#67 Surfing the Sea, Surfing the Sand

Almost more exiting than Machu Picchu and the Nasca lines was the knowledge we would get our first glance of the sea in the many months since leaving the Atlantic coast in Uruguay. After three months in Bolivia, the plan was to pass through Peru with haste, admiring the scenery from the back of the bike. That meant long days on the pan-American highway: almost 50,000 kilometres of road extending from Alaska all the way to Ushuaia in southern Argentina. The pan-American cuts through the desert along the coast of Peru. At its most beautiful it follows the wild pacific coast to the west, and winds through waves of sand dunes lining the road. At its worst rubbish lies strewn on either side dropped from passing cars in contravention of the many signs imploring drivers against this.

                                             

On the way we stopped at Huacachina, an oasis amongst the dunes. The entire town of mainly accommodations and restaurants line a small lagoon, sitting at the bottom of mounds of sand like a crater lake. Tourists are drawn to the majestic setting and the opportunity to board the dunes, something we were also keen to try. What I didn't realise was the boarding trip included a squeal-inducing, terror-ridden buggy ride across the dunes, during which our driver conducted 180 turns on the dunes, sometimes only on two wheels, all while reaching speeds of up to 120 km/hr on descent (see video below). This was followed by hurtling down the side of a 100 metre cliff face on our stomachs, face first - I learned the hard way that screaming meant a mouth full of sand. 

                      

After another long day on the pan-American, we arrived in the dark at the seaside town of Tortugas lit up by hundreds of recently installed street lamps, a strange image given the town was dormant. It was off-season in a town of beach houses; we must have come in to contact with less than 10 people in the one night we spent there. With hesitation we ordered octupus over chicken for dinner, considering it only appropriate to eat seafood while on the coast. It made for an amusing scene as our host tried to explain the meaning of pulpa, his mimes of an eight-legged sea creature caused hysterics all round. There was a definate hesitation as we waited for the food to arrive, but we were pleasantly surprised not to be served a headed eight-legged creature on our plates.  

The colour on this wall is close to 2000 years old!

To break up the monotony of the drive we took a couple of days out in Huanchaco where Reece was keen to take a couple of surf lessons. I am told by an objective party he was a natural, though suspect that had something to do with the jumbo-sized board rather than any raw talent. Nearby were some impressive archaeological sites of the Moche people, the Huacas del Sol y de la Luna. Archaeologists have, and continue to, discover freizes among the adobe structures of murals, and deities like that shown above. For more info than I have room to include here check out www.huacas.com. 

Traditional surfboards

Another day, exhaustion having caught up with us, we cut the day short stopping in at Pimentel where we had read there was a hostel with rooms in pyramid-shaped structures right on the beach (Hostel Katuwira). This must be one of the strangest places we have stayed. The huts were made of cement and bamboo, and despite having been there for years, looked unfinished and in need of some paint to cover the cement lines. Inside there was no flushing water, tables made up of old tyres, and matresses without bedframes. The rustic look may have been taken a spot too far but it certainly had its charm. 

In the height of summer the place must hum with beach revelers but on a grey winters' day the handful of guys running the place, led by a Japanese-Peruvian fellow who looked a lot like a sumo-wrestler dressed in a kimono with some natural eye-liner from a recent punch up. They didn't seem to have much else to do than the odd spot of renovation, cook the few guests meals, and full up the water tank, all in a state of definite red-eye. We were served a 'welcome-lunch', albeit at 4pm, which we couldn't quite comprehend given we were specifically told accomodation included only two meals - dinner and breakfast. I've never seen such small guys (sumo-wrestler excluded) eat so much food, which probably explained the lack of conversation, red-eye, and goofy grins throughout the meal. When the local Priest turned up everyone seemed to disappear and we were left listening to a discussion on Jewish ancestry and Israeli politics between him and the only other guest, an Israeli traveler. Our dinner was served to us in our 'room' with scallop shells full of salt doused in alcohol and lit on fire - a unique aesthetic touch! Overall I would describe our stay as a surreal experience.

Our final stop in Peru was to be Mancora, self-styled party town which is close enough to the equator to be only mildy effected by seasonal temperatures. The surf itself was docile meaning there was little to do but lounge by our hostels resort-style pool, and drink deliciously-potent vodka slushies. It all turned sour around midnight when while buying some drinks I came back to the table occupied by Reece and some others to discover our bag had disappeared. We spent a large part of the following day in the police station trying to report the incident, where we were witness to a heated argument between a guy and a couple over a motorvehicle accident. We were surprised that the police allowed them to continue their argument only intervening when one party threw a punch. A dissappointing finish to our end in Peru and the reason there are so few pictures of us on this blog and the next few to come.

Note: I am not the only one screaming!