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.

Steadily Northward

Please excuse our absence from the world for the last few day, we´ve  been present in another state of reality called ¨perfect SUrf World¨ at Chicama, and this world prohibits contact with  the one we were previously associated with.

We spent the last day in Huanchaco surfing some of the biggest waves weve seen thus far at a little bit overhead, and I also got to try out one of the totora reed fishing boats- the ¨caballito¨. The boat is pretty cool and remarkably adapted to wave maneuvering as I led it through the shorebreak and tried the stand-up paddle approach, using the traditional paddle made from a split piece of bamboo. The beach had cleared out and all the weekenders had gone home. Huanchaco had been a nice place but we knew the swell was coming to light up the Chicama christmas tree and had to return for another taste.

A familiar busride back to the puerto and arrival at the Ël Hombre hostel greeted us with a full house of recently arrived surfers who had been tipped off as we had through the meticulous watching of wave forcasts. The wave was just turning on and we enjoyed a sunset session up at the cape and I had a narrow escape from a fishing net when duckdiving under a wave and getting my board completely entangled within it. I cut myself free before drowning using my highly adapted survival skills. There were a few more participants this time then the previous week,and things really heated up the next 2 days.

If you can imagine a perfect wave, this is it. When chicama really turns on, it is a grinding fast tube breaking over sand for nearly a mile. The wind is always offshore, and it is hardly crowded. Me and Evan got by far the best waves of our lives, Evan even proclaiming so by screaming ¨Best Wave of My Lifffffeee!!!!¨as he came flying past me on the inside. We traded half-minute to 45 second long lefts from the rocky headland all the way back to within sight of El Hombres porch and cheering mates watching from above. The waves were head high the first day, and got even a little overhead the second, with a huge influx of vanloads of daytripping surfers from probably just about everywhere in coastal Peru and otherwise. The local kids had the wave dialed of course, outlasting and outblasting pretty much all the gringos in the tube and on the face save for a few really fast guys. By the end of this dream marathon we were paralyzed with fatigue. But oh so satisfied. Chicama is truly a hydrodynamic miracle of á wave and very magical place unlike anywhere in the world. We completely scored.

Saying goodbye to Chicama was pretty bittersweet. We had stayed in a nice little upgrade from our rooms the previous week and felt like kings of the place when sitting down to an awesome breakfast prepared by Doris, the Senora of the hostal. But it was time we headed north to Mancora, a big summer resort town that plays host to Peru´s best summer waves of Cabo Blanco and Lobitos. Again, the overnight bus was the ticket but it proved much more of headache then we would have guessed.

Transfering in Trujillo to get a bus to Mancora would be easy we thought, but it turned out there were few buslines with direct routes there and the ones that had them were booked, leaving us with the option to go to Piura and get a bus from there. We took a Cruz Del Sur bus, another nicely fitted charter bus but it didnt depart until very late, leaving us mucho time to kill. We decided to get the best dinner in town.

Looking in our Lonely Planet guide, we decided on El Uruguayo, a highly recommended steakhouse in south Trujillo. I had the best Argentine steak in the world probably, paired with a pretty amazing Chilean cabernet sauvignon, ensalada and papas fritas; Evan had an exquisite mixed plate with Chorizo well deserving of our chicama triumphs. So yeah we patted ourselves on the back a bit, and consumed the best meal we had had in Peru by far and maybe ever. A great way to spend 3 hours.

 In a dramamine-induced daze we sped through the dark Peruvian wastes and arrived in Piura by 6 in the morning. Apparently, many travelers get stuck in Piura for some reason or another, but we were determined not to be. We decided to get a shared van for the 3 hour trip and it turned into a very uncomfotable endeavour. No air conditioning, crowded backseat and little sleep became a nightmare drive through more wasteland. Mancora couldn´t come soon enough.

Pulling into the town was a great relief and we saw all the hallmarks of resort town blight-billboards, thousands of cheap looking hostels and beachy tourist shops, but the place was pretty small alltogether. We decided on the Sol y Mar hostel, which we will be changing soon because its not all that decent, though its right in the center of things, including Mancora point, a crowded little mushy left that we were told to avoid. After breakfast in a nice little town center cafe overlooking the break, we gave the spot a try and found it warm, workable but far too crowded. Looks like were gonna have to hit this place early as it blows out and gets ridiculuously dangerous with all the surfers novice and pro alike packed into a tiny take-off zone. Not exactly perfecto after experiencing dream-like chicama.

