Huacachina

Day One

We’ve officially made it from one desert to another, arriving in Huacachina after a 4.5-hour bus ride to Ica and a short taxi ride to the small oasis in the Ica Desert.

Our time in Ica was limited to getting off the bus and into a taxi, but we saw a lot while passing through the streets of this huge city. Stores seemed stacked on top of each other, with fruit vendors lining the streets and tuk-tuks rushing between cars as drivers ignored stop signs and lights to reach their destinations. Our driver was no exception, using his horn as a method of communication with other drivers as he fought his way through the jam-packed streets to get from the centre of Ica to the one unpaved road leading to the small oasis we were heading toward.

Huacachina felt like a direct contrast to the city we had just passed through. Our driver dropped us off in front of the Viajero Hostel on a quiet street. Because we arrived in the morning before check-in, we left our bags in a storage room at the hostel and we set off to explore until our room was ready.

The entire town of Huacachina seems to be built in the shape of a horseshoe. The inside is a pedestrian-only path that starts and ends at two different booths where you pay to enter the Ica Desert. It’s lined with restaurants and stores and filled with people at seemingly every time of day. The outside of the horseshoe is a drivable road with a few more restaurants and shops that rent out snowboards and skis to ride the dunes, but it is mostly lined with hotels and hostels.

In the centre of it all is the body of water that gives the area its name, the Oasis of Huacachina. Small paddle boats are spread across the water, with different colours representing different vendors on shore.

Once we had thoroughly explored the small area, we grabbed some food and cold drinks to cool down from yet another hot day. This time we didn’t eat anywhere memorable, picking one of the tourist restaurants bordering the oasis and sharing a dish. When we finished lunch, we got a message from the hostel saying our room was ready, so we headed back to unpack our bags.

The hostel was gorgeous. Like the oasis itself, it was built in a horseshoe shape, with dorms surrounding a pool and outdoor bar. Having stayed at a Viajero hostel in Colombia last year, I knew I could trust their hospitality and was looking forward to something familiar.

Our room had two single beds, and when you looked out the window all you saw was beige from the towering sand dunes surrounding us. It was a bit disorienting at first, seeing beige sand where you expect to see blue sky.

When the sun started to go down, we decided it was time to climb the dunes to enjoy the sunset. To enter the desert, you have to pay a few soles at one of the small entry booths along the way in. The climb from there is tough, not because it’s steep, but because climbing the sand felt like one step forward and two steps back. It was a glute workout we definitely didn’t ask for.

At the top of the first dune, it was jam-packed with dune buggies and tourists either climbing up to watch the sunset or descending after sandboarding all day. Among the dune buggies preparing to depart, we found a dog basking in the sun and immediately befriended her. From that moment on, she became our unofficial guide to the Ica Desert, leading us further up the dunes for a better view of the small oasis below and the endless desert surrounding us. She demonstrated true Peruvian hospitality as she led the way, patiently waiting for us as we had to stop for breaks along the way.

The view from the highest point we could climb to was spectacular. Not only could we see Huacachina below, but in the distance we could now see more of the city of Ica and what looked like farms scattered throughout the desert. We later found out those were chicken farms situated in some of the most remote places I’ve ever seen.

The night ended early when we realized just how exhausted we were. Despite the range of activities Viajero was hosting, we crawled into bed. We probably should have just joined them though, because the live DJ playing in the hostel penetrated even the earbuds I had in and didn’t stop until around 2:00 a.m. Eventually though, we fell asleep in our separate beds and got to sleep in the next morning.

Day Two

First things first, the Olympic hockey game between Canada and the US.

Jake went down to the outdoor bar where we’d seen they were playing sports the night before, and the kind bartender tried to find a channel where the hockey game was playing but had no luck. Eventually Jake found a way to stream it on his phone, so we watched while eating a very delicious breakfast outside at the restaurant.

The game was still going when 10:00am came around and a driver picked us up to take us on an all-day pisco and wine tour. Jake continued streaming the game as we sat in the back of the car, sweating with all of Canada as the team went into overtime.

Unfortunately, we watched with the rest of Canada as the US defeated us, just moments before picking up the other people joining us on the tour. Ironically, four Americans climbed into the car as we sat grieving Canada’s loss, but we tried our best to be friendly nonetheless (just kidding, they were lovely people and fortunately didn’t bring up their win until the end of the tour).

Once all of us were jam-packed into the car (literally, the driver could barely close the trunk), we headed to our first winery: Tacama.

Tacama is located in the Inca Valley and is proudly the oldest winery in South America. It has been producing wine since its founding in the 1540s, using 23 different varieties of grapes. We got to walk through the grounds and learn about their process, which is rooted in the rich history of the Inca Valley combined with expert practices from winemakers all over the world. It has been owned by the same family since 1889, keeping it ingrained in the community to this day.

The wines we sampled ranged from very sweet to more refined, and we finished it off with a very strong pisco.

At the end of the tour, the Americans with us shared that their bus was leaving two hours earlier than they thought, so they couldn’t continue the tour. At this point they apologized for beating us in the Olympics and we shared a laugh before Jake and I continued our now-private tour.

Our next stop was the Nietto Pisco winery, located in a very busy small town about 20 minutes from Tacama. Our guide was fantastic as he walked us through the process, adding details about the pisco process they hadn’t shared at the last stop. Here our tasting consisted only of pisco, six different kinds to be exact, and for each one he taught us a unique cheers in Spanish.

I think it was by the fourth shot of pisco that we realized maybe all this sampling before the dune buggy experience wasn’t the best idea, but alas we continued on.

