North Peru

Leaving the high altitude of Cuenca and the Cajas National Park, I descended slowly towards sea level as I neared the Peruvian border. I’d given myself the day to cover about 6-hours of driving and the border which was a sensible plan. The crossing at Huaquillas into Peru was simple but one of the slowest I’d encountered to date.

Initially, I wound up accidentally cross into Peru without officially leaving Ecuador, driving straight passed the Peruvian border exit. Thankfully, a Chilean overlander did the same thing and we became ‘border friends’ for the five hours or so that it took us to cross into Peru. He had good English and Spanish and turned out to be good company as we waited the many hours in the immigration line.

The border agents gave me the most thorough inspection I’d had to date, opening up the rooftop tent, all my drawers, going through my fridge and even taking a cold beer out and shaking it to the point it exploded. It was as though he’d never seen a can of beer before (or maybe just a fridge in a car). After he was satisfied that it was only a beverage, I took the frothy half can of beer from him and drank it while I went back into the aduanas (customs) to finish off my import permit and be on my way.

Crossing into Peru, there were some immediate differences. First of all, on the Peruvian side of the border there were more tuk-tuks than cars. I put this down to the obscenely high price of gas in Peru (compared to the obscenely cheap gas in Ecuador … actually related to the Ecuadorian riots some months later). It was obviously a lot poorer than Ecuador as well. As an Australian coming from an island nation with no borders other than the sea, it still amazes me the difference one kilometre can make when you cross a land border and things become entirely different on the other side despite the geographic proximity.

The first couple of hours in a new country are typically more nervous than most. For one, it’s usually a place where the police are more likely to hassle you. Secondly, if you don’t have the new local currency, then you cross your fingers that you hit the first town with an ATM before you hit a toll point on the road (I’ve seen overlanders begging for small amounts of currency before having had this issue before). I’ve also learned that you should pay attention to the traffic norms and be on your best behaviour until you understand the local driving style and what is considered acceptable road etiquette.

Mancora itself is a relaxed beach-side town. It has many sandy streets, tuk-tuks and laid-back hotels and hostels overlooking the ocean. But personally, I’ve long-since learned that such towns aren't for me. They are typically enjoyed most by three main groups - surfers, hippies and the backpackers looking for a party hostel (like Loki and Wild Rover). In fact many people I have spoken to have gotten ‘stuck’ for many months and not wanted to leave places such as Mancora (or Puerto Escondido in Mexico, or San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua or Puerto Viejo in Costa Rica…). I don’t fit any of these categories so for me the little surf towns don’t warrant a lot of time. I moved on quickly.

There was no apparent reason for the border hold up - they were just disorganised. The Venezuelans were dealt with separately with aid and a border camp set up outside. Things got a bit aggressive here when impatient people starting pushing in line and I physically had to push a guy out again when he tried to cut in front of me at the very front of the line after my four hour wait

One could easily assume that border inspections like this are common but they are not. Customs officers rarely do more than a superficial opening of a draw or two or point and stuff and ask what it is. This was my most thorough border search by far

Mancora: one of the main streets running the length of the beach with a row of beach-front hotels

I was well and truly due for some alone time after several months traveling with family, my adopted Ecuadorian family and friends and cooped up on a boat of strangers in Galapagos. Travelling solo doesn’t always mean being solo so a day quietly sitting by the water by myself and reflecting with a cold beer in hand was well overdue.

The Mancora beach front

While I’m told Mancora is a famous surf spot, I never actually saw any waves. But I wasn’t looking very hard either

I’d been warned by fellow overlanders that there’s not much in Northern Peru once you pass Mancora. And they couldn’t have been more right. There’s almost 1,200km and 18-hours or so of driving between Mancora and Lima if you follow the coast. And truly there is very little along the way.

The drive is primarily through a sandy desert with occasional pueblos (small towns). Gas stations are less frequent than is comfortable and when you find them the gas prices are insanely expensive. What’s more, the quality fuel is very bad (mostly 90) so I would advise carrying octane booster additive. You get glimpses of the ocean as you drive but the road is typically set back far enough that you mostly just see rolling sand dunes and red rocky desert, crank up the music and keep on moving.

One can stop in to the Huaraz area on the way down but I had promised the two Dutch girls from the Galapagos cruise that I would pick them up in Lima and we could backtrack up that way together to see the famous lakes of the region.

Setting off on my two-day drive across the desert from Mancora to Lima

A rare sight with some greenery. I was definitely feeling like I was crossing Asia at this point more so than Peru

The entirety of the country has is covered with grave markers lining its roads.

