Huacachina is the only oasis in South America. A few hostels and shops plus plenty of jeep tours line a small palm-fringed body of water. The surrounding sand dunes are up to 200 metres high and very steep. The attraction is the jeep tours into the desert. Today I’m going to do what everyone does.
The improvised three-point seat belts are anything but superfluous. The jeeps are powerful and loud, and the lads really know how to chase them over the dunes. Two hours before sunset, we are hurled through a violent natural rollercoaster. Steep bend, uphill, bum takes off, mogul slope, full throttle. The sand dusts everything.
On one of the highest dunes, the self-made sandboards are brought out. A few descents later, everyone really does have sand between their teeth. A few people from Munich have shipped their fat enduro bikes over. They spend the whole afternoon racing like crazy through the vast sea of sand.
The sun is setting. All 50 jeeps gather for a communal evening roar above the oasis. Polishing pictures, writing a few words, grabbing food. The local speciality cocktail is called Huacafuckingchina – and it feels like it. I stare at the seventeenth repetition of some “People are awesome” videos on the edge of incredibly talkative travelling crowds. Strange planet. Dead tired and back to bed very early. My tongue forms a neat loop behind my right ear.
After long persecution, Peru’s witches found their exile just round the corner from Ica. They solve all their problems with San Pedro cacti. Even presidents were customers. The first month of travelling Panamericana III is coming to an end. Tomorrow I leave the desert and coasts of Peru for the Andes highlands. I’m taking my problems with me.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.