We´ve managed to run into several people weve met in our travels previously, including the hostel in Lima and Pacasmayo. A group of North Carolina surfers kind of on the same track as us spotted us looking for a place to eat and we decided to meet up for later engagements. Its amazing how small Peru can be when your on the wave hunt and the signals are pointing the whole tribe to the same place. As I write this we met another solo traveling surfer we had met in Lima, and now we are confident we might know half the town allready. With plenty more contacts from other friends back home, we feel we might enjoy Mancora for the next week as priveleged insiders and look forward to the trek…

MORE PICTURES- http://picasaweb.google.com/EeShoe/PeruWeek2AkaMoreChicama?feat=directlink

Surf Chan Chan Surf

Huanchaco is a seaside touristy getaway close to Trujillo, the second largest city of Peru, and is crowded by Trujillian weekend warriors out to spend as much time as possible by the ocean. We arrived yesterday on a charter bus to Trujillo and taxi into town, checking in at the Casa Suiza, a fake ¨Swiss Style¨lounge that is pretty cool and the best eats in town. We came here with the hopes of putting down surfing for the weekend and unwinding in a¨lively party town¨. Like how most of the trip has gone, we found opposing forces at work. The wave here was pretty damn decent, a long left coming off a gradual point with more size and power then weve seen previously, and as night came around the whole town became abandoned. Just our luck to find waves when we werent even looking for them.

We ate a cool middle eastern place at the farthest possible edge of town, a hippie kind of place obviously run by ex pats, serving unique takes on felafals and other middle eastern fare. A decent run of surf later had us trading lefts down the point and in front of a cool pier into a deeper bay backed by some imposing mountains in the distance. The place looks much like any beach in California, with the exception of the presence of a dozen totora reed boats, the small fishing craft coastal Peruvians have been using since antiquity. You can actually rent them and try them out in the surf, and it is said these craft outdate the ancient Hawaiian Olo surfboards. Many claim this very place was the real birthplace of surfing, and Id say its a pretty appropriate hypothesis.

We went for a drink in town that night and found things pretty quiet, save for a little place where a few musicians were playing in a very casual atmosphere for a very small audience, namely us. We sipped a harsh Peruvian beer while listening to some traditional Afro’Peruvian folk music, accompanied by my friend the ´Cajone´(hand drum). We retired soon after all the jazz, geeeez what an exciting town.

(Today) we rose early for an awesome morning session at the point, with  no one out of course, and had the best breakfast yet in Peru at our hostel. The fruit blended juices here are pretty amazing, as was the omelette and coffee. We were ready for an expedition to Chan Chan, the mammoth ancient ruined adobe city to our east, capital of the Chimu empire.

The taxi dropped us off on a road that seemed to lead deep into the ruins, which stretched as far as the eye could see on ethier side of the highway (yes, the highway bisects a thousand year old ancient city). We thought we only had about a minutes walk tothe welcome center and museum, but no, like every time we do anything ruin related, we must walk through a blisteringly hot wasteland for at least 20 minutes to get anywhere.

Chan Chan looks much like the previous two ruins we had seen, both from the same cultures of Moche and Chimu, as they are built mostly with adobe brick that have been severely eroded by the heavy rains of El Niño. This is the biggest pre columbian city in South America as well as the biggest ancient adobe city in the world, with a total area of about 20 square kilometers. It was home to some 60,000 4 and half foot tall people. Imagine that.

It seems also that our travels in this country bring us into contact with many interesting dogs, as today we met the Peruvian hairless dog, a true hellspawn of a creature if there ever was one. If you have ever seen a picture of the worlds ugliest dog ( the official one) you will recognize it as this breed, a mid sized muscular hound with rhinoceros like black wrinkled and scarred skin, talon like claws, and a mysterious evil eye. Yes it looks like a demon incarnate ready to spread batwings and dissapear into flames, but seemed a very docile creature, roaming about the welcome center grounds with a lackadaisical gait. Apparently they have a higher body temperature then normal dogs and are used as aids for people with arthritis (WTF). Pictures of  Satan´s little helper to come soon, I promise.

We took an english speaking tour with a nationally eclectic mix of friends, a Malaysian, Icelander and Pole from Ecuador. The tour took us through the complex which consisted of a huge central plaza, ornate walls rife with ocean symbolism, a tomb site, and an amazing walk in well that looked like an oasis. Yes the place was really quite eroded and we were in the restored part of the city, but the fact that they had erected tent like roofs over much of it to protect from rain robbed the site of its authenticity all the more in my opinion. Are you using your imagination for all this? Well I guess ill upload some pictures once I can get to a computer that can accomplish such a task.

The adventure was only just beginning for me and Evan after the tour ended. We knew from our guide book that the portion we had seen was but just a small fraction of the whole site, and that seeing other parts was easily accomplished by just walking out into the distance, but also reported was the fact that these areas are not protected and one runs the risk of robbery or worse when venturing here. We asked some women police officers about it and they said it was strictly prohibited at first, but after explaining we werent afraid of the ´ladrones´(thieves) they reversed their absolute policy and said ok. Deathtrap? We were about to find out.

First we walked out to a similar looking complex in the distance, a miniature walled city in itself with 30 foot walls. Entering in, we were a bit scared but figured the place was pretty empty and were proved right. This was an archeological site in progress, with tarps and stacked stones and scaffolding all about. Its amazing we could do this at all, and we felt pretty Indiana Jones rummaging about in the passageways and seeing first hand small temples and plazas that probably only a few people in our modern era had set eyes on at all. Besides, we had extensive ruin experience from our last forays into bone’strewn terrain.

