The desert is starting to feel a little endless. The cold Pacific Ocean is always there to the right while the Pan-American keeps on rolling south over plateaus, along beaches, and across river drainages. Often I am carry 5 or 6 liters of water with me just to make sure, in case I have to camp before reaching water - though I can always flag down a passing truck for a ride to the next water.
Thankfully the Humboldt current flowing along the coast keeps the temperature moderate but is the source of the endless cool wind rushing up into the Andes. The sand dunes leave no doubt as to the prevailing wind. The few plants that do exist here are rooted in sand trapped against rocks that promise a little moisture, however time between rains is counted in decades.
The Humboldt makes Peru one of the leading fishing nations of the world with a huge diversity of species. I spend hours pedaling along looking out across the water . . . I figure the ocean is my best chance of seeing something interesting.
So far I have seen vultures feeding on dead sea lions and birds but I did turn over a rock to sit and found a scorpion to tease. I see fish but only in the form of ceviche.
The landscape looks so desolate and forlorn. I have a hard time picturing people living here for thousands of years in one of the driest deserts in the world. Yet this has been home to numerous complex civilizations with thriving trade between cities.
People manage to make themselves comfortable.
Towns that lack abundant water appear as little more than ghost towns and I may ride through without seeing a single soul.
However, every 50 or 60 miles a large river drainage will meet the coast producing an oasis of green. The rivers themselves are often dry but water runs underground year around making the desert green. The river below is the Ocona that begins 200 miles away at 16,000 feet in the Andes - I have a long term interest in this valley because the remnants of an Inca Royal Road run up the valley from an Inca port that supplied fresh fish to the mountain empire. I have researched riding the length of the river from the top and I am not sure it has been done . . . but will have to wait for the next trip.
A now familiar and welcome view is to cross a dry plateau then begin descending into a river valley green with olive groves.
The woven reed box homes are perched in the sand on the edges of the oasis leaving the bottom land open to cultivation - even roads skirt bottom land instead of crossing.
Currently, I am in Camana and the entire valley is flooded with newly planted rice paddies
that extend to the edge of the beach.
The emerald green smell of water seems out of place with the surroundings. Everyone is hunched over the rice paddies plugging seedlings into shin deep water when you kind of expect people to be riding camels . . . the audacity of humans
Towns are not given over to agriculture are on the ocean with sheltered harbors and small fishing fleets.
I have spent time around surfers that get misty eyed talking about Peru. The beaches are immense with endless huge waves rolling in and devoid of people but the barren immensity will probably keep it that way. The towns are more focused on servicing the trucks full of onions, fish, and rice than servicing beach goers.
I often meet entrepreneurial minded Peruvians with visions of tourist glory that bemoan the "lack of vision" in these provincially minded towns. However, I suspect people are just not that interested when they already have something to do.
The desert is starting to feel a little endless. The cold Pacific Ocean is always there to the right while the Pan-American keeps on rolling south over plateaus, along beaches, and across river drainages. Often I am carry 5 or 6 liters of water with me just to make sure, in case I have to camp before reaching water - though I can always flag down a passing truck for a ride to the next water.
Thankfully the Humboldt current flowing along the coast keeps the temperature moderate but is the source of the endless cool wind rushing up into the Andes. The sand dunes leave no doubt as to the prevailing wind. The few plants that do exist here are rooted in sand trapped against rocks that promise a little moisture, however time between rains is counted in decades.
The Humboldt makes Peru one of the leading fishing nations of the world with a huge diversity of species. I spend hours pedaling along looking out across the water . . . I figure the ocean is my best chance of seeing something interesting. 
So far I have seen vultures feeding on dead sea lions and birds but I did turn over a rock to sit and found a scorpion to tease. I see fish but only in the form of ceviche.
The landscape looks so desolate and forlorn. I have a hard time picturing people living here for thousands of years in one of the driest deserts in the world. Yet this has been home to numerous complex civilizations with thriving trade between cities.
People manage to make themselves comfortable.
Towns that lack abundant water appear as little more than ghost towns and I may ride through without seeing a single soul.
However, every 50 or 60 miles a large river drainage will meet the coast producing an oasis of green. The rivers themselves are often dry but water runs underground year around making the desert green. The river below is the Ocona that begins 200 miles away at 16,000 feet in the Andes - I have a long term interest in this valley because the remnants of an Inca Royal Road run up the valley from an Inca port that supplied fresh fish to the mountain empire. I have researched riding the length of the river from the top and I am not sure it has been done . . . but will have to wait for the next trip. 
A now familiar and welcome view is to cross a dry plateau then begin descending into a river valley green with olive groves.
The woven reed box homes are perched in the sand on the edges of the oasis leaving the bottom land open to cultivation - even roads skirt bottom land instead of crossing.
Currently, I am in Camana and the entire valley is flooded with newly planted rice paddies
that extend to the edge of the beach.
The emerald green smell of water seems out of place with the surroundings. Everyone is hunched over the rice paddies plugging seedlings into shin deep water when you kind of expect people to be riding camels . . . the audacity of humans
Towns are not given over to agriculture are on the ocean with sheltered harbors and small fishing fleets.
I have spent time around surfers that get misty eyed talking about Peru. The beaches are immense with endless huge waves rolling in and devoid of people but the barren immensity will probably keep it that way. The towns are more focused on servicing the trucks full of onions, fish, and rice than servicing beach goers. 
I often meet entrepreneurial minded Peruvians with visions of tourist glory that bemoan the "lack of vision" in these provincially minded towns. However, I suspect people are just not that interested when they already have something to do.
Stunning photos and really nice text. I was totally sucked into the dry terrain, the lush valleys, and open space. Reminds me a lot of Baja, although I'm sure on the ground it feels totally different.
ReplyDeleteWill definitely consider riding through here on my bike tour next year...