Lefts and Raves, Last Days in Peru

Starting where I left off below, we spent an afternoon in Ica, the city next to Huacachina, in a search to satisfy our cravings for Huesos (bones) and ancient junk like rock carvings and artifacts. There was a cool museum said to house a collection of strange carvings called the Ïca Stones¨, said to depict scenes of ancient life, as well as some that are apparently evidence of extraterrestrial influence. That shit always gets me siked, but the museum was closed and we resigned to checking out the other museum that houses an impressive collection of really evil mummies, deformed and trepanned skulls, and other archeological finds in the desert here. There was much.

From Ica, which is close to the Nazca lines (though we opted to skip a flight to see them), we took a long, hot and miserable bus to Cerro Azul, a supposedly long ¨Chicama-like¨left pointbreak that was actually mentioned in the Beach Boys song ¨Surfin´Safari¨. Getting here was actually pretty easy, the bus let us off right on the highway and we dashed across the 2 lane death trap into the nice little port town. We booked our hostal, got suited up and were surfing within that same hour, a pretty awesome feat, and found the wave here to be…amazing.

The take off spot here has a really amazing and distinctive rock formation that looks like an abstract sculpture with a condor perched on it, no lie. The wave breaks right on this thing and reels left into a warbly, gnarly section that straightens itself out and peels nicely into the sandy cove/lagoon before ending right by the pier that probably destroyed the last 100 meter stretch that would have made this spot beyond epic. We got a crowded evening sesh the first night, followed by the most epic session since Chicama the following morning. Really good, glassy, overhead, and shreddable. Elation.

We got our first actual ¨beach day¨incredibly, the skies were blue and the beach was packed with kids. We got some filming in before being shut down by tons of pros in the water, and saw a dog ghoulishly ripping apart a pelican it had apparently caught and mangled. Cerro Azul is a really awesome place I would recommend to anyone, it even has real sand, not the rocks and garbage you find everywhere else here.

That night we were off the Playa de Asia again for what we thought was supposed to be a huge beach party. Actually, it turned out to be a rave, that only begun to get started at about 3 am. We were greeted with green laser beams shooting into space, pumping techno, and outrageously overpriced beer. Our friend Cynthia and her friend met us there, and Luciano, some kind of celebrity DJ, took the stage at about 3 30 to let loose. Everything here was kind of a scam, our VIP bracelets got us nothing but access to a slightly elevated bar where we could spend more money on overpriced beer. At least we got a t-shirt. After about 5 hours of swaying back and forth in a techno zombie stupor, we got out of there and waited at the bus stop for too long as the sun came up. When we finally got back around 7 am, Evan had it in him to to surfing, me not so much. I collapsed until mid day and thoroughly paid the dues.

So today, we decided to check out Huarco, an Inca sea fort built into the seacliffs right behind the town and the surf break. We trudged through the finest dust imaginable, almost like moon dust, and climbed high above the water below. The views were really incredible, and there was a mysterious light house at the top. From there we could see the ruins, which are quite extensive, and made from adobe bricks-not the Inca construction medium of choice. Again, these ruins look like a day old sandcastle and are literally crumbling before your eyes. We could make out sections of wall built in Inca style, though instead of solid dark granite, it was soft adobe mud. This place must have served as a checkpoint or fishery for deliveries of fresh fish to Cuzco, and was probably huge in its day. No bones to be found here, just sand.

Another surf later, and were feeling good. Tonight, we plan on checking out a local circus(!) and it should be interesting. Tomorrow, we plan on heading to Lima and hopefully meeting up with some East Hampton guys who may or not be there, and hanging out until I fly out on monday morning. What a long, strange trip. Last days in Peru feel bittersweet, but Im ready to run back to the lovely embrace of America now…Evan is on his own. Ciao.

South of Lima, the Oasis Beckons

Here we are, south of Lima and its hot as hell and the desert prevails as always. Following my decision to stay another week in Peru, we made our way south on the Panamerican down to Runta Rocas, one of the only known right point breaks in the whole country. We were thirsty for the ocean after a week in rain-soaked, emergency status Cusco and I for one couldnt wait to surf frontside for a change.

Getting to Punta Rocas by expensive taxi, we found a less-than appealing beach stretch with cheap dirty restaurants parked at a reef break that looked mushy and formless. The ¨surf hostal¨we were looking to stay at was booked so we ended up at a hole in the wall place about a mile away. Surfing the break was just as it looked, not the epic right I was anticipating, and getting more and more crowded. We decided to take a look around the corner at Punta Hermosa, a large cove that came highly recommended for surf and what a surprise! Lo and behold our old friend ZOMBIE DOLPHIN from Pacasmayo was there to greet us with the most righteous stench imaginable. He was hanging with his friends ZOMBIE PELICAN and ZOMBIE UNIDENTIFIABLE SEABIRD, a veritable dead animal fiesta right on the top of the point. Not much surf to be had on the other side so we retired for the day and got ready to head to Playa de Asia to check out my friend Felipe´s brothers band, Emergency Blanket, play at an outdoor bar.

Getting there was half the battle, Playa de Asia was way farther then anticipated and blew up like an atomic bomb of light when we got there. We had heard that a couple of years prior a few DJs had moved their club enterprises out into the middle of the desert to be unmolested by anyone else and create a new party scene, the aftermath of their work spawned a huge western style megalopolis in the middle of nowhere with more clubs then vegas. Apparently, this is where all the kids in Lima really came to party on weekends in the summer, and they go hard. The clubs dont close till 6 am, and the scene is nuts.

