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Just as an interesting aside, the night before we left, the next door neighbor caught a baby 3-toed sloth (pelejo in the local dialect) in his backyard. I meditated upon the Zen of it all and, in light of the fact that the morning after the baby was freed we caught sight of her mother considered it an appropriate omen and very good Karma. The Coast Road The real trip begins in Tumbes, Peru. As always, for me, it’s the road as much as the destination. The Pan-American Highway. The very name conjures images of times gone by - DC-4 passenger planes sporting the same name, men in white suits and Panama Hats, cigars, rum, parrots and dusky skinned maidens in flowery summer dresses. The ballads of Jimmy Buffet come to life. I’ve often been accused of being a dreamer and a romantic. Sometimes, anyway. The Departmento of Tumbes is located just across the border from Ecuador and astride the border lays the Manglares National Park - a vast estuary made up of floating mangrove islands. The diversity of wildlife is nothing less than fantastic, particularly the birds and for the serious Highway Traveler a visit here is highly recommended. Just south of the Park is Puerto Pizarro, a small fishing village, where accommodations can be found or, if you prefer fancier digs, the regional capitol of Tumbes is just a little further south. Southwest from Tumbes, through roughly 20 miles of rice paddy and banana plantations, is Caleta Cruz, or to be historically correct Caleta de la Cruz Del Pizarro, where the intrepid Spaniard first set foot in Peru and planted a Cross for King and Country. Here began the Conquista. Here too, I remembered my Baby Sloth Karma and so stopped for three days of beach, beer, seafood and almost-work. That almost-work part consisted of looking for living quarters for several hundred people for an upcoming project. Easily accomplished in less than an hour - there aren't any. However there is one very good beach hotel, and only one, and that has thirteen rooms. As it is winter here, as well, we had miles of beach to ourselves. The weather tended to be a little overcast, but at 3° 38´ South Latitude it was more than bearable. In the village
of Caleta Cruz I am assaulted by an almost overwhelming sense of déjà
vü: thirty-five years ago on Rosarito Beach, Baja California. The
resemblance is something out of the Twilight Zone. Indeed, this entire
strip of coast, the villages along the way, the inland journey to Piura,
all are reminiscent of a disappeared paradise across the US border south
of San Diego. Proximity to Big Brother has its disadvantages. This too
will disappear in time. Further south lay the tourist towns of Punta Sal
and Máncora with their garish hotels and resorts.
We leave Máncora on a double-decker bus. At Los Organos the Pan-American turns inland. The land rises from coastal desert to high desert plateau in its inexorable march towards the Andes. It is a barren land and sparsely populated with far-flung fundos (known as rancherias in Mexico) consisting of families of goat herders and an occasional oil well. Rich reserves of oil and gas were discovered in the region in the early part of the 20th century. The Highway rolls through towns with names not found in tour guides or on most maps: Ignacio Escudero, Golondrina, Manares, Mallaritos, Marcavelica. In the town of Ignacio Escudero we take on a new Conductor (bus travel here is reminiscent of a more genteel time and mode of travel and is replete with conductors and porters) who provides entertainment in the form of song, dance, whistling and clapping in time to the music (folk music known as huaino and juaneco) being played over the onboard sound system. It’s pure magic. And then, at the town of Golondrina, mysteriously, wasteland turns to oasis. Date palms, coconut plantations and rice paddies abound. I’m surprised, but further down the road an explanation is offered when we cross the Rio Chira into Sullana. From Sullana
to Piura, the Departmento Capitol, where we wait two nights to get
a flight to Lima, and from there Bogotá and then home by bus and
boat. While in Piura, we were guided to a restaurant off the Plaza de Armas.
Normally I wouldn’t endorse any particular restaurant but at Peru a la
Carte the chef and co-owner Ivan had a solid command in the use of spices
like nowhere else I had eaten on this particular trip. The Pescado con
Salsa de Mariscos and the Arroz con Cabrito (this is a regional
plate) were outstanding. For customers who spend more than $20 nuevo soles
($6 USD) there is also free use of one of the computer stations which are
connected to the Internet.
Two meals, a cold beer and gaseosa: $21 nuevo soles. Interesting conversation with Ivan the co-owner (who is fluent in English and German and is studying Systems Engineering): priceless. The trip down this stretch of the Pan-American Highway was a marvel. I hope one day to travel the entire length of the Highway from end to end like others before me. I’d like to do it by local modes of transportation - meaning by bus as one tends to meet more than a few interesting characters along the way, adding that much more flavor to the trip. As they say in my world: Hasta la proxima vez y que te vaya bien. Peace
The following are the previous articles that Vagabundo wrote for the magazine:
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Into
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