Paracas

Mountain-biking in the desert

By Thomas Feng

December 28^th, 2017

Prior to leaving for Peru I had hoped to spend a few days in Paracas as I love exploring nature. Alas it was the penultimate day of the trip and I had just arrived.

The night before, I listened to stories from other travellers about mountain biking their way through the National Reserve over a few beers. Mountain-biking around a desert seemed a little far-fetched, but also a rare experience.

I convinced Romain, Tabea and Sam to join me for the ride.

The ride from town to enter the reserve was seven kilometres along the highway. We rode on the dusty side lanes but snuck on the asphalt until beeping trucks would scare us back.

Despite hearing stories, I don't think any of us had any expectations of what it would be like. It is hard to comprehend what mountain biking in the desert means, until you are mountain biking in the desert.

Bumpy roads, giant dunes, dusty winds and scorching heat - these are the unique conditions we faced but we were amidst the thrill and excitement of exploring an incredibly pristine and sparse desert.

Soon enough, we made it to the ocean. Paracas National Reserve was a desert by the ocean. As we approached, I yelled out in celebration and rode in figure-eights down towards the sea.

That a desert and ocean could co-exist side by side was exhilarating and something I'd never witnessed before. We stopped to watch the waves crash onto the blood red sanded beach and felt the hair-raising winds dry the sweat off our sun-kissed skin.

The cliffs reminded me of the Great Ocean Road in Australia.

The scent of sea-salt, water and sand overwhelmed my nostrils and tongue, sending waves of appreciation for what I have back home and excitement for coming home.

We rode further down to the sea-side fishing town where people stop by to eat. This was perhaps the most ridiculous experience of the whole day, as hawkers fiercely fought over us to have us dine at their restaurant. Whenever we approached to enter one restaurant, the others would yell at us for making a mistake for attempting to enter another establishment!

It was rather off-putting, but we ended up choosing a friendly restaurant who gave us a table with a view of the beach and sea and a free pisco sour (yum!). I tried the local specialty ceviche, which is raw fish in a zesty lemon sauce, for the first time in over ten years. Definitely not my kettle of fish as a vegan, but I am glad I tried it.

After lunch, Romain and I went for a quick swim. The water was freezing despite Romain's insistence about it being warm. Little penguins, gulls and pelicans relaxed on the rocks near the water.

Side note: Though I wouldn't usually eat fish ever, it was caught in the ocean nearby and the restaurant didn't serve anything outside of seafood.

Condors!

We walked to the lookout and I became ecstatic over spotting an Andean condor. I was fortunate to see them fly by in Cusco and glimpsed them from afar in Arequipa but I did not expect to see them here in the desert and sea.

"Condor, condor, condorrrrrrr!" I exclaimed much to the amusement of the others.

Seconds later, a flock of pelicans flew majestically towards the sea.

Riding home

Perhaps we were delirious from the sun or just very satisfied from our adventure but we jumped excitedly back on the bikes and hit the sand running with the wind on our tails.

It was time to head back to town to catch a bus to Lima.

Until disaster strikes

After swapping bikes with Sam's supposedly "shitty" one, I rode ahead in a quick smooth rhythm along the bumpy gravel, making the bike sing from how fast it was going.

But then there was a snap. And I couldn't pedal further. It wasn't a bump in the road.

Shit. The chain on my bike broke. There was still another ten kilometres back into town. And Romain and Tabea had about an hour to catch their bus.

Some locals stopped to see if they could help and drove out to my hostel to ask them to pick us up. We said farewell to Romain and Tabea as they needed to catch the bus.

Sam stayed for company.

Our options were to wait or walk. After twenty minutes waiting in the heat with little water left, we decided to walk because we would either be recognised (hopefully) walking along the highway or just end up back in town.

Walking back, we spoke about our trips, our observations of South America, what life at home was like, what we were looking forward to when coming home and laughed off the silliness of what had happened. An hour and a half later, we arrived back into town.

I think if this had happened a year ago perhaps I wouldn't have been so calm about it. Losing my phone in La Paz and embracing life without a phone for the majority of the trip also set a precedent in how I try to deal with these incidents.

Unexpected things can happen anytime anywhere, so I am really thankful for Sam, Romain and Tabea for their company and support. I think if I was stuck in the desert on my own this story might have turned out a little differently.