This place blew away all the dinky ruins we had seen prior. It was even a bit better then the restored city section we had toured because this was the real deal and you could tell. Constantly looking over our shoulders like paranoid freaks, we were glad to see two little girls come up from behind a monolithic structure (!) Yeah apparently little Peruvian girls are permitted to play in bandito riddled archeological sites unsupervised. They were having a fine time as were we. We didnt find any bones this time, unfortunately, and eventually a man came and yelled at us from a distance. He seemed to be the girls father and then exclaimed he was a guard for the site and that we werent aloud on the premises. We apologized and hastily left our unexcavated treasures behind for another adventurous or ignorant gringo duo to discover. (kidding about this, if your in Peru dont touch or dig up anything at a site or the government will find you and detain you for probably indefinitly). Back to Huanchaco, for another evening glass off session and a great pizza at the hostel. The legendary  south swell formally arrives tomorrow and we are ready to greet the long awaited bastard (or maiden) at Chicama with open arms.

A Brokedown Taxi

Missing yesterday, here are our updates. Were still in Pacasmayo surfing and seeing some very untouristed ruins. Yesterday got off to a late start as we woke up lazy and had a big breakfast at a sandwich place. The waves were really not up to par so we decided to try to see El Cerro de Dos Cabezas, a Moche burial mound (or rather two of them) just to the north of town. We got a taxi who took us up into the typical surrounding desert wastes and half-finished construction projects into the lush and green Juequetepeque River Valley (its prounounced heh-kwey-tay-peh-kay, fun to say indeed). Down some winding roads and we came upon two large and imposing mountains of dirt and sand that was really one (hence the name Dos Cabezas, it looks like it has 2 heads). Upon closer inspection we saw it was really eroded adobe bricks and the place was huge. Again, we were the only humans in sight and we told the taxista to stay for a little while we checked the place out. There were burial chambers built into the sides that we dared to climb into and become mummies, and condors soared above us. The view from the top was pretty awesome, we could see for miles in every direction and could see some probably little surfed breaks to our west. There were no bones this time.

When we came back down we saw a police car by the taxi and were a bit taken aback, it turned out they thought that we were Huaqueros (graverobbers). They try to police this stuff heavily because an insane amount of precious gold artifacts have been unearthed at this site, including a very famous mask that went missing from a museum in Lima and turned up a decade later in London, said to be cursed by the way. There is still no onsite security however. We had a good look and were off.

On the way back to Pacasmayo, our poor little mototaxi that couldnt got a flat tire and we pulled off to the side of the nowhere land road. All around us was absolutely nothing, so we got to know our taxista Cesar very well as he made an emergency call to his friend to come pick us up. About an hour later, another mototaxi showed up and hitched the flat taxi on the back and we all got in and puttered back to civilization. We couldnt make it up the hill with all the weight so we had to get out and push, though not being able to keep up ended up running after the taxis up the hill and jumping in at the last second. I have some epic mid-action shots to prove all this.

Later that day, we went back out to the point to try to get another taste of  “endless lefts”. We caught a mototaxi this time, cutting our travel time to about 10 minutes. We went along with Marco, our friend who works at the great burger joint that shows surf movies all the time, our aussie friend Danny from the hostel, and Francisco; a kid we befriended at first but was turning into a bit of a punk when he tried to steal my binoculars. Evan decided to sit the session out because of a bothersome foot injury, and elected to film with the HD cam. The tide was low so the wave at El Faro was finally switching on, and we all got our fair share of good long lefts, some on camera. Surfing til dark, I hitched a ride with some more aussies back to town and met up with Evan at El Charro for a huge post-sesh munch. Afterwards, we met the aussies again and got a drink at an Italian restaurant though we retired early to surf at dawn the next morning…we were headed to Poemape.

(This Morning) we awoke before the sun and packed our French friend Emmanuels 4WD with boards and provisions. It was he, his girlfriend Mal from Australia, Evan and I and we were in the mood for a cool side trip, especially where good surf was to be had since Evan had missed out the night before. We drove past the huge Pacasmayo cement factory spewing fumes and past small pueblos, turning onto a very non descript dirt road off the highway. A 4wd was quite necessary as the road was rough and long. About half way through, we picked up an unassuming local fisherman who was very greatful for the ride that would take him 4 hours on foot, and he told us which way to go. Just as the sun was rising, we pulled over a sandy dune and saw the small fishing village nestled into a sandy cove with some lefts running off a rock outcropping, looking really inviting.

The wave was really fun, coming fast off the rocks and peeling into the bay with a few makeable sections. Evan and Emmanuel got some awesome long rides as I sat on the outside and waited for the ones swinging wide. We were glad we came early because there was no wind and no one out save for a local fisherman paddling his traditional reed boat out past the surf. I was lucky enough to capture him on the cam and cant wait to try these reed boats out in Huanchaco. A few hours later some Brazilians showed up and the surf went down and blew out a little bit, but we had scored. I took some pictures of the eerie little abandoned village and its crustacean-made walls and we packed it up for the hostel. A great trek all the way. We now prepare to leave for Huanchaco via Trujillo.