Emergency Blanket was awesome, they played at a small Jack Daniels brand bar to about 100 people. They play early 90´s inspired alt-grunge in the style of Pearl Jam, STP and Soundgarden (some of my favorite bands) and totally brought the house down. Afterwards, we made our way to a beer brand-sponsored bar above the fray, scored some free shwag, and met some Limeñas who said they could get us into a club with VIP status.

Well, we got in after some time, though I was dressed for a reggae fest and brought extra clothes I had to lug around, loosing my beanie in the process. The club was raging and played some good techno in one room, while the other played some less danceable salsa and rumba I cant dance to. Time slipped by and we made our way out, the club wasnt really all that fun. It was getting light out and we found a bus going back our way, but it took about an hour to fill up and I coudlnt keep my eyes open. Somehow we got back due to Evans diligence and navigation. Thanks Evan.

The next day, after another so so sesh at Punta Rocas, we made our way over to Punta Hermosa and surfed a cool wave breaking off a semi-island called La Isla, and it was a really fun wierd right, the first such on the trip. We met a surfer from Maine of all places, and I shared with him my own Maine surf experience. That was pretty odd all together. Fun waves, but it shut down pretty quick and we were out and off to San Bartolo, a cool little town tucked into a protected cove with more promising waves.

We found a cool hostal and some fun waves breaking between some little jetties, with a mysto right peak off a point called peñascal but it wasnt really working. Another plus was the local skatepark, a total wavey-flow funland for surf style skating. We rented a board and did an exhausting session, with no injuries luckily, amazing how tired you get just pushing around and pumping walls. San Bartolo was a really chilled out little town. The surf started to drop and we decided to make a little trip south to Huacachina, the famous desert Oasis of Ica, and try sandboarding. Why not? Aren´t we just so free…

Huacachina was unreal. It is the stereotypical palm-fringed desert oasis youve only heard about in stories. A tiny little lagoon is positively encircled by massive 300 foot tall sand dunes, and its hot as hell. The main attraction here, other then the resort lounging poolside of yesteryear, is the new-school sport of sandboarding, and every place in town offers a tour. We signed up with our hostal Salvatierra, and joined it with a winery tour.

The winery tour was pretty awesome, we got to see some of the bodegas where Peru´s little known wine is made, along with its more famous alcoholic brethren, Pisco, a brandy-like liquor. The bodegas are all family run and produce alot of the stuff, and we got to sample it all. They make pretty good wine, but the prescence of the neighboring Chilean industry kind of overshadows it. The rose´s were great, anything sweet really, as that is what Peruvians prefer. We got a little buzzed and prepared to hurl ourselves down mountains of sand at 60-plus mph.

The ride out to the desert was really intense. I was trying to take in the scope of this immense, beautiful, alien landscape of huge curving sahara-style dunes while zipping up and down the same at breakneck speed and throttle. We were in rugged 4×4 beasts that just ate the sand, and it was much like a roller coaster as we took insane dips down near vertical slopes and rocketed up the other side into oblivion, ting a couple back breaking jolts as we bottomed out. Apparently, this ride is half the fun of the tour, and I thought we were gonna die at least 5 times.

Sandboarding was a blast, though the equipment kind of sucked. These ¨sand boards¨were little more then old pieces of slick wood with velcro straps, hardly the snoboard inspired shredders we imagined ripping huge carves on. IT just couldnt be accomplished. After a few trial runs standing, and subsequently slowing to a halt or falling, we found that head first was the way to go, as testimony we saw a few lighter waeight people hit about 80 mph down the biggest craziest slopes. Going head first was really fun, and time seemed to almost slow down as your crusing down this sandy mountain into the sandy valley below. We survived, intact, no sand burns, and ripped our way back to Huacachina for some more oasis lounging. This is kinda the life…

More Huacachina action, in part 2 ! And Cerro Azul for more surf… (The internet cafe is closing) Ciao Hombres.

Airlift to Victory!

We are now officially Machu Picchu 2010 survivors. On Friday, January 30th, Evan and I and 8 other stupefied civilians took to the sky in our steel savior, a lightweight Peruvian police chopper, vertically climbing out of our valley prison at about 10,000 feet and making for Cusco, our point of departure.

The day had been tense, exhilirating, and at times boring. We awoke at 4:30 am to get on the line at the train station that we thought would be packed to capacity, however in the suns first light it appeared we had beat the masses of twenty-somethings who were left. Then we waited. For a long time. We knew the choppers wouldn´t start arriving until about 7 or 8, so we settled against our bags and read and enjoyed some free coffee that was being passed around from a kind local. At about 7:30 am I decided to try to find some batteries for my flip cam which was low, and also to try to barter some leftover food we had in exchange for some handicrafts nearby. Fatal error. I returned to a swiftly moving line of kids, pouring through the gate regardless of position on line. Evan was yelling for me and we pushed in but were stopped by guards as we saw a group of about 300 make it to the other side of the chainlink fence for queuing for departure. We had missed a critical chance for getting out, and ultimately lost about 2 hours of time due to my insatiable desire for handcrafted bags and alpaca hair caps. Well no one told us the line wouldnt be a determining factor in getting out.

So we waited a little more, and finally they let in another large group of us, and we were herded onto a PeruRail traincar to wait for further direction. The authorities handed out some snacks in plastic bags, consisting of twinkies, chips, terrible granola bars and a water, but it was better then nothing as we waited in there for another hour or so. I slept it off.

