End of the Line(s)

At the end of the last installment I was a bit hacked off to say the least and was just starting to come to terms with being a victim of crime. We have both just about pulled ourselves through now, and we weren’t even offered the services of Victim Support. It happened so quickly as we were walking down one of Arequipa’s many dodgy streets. I felt a tug on the camera case strap and for some reason I thought Catherine was playing around, but turned to see some total scum running away, our one month old camera in hand. Instinct kicked in and I was hot on his heels, shouting some unrepeatable obscenities in English, and kindly requesting the locals to apprehend the assailant, again in English for some reason. Surprisingly they didn’t help. It was no fault of my own that I didn’t catch him, but I saw the sheer terrified fear in his eyes as I pounded the ground in his wake. He knew that I was a hard nut and he was the luckiest man in town for getting away.

After that we spent a few pleasant hours getting acquainted with the local Police Station. PC Carlos took us to see where the local scumbags hang out then showed us loads of photos of random lowlife criminals. [Warning: bad Police joke to follow] It was all very non-PACE!!! It was no use though, and he got away to survive another day. Yet again, we are now without a fully functioning camera, and so we’ve been using the old broken one for the past few days. The screen of it is bust, so apologies in advance for the poor framing of the photos, you deserve so much better.

We’d already booked to go on a two day tour to the Colca Canyon the next day, despite my intense hatred for organised tours (I invariably end up disliking everyone else, and they to me probably). We basically only had two options to get there - a trekking tour or a ‘conventional’ tour, and we plumped for the latter, having finished the Inca trail a couple of days before so not being arsed to walk much. It ended up as us with 13 Peruvians aged from two to 82. We both managed to severely loathe three in particular, who were arrogantly always the last to get back to the bus and very lazy. On day two, we had the opportunity to get out of the van for an hour’s walk through the amazing canyon. Did they want to get off their bums on a brilliant clear day in one of the most spectacular natural wonders on earth? Of course not! Why would they?! Their selfishness meant we too were confined to the sheet metal walls of the bus even longer, armed with another reason to adore/abhor our tour companions.

As I said, the canyon itself was a great sight, 1200m deep with excellent views up and down to mountains beyond. It was covered with pre-Inca agricultural terraces for a good part, and others with sheer faces of dark rock. The best view was from the over-populated Cruz del Condor, littered with tourists perched on the rock waiting for a huge Condor to sweep past. We got to see quite a few of them (Condors, not tourists) close up, as they circled in the thermal currents. Catherine was a bit worried they may peck off her head but luckily they were all on their best behaviour that day.

After the numerous tourist souvenir stall stops on the way back, we arrived in Arequipa and took shelter from the nasty criminals in a small café, clinging on to our bags for dear life. It may be obvious by now that we weren’t taken by Arequipa (although it did have a really good peaceful old convent that we visited, and now don‘t have any photos of) and it was somewhat of a relief to get the bus outathere. It was an overnighter to Nasca, but not an enjoyable one like we’d got used to in Argentina. We had to sleep in seats rather than beds (!) and there was a big fat man right behind us, snoring right from the off.

Nasca is home to the Nasca lines, a series of ancient markings in the desert apparently meaning something or other (nobody has actually decided what yet). Would it be ignorant to call them overrated? The mysterious shapes of animals and other objects were a lot smaller than I’d expected, and given a few days, the two of us could have probably knocked up half of them. It was worth a look though, and in the evening we went to a little planetarium where we learnt more about the work of a German woman who dedicated 40 years of her life to studying the lines. 40 years! Seems a tad excessive.

That evening I also tried the Peruvian speciality of Cuy - Guinea Pig. It was, in summary, a bit pointless. I only managed to get about three bits of meat from beneath its thick leathery skin and numerous bones, and it tasted just OK really. It is one of the few animals that I would probably say is better as a pet than a dinner.

After Nasca we went another couple of hours north to Huacachina, a great place to spend a couple of our last days. It is a tiny town based around a palm-fringed oasis in the middle of a desert. All around were huge sand dunes, towering over the sulphur green waters of the lake. We stayed in a very relaxing and indulgent hotel with a swimming pool for two nights, but the best bit was the sand buggying. We took a trip in a big and powerful 4x4 buggy that sped across, up and down the dunes like a rollercoaster for a couple of hours. It was absolutely awesome. Beside the adrenaline rush we also got to go through scenery the likes of which I only thought existed in Gary Larsson cartoons. It was pure mountains and plains of sand for as far as we could see, all with crisp lines separating them from the pure blue sky. We also got to go sand boarding down big steep dunes. I tried the conventional standing up method first but it was way more fun when I joined Catherine and went down face first, taking on the dust head on.

In Huacachina we also found time between the coffee and beer and chocolate brownies for a spot of rowing on the lake and an energy sapping hike to the top of one of the dunes. After the relative disappointment of Areequipa and Nasca, our stay in the town was a big fat friendly surprise.

We are now in Lima, ready to jet back to Heathrow tomorrow. Not planning to see much here, it is by all accounts a bit of a dive. We’ll just be happy to get out with the rest of our belongings intact.

So really, this brings to an end the account of our little trip (although I may finish it off quickly when we’re safely back). We have had an unbelievable six months. We have flown over it, floated around it, swam through it, driven under it, slid down it, climbed up it and waded across it. We have seen some unforgettable sights and met some incredibly annoying people, but now it’s back to reality and the great British summer!


Stay safe

Nic

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