After a rather long night at Bogota airport we farewelled magical Colombia and set forth for Peru. We landed at Lima airport in thick fog and headed straight for the bus station. From reports we had heard from fellow travellers Lima isn't the most welcoming place to visit in South America, and is notorious for tourist thefts and muggings. Unsurprisingly then, it wasn't on our list of must-see places, and we were quite happy to be just passing through. In fact, our original plan was to fly to Leticia, a small Colombian town deep in the Amazon on the border with Peru and Brazil, and catch a boat down to Iquitos - the world's most remote city. But, time being of the essence and the idea of spending a week on a boat with only a hammock to secure your valuables being a bit much even for these intrepid travellers, we opted to fly to Peru's coast and make our way overland to Cusco. This route would also give me the opportunity to tick off one of my bucket-list items - the Nazca lines. But I'll save that for the next post (I know, you're all waiting with baited breath, but I don't want to give everything away at once, now do I?)
Extremely tired and a little fed up we waited a further 3 hours for our bus. Now, we had heard that some Peruvian buses have a reputation for luxury, but we weren't expecting what turned up. Each seat had a pillow, blanket, tray table, wifi and the ability to recline nearly 180 degrees. You are also served food and drinks! Call me easily impressed, but I was well, very impressed. With a 6-hour bus journey ahead of us, it was wonderful to sit back, snuggle under a blanket (separately, of course) and catch a few zzzz's before our next destination, which was to be the desert oasis town Haucachina, or as the tourists affectionately refer to it, Huaca-fuckin-china - they even have a special cocktail named precisely that.
There is only one reason why anyone comes to Huacachina, and that reason is to sand board down the immense dunes that surround the village. We rocked up at night, so were completely oblivious to our surroundings, and our immediate impression of the place was just how freaking cold it was. We were in the desert, afterall. Yep, our thermal-filled rucksacks are about to pay dividends... Absolutely exhausted we bedded down for the night in a rather cold, grotty hostel and started to wonder what all the fuss was about.
We awoke the next morning after spending the night on two extremely rickety top bunks and ventured down for breakfast and looked out over a hazy view, wondering where these huge dunes could possibly be. Turns out the haze we were looking at was an actual sand dune... As the fog lifted and the sun shone through we were greeted with this stunning desert oasis, filled with a lagoon surrounded by palm trees and the biggest mounds of sand I have ever laid eyes on. THIS is Huacachina!
We hastily moved hostels to far better digs on the other side of the lagoon and spent the day lazing in hammocks and planning the next few stages of our trip (the amount of organising involved is endless!). Being a desert it of course warms up tremendously during the day before plummeting into the depths of a London winter at night-time; I actually think I've gone through my whole 'wardrobe' in two days. We hastily soaked up as many rays as possible before clambering on board a huge dune buggy and venturing into the desert.
Now, I've never been in what I would call a real desert before. Yes, I driven to Mount Sinai, and yes I've driven through the Australian outback, but this was Laurence of Arabia stuff, complete with sweeping sand dunes and vistas that wouldn't look out of place on Mars, or at the very least the middle of the Sahara. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
I had the tune to Laurence of Arabia in my head the whole time...
Luce and Ais strike a pose
But! Our mission was not to look at the scenery, or lack thereof, but to master the art of sand boarding, something that I would surely grasp quickly and excel at. Right? I think we all know the answer to this question. We had heard that most people sand board down the dune face first, this being the safest and most logical choice when you have no previous experience and are faced with a 45-degree 100-metre downward dune in front of you. Except our guide thought we should start off by standing on our sand boards and head down the dune snow-board style. I have never been snow-boarding before, and in all likelihood never will, especially after giving several people concussion on a school ski-trip many years ago, so I was less than enthralled with this suggestion. But, after much convincing and watching half our group succeed in navigating said dune, I put my best foot forward and teetered on the edge praying that I would arrive at the bottom in one piece. To be fair it could have been worse, I managed to stay up-right for about half the way down, precariously balancing on my board and plugging all my energy into staying upright. But, gravity inevitably prevailed and I could feel myself starting to wobble. Now, the thing with snow boards (I think) is that they have a disconnect mechanism if you fall over, to stop yourself from twisting your body and breaking several limbs in the process. The same can not be said for a sand board which has you strapped in by Velcro. In what felt like slow-motion, I felt my face get closer and closer to the sand, but with my feet still attached to the board and the downward tug of the dune still pulling me down, it wasn't a pretty landing. I will only say this, one butt cheek went one way, while the other was pulled down the hill in the opposite direction. I couldn't stand up for a few seconds and I actually believed I'd done some serious damage, not to mention the large quantity of sand that had just deposited itself in my crack. I hopped my way down the rest of the dune looking like a cartoon character who had just had its arse set on fire.
Ais of course had no such problem and thankfully we were allowed to go down face-first for the rest of our excursion (although I don't recommend screaming on the way down as otherwise you end up with a mouthful of sand). As the dunes got steeper the pain in my woeful behind lessened, and we finished up looking down at what seemed to be a sheer 180-degree drop. Surely, I couldn't do any more damage? So with our lives in the hands of a waxed piece of wood we hurtled down the largest sand dune I have ever seen at what felt like 50 kilometers an hour. I can totally recommend it!
Looking down on Huacachina at sunset
Of course we congratulated ourselves with several large cervezas, and I can happily report that two didn't become one, if you get my drift...
Thanks Huacachina, you certainly proved an interesting introduction to Peru.
And now for something completely different...
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