Finally, we were herded off the traincar to go wait some more, this time marching past a really cool hotel set back in the jungle, towards the makeshift helipad further along by the raging riverside. We could see and hear the choppers up close now, and excitement was tangible. Lining up on the jungle path, several US diplomatic police came by to take names and we talked with them casually, glad to speak to an American who had actually come from the other side. It was getting hot as the sun was rising, but the jungle is a fine place to idle your time away waiting for evacuation.

Some curious and frightening jungle bugs would sporadically amble across the path and fall prey to mass human attention, and became our great entertainment. One terrifying insect was about 3 inches long and built like an armored car with a million legs and massively inproportionate mandibles. Some guy tried to pick it up for examination, and it writhed around long enough for us to get a picture and send it on its way. We decided this fellow had never before been documented by science and gave him an apt latin classification name, xyzyrxis maleficarum (complete bullshit). It was the most evil insect I had ever seen next to his demonic hellspawn kin Chaosterium Infernalis, a winged beast that was more bird sized than insect, whom we had met on several occasions in this valley. We decided to create a mythology for these creatures, insisting on the fact that they battled each other daily in the depths of the jungle fo evil supremacy. Soon we began giving all the plants and animals in the forest bullshit latin names and laughing til we cried. These are idle passtimes that befell us as we waited for our freedom.

Another highlight of the jungle waiting was seeing a spectacled bear! For real! It was chilling in a netted enclosure above the trail, seemingly unnoticed until it popped up on its heels to check out all the people, and someone screamed ¨Bear¨! These things are cool, they are endangered, and the only Andean bear species (for that matter, the whole south american continent). It was soon gone, but we got some cool pictures. For what reason this guy was here, if he belonged to the hotel, we didnt know. But imagine a bear attack as icing on the cake of insane jungle airlift operation hazards. This was a trip.

So finally, the moment we had all been waiting for. The line moved and people flew off in choppers, total vietnam style. We watched as the soldiers on the makeshift patch of grass that was the helicopter pad directed Argentine girls to duck from the propeller winds and head for the cabin. We saw what to do. Finally,  it was just about our turn and the last chopper was about to take off when the soldiers motioned for me and Evan and said ¨Two More¨! This meant us, and we were thrown our bags and yanked toward the aircraft in a blur when suddenly another soldier gave the X sign and said ¨No Mas¨! We were yanked back and told to duck down as the chopper shot up in a cyclone of wind and loose leaves. Total Vietnam.

So, after that close insane evacuation drill, we waited for the next one. In the meantime, we were interviewed by an unassuming guy with a camera that turned out to be BBC news. Evan and I related our furious split second dash for freedom to the guy, who definitely wanted us to compare it to a Vietnam airlift. Well he got the footage, and we looked pretty siked to be there right then. Check the link below.

Our steel savior arrived at about 2 pm and we were whisked for the second time into the hold, onto canvas benches cleared of emergency aid seconds before. With 8 other stranded tourists, including two Canadians, we were off as fast we landed and it was completely insane. I had my flip cam running as we lifted above the trees and people waving below, over the raging chocolate river of nightmares and above the soaring Andean peaks. Suddenly, we were above Aguas Calientes and could see the devastation wrought by the river, the months of repairs it was gonna take to get back up on its feet, and townspeople down below who were still going to be there when we had landed in Cusco and were headed home. That was a sad moment.

Looking to our left, Machu Picchu came into view and filled us with awe, as this was the most awesome sight imaginable and a very rare vantage point. Evan got off some pictures and as soon as it was there it was gone behind the peak as we made for the horizon. It was a clear day and pretty much everyones first helicopter ride. The ultimate perk for such a strange and scary national emergency.

The flight to Cusco took about 25 minutes, as we passed over more flooded valleys below and over Ollantaytambo, where most of the tourists were dropped to take buses. Because we had more fuel, this chopper got the go ahead to go right to the airport and land us into a new, different landscape. We touched down and got a few photo op shots in to complete the experience, and then headed for the terminal to check in and be on our way. With little fanfare, some Peruvian aviation authorites greeted us and sent us along. We were now truly free for the first time in days and it was pretty marvelous. We shared a taxi with the Canadians and got back into central Cuzco where we decided to promptly indulge in fast food at Bembos, the Peruvian version of McDonalds. Shameless but great. It was time to relax.

We took a night out downtown and met up with other ¨survivors¨ for drinks at an Irish bar, and preceded to celebrate Operation Success. Discoteques, bars, more fast food, excess, RAIN, and of course sleep. But not for long. We were off the next morning for Lima, our final destination where I was scheduled to depart for home yesterday. Well that plan has changed, Ive decided to spend an extra week here as a ¨Vacation from Vacation¨, and head south below Lima for a little taste of more sun and surf. Our friend Zack is supposed to be here this week and hopefully well meet up, as I get one last hurrah in the Land of No Rain. Hopefully. So the blog is now ä month and a week in Peru¨, and it should be a fun one. Ok, so a little less exciting then the previous posts maybe, but well see what the south has in store. Ciao Hombres.

Here is our BBC clip. 15 seconds of fame!:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8489095.stm

Also, Evan has more pics up at his picasa of our machu picchu adventures and airlift to victory:

http://picasaweb.google.com/EeShoe/Machu#

http://picasaweb.google.com/EeShoe/HeliEscape#

Crisis in Aguas Calientes, Part 2

Today is Day 5 of our stranding in Aguas Calientes, Peru. The days have kind of blended together at this point, with several dramatic ups and downs along the way providing a roller coaster of emotions and expectations. We were given a plan on the 26th that became more of a combat mission, as our unofficial leader Phil from the state department proposed a midnight American evacuation scheme at the train station which was the queue for the helipad the next morning. Among the fearmongering notions presented by his associate were threats of violence against us, more specifically including the word ¨butchering¨which did not settle with us well. Earlier that day there were reports of serious disturbances at the gate to the helipad from rushing people that caused the cessation of outgoing flights. This night was probably the worst in terms of quashing our hopes at safe exit, augmented by the fact that Cusco (the only major city and transport hub for thousands of miles) was definitely in a state of emergency.

