Paracas and the Ballestas Islands

When Pietro knocked softly on our door a few minutes before 6 a.m., I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still getting our bearings in this new and auspicious city, we were thankful our host had assumed the role of a protective older brother. Groggy but excited, we let him load us into the waiting cab with our bags and with a warm handshake all around, we were off.

Even a handful of hours on the wrong bus line can be excruciating on the back as well as one’s patience, but the buses of Cruz del Sur proved superior in every way. For a few dollars more, we reserved a reclining seat on the lower level, with enough leg room for a Knicks basketball star. An efficient steward was always on hand for coffee or tea and for other overnight forays throughout the month, blankets, pillows, and a simple mini-meal better than current airline fare (read cheese and ham sandwich and fruit) more than sufficed. Checked bags were carefully recorded in a log book and receipts meticulously inspected before claiming them at every destination point.

We settled back, gazing outward over the next three and a half hours as the terrain grew flatter and more barren, dotted with villages sporting brightly colored Inca Kola signs and what appeared to be largely abandoned workers’ huts at roadside. It was an unforgiving terrain but a fascinating one. To paraphrase the writer Lawrence Durrell, we were watching the landscape, but was it not watching us as well?

By the time we reached the Paracas depot — a humble station open to the elements and sporting a desk for boat excursions to the Ballestas Islands, with a few tables for a beverage break and tourist trinkets thrown in for good measure — I could feel a change of scent in the air. I knew the longed-for ocean view was close.

Thanks to the Humboldt Current that flows from Antarctica along the Pacific coastline, stimulating an amazing ecological food chain and attracting one of the largest concentrations of birds on the planet, Peru boasts the maritime sanctuary of Paracas and Islas Ballestas. Some Peruvians, according to our Frommer’s Guide, even compare it to Ecuador’s own Galapagos. For now, we were content to leave such comparisons to the experts and make the necessary reservations for our 7 a.m. boat excursion to the Ballestas. The clerk then arranged a taxi for the nearby town of Pisco for lodging and a closer examination of the local customs. From Paracas (which only offers limited accommodations for travelers) it was a short ride, 25 minutes tops.

If you want to get a gander at how life is really lived in the wilds of Peru beyond Lima, Pisco is your place. It’s a dusty, disheveled sort of town, largely the result of the lingering damage suffered in the 2007 quake. Three-wheeled cabby drivers jostle for customers around the tiny central plaza, filled with cartoonish animal topiaries and a handful of hostels. Peru Hotel and Suites on the main square was certainly adequate, but don’t forget to leave your room key at the front desk if you expect a daily visit from the maid.

There’s a pedestrian mall, lit up like a small county fair at night with blaring soap operas and the latest adventure flick lighting the runway. Plenty of hole-in-the-wall eating spots with fried chicken and fattish fries are easily available and Peruvian soups (sopas) are worth a try, with at least a half dozen choices, even on the simplest menu. Cebicherías (restaurants offering their own version of ceviche) are plentiful but after Lima’s finest, I was hesitant to try Pisco’s particular hit and miss spin-offs. We did find a little taberna off the main drag that served a more than respectable pitcher of Pisco sours and a plump no-nonsense proprietress straight out of Central Casting. The libations helped immeasurably when we later drifted off to sleep to the sounds of fireworks, barking canines, an insistent cat in heat and a lone rooster crowing long before its accustomed dawn.

The Ballestas Islands

At 6:15 a.m. the next day, we found ourselves waiting among the penguin and bear topiaries in Pisco’s main square for our prearranged cabbie to appear. Bleary-eyed, I stared at these gigantic animals in the early morning light, as three-wheeled taxis, too small to accommodate our luggage, careened by. Finally, the cabbie with his doe-eyed, four-year-old grandson in tow, pulled up. We were thankfully off and it was none too soon for his two expectant seafarer passengers.

The open boats for the Ballestas held at least a couple dozen early-risers like ourselves and Luis, the captain, and his crew seemed like “old salts” at navigating the stretch of water we glided over on our way to the islands. Only minutes into our voyage we encountered El Candelabro, a gigantic etching (413 feet high) resembling a candelabra, situated in the rocks overlooking the bay. Was this a precursor to the inscrutable Nasca lines to come? Some archaeologists have dated it as late as the 18th century, believing it to be a protective symbol to the seafaring.

We endured a good bit of spray from these chilly waters, but every minute was a thrilling ride. We were accompanied all the while by a confetti-like conflagration of sea birds — literally hundreds of them — skimming the tops of the roiling current. Off-limits to landlubbers, the habitat is a rich depository of guano, the Quechua word for bird droppings harvested every 10 years for fertilizer. Huge colonies of barking sea lions, parked on cantilevered cliffs as if awaiting our hungry cameras, soon came into view with pelicans and red-footed cormorants nearby (some 200 migratory birds have been documented on the site). To our delight, Humboldt penguins waddled onto the upper rocks to get a look at the new intruders.

The Paracas peninsula awaited our return and even if a bit anticlimactic, the lookout points at cliff side were spectacular. Unfortunately, the 2007 quake sheared apart La Catedral, a giant rock formation our guide proudly pointed out. It is, nevertheless, a stunning sight to behold. Crisscrossing the dirt pathways, we stopped to examine million-year old fossils in the hard-packed desert floor, then we were back in our shuttle bus on our way to the Bahía de Lagunillas, a laid-back fishing village stopover for dune buggy enthusiasts and shuttle bus riders like ourselves hungry for a late lunch.

Who were the Paracas you might ask? An ancient culture like the Chavín peoples (500-300 B.C.); they were not only experts at mummifying, but performed brain surgery as well. A side excursion we took to the Museo de Sitio Julio C. Tello held several oddly-shaped human skulls with large cranial holes in evidence. Whether the deformations were performed for aesthetic purposes or some other medical reason remains a mystery of this elusive culture. They were excellent weavers as well, no small feat, as the gorgeous tapestries back in Lima’s National Museum attested.

Once back in Pisco, we settled for a quick meal off the square and in spite of the nightly fireworks, fell into a sound sleep. Nasca, surely one of the strangest destinations on the planet and one of the biggest riddles of our entire trip, was only hours away.

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