Peru - VW Bus Overland Expedition

The Hasta Alaska VW Bus Overland Expedition continues….

end of the andes — The end of the Andes, Peru has the tallest sand dunes on earth!

—Return to the Pacific—

ANY DOUBT I’d had in my mind about sticking to the coast on the way to Alaska vanished in a heart-beat as our first glimpse of the Pacific in over 2 months came into view. Having grown up on an island with daily views of the ocean, funny things happen to me when I am away from it for too long; the effects are not too dissimilar to what many Brits feel in the depths of January with Seasonal Affective Disorder.

4 day Inca Trail Trek — Peru is high in places too

From the start, I had always had high-hopes for Peru; it had been talked up by every traveller that I’d met who were coming from the opposite direction. As we descended from the mighty Andes and watched the rocky peaks dramatically turn into the tallest sand dunes on earth, I knew we wouldn’t be disappointed.

For the first time since we departed we had something of a deadline. News had spread about the trip and 2 of my best friends were flying in to join the adventure. A couple of years earlier whilst taking a break from a similar road-trip in Australia, Brad and I occupied a beach-side squat house were we lived with a large group of international travellers. It was there that we met Pedro, a Peruvian, who was planning to start an adventure hostel in Lima for like-minded travellers. A bunch of us had agreed to meet up again in Lima to help Pedro get his place off the ground.

police bribe — Ben trying to talk his way out of not having the correct insurance documents

To meet the deadline and make this reunion on time proved to be something of a challenge. Whilst the roads were great and a huge improvement over the Bolivian tree-trunk-sleeping-policeman mud tracks, we were getting a lot of hassle from the local law enforcement. The police in Peru, more than any other country, took great interest in our Bus. Sometimes we could be stopped every half an hour at a road block to present papers. This would be an inconvenience at the best of times, but it was made all the more difficult because we didn’t have the mandatory car insurance.

The upside was that I had plenty of opportunity to perfect my ‘blagging technique’ as I learnt to talk my way out of future bribe situations…an essential skill all road trippers in Latin America need to acquire.

Before finally arriving in Lima we’d also stopped many times mechanically. Twice the speedo cable broke, and once we had a flat. We also stopped to see the sights, and to try our hand at sand boarding in an idyllic oasis village out in the desert. It was there that we met Katie a young and loud Russian who joined the crew and together we experienced a very strong earthquake at 3am whilst we were parked at the base of a seriously steep, 500m high sand dune. We didn’t sleep well that night for fear of being buried alive!

Once we immersed ourselves in Peru’s chaotic capital it was several weeks before we escaped again. This was just enough time for Sharne, my Aussie girlfriend and road-trip companion, to catch up with us. She was a few weeks behind us and travelling on emergency papers after our unfortunate Bus robbery in Bolivia. Time in the city was eventful where I lost $450 to a pickpocket, was mugged, and crashed into by a bus which dented the side of Co’Pito, so the mini-road-trips around Lima were ‘interesting’.

Although I was happy to see old friends and to help get The House Project Hostel off the ground, the first 4 months of the trip hadn’t yet quenched my desire for the open road and weekend trips to go sandboarding or surfing just didn’t cut the mustard. We even flew up to the historic city of Cusco for an action packed week of whitewater rafting combined with a trek to the lost Inca city of Machu Picchu; but all of this just made me want to point the compass north again and leave Lima in our tracks.

Bus camping Peru — Beachside camp scene, hammock, tents and bus

A long standing dream for me was to see Machu Picchu! It is amazing to be standing in front of this iconic place

However we couldn’t leave yet. After cramming 9 people into the Bus for local surf trips, we had realized that there was a serious lack of storage in Co’Pito; especially as the team had just bought 6 new surfboards. So we started our love/hate relationship with the boxes that live on our roof and whilst we were at it…found a Peruvian puppy to accompany us.

hasta alaska boxes — Building the boxes for the roof at The House Project, Lima Peru

We had heard of a Lima family whom had a 2 month old Cocker Spaniel puppy that needed a home; we figured her inquisitive but chilled-out nature would make for the perfect travel dog. She had no idea what was going on, or how lucky she really was to meet a bunch of Gringos passing through at just the right time. She would be a dog that wouldn’t know the meaning of the word “Walk” as her whole life would be a walk and just like us, her home would be a VW Bus. We named her after our destination, “Alaska”.

Alaska not too pleased after her first encounter with the Ocean

—The Search for Surf—

driving dog — Alaska checking out her new home

WHEN WE FINALLY returned to the road, boxes completed and puppy up front, the Kombi crew was back to a respectable three + dog. My good friends Brad (UK) and Simone (Germany) were the perfect companions; both had travelled with me in my van in Australia and Brad had even owned a VW which made him chief mechanic, leaving me mainly responsible for translation. They were both new to Latin America which meant they were as passionate about the trip as I was. As it transpired, that wasn’t all they were passionate about.