Morning came and the heavy rains cancelled our little plan because the helicopters definitely were not getting into the valley in those conditions. Another day of dread and frantic information gathering lay ahead, and things seemed to be getting worse in terms of peoples spirits and food supplies were noticably diminished. The weather did start to clear up but there were no choppers in sight. The plaza was full of Argentines, by far the most numerous national group, sleeping in government supplied tents and chanting together in song. The scene was getting nuts, and I spent the remainder of the day trapped in an endless line for the slowest internet connection ever. Not a good day.

Power outtages began to occur frequently and would keep us in the dark for hours at a time, persuading some in our group to plan for the possible long term worse case scenario by buying tons of canned food and water, even settling for a large kitchen knife instead of a wished for machete for safety. You could say things were getting out of hand, but things could definitely get worse quick. We imagined several post-apocalyptic scenarios to pass the time, including the reinhabitation of Machu Picchu (I claimed the temple of the Sun as my private residence, Evan the main plaza as his front yard), and tribal highland jungle living (the terrifying insects we´d seen curbed our enthusiasm for this option). The hostel would have to do for now.

The river was still raging and several engineering feats were being attempted by the locals with help from some tourist volunteers to stem the flow of the torrent. Undermining by relentless water had put all the riverside hotels into condemned status and red tape was everywhere, making it hard to get that perfect shot of the devastation unfolding. My Irish friend Noreen was planning on hiking out on the Inca trail with her brother who had arrived the night before after camping on Machu Picchu (my fantasy incarnate), but missed her chance when the group left early. The trails were still an option, albeit a dangerous one as we heard confirmed reports of deaths by landslide in the previous days. News was the same as ever at this point, being not much news at all and there were constantly circulating rumors of definitive evacuation lists. Something had to change.

Day 5 has arrived with a great change of spirit and everything was suddenly looking up as the US embassy had arrived the night before and were taking things into overdrive. More choppers started to arrive and we recieved news that at least 700 people had been evacuated which was very promising news. At this point, the elderly, young and family connections had been taken out, leaving a possible lottery of ablebodied people to be next in line. This day we were promised an escape within the next 2 days, and we are pretty sure well get our chance early tomorrow morning with a long line wait starting around 6 am, given favorable weather conditions. Several meetings have confirmed that air support is now steady and committed, with a stated rate of 200 persons per hour being lifted out of the valley to Ollantaytambo.

Spirits have lifted and we are spending our time in the plaza playing pick up games of volleyball and soccer, and we were lucky to recieve an airdrop of brownbag lunches containing fruit, sandwiches, and granola bars. There is only us kids left, which lends an atmosphere of youth to the whole place as well talk about when well possibly get out and what were gonna do next after getting to Cusco. My trip, for one, will be ending soon in Lima when I fly out back to New York on the 31st, though I hope to get at least one more beach day in down south. Were both missing the ocean that we shouldn´t have let out of our sight. As of this moment, we can expect to be on our way on the helicopter ride of a lifetime (the only of our lifetimes thus far) out of the majestic Andes and back to a non-emergency state of living. Ojala!

Machu Picchu and a Crisis in Aguas Calientes

If you have been following the news, and/or my updates via facebook, youve heard that me and Evan and about 1,998 other international tourists have been trapped in the village of Aguas Calientes below the citadel of Machu Picchu for 3 days now following massive landslides and floods that have destroyed the road and railroad tracks to Cusco. Its good to get back to the story now from where I left off, as internet access has been difficult and sporadic at best, and what luck we´ve had in Peru! Well ill say we have had all kinds of luck, good and bad, but this might be our biggest ¨challenge¨yet.

After arriving in Aguas Calientes, our group took notice of the raging chocolate milk colored river blasting through the small town and thought this might not be normal, however we were told nothing of the possible danger we might be in, in fact we were encouraged by our guides that Machu Picchu was perfectly safe and that the town was in no danger. Accordingly, we awoke at 3am on the 24th to climb the epic staircase through the jungle in the middle of the night with about 200 other people. The climb consisted of about 1,700 stone carved steps meandering their way up the mountain of Machu Picchu, and it was completely exhausting. We reached the top around 5 am and waited at the gate for the sunrise and the chance to climb Huayna Picchu, the peak above the city affording the spectacular views.

Entering the ancient city was another dimension of reality. Never can you imagine such an insane feat of human ingenuity and imagination, a fully functioning city built upon a mountain ridge 6,000 feet above the valley floor. The solitude of the citadel is its most striking feature, and wondering about the ruins gives you the sense of the Inca´s commitment to spiritually linked locations that blow the mind. We were toured about by a local guide who gave us some idea of what went on here, but I couldn´t help but think this was the tip of the iceberg in terms of the Inca´s world here. Alpacas and llamas roamed freely about, munching on grasses and providing great entertainment for some local dogs here as well. Me and Evan were caught in between a dog/alpaca confrontation in a labyrinthine section of the city, with back and forth chasing, and it was the funniest and oddest experience in such an amazing place. What came next was different as well.

