“Oddly, when people think of a desert, they picture a single biosphere. But as a lover of drylands, I can attest that deserts vary wildly and wonderfully between low sands, high dunes, rocky flats, scrubby brush, salted plains and wind-eroded pillars.” – Old Sean
A Detour to Ica
As I first left Lima, I felt a surge of riveting excitement. I was leaving a large city with all of it’s comforts for a more freeform adventure in the south of Peru.
About a second later, I felt sleepy.
Another half second, and I was snoozing handily. Lima was tremendous fun, but the number of hours I logged asleep were too few for health.
I originally planned on heading straight to the Nazca Lines, but a cheap ticket deal convinced me to angle for the city of Ica instead. I continued to snooze as my bus went southward, quickly noting vast patches of desert opening open with occasional glances of the sea on the two occassions I managed to open my eyes.
When the bus finally drew near Ica, it was everything a desert city aspires to be. Greenery is somewhat limited and usually displays itself as cacti and bits of spindly trees. Houses in the slums are brick and sheet metal hammered and motored together to reflect the worst of the sun’s rays.
Large, dusty mountains piled forth in the distance, interspaced with sweeping sand dunes that threaten to topple onto tiny buildings near their base. Ica itself is a mess of brightly colored tuk-tuks shouting and honking their tiny horns as they weave through streets dominated by much larger cars. Foot traffic is busy and hoards of people in loose-fitting, light clothing cling to whatever shadows they can find.
Lodging in Ica
This side of the Andes is part of one of the largest and driest rain shadows in the world, with the opposite end hosting the Amazon Rain Forest. I recall, when leaving my apartment in Lima, there were low clouds floating above the city. When I went back inside to retrieve my umbrella, my hostess laughed at me, assuring me no true rain would fall on the city. That was true there and more true in Ica.
On initial arrival, I shunned a vehicle and instead opted to walk to my hostel, a little place called Ica Adventure II. The building was a teenager’s clubhouse dream, with lots of stairs in odd directions, a cobbled together game room and giant TV room attic above a kitchen. Everything was a primary color and I was fortunate to learn that the hostel was fairly empty, giving me a bit of room to roam.
To the High Dunes
Instead of resting on my admittedly sleepy laurels, I found a tuk-tuk willing to take me to a place known as Huacachina to see the sunset.
Huacachina is a small oasis town in the middle of some nearby, very large sand dunes. The tiny village rests in a valley of gilded sand and is supported by an underground river that pools in the town’s center. It’s considered something of a very minute party town, largely thanks to the young expat community that continually cycles in and out through the various bars, hostels and restaurants directly nearby. The area is most famous for sand-boarding and riding dune buggies in death-defying stunts through the lower sand dunes just outside the city limit.
I saw Huacachina as part of a tour while I was in Lima, but the drive was several hours and most people only end up spending an hour or so on the dunes. I highly advise against tours. A person can lodge in or nearby Huacachina very cheap and rent out a board or dune buggy to their heart’s desire, not being beholden to the time limits of a tour group.
When I arrived, the first thing I did was help a car that managed to get stuck in the sand while making an extremely sloppy K turn to exit the village. The man and his girlfriend in the vehicle were doing an impressive job making a wheel-shaped-hole and miniture sandstorm until I collected a few good-sized stones to place under the tires for traction.
Rising the Dunes
I found a place to rent a sandboard for just a few soles (not in the best condition) and opted to climb the northern dune, where I would have the best view of sunset in an hour or so.
For those who haven’t attempted it in life, climbing a pure sand-dune (with no foliage or stones mixed in) is a tough proposition. It’s a steep slog that takes unusual muscles when kicking off the sandy surface. Pausing on less-than-stable ground causes a slight backslide and the heat in a desert is nothing to scoff at.
The best way to manage it is by finding a ridgeline that continues upward and trying to play your feet in the footsteps of those who slogged upwards before you. Running a bit of tape or string on the outside of some long pants that fall over shoes and socks can prevent you from picking up grains in footwear and prevent extra weight from pooling around your feet.
I lugged myself uphill, occasionally stopping to catch my breath. When I finally reached the top of the dune, I was granted four extremely distinct sites.
On my left, Huacachina was glimmering to life in the low-light, their night culture starting to buzz and glitter. On my right slums stretched into the distance, hundreds of low, sharp buildings leaning on one another with recycled metal working as props.
Behind me, Ica was flaring to life as well in the night, large chunks of dusty-green foliage interspacing an otherwise totally urban visage. And then to the direct west, endless miles of untouched dunes rose and fell while catching as much sunlight as they could. Closer to the city, dune buggies flipped on their headlights and bobbed madly through the sand, the shallow whoop of passengers carrying across an empty desert. The sky bled orange and couples sat perched on the peaks of my dune, chatting away in Spanish.
Into the Oasis
Now, while going up a sand dune is a struggle, going down is anything but.
I started at a slight angle, trying to get to a better place to ride my sandboard down. Miniture avalanches spawned at my footsteps while I used a sort of bouncy stride to brush down the slopes. The only danger I faced was planting a foot too deeply and losing a shoe in the sandy suction. When I finally got to a good position, I hopped on my board and slid (somewhat more slowly than I was expecting) the rest of the way down.
I spent a little more time enjoying myself in Huacachina, but I was getting sleepy and decided to return to my hostel, spending the rest of the night calling my sister to check in on the United States and swapping travel stories with a pair of girls from Spain.
Tomorrow, I plan on checking out one of the more famous sights in the region. To the west, there’s a dry island famous for its massive flocks of wheeling birds and craggy shores.
Tomorrow, I make my way towards the Ballestas Islands of Paracas.
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written November 5th 2021
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Ten years ago, I abandoned my military surplus store backpack for a Farpoint 40 Osprey Travel Pack. I’ve never replaced my bag since. Two years ago, I bought two more Osprey Backpacks for my younger siblings on their first tour outside the country. I have nothing but praise for Osprey Products.
