Paracas: All Aboard the Gringo Trail!

Since we did no route planning prior to arriving in Peru, after three days in Lima we had a big decision to make: north or south? We ultimately chose to head down the coast, hitting up as many small towns as possible and eventually looping up to Cusco. Turns out this is a bit of a gringo trail, but for good reason as there are some really pretty places amidst all the tourist nonsense and plentiful “desayuno Americano” options.

Our first stop was Paracas, more specifically the town of El Chaco. This area is still working to rebuild after a huge earthquake leveled things a few years back but the natural highlights – Islas Ballestas (the “Poor man’s Galapagos”) and Reserva Nacional de Paracas – are more of a draw than the town itself.

We wanted to visit the reserve our first day in Paracas but were discouraged by the most common tour option, which appeared to be two hours of a guide driving you to various look out points, letting you snap a picture, and then dropping you off at an restaurant where you are expected to buy overpriced ceviche. That sounded like a lame way to experience natural beauty, and not unlike Arches National Park in Utah, where cars full of tourists drive directly up to “famous” rocks, snap pictures of said rocks, then immediately get back in their cars and move to the next one.

Despite what seemed like a strange lack of information in town and on the internet about hiking, walking or really any kind of independent exploration of the reserve, the tiny landmass jutting out from the coast on our map looked manageable, and we figured we could tackle that baby on our own.

We set out on foot from town, and when we had only reached the entrance of the reserve over an hour later we were beginning to understand why the walking tour is not usually a fan favorite.

Quick aside…Before we came to Peru we were overwhelmed with well-meaning warnings from guidebooks, family, and fellow travel enthusiasts about all the imminent dangers we were about to face. Pickpockets, crooked taxi drivers, even washed fruit and ATMs could take advantage of you and presumably leave you pooing yourself in a ditch. While there is truth to these warnings and while a healthy amount of caution is essential anywhere you travel, one negative outcome is that we were approaching each new place and stranger with a general sense of distrust and anxiety. As we walked toward the reserve along an all but deserted highway, these misgivings began to close in. There were gorgeous dunes with red streaks to our left, the Pacific ocean to our right and a pleasant blue sky, but we were tensing up as honking trucks passed and glancing around nervously like we were the first scene in a slasher film. We had a brief discussion and decided that if we were going to travel for six months, we couldn’t walk through the world this way. We could take common sense precautions without expecting the worst of every new situation…onward.

We paid our 20 soles to enter the park and made our way to the interpretive center another couple of kilometers up the road, paused to see some distant flamingos and study the signs. Sadly Robinson and Caruso, who had chosen to hike in the desert at high noon with no lunch were still about 8 kilometers away from the closest landmark. We had plenty of water and a lot of energy, but we didn’t want to be the dumb girls that had to be evacuated and treated for heat stroke when they could have gotten a reasonably priced driving tour in town like the sane gringos.

Walking in the reserve was beautiful and meditative so we accepted the fact that we weren’t going to get any of the money shots and decided to just walk for another hour or so for the hell of it.

We were just about to turn back when a car with two men and two women pulled up alongside of us. One of the women looked out the window at us incredulously and asked which beach we were trying to go to. We sort of shrugged and laughed and they gestured for us to get in, cheerfully scooting over in the back seat to accommodate us. Raul, the only one who spoke a bit of english, asked us where we wanted to be dropped off and we said not far since we have to walk back from wherever you take us. Even though they seemed to be having some kind of couples day trip, they offered to take us with them to one of the further beaches, Playa Mina, and drop us back at home in a couple of hours. We gratefully accepted.

We tried to practice our Spanish in the car with Raul, and Kristy asked him what he did for work. He responded that he was in the toilet paper business, and Kristy, trying to tell him that his work was important, exclaimed, in a sedan with six people and the windows up, “muy necessito!” (rough translation: “very I need!”) There was some nervous laughter from the girls, and Raul looked at her very concerned and said, “right now?” We cleared things up, but this has been only the first of many mixups with our terrible Spanish.

We spent the afternoon relaxing at a little tucked away beach by some cliffs, and got dropped off by our new amigos later that day.

It was exactly what we needed – to be bailed out by a kind group of Peruvians the same day we decided to be more trusting. And hopefully we’ll hold onto that feeling even when the inevitable bad thing happens because it’s a much more pleasant state of being. Muy necessito!