We were notified by our guide that the tour was gonna be cut short because there seemed to be a problem with the roads down below us. Apparently, the incessant rain had done some severe damage to all the routes out of town and the only way out now was most likely airlift by helicopter. At first, fantasies of American Blackhawks touching down in Machu Picchu plaza to airlift us stranded tourists off of the massive andean peak in victory  popped into my head, but we had a sense of uncertainty from the guide that convinced us we should get down as soon as possible as the bridge might go any minute. After negotiating the bus line down we arrived back in Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo) with many other slightly panicked tourists, viewing the devastation that was unfolding. Much of the outside section of riverfront along the expensive hotel strip had been ripped out by the gnashing teeth of the most furious river imaginable, and things were likely to continue this way.

We were told that the roads and trails we had been following the previous day were completely impassable due to landslides and undermining by the river, including bridges and traintracks that ruled out all possibility of escape. We were now indefinitely stuck in Aguas Calientes, and we began to scramble for information. We found that our original guide who had gotten us here had not only completely abandoned us without word, he had also left us the bill for the hostal and we now had to pay to get our bags back.  Staying with our original group, consisting of some Americans, Irish, and Argentines, we tried to make calls to the embassy and ask the local police what was going on. But the answers were ambiguous and conflicting, and so began the theme of our stay here for the next couple of days.

We decided to get into a hostal on higher ground as soon as possible, as we decided that housing may soon be hard to come by with so many stranded people here. Water and food were also top priorities and we stocked up accordingly, relying on Evans supply of cash he had luckily taken out the day earlier. It proved to be a very lucky move, as the ATMs soon were out of money and things seemed to get a bit more chaotic, as most places in town did not accept a credit card. Dinner that evening was hushed and solemn as our small American/Irish group considered our options: wait for airlift by helicopter which was likely to take days or maybe weeks, or possibly take the classic Inca Trail which was reportedly open, to Ollantaytambo, the next stop on the trail at a good 10 hour plus hike. These options seemed grim, and we basically had to prepare for the worst. It was the longest day of my life, but I was so exhausted that sleep came easily.

The next day proved much like the first, with a lack of information and a steady hard rain that served to blacken our spirits a little bit more. Seeking internet, I found long lines at both computer and phone in the cafes, making it very time consuming to communicate with the outside world, though it was still working fortunatly. Posting my Facebook status and trying to upload footage taken on my Flip HD cam, I recieved a reply from my cousin Sam wishing me luck and giving me some contacts at ABC, whom she works for in Europe. ABC wanted to get into contact with me to find out what was going on, and I struggled through mind numbingly slow connection to provide the info I had. Uploading the footage proved difficult and took me many sessions to get up, though I did eventually. I was interviewed by phone lent to me by a friendly Chilean guy, and I relayed the current situation as best I could, while Evan got in touch with the airlines to secure new flight dates and make sure our insurance covered such things. The plaza at this point was an immense mass of people forming a true microcosm of the world, with Argentines, Chileans, Brasilians, Europeans, Japanese, Canadians and Americans making up the majority of this small international community. News of airlifts came from announcements made in the central plaza by the mayor of Aguas Calientes, but relying on such promises proved worthless as time and time again each promise made came due and no helicopters arrived above the horizon. People began to congregate at the stadium that doubles as a helipad in the midday heat and sun that had finally come out. Rumors started to circulate of American air support arriving in the morning, but international relations between the countries gave word that landing the aircraft would be very difficult. On this day we did see one chopper circle above the mountains, and it apparently made a much needed supply drop of paramilitary force, water, and money. Just the things we needed down here.

Night was punctuated by the first unnofficial meetings of each national party, with organization by name and nationality attempted in the main plaza through chaotic line making and list building. The American contingency met to discuss what had been learned from the embassy, including news that indeed helicopters had been committed and that their priority was getting Americans out. The river continued to rage and the rain continued to fall. Money was running short and the situation was ripe to become dramatically worse. We prepared ourselves for that and the possibility of a long stay in a small town with tensions rising and hopes of immediate rescue falling. Part 2 to come soon…We are safe for now.

Heres the article I was quoted in:

http://abcnews.go.com/Travel/machu-picchu-helicopter-evacuation-hundreds-stranded-tourists-peru/story?id=9665112

Adventures in the Andes

So…the last couple of days have been pretty full on Indiana Jones. Me and Evan saw some more ruins around Cusco, including the subterannean ¨labyrinth¨of Quenqo, and the fortress of Sacsayhuaman. In all instances we find ourselves wondering, ¨What the hell were the Incas thinking? Why would they carve this shit out of a mountain or haul insanely heavy rocks up here and stack them like this?¨Well I thank them for their labors of love because the ruins are always pretty breath-taking.

Sacsayhuaman was an interesting adventure. We got there just a bit before dark and in the rain, because we spent the whole day shopping for handicrafts like girls and it got late. Some highlights of the markets of Cusco were the cheap alpaca hair clothing and getting to play some crazy Andean stringed instruments in a luthier´s shop, like the churrango and another one I forget the name of but sounded completely awesome. Anyway, we had seen pictures in a book about Sacsayhuaman of an area in the ruins that is proposed to be modelled after Atlantis. We were hooked on this place.

