Day 1,006
Pedals
We had a relaxing day off the bikes with Fede. 5 minutes’ walk from our hotel was a fantastic coffee shop, I was in heaven. We sat and relaxed for well over an hour, I do love chilling and not having to rush. Then it was back to business, when you live in one of the driest places on earth you've got to work at getting a decent regular water supply. They achieved this by tapping into the water table by building canals underground which weaved about to control the speed of the water flow. Water was then collected in a large reservoir ready to be distributed to the homes and fields. To ensure smooth running of this system they also constructed a series of aqueduct eyes or ‘cangrejeras’ or hollows. Most of the aqueducts were built in this way. It is now believed that the aqueducts as well as allowing access to the canals they also funnelled wind into the channels to keep the water flowing. We had great fun walking down the spiral down to the water and back up again.
A short bike ride away was the local museum. Here we saw some rather gruesome mummified remains of victims sacrificed to the gods. They had a hole drilled through their heads then a rope pulled through the hole. As with other victims we've seen,it wasn't clear if this happened whilst the poor guys were still alive. We also saw many pieces of Nasca pottery and tapestry. There was even a scale model of ‘The Lines’.
By now we had made yet another friend,a motorcyclist from Colombia. He suggested lunch and we all trooped back to my current favourite coffee shop, DM's. Yep it even shares my initials! After saying goodbye to our Colombian friend we had one more treat in store. The local planetarium holds regular evening films about the lines. This brought home just how vast and complicated they are. It was only in the 1920s when planes started flying overhead that they were rediscovered. 1,000 plus years of neglect, weather, locals damaging them by removing stones etc. meant that they were close to being lost. The fact that they weren't is actually due to a German woman, Marie Reiche, who when in her early 20s arrived in Nasca and dedicated her life to rediscovering, cleaning and clearing the lines. Without her dedication much would have been lost. She died in 1998 close to her beloved lines. In Peru she is now known as ‘The Lady of the Lines’. Peru owes her such a lot.
Then it was back on bikes and we parted company with Fede. He was heading uphill to Cusco, we simply didn't have time left on our 90 days stamp. We had decided to head along the coast for the border with Chile. Then we would backtrack up to Cusco via Bolivia. Now this meant many many weeks in the desert, no shade and often two days riding between towns. Having been a girl guide in a past life I like to be prepared. So when we were in Lima we had asked a local bike shop to replace a lot of bearings throughout the bikes. I stressed that they were still OK but we didn't want a mechanical issue miles from anywhere. When we collected the bikes the owner explained they hadn't done what we asked as when they examined the bearings they were still OK! As we were leaving Lima we decided to not make a fuss, and have the work done in the next big town. It turned out to be the wrong decision.
The ride from Nasca to and along the coast was simply hell. Yes the views were interesting, the largest sand dune in the world, interesting shaped and coloured hills all around and even the sea! What made it hell was not the constant stream of trucks and coaches passing us, nor the fact that the hard shoulder disappeared under a layer of sand. It wasn't even the fact that the downhill Komoot promised never fully appeared. Nor even the heat nudging mid to high 30s all day. No, it was our nemesis, HEADWIND. I cannot explain how this unseen enemy totally destroys me. It was waiting for us when we set off and would build in strength as the day went on. By early afternoon it was pointless trying to go forward, but we were surrounded by endless sand. We couldn't wheel our bikes on it to find a camp spot, there was no shelter. We could only slog onwards.
Then I heard a sound… click..click.. click… One of those bearings that didn't need changing had died. Tom's left-hand pedal was close to falling off. Apart from the sheer frustration that if the shop had actually done as asked it wouldn't be happening it was also dangerous. We were in one of the driest places on earth. Days pushing the bikes from a town. 200 miles to the nearest bike shop. We hopefully could hitch a lift, but how long would we be stuck in the blazing sun until someone passed who had space for us, two bikes, and 12 bags?
Fortunately we managed to limp to a tiny town. Rested, we decided to risk riding another 28 miles to the next town. 6 hours of hell in that wind and I was at breaking point never mind the pedal. Now as you know, that Tom and I ‘ride the line’. We only take lifts if we simply cannot cycle. But as we stood in this rather grim town, looking around we realised we were stood outside a bus company, offering trips to various places. Mmm, strange, then we spotted about 20 more offices. All in the tiny town. You could either buy olives or a bus ticket.
Tom's pedal was falling off, I was feeling so low Tom was having to scrape me off the floor. We may be daft but we're not dumb, a sign is a sign. We bought tickets for the night bus to Arequipa. No endless headwind sandblasting us, no sand, no nearly 40C heat. We'd have a bike shop. Snow capped mountains. Yep we'd have hills to climb but I didn't care, we were free!