The final stop on our pisco tour was in a more remote area outside of Ica. It was also very busy, as we learned that the weekend coincided with the pisco festival. Towns nearby were having huge celebrations and would be drinking a lot of pisco. Some of the wineries still invited people to walk on the grapes at these festivals and fired up their old copper distillery machines to make pisco.

We had another handful of samples at this last spot and were very grateful when our driver told us it was the final stop before dune buggying. He dropped our tipsy bodies off at the hostel and we gobbled down some dinner before heading back out to meet our next guide.

Our guide walked us into the desert and up to where we had observed the gathering of dune buggies the night before. On the way up, everyone was trying to sell bandanas and sunglasses, two things you most definitely want for this excursion. Thankfully we had brought both and were grateful for the extra protection against the blowing sand while sitting in the front seat of the buggy.

Now I know I’ve talked about driving in the streets of Peru, now imagine that same energy in the rolling dunes of a desert.

Once all the passengers were locked and loaded in the buggy, our driver took off at lightning speed. It felt like a miracle every time we crested a dune and shot down the other side safely. The burning diesel and sand blew in our eyes with every drop over a sandy ridge, and more than once our driver poured water on the hot engine to cool it down. It felt like something out of Mad Max, machines built to look cool and run loud, but not necessarily efficiently.

After exploring the dunes for a while, our driver picked out a spot and we all hopped off to be handed wooden boards that he quickly waxed on the bottom. He then led everyone to the edge of a pretty decent drop and showed us how to position ourselves before pushing us headfirst down the sand dune.

Jake was the first to go, and I was last. I honestly didn’t know what to expect. The height of the drop made me nervous, and I was wearing sandals. You were supposed to keep your feet down as you shot down the dune, so I was worried I’d lose a layer of skin. Nonetheless, I eventually went, and it was a blast.

We rode down a few more times before another wild drive to a very high point to watch the sunset. It was absolutely stunning as it descended behind the desert, glowing in every shade of orange around us. Jake and I took a few photos and then just sat, taking it all in.

We’d been talking about places like this for months, and here we were sitting in the middle of the Ica Desert side by side, watching the papaya sky change colours in front of us. It was pretty cool.

Finally, once the sun was fully tucked away for the night, we made our way back to the starting point. Riding back in the dark was even more terrifying than it had been coming in. The lack of light didn’t slow our driver down one bit, and it felt like the most terrifyingly fun roller coaster of our lives getting back.

Day Three

Today was a bit of a write-off.

I’ve been sick for a lot of the trip (classic me), and today it kind of peaked. Jake and I hung out by the pool and glued the paper trails we’ve collected so far into a little book he got me, but besides that we mostly slept and watched movies in bed.

We were supposed to be heading to Arequipa today, but due to heavy rainfall there have been destructive mudslides and flooding across the region, so we extended our stay until the bus company feels it’s safe enough to travel.

The break is much appreciated after days of go-go-go.

Day Four

I woke up feeling a bit better today, so we decided we should do an activity for our (hopefully) last day in Huacachina.

On our first day here, a man had approached us and offered four-wheeling at a really low price. We originally turned him down because we were going to have a jam-packed day and then bus to Arequipa, but obviously plans changed so we decided to take him up on it.

Jake reached out to him over WhatsApp and negotiated a deal where we could ride the four-wheelers in the desert on our own for an hour.

In the early afternoon we met this guy at his office and he ushered us into a tuk-tuk and sent us on our merry way. Two more people filed in to the tuk-tuk after us (which was already cramped to begin with), and we rode another 20–25 minutes outside of Huacachina into another area on the outskirts of Ica.

We were very confused.

When we got there, we had to rely on my minimal Spanish to communicate with a man who let us onto the four-wheelers and then proceeded to lead us through a sandpit behind his house. We thought maybe this was just a test to prove we knew how to ride them.

We patiently followed behind the other two people from the tuk-tuk, who moved at a snail’s pace as they took approximately one million photos and videos from their four-wheelers.

When the opportunity presented itself to politely pass them, we rushed around and finally got a bit of speed.

After about 25 minutes of following this random Peruvian man around his backyard, we realized we had definitely not gotten what we paid for.

Eventually he gave us five minutes to explore the sandpit before taking photos of us on the four-wheelers. It’s a good thing we were wearing bandanas and sunglasses, because otherwise the photos would clearly show how annoyed Jake was.

The poor guide had no idea what we’d negotiated with the other guy, so it wasn’t his fault. He tried to guide us through some classic Instagram poses on the four-wheelers, which Jake very hesitantly participated in.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that our four-wheeler also broke down halfway through. The man’s roughly 15-year-old daughter rode out with another kid and our tuk-tuk driver from earlier to swap our vehicle.

Finally we rode back to the man’s house to drop off the four-wheelers and climbed back into the tuk-tuk.

At this point we couldn’t help but laugh. Of course some random man we met on the streets of Huacachina named Jesus would lure us into riding around in circles in someone else’s backyard.

At least we got to pet some pretty cute stray dogs while we were there.

We tried to end the night on a high note, sharing lomo saltado (kind of a steak stir fry with potatoes and rice), which was easily one of the best meals we’ve had to date, and relaxing by the pool. We snuck back up to our room when we realized the hostel coordinators were gathering people for a dance class so that we didn’t get pulled in, and had another early night.

Day Five

First thing in the morning we entered into a long conversation with Cruz del Sur (the bus company) to find out if we could finally get to Arequipa or if we’d need to book another day.

As luck would have it, the city was finally getting a reprieve from the incessant rain and they had cleared the roadways enough for buses to travel again.

We booked the first bus available, packed our things, and prepared for the 14-hour ride ahead.