactly that terroir that must be retained for the life and vibrancy of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta to shine through in the cup. 

So that the farmer’s consistent battles to produce sustainably, despite the hurdles can be tasted. To note the wrestling of vehicles on hillside trails to make production possible. That highlight the flowing waters that carved the mountains aeons ago and the water used in a V60 to brew that very coffee. It’s all interconnected and it all needs to be relished. 

The Heart of the World.