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Arrival - Day Zero

Its strange to think that this is the first overseas trip that I am really doing by myself. Every other time that I have travelled outside of Australia, it has been with spouse and when the children were at home, them as well. In the middle of the night last night, I arrived at Lima airport, and about 90 minutes later was getting out of the airport bus at this hotel.

Tomorrow I join a Kumuka tour, and will overland over the next 20 days, ending up in Quito. Lisa, the tour guide, has rung and made arrangements to meet me, as it appears that I am the only one joining the group here at Lima. So there are no other pax here to share my concerns and expectations with, which was the main point of staying at this particular hotel. Oh well!

I am staying in Miraflores, which is supposed to be nicer than the old city. Wandered down to the coast. I had expected a beach, not a cliff! Realised I did not have my camera, returned to the hotel and finally made it down to the beach. Lots of things going on, but not much swimming. Paragliding and social soccer. I know that most of the world thinks of it as football, but for me football is Aussie Rules, rugby is one of the two variants, and soccer is ... well, its soccer.

Overlanding to Huanchaco - Day One

Rose early to get a taxi into the old city to join the tour. Arrived a few minutes after the specified time, but found only a couple of people were actually up and about. Half an hour later, the truck had still not arrived, but by now most of the others had made an appearance. There were a few farewells, but there were not many people leaving the previous leg of the tour up and about.

Today we were heading north into the Sechura Desert, heading for the beach near Trujillo. We are travelling in an ex-German Army MAN truck with a passenger compartment fitted on the back. 'Fran' is driven by Mark, an Melbourne fireman. Lisa, the guide, seems unfamiliar with Lima, or at least, with how to get out of Lima and onto the road north. We seem to take wrong turns regularly, or come back to a place that looked just like somewhere we had been a little beforehand.

Somewhere in all this, we passed a market - the first market that I had seen here. It was a dusty and dirty looking sprawl of corrugated iron. The building appears quite low, and it was spread out over quite a large area, so I expect that it would have been quite airless and gloomy in the depths. Rubbish was just dumped at the side of the road, and vehicles appeared to be parked without any concern for order as close as they could get.

I am amazed at the shanty-towns. They cling to the hills and have pushed out into the desert. I wonder how they survive at all. The best seem to be unfinished houses, walls and a reed matting for the roof. Others seem to be the same reed matting strung between uprights for walls and the roof. (nb These single roomed huts were soon the norm, and were all along the road over the next few days.)

Every so often, a river flows out of the Andes, and there is a wedge of green from the coastline into the foothils. Irrigation has a long history here, turning parts of the desert green, but just as stark is the sharp transitio from desert to fertile farmland back to desert.

Finally arrive at Huanchaco, and set up tents etc in the dark. The cooking crew at least have a bit of light to prep the meal by, and do a great job.

Tomorrow we are visiting Chan Chan, a Chimu city and then the Mocha remains, the Temples of the Sun and the Moon.

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