After spending a few weeks in the high mountain passes of Northern Peru, we made our way to the vast coastal desert of Paracas National Reserve. We climbed windswept dunes and crossed the seemingly endless expanse for two days. The scene was reminiscent of a Mad Max film, and a stark contrast to where we had just been. We kept a close eye on our surroundings, as there are no roads to follow, only the confusing awareness of tire tracks cutting this way and that. The objective, keep a southern heading, and avoid the soft sand. This was very foreign terrain compared to anything else we’ve been through. We knew our limits would be pushed and our patience tested.

We were but another grain of sand blowing through this landscape. It is all that remains of an ancient seabed. As tectonic plates crashed and the Andes rose, this once peaceful ocean floor was torn from calm waters to be blasted by relentless winds. What lay beyond each passing sand dune was a mystery. Sometimes nothing but sand and more dunes, as far as the eye could see. Sometimes, a picturesque coastline, with cliffs soaring high above the water.

While I observed my surroundings, my eyes drifted across the sugary-white sand until they crashed into the perfectly placed skeleton of a small mammal. The sight was a harsh reminder that the beauty of Mother Nature could also be a scene of horrific death. I made a mental note to ration the 6.5L of water we had, just in case…

With no hope of reaching the other side of this desert in one day, we started to search for a place to camp out of the wind. Out of the wind! Ha, what a novel idea. There is no escape from the wind in this desert, so we picked a location at sundown and set up for the night. The moment we hopped off the bike to unpack, every spec of dust we disturbed was added to the already blowing sand. Without the protection of our helmets, the sharp fine sand felt like it was removing layers of skin. Eyes, ears, noses and mouths, all quickly invaded by the swirling mess.

We wrestled with our tent – which would make a great kite, by the way – and got everything inside. We were hoping it would hold the tent down long enough to finish setting it up…..it didn’t. 

So I went inside to lay down in starfish position, while Bren tried to peg the tent down. It was impossible. Underneath the surface of loose sand was layers and layers of sediment and dead marine life, packed by the ages. It was solid. The pegs bent in half each time he tried to pound them into the unbreakable ground. Every minute the tent went unpegged more and more sand filtered in through the screen and into the tent. Trying to keep the mood light, I jokingly asked Bren if he could pass me the dust buster. I tried my best to clean up the mess inside with my hands, while Bren searched for rocks to tie the tent to. By the time Bren crawled into the tent he resembled a powdered donut…

In the morning we dumped the sand out of our boots, packed up camp, and started making our way towards the oasis town of Huacachina. The exit from the desert was much more difficult than the entry. This was mainly due to the heat and abundance of sand that had blown its way across the main route. In some places it had drifted up to 15 feet high, forcing us to take multiple detours through the soft, unforgiving sand. Once we made it past that, it was a good 50km of bone-rattling washboard until Huacachina.

Paracas National Reserve was an experience we won’t soon forget. It’s full of wildlife; like, dolphins and sea lions. And it gives that feeling of remoteness we crave. And, while a challenge, it’s the kind we live for. Although, we did leave this desert with a great appreciation for life in a more hospitable climate.