The paraca in Paracas

My two feet in the chilly Pacific, I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’ll have 3.000 meters to climb back up to go back in the Andes. Passing, in a day and a half, from 5.000 meters elevation to zero was a pleasure that I’ll probably be able to do only once. It’s in Paracas that I get comfortable in an almost empty youth hostel. A few souls are wondering around in this touristic town south of Pisco, which maybe in some other time of the year is overcrowded. The air is dry and in the afternoon, a wind from the South named “paraca” sometimes brings gusts full of sand. This sand comes from Paracas National Reserve (I try not to repeat myself, but it’s like that), where I’ll go wandering around in the end of a rest day to enjoy the sunset in a desert-by-the-sea setting. It changes from the mountain let’s say…

I see on the map I’ve been given entering the Reserve that it is possible to go through small roads to get to Ica, my next destination, instead of going on the Panamerican. Continue reading →

French cousins

I was leaving Huaraz alone, ready to cross Huascaran National Park, through its high snowy peaks. Not even 4 kilometers out of the city, I see two cyclists stopped on the side of the road, thumbs up. There are a French couple, Benjamin and Faustine, trying to get into a truck with their bicycles to get back where they had to stop 50 kilometers further, where Benjamin’s derailleur declared forfeit. Even before knowing our names, Continue reading →