We hiked up into the ruins, which consisted of a long zig-zagging tier of classic inca wall, built with such precision that you cannot insert anything into the cracks between the stones. This fortress was the site of a huge battle between the Incas and the Spanish Conquistadores that ended in a bloodshed and defeat for the former. The ruins were deserted yet again, mostly for the fact that it was raining and getting dark. We owned the place. There were waterfalls pouring down the steps and we darted between walls and ¨rooms¨within. After marching across a soggy meadow and up a steep pyramid of earth we stumbled upon the famed Atlantis section, which looked like a giant amphiteater of concentric rings, just like Atlantis was supposed to look. There was also an amazing smooth rock  feature that was almost like a waterslide leading down into it, we rushed it and slid down in the rain and I can totally imagine the Incas doing the same here-it looks to obvious!

We were enjoying our Atlantis discovery when suddenly we see flashing police lights across the fortress from the road, it was police yelling at us over loudspeakers to get out of the ruins! I guess we had overstayed our time and it was really dark. We signalled our departure, when a mysterious figure popped out of the stones about 5 yards away and told the police to chill! Tranquilo, tranquilo! We had no idea we had company, and just as suddenly he dissapeared…maybe it was a guard or something? Anyway, we got out of there and went to get pizza in a cool little restaruant down below in Cusco.

The night out in Cusco got a bit late, regrettably, as we chased the party around town and crashed around 3am, not nearly enough sleep for our 3 day jungle trek expedition set to leave the next morning. We felt it the next morning, but it was nothing a few helpings of Coca tea could help, minus Evan feeling a bit worse then I. The tour was late in arriving , and packed us into a van with some Germans, Danes, Argentines of course, and 2 guys from LA. We were going mountain biking and it was gonna be awesome, and we had time to sleep in the car while we drove high into the Andes.

The ride quickly became amazingly scenic as we dipped into impossible deep valleys and around sheer peaks with llamas grazing the sides. Every lateral mile travelled (äs the condor flies¨) became 5 as we made switchback after switchback, taking in the stuff that Earth´s Natural Wonders calendars are made of. Just as were rounding the turn to the drop off for biking we came head on with a tour bus coming strait for us, and swerved away with a few feet to spare! Thats why you stay to the right, at all times up here.

Mountain biking was ridiculously fun. The trip was a 3 hour downhill run, from the top of the barren Andes at about 12,000 feet down into the cloud forest and jungle below at 4,000. Sound fun? Yes, we really didnt have to pedal once, you could just blaze down the highway at 50 mph, sweeping around curves and seeing amazing things. I got out my flip cam and got some point of view footage before dropping it accidentally. Amazingly, it still worked and only a few cosmetic dings. The temperature quickly rose and we stripped off raingear for t-shirts and got lunch halfway down in a small hacienda. After that, we had a few run-ins with deluges of water spilling over the road and had fun making daring crosses on the bike, getting soaked in the process. The smooth highway gradually gave way to hard packed dirt and much bumpier conditions, necisitating close watch for potholes and puddles. Halfway through that, my bike chain came completely off and the gears bent into the wheel, totally disabling everything and earning me a free ride in the van that followed behind. I chilled and listened to Coldplay with a bunch of mountain folk in air-conditioned bliss watching the rest of the group struggle through the remaining terrain.

We finally reached bottom and were vanned through the town of Santa Maria, where the majority of our group got off because they were doing an extra day of hiking. Me and Evan got tranferred to a another van packed with aussies and made the seemingly treacherous journey around the kind of mountain roads you hear about that are inches from the cliffside and plunge thousands of feet down into a wattery death abyss. We did that for about 2 hours, passing through the occasional jungle town and thick vegetation, around gorges and always descending. We made it to the town of Santa Teresa, the jump off point for Macchu Picchu, and a queer little town next to some amazing hotsprings. The hotsprings were pretty gorgeous, nothing you would expect from seeing the poverty and third world style of the town of Santa Teresa. This was more like a resort, and it was open for the public! The whole town was there! The water was perfect and warm, and we watched bats fly overhead as it got dark.

That brings us to today, a 6-hour jungle trek through the town of Hydroelectrica (great name right) to the town of Aguas Calientas, which is basically Macchu Picchu Village. The trip was awesome, minus our initial confusion as to who and where our guide was and who was in our group which had dissolved. We finally got organized and set out along the most furious chocolate milk colored river imaginable. The rains had really come down I guess, and the rapids were sure instant death if you fell in there. We hiked through some serious jungle, but amazingly there were really no bugs. This was ideal hiking. It got hot enough, but would cool down every so often with breeze from the river and mist, and never went uphill. Getting to Hydroelectrica, we had officially entered the Macchu Picchu Preservation Area, and hiked along a railroad track for another few hours.

Eventually, our guide learned that some part of the trail was impassable and we´d have to take an alternate route. The group was pretty confused and hesitant about this, but apparently it happens all the time in the rainy season, which this is. A high point on the trek was seeing Macchu Picchu from behind, and the peak of Huayna Picchu above it. Theres no indication there is an ancient Inca city up there and anyone would pass right by it unaware. No wonder it lay hidden for so long. We kept going.

Finally, at the breaking point, we reached Aguas Calientas and got our much deserved bed and shower. Its been a long day and were glad to seriously rest. Aguas Calientas is situated right on top of the raging Urubamaba river, about an hour and half hike from Macchu Picchu, our destination early tomorrow morning. Should be a trip, got the cam on full batt, and an hour on the flip….Ciao til later Hombres.

Some New Pictures…

http://picasaweb.google.com/EeShoe/Peru3LobitosAndCusco?feat=directlink

Also, I forgot to mention I accidentally got my head shaved in Piura hahah… I asked for 10 centimeters off, and the barber who looked like Obama, thought I wanted to keep 10 centimeters. Lost in translation. Youll see the results, I just went with it. More ruins today in Cusco. Ciao.

