Sand, Wind, and Sunshine

When you get to Northern Peru everything changes. The first thing you notice is the lack of vegetation. Brown becomes the dominant color which is accented by lovely shades of gray. The wind blows hard and non-stop from the south, which for southward travelers like us, is suboptimal. On the plus side the food transforms from bland, to spicy, varied, and delicious. After all, this is the land of ceviche, roasted duck, and Manta Ray omelettes.

Lefts, Lefts, and More Lefts

Surfing reference. A left is a wave that breaks, often along a point or headland, in a leftward direction (from the water). If I’ve lost you or you’re simply uninterested, please skip below to more information about ceviche. Now, Peru is the land of Lefts and boasts the two longest waves (both lefts) in the world. As a lover of lefts, Ryan was very keen to see this for himself and was willing to subject Cait and me to hours of desert riding in order to access the most remote surf breaks in Northern Peru. At this point my fate is rather tied to Ryan’s but for Cait, why she didn’t use her agency to jump ahead to a less harsh setting is beyond me.

Along we traveled from one perfect left to another. The length of waves varied from several hundred yards to nearly two miles. On the longer waves Ryan would ride until his legs cramped, he got bored, or he simply fell off his board. Then he would paddle to shore, walk up the point, and start the circuit all over again. Meanwhile, Cait and I spent our non-riding days onshore daydreaming about the mountains.

Escaping the Panamericana

After riding the Panamericana for one too many weeks, Ryan and Cait decided it was time to take a scenic detour to the Illescas Reserve. With no accomodation, services, or shade, the Reserve promised to be a paradise only a surfer and a very patient girlfriend could appreciate. If only we could find the access road. The first road went through land controlled by a petroleum company, and they weren’t about to grant access to us and our caravan of fun. The next road went up to a mine, which was equally irritated by our presence. So we went straight to the source of all local information: the gas station. While there, an ATV rolled up with two semi-official looking guys from the environmental agency. They introduced themselves as Harold and Carlos (why couldn’t it have been Kumar!), official caretakers of the Reserve, and told us to follow them. Of course we did.

Two hours later found us descending onto the most beautiful coastline either of us had seen in weeks. Gleaming blue water with huge sand beaches and sand dunes which could only be described as lunar. Oh, and not a soul for miles in either direction. And then we hit the sand. Some sand is tolerable with low tire pressure and patience. This was not that kind of sand. This sand was only one to two degrees removed from quick sand. So, going above and beyond the call of duty, Harold and Carlos loaded us and our gear onto their ATV and drove us deeper into the reserve. Just about the time we thought we were part of the most elaborate kidnapping in history, there appeared a hotel? in the distance with a world-class wave in front. Upon arriving, we were quickly informed that we weren’t the typical clientele (all-inclusive, $300/night types), but that we were welcome to camp on the terrace. We took them up on this offer and spent the next three days stranded in paradise.

Just as our water and food supply was running out, Harold and Carlos returned with the ATV to evacuate us from the Reserve. While it was a rough transition back onto the Panamericana, we’ll never forget the days we spent surfing, beach exploring, cooking, and stargazing on the most isolated stretch of coastline in the country.

About one week later we decided to abruptly abort the coast and head due east into the Sierras. If you’re as sick of the sand as we are, check back soon for pretty pictures of mountains and lakes.