The Gringo Trail: Paracas, Ica, Huacachina & Nazca

Me, Zach and our pelican friends. 

So—when you talk about tourism in Peru, there are a few main attractions: Cusco and Machu Picchu; Colca Canyon and Arequipa; the Amazon Basin and Iquitos; etc. However, if you’re talking about backpacking in Peru—if you have time for a full-fledged adventure, about a month to poke around the country, there is no path as popular as the “Gringo Trail.” (I don’t think it’s honestly called that, it’s just what my Lonely Planet book has labeled it, so that’s what we’ll go with.)

The Gringo Trail starts in Lima, then works its way down the Peruvian Coast, hitting Paracas, Ica, Nazca, Arequipa, Puno and finally Cusco. Unintentionally, Katrina and I had hit everything on the Gringo Trail, except the things that were closest to us: Paracas, Ica and Nazca. So, when my friends from college Rebecca, Zach, and Karlee came to Peru, our next trip was clear: hit the coastal cities and round out the Gringo Trail.

So, nice and early on Monday morning, the five of us headed to the Cruz Del Sur bus station to make the nearly three hour trip to Paracas. Our arrival in the city was slightly discouraging: we were seriously dropped off in the middle of nowhere. And let me tell you—the middle of nowhere in a desert is more discouraging than the middle of nowhere in the Midwest. Eventually we found our footing, got a cheap hostel, booked with a tour guide and found ourselves on a bus out to the National Reserve of Paracas.

A bossy sea lion in las Islas Ballestas. 

The National Reserve was a nice way to ease into our trip. We visited the natural salt mines and ate salt right out of the ground (if you know me, you know that I love this), saw the famous Cathedral—a rock shaped like a church in the Pacific Ocean and eventually made it down to Red Beach, which, indeed, is red.  The rest of our day was “tranquila” and we spent it looking over the ocean, eating fantastic seafood and having a small photo shoot with a few pelicans.

Tuesday was probably our most epic day of the trip. We started the day just off Paracas at Las Islas Ballestas, which have been dubbed “The Poor Man’s Galapagos.” Among the fresh blue water and staggering rock formations, we discovered a variety of birds, including PENGUINS, and sea lions that were happy to ham it up for the camera.

The beautiful oasis at Huacachina.

As soon as we made it back from the islands, it was off to Ica, where we took a tour of some of the local wineries. The region of Ica is known for its wine and pisco (a brandy made from grapes) and the tours were an interesting way to see how Peruvians do wine. My favorite part was that they kept the wine in these giant ceramic containers, then dipped a wooden stick in said containers to get the wine out.

From there, it was on to Huacachina, which was my favorite place. Huacachina is an oasis in the middle of a desert. Now, technically speaking a LOT of the Peruvian coast is desert, but Huacachina is the most beautiful desert I’ve seen. Lima is a desert that doesn’t have plants, just a bunch of dirt. Nazca was a desert, that didn’t have sand, just a bunch of rock. Huacachina was pure sand—it was like being on a giant beach. Never in my life did I think I would ever see gorgeous sand dunes like Huacacina has.

The view from our sand buggy. 

So, we took a giant sand buggy out on the dunes and our driver took us on a roller coaster ride, flying down the dunes and speeding up the sides of the sandy mountains. It was exhilarating and an experience even Karlee couldn’t manage to nap through. After we were good and lost in the middle of the dunes, the driver pulled over and we got to take a stab at sandboarding. I will tell you that my first attempt was shameful, but my last attempt I made it down the entire slope (then face planted at the bottom of it.) My favorite part, however, was the sand dune that was so big everyone had to go down in on their stomach—you seriously thought your sandboard was NEVER going to stop moving.

On board our Nazca Lines plane. 

After our short careers as sand boarders, we took the buggy on one last roller coaster ride back, then watched the sunset over the oasis. From there, we hopped a bus to Nazca, so we could be ready to see the famous Nazca Lines the following morning.

Wednesday, we started our day in Nazca with a brief tour of the old aqueducts (that farmers are still using today), an up close look at some of the Nazca lines and a tour of some local ruins, but I could not deny it: we were all just waiting until we could get up in the little plane that flies you over the Nazca Lines. Finally our time came and we hopped a six-person plane and began talking about safety procedures with our pilot (I very inappropriately laughed out loud when he showed us the emergency exit in case we crash.) As we prepared to take off, our pilot showed us one last thing: a handy little bag attached to each seat, in case we need to vomit. It was here, my friends, that I knew I was DOOMED.

One of the Nazca Lines: the Hummingbird.

Anyway, we take off, get over the lines and it was a pretty cool experience. I had a hard time spotting the first line, but by the time we hit the second, there it was below us—a gigantic doodle in the sand. It was also about this time that I realized there was probably no way I was getting off this plane without spilling my guts. My friends we saw 17 Nazca Lines on our tour—I started getting slightly queezy on line number two. The next 30 minutes were a battle of quick, try to take this picture of the Monkey! and don’t lean that direction, you’ll barf! By the end of the experience, I was green, and Karlee sitting next to me looked no better. When the ride was over, we toppled out of the plane, Karlee straight to her knees onto the ground, myself booking it to the bathroom. Of our rag-tag group of five, four of us were miserably sick from the plane ride. YAYYYY Nazca Lines. (A word to the wise—NEVER eat two pork tamales before taking this plane ride.)

Once we recovered ourselves a bit, we got some pollo a la brasa (rotisserie chicken) and had a pig out party on the bus back to Huacachina. We spent that night and most of the next day in Huacachina, marveling at its beauty and whining that we never wanted to leave. But, alas, the time came, and by late Thursday night, we were all back in Callao, exhausted but content with our adventures.

Until next time, Huacachina! 

And thus, we had to return to a bit of normal life. Our church activities that weekend came and went quickly. I was in charge of Friday’s bible study and a Saturday kid’s class. The person presiding on Saturday didn’t show up, and Katrina scrambled and took up the job as presider. Sunday was communion in Filidelfia and Katrina and I both had roles in the services. It wasn’t our most exemplary weekend of church involvement—in fact, my kid’s class was simply dreadful—but we survived it and we’ll be better next time around.

And—that brings us, finally, up to date. Karlee, Rebecca and Zach all returned home to the United States on Tuesday and our life is once again as normal as it gets here in Callao. Today marks our three weeks until we leave Peru, which is simply crazy to me, but starting to feel a little more real every day. The realization that we’re going back to “big kid life” is a strange mixture of excitement, anxiety, sadness and gas (nearly all of our feelings in Peru seem to be mixed with gas nowadays.) And on that note—until next time!