In the Navel of the World

Today me and Evan flew into Cusco, the ancient capital city of the Inca and the self proclaimed ¨navel of the world¨, a bustling city at over 12,000 feet above sea level. Our flight was delayed 3 hours because it was apparently so empty that they lumped it in with the second flight, gifting us with a wonderful 3 hours of lost sleep and standing around at 5 in the morning. Nevertheless, weve finally escaped the clutches of coastal Peru and penetrated the gorgeous interior, the land of llamas and ruins and new realities.

Our last night in Lima was a bit rushed as we flew around town picking things up and dropping off our boards at my friend Felipe´s place. We stayed again at the same hostel where I was ecstatic to discover they still had the shoes I had forgotten there about 3 weeks ago. This was a serious lifesaver because I love these shoes and would not survive in the mountains without them. We went out with a friend we had met in Mancora who took us to LarcoMar, a huge western style restaurant and entertainment complex on the Lima waterfront where I tried to order the coca sour, one of the only places I think its possible to procure one in the world. They were out. But dessert and drinks were good and we got about an hour of sleep before heading to the airport.

The flight into Cusco was pretty amazing, flying past gigantic green peaks kissing the sky above the clouds. The plane was ascending almost the whole time from Lima, and the touchdown introduced us to a whole new Peru entirely opposite of the coastal wasteland we were accustomed to. We checked into our hostel by climbing an intense set of stairs as our altitude sickness kicked into highgear and got us lightheaded and seriously winded. Altitude sickness is no joke, it will bring you down no matter how fit you think you are. But we were in no mood to rest as recommended, we needed to feast and found one a few blocks from the Plaza De Armas at a cool local fare joint.

Yes, I ate an alpaca steak, one of those queer looking andean camelids related to the llama. It was seriously good, and came with a whole set menu with an really good soup and coca tea. Coca tea is a necessity here to battle altitude sickness, and warmed us up as we sat through the first rain we had seen in weeks, and a heavy one at that. Evan had another local dish the name and composition of which  have forgotten but it was pretty decent though not as good as mine. Looks like Guinea Pig is the next item on the menu, maybe tomorrow. We were charging Cusco head on at this point.

We bought a tourist ticket that gets you into all the sites around and above cusco including the myriad Inca ruins in the mountains towering above. Catching a taxi up there was amazing, we could see why the Inca settled here and controlled such a vast empire- it was green and lush and beautiful from all angles. Taximan told us about a horseback tour from the top where you can ride to many of the minor ruins in a few hours and we were sold, most of all Evan because he is a horse virgin (so am I, but i did ride some kind of pony when I was young. Not the same deal). This was going to be terrifying or outrageously cool, we had no idea which.

It turns out our guides and handlers were kids, about ages 7 and 12. They were really great and knowledgeable about the ruins, but I cant help but feel bad that they are essentially working everday. It was also kind of hilarious that we were being led on my a little boy who looked like he was 4 on a full sized horse, handling it all his own. Our horses were Corri and Inti, frisky dudes who liked to outrun each other in the critical sections of mud and stream crossings, scaring the shit out of us when they would jump and twist. To lead them on the kids would kind of ¨shush¨them, that was the sound the horses understood to mean ¨keep going¨when they would constantly stop to munch on some kind of bush. It was terrifyingly amazing.

Our first ruin was called the Temple of the Moon, and it was our first taste of Inca stonework and beauty. Carved into a rocky outcropping, the temple is more of a streamlined cave with an alter within for sacrifices to the moon god. There is an opening at the top that would emit moonlight from above on the solstice, and the place reeked of coca. The steps carved in to the sides were really awesome and made you wonder why they would want to undertake all this. Why not, I guess?

Second ruin was called Tombamachay, what seemed to be an Inca resort of sorts carved into a cliffside streambed with original waterfalls and aqauducts still in place. There were all kinds of indigenous goods for sale so it was kind of a tourist trap, but our faithful little guide Jose led us to the good parts and even took some phots of us. The kid has an eye for photography! Seriously, this kid was like 7 and could probably live by himself in the wild with his horses. Amazing little guy.  He pushed us onward.

The last ruin was completely amazing, a place called Pucapucara, and it seemed like a mini-Macchu Picchu. There was a rainbow overhead and yeah that completed the experience. Photo-ops and a dizzying tour round the ruin courtesy of Jose had us super winded and feeling the Soroche (altitude sickness). It was time to get down to somewhere breathable. We got the horses in gear and went downhill, which turned out to be harder then going up and the horses would keep speeding up and threatening to toss us into a rocky ravine. It was over, we tipped Jose and his sister well because they are awesome and caught a combi back down into the city below where we promptly passed out for hours. This place takes its toll for the guys who dont want to quit.

In the next few days, we plan on taking some sort of adventure jungle tour to Macchu Picchu for the finale. Stay tuned kids…

Stuck in Piura

Yesterday, a national bus strike went into effect due to the Peruvian governments raising of gas taxes a shocking 5 percent, effectively stranding us in the north. We had planned to take an overnight bus from Piura to Lima to be on track for our flight to Cuzco, and now things have been drastic enough to force us to fly at a disgustingly inflated rate. Strait up bad luck. No one knows how long the strike will last, and often there are roadblocks and demonstrations on the highways, so we´ve at least cleared ourselves of those stresses and are flying out tonight.

