Carving in Ica

One thing that my friends know is that I have been complaining about not being able to go snowboarding this winter. I know, shut up Erik, you're having the opportunity of a lifetime right now and all you can do is bitch about the things you don't have. Don't worry about hearing me anymore, I've taken my passion to a medium. To ninety degree burning three hundred foot sand dunes in Peru.

I first heard about sandboarding from Lenay, who learned in turn from old classmates in Cuenca. I was ready from the minute I saw the photos. We waited a month to get done with classes, buy tickets and suffer a fifteen hour bus ride from the sacred valley of the incas to the parched deserts of Tatooine, uhh I mean Ica (I don't know why everything in my life has to be related to a George Lucas film, just don't fight it Erik).

Our busline was Cruz del Sur, whose tagline ought to be, we're so great, we even have bingo! Well, maybe not, but they really did have bingo! What brought me there was a double decker monstronsity of a coach bus that dominated the cliffside highways in rural Peru. After three movies, in-drive dinner, in-drive breakfast, bingo, and 9 hours of a mind numbing ever present-vertigo reduced nap we arrived in Ica.

The city of Ica is the sun baked capital of it's department in Peru. The climate is hot, dry, and a hell of a change from Cusco. What it's most famous for is it's Pisco, and Huacachina. Most simply, Huacachina is the former rich peruvian's playground, now frequented by backpackers who are swarmed by under worked business proprietors, from dune buggying to city tours, to pisco tours to pisco drinks at the local bar.

Lenbay and I were met at the bus station by Renato (host brother), and we hailed the nearest taxi (which is easy, because at any given time you've got five hustling you for some business). Getting off at Huacachina, I was immediately hit by the smell of sweaty humans, garbage, and the opportunity for some serious boarding. The resort hugs a lagoon, itself an oasis flanked by hundred meter high sand dunes. We settled into the Bananas bar, whose owner had this portable 8X8 mini cabin out for rent at 10 soles a person. I new this was luck! Accomodations six feet away from the bar, the buggy driver, and the Pool! From this moment on anticipation, persperation, and inebriation were on the rise.

3 hours, 5 beers, and one poolside dip later our buggy driver herded us into his 9 seat deser rover, and we ripped out of the oasis and into the high dunes of desert Peru. It pretty much felt like a track-less roller coaster minus the seat belts (ok, he just didn't tell me there were any seatbelts until after I nearly flew out of my seat!). The engine drowned out any profane thoughts as I was grabbing the roll cage bars and ahnging on for my life. Our driver (Cristiano) zig zagged up these mammoth hills of sand and we would very nearly free fall to the bottom. It was the rage.

After scoping some good jump off points, I hopped out of the buggy, dizzy and with sand board in hand, strapping in at the top of the dune. These boards are basically scaled up skate boards (or scaled down, less curvy snowboards if you'd prefer) with velcro straps. Before going down any hill, you've got to wax up your board if you even want to move, or you'll be standing halfway down the slope, watching yourself sink and sink...to a stop. As far as mechanics go, sand doesn't allow the same carvage as snow, so you've got to be careful. When you're ripping down the empty quarter in the middle east someday, you'll thank me for telling you not to take those corners too tight!

Lenay, Renato and I flew down hills until after the sun went below the horizon, and We took the return trip back to our oasis paradise. Renato's friends took the four hour drive from Lima to get some R&R before their semester started monday. Upon talking to the restaurant owner, they payed eight soles each to borrow a tent and sleep in the restaurant (outside). The rest of the night was spent enjoying the oasis, sipping cristal, and ended with a debauched 2 AM crawl up a seemingly endless sand dune. The summit seemed to be unavailable, and I was shocked when we found it. But then, sand offers little perspective at an angle. Especially during the twilight hours, with an unquenchable thirst for Peruvian brew. We were rewarded with an incredible vista of Ica, five kilometers away. It reminded me of the Thomson hill, driving down 1-35 into Duluth.

It's good to be in the desert though you find sand everywhere...