After just a short time heading north on Peru’s desert-like coast roads, my two bed companions found themselves in the throes of a newborn romance. For the first time there was a need to find an hotel – and I use that term loosely – as when you pull up to a seedy establishment and the owner asks if you will be needing the room “for the night” or “for the moment” you know you will leave feeling dirtier than when you arrived, despite the much needed shower.

I am not sure if it was the first or second time that I found myself parked outside one of Latin America’s infamous sex motels that the thought first occurred to me that we should find more people to join us. Mercifully this isn’t a particularly challenging task when you are camping in a VW Bus on the headland of Chicama, the world’s longest left-hand wave. It took all of one afternoon before German surf instructor, Eva, decided to hop on board (pun intended) and join the search for Peru’s most isolated waves.

Chicama is a freak of nature, a place where your legs get more tired than your arms. If we had fully appreciated at the time just how good a 2 mile long wave really is, then we probably would have stayed a lot longer, but the call of the unknown always managed to lure us onward; this time into trouble!

chicama set — A set at Chicama – longest left in the world

Chicama bus — Making the most of the freedom, leaving the crowd behind us and hunting for waves with our new boxes on the roof.

—Trouble on the Horizon—

Peruvian Street scene — Peruvian Street Scene

We had received sketchy rumors that one of Peru’s most perfect waves lay at an isolated point down a 60km long dust track. Arriving at the entrance to the track in the dark and out of fuel we managed to persuade a lady to part with a couple of hugely over-priced bottles of petrol and were warned not to stop at Puerto Rico, a particularly dangerous and unwelcoming town. On reflection it was a futile warning as the tight-fisted Señora had parted with just enough gasoline to land us directly in the ghetto town. Bouncing towards the distant lone light on fumes, we thought we were in luck as we reached a gas station on the outskirts of the town, but the attendant refused to even look at us never mind speak; the prospects of getting a fill-up at 10pm seemed slim.

peru police station party — The night in the Police station, Puerto Rico, Peru.

As we headed into the town desperately searching for another source of petrol, all eyes turned on us, people came out of their houses to stare, those already in the street started to follow us. As we reached a dead-end at the bottom of the slum our decision was unanimous. Get out, and get out quick!

We still needed fuel so we went to the police post to ask for assistance. The intimidating sergeant picked up his gun, marched to the gas station and ordered the reluctant youth to fill our tanks. Then he ordered us back to the police station, claiming we couldn’t leave the town as we had been seen and the people would already be setting up road blocks on our escape route.

We spent the night drinking a crate of beer with the policemen and exploring their “evidence locker” (which was his desk draw and pockets). He showed us all manner of drugs that he had confiscated, particularly “Pasta” which is basically a bi-product of the locally produced cocaine. We had spent enough time in South America’s coca regions to see the effect of this base-cocaine product, so no matter how insistent the police sergeant was that we should share some “Pasta” because it will, quote, “make us stronger” – we all refused.

After a night spent sleeping in the chief’s office, the sergeant accompanied us out of town, leaving us just before out clutch cable snapped in Piura, a large, unsightly city in northern Peru.

For the second time on the trip we were robbed whilst playing mechanic. Brad and I were enjoying the unattractive side of a VW Bus whilst the thief snatched our new surfer friend’s DSLR camera and bounded onto his mate’s tuk-tuk – a pathetic choice of get-away vehicle I might add. Eva gave chase into the main-road traffic and managed to not only catch the tuk-tuk, but pull the camera out of the surprised youth’s hands also. It was all too much drama for her; she left the Hasta Alaska team the next day.

tuk-tuk peru — Scene of the crime – one of the tuk-tuk drivers on the right distracted us whilst his friend swiped the camera off the front seat.

Starting at a young age in Peru — Starting at a young age in Lobitos

At the northern tip of Peru in an abandoned town called Lobitos, things went from bad to worse. Co’Pito threw the first of many hissy fits. We needed help. The nearest VW mechanics was, as it always had been, in the next town. There we spent a hot afternoon perched in the shade on the side of the road, breathing shallow and fast, barely able to watch as our engine was man-handled out of the car by two stout and fairly capable grease monkeys.

mechanics peru — The first engine rebuild in Peru.

However, in just a few hours we had our broken piston ring around the mirror and were pulling off into the sunset, pretty pleased with the minimal spend of time and money.

Our happy mood lasted just 3 days and about 30 miles. We were back in another mechanics, pulling the engine again to have the valves replaced in the head. Of course at the time, we chalked it up to bad-luck. We didn’t have a clue that in the coming days we would cross the border into Ecuador, and in doing so, say goodbye to the plentiful supply of Volkswagen specialists that we had thus far, taken for granted. From here until Mexico VW parts and mechanics would be rarer than flushing toilets.

When I think back to this junction, I still to this day get a knot in my stomach. The sheer number of problems waiting for us over the horizon was staggering. We were about to be tested in ways we weren’t prepared for, we were about to find out first-hand where our breaking point was. We were about to hit rock bottom!