We managed to get a mototaxi out of Lobitos down the rough dirt road to Talara, a huge oil refining and fishing port, and got a regional bus to Piura. On the way we passed through our first semi tropical area and it even looked like it was going to rain for once. Piura is the travelling hub in the north, but as I mentioned before travelers seem to get stuck here for some reason. Ironically, that is what has happened to us, but were making the most of it anyway.

We picked the Hostal California, I think for no better reason then the fact that I randomly had ¨Hotel California¨running through my head all the morning before, so it was fitting. The place is bare and hot as hell, so we needed something to do.

Piura is actually a pretty nice city, an oasis in Peru´s largest desert, and we found much to remind us of America. We wandered into a shopping mall strait out of anytown, USA and marvelled at the South American style of western brand consumerism. There was a movie theater playing Avatar, alas it was sold out and probably the coolest thing to do in this town, literally. The mall was air conditioned and offered everything you could find in your average target.

We found a couple unapologetic American luxury brand knock offs, including ¨polo shirts¨with the nearly the exact same logo save for a rider with a whip instead of a crop… we also found “Apology¨instead of “Anthropologie¨. There were  tons of surf clothes, which is definitely the youth style as all the kids wear Rip Curl or Billabong. Our finest and most surprising discovery was finding a t shirt that said ¨East Hampton¨from a ¨preppy style¨company called university club. This was pretty bizarre, we had to take a picture. I have to admit, wandering around this wierdo mall was probably way more entertaining then any movie.

Our time in Piura is short, but it´s been a surprisingly refreshing break and return to ¨civilization¨. Weve been living as virtual cavemen the last few days and needed a shower anyway. We hope the bus companies are successful in lowering the gas prices but the strike may well go on and plague us again when we return from Cusco in a week. Viva la Revolucion…

Mancora and Lobitos, adventures in El Norte

We are currently stationed at El Muelles Surf Camp, a rugged surfer/squatter complex in the ex-military oil town of Lobitos, in the middle of nowhere once again. We arrived here yesterday from Mancora via Talara, and thats where I need to catch up with the story.

Mancora was a pretty crazy time, but were glad to be moving on. We spent a good portion of the second day trying to get a room at Loki hostel, which is the hottest thing ever apparently in this town but for good reason. Loki seemed for all intensive purposes to be a resort, with a huge pool and cool bar area and nice rooms with terraces. We ran once again into our friends the North Carolina crew who were camping out in a wierd hotel setup on the beach, and partied with some of them afterhours. By we I mean I alone, Evan came down with another round of ceviche induced misery that sent him to the doctor and out of commission for the most of the weekend. I however, saw a couple of sunrises following all-nighter beach parties with mostly Argentiñas and came out unscathed. This place will end you soon enough I would think.

We hung out with some new friends from Lima I had met, spending some reallllyyy leisurely time out eating or drinking or whatever Mancora style. The wave was really not worth surfing with the crowd, so we enjoyed our first surfless day of the trip figuring there was plenty more to come. In the meantime, Evan recovered 100% and we were ready to hit the road again for the middle-of-nowhere town of Lobitos, supposedly Peru´s best all around wave.

Taking a bus to Talara, we got a taxi to take us the half-hour trip down a really rough road which somehow became paved and much better the closer we got to the town. We were greeted with a strange sight- hundreds of people out on the beach, in a place that is supposedly half-abandoned save for a strange mix of wierdo squatters and surfers. Well it was sunday so we figured that was the reason, everyone loves the beach on the weekend. We ended up at a fancy hotel, not our destination, and had to get another mototaxi over to what appeared on the outside as a ramshackle stable house or something. We never know what to expect.

This was El Muelles Surf Camp, a highly recommended surf hostel that was easily the coolest place weve stayed thus far and a unique little community house reminiscent of that from ¨The Beach¨ in its lofty, DIY squatter charm. A guy named Johnny runs the place with his wife and baby and cook 3 meals a day mess hall style for all the surfers staying at the camp, in our case about 20 guys from Wales, Argentina, Norway, California and Nova Scotia of all places. The rooms are camping tents, pitched right on the wooden planks lofted 20 feet above the ground, with hammocks and makeshift sofas all about, a true surfers hangout. Below and in the back are skateramps made of scrap wood and theres even a volleyball court and laptop set up for internet. All this housed under the rafters and scrap metal roof of a former military barracks. I love this place.

The story of Lobitos is that it was once a military base established in the war against ecuador, also serving as protection for the areas oil deposits and offshore rigs you can see in the distance. When tensions ended and a pact was made, the stipulations required Peru to withdraw its military presence from within a certain distance of the ecuadorian border, and so the army packed up and left a bunch of ruins to the squatters who soon moved in and reestablished a small fishing community. Its a bizarre place and yes theres a great wave right out in front, but the unfavorable swell direction has made it less than ideal since weve been here, coupled with some strong winds, though we still managed to get some fun (and big) sessions in.

I spent some of the day today surfing, hiking around the town ruins and adding to the huge collection of painted army helmets one can find eerily stacked behind the surf camp complex. I painted a series of them, depicting various bones (the ungoing theme of our trip), our friend the Zombie Dolphin, and ¨Jellyfish Man¨; a real life character from a story we read about a guy who snapped his pelvis at G-Land and floated back over the reef minus most of his lower half. Gnarly times indeed.

We find it easy to relax here, the vibe is really awesome and you can just watch the wave all day from the tent platform until it gets good enough for a session. Ive been catching up on ¨The Old Man and the Sea¨and doing some research for Cusco, our next stop after returning to Lima. We leave tomorrow mid-day and say so long to the ocean for a week, not so bad since the swell is on the decline and were siked for some mountain action and change of scenery. Ciao.