Driving through one of the few towns, I was surprised to see a woman herding her flock through the main part of town

A lone man sitting on the sidewalk. As many times as I pass scenes like this, I can’t help but feel how charming these images are

Pulling off the highway to stop for some food, stretch the legs and (admittedly) have the car pose for a few shots in the red desert. The number of photos I take of my car are proportional to how much I love it

With more time, I would have happily stopped in this small fishing town for a couple days and slept on the waterfront right here and fished every day. But alas, I had made a promise to meet the girls in Lima

Unfortunately, the other major thing one notes about northern Peru is how filthy with trash and how poor it is. Apart from the northern deserts of Colombia (La Guajira region), I’ve never been more disgusted at a landscape as when I passed through northern Peru. If ever you needed a reason to consider banning single-use plastic bags, these images of the Peruvian desert are surely ample.

The poverty of the region is much more reminiscent of poorer regions of Asia than of Latin America. Many towns consisted entirely of houses and structures cobbled together with branches and logs while others were simplistic single-room brick buildings.

There wasn’t much reason to stop during this push through to Lima. I called into the relatively modern city of Trujillo for one night to break up the drive. And I couldn’t resist an opportunity to check out at least one of the local fishing villages along the way just to stop and stare out at the ocean. This also gave me a chances to do some sand dune driving but after I’d gotten that out of my system, I jumped back on the highway and pushed onwards to my friends further south.

There were hundreds of kilometres of this as I made my way south

Ironically, there were occasional large scale instalments of wind turbines during these same stretches. It was quite the juxtaposition to see a sea of plastic littering the desert and an attempt at renewable energy towering above. Funny that they could be simultaneously making big strides to protect the environment on one front and dismally failing on another

One of the poorer pueblos of nothern Peru

A pushed up mound of dirt and rubbish that separates the street from the beach on the other side

A poor community on the outskirts of Chiclayo

A typical town of the area

Lima, as far as I’m concerned, is known for two things - traffic and restaurants. Lima has some of the most horrific traffic in Latin America and I’d been given plenty of warning about this by various friends who’d had the displeasure of driving in this city of around 10 million people. It lived up to its reputation as I was driving through the enormous dirty outskirts of the city and almost was forced into an accident (which would have been my first) by an overly aggressive bus muscling it’s way back into the traffic after one of its stops. Needless to say I was pleased to find my accommodation and the girls and a parking garage to leave the car for a few days.

Lima is also home to some of the world’s best restaurants including two in the top 10 - Central (#6), Maido (#7) and Astrid y Gaston (#67). Meeting up with my Dutch friends, I was happy to learn that one of them shared my passion for fine dining and was willing to attempt to get a table at one of them. We managed a last minute reservation to Astrid y Gaston which was the best meal I’d had in some time (since Leo in Colombia, #49). Perhaps not full deserving its rank in the world 100 list, it was certainly a pleasure and stark contrast to some of the sights, pollution and poverty I’d seen in the past week.

Now travelling as a threesome, the goal was to circle back up to Huaraz to see Laguna Paron and Laguna 69 before heading south through the entirety of Peru and popping out into La Paz in Bolivia. So together as a new travelling unit, we left the big city of Lima behind and enjoyed a lovely day’s drive along the coastal desert back in the mountains, away from the relatively warmer temperatures of sea level and back up into the cold.

Sanne and Latoya were waiting for me with a cheese platter, beer, wine and a game of cards the evening we meet up in Lima

Lima has a park called ‘Circuito Magico del Agua’ (Magic Circuit of Water) which features live shows of fountains choreographed to music. It sounded cheesy but was actually quite a pleasing attraction and a fun and modern sanctuary within the bustling city of Lima

The pyramids of Lima. As I’ve said before, sometimes a bit hard to get excited about more ancient ruins. But was is remarkable is that these are in downtown Lima which is quite unexpected

Headed back into the countryside: trout (trucha) dishes were abundant in the area and became my new favourite dish for a time

A typical roadside lunch stop

Closing in on Huaraz on the drive from Lima

Any excuse to leave the bitumen, especially if there’s an opportunity to give the car a bath

I can’t articulate why but crossing rivers in a car has probably been my favourite thing in the entire world ever since I was seven or eight years old. I recall family trips around Karatha and the Pilbara in Western Australia as a child and hold extremely fond memories of the family crossing rivers on our adventures

Sanne’s new friend in Huaraz

At this point, my luck would turn and mechanical problems re-enter into the narrative. Passing through the town of Yungay, we had a routine bathroom and fuel stop but leaving the gas station the car wouldn’t start. It would crank but obviously there was no fuel getting to the engine. This was the girl’s first taste of several breakdowns that would happen during our drive across Peru together.

The timing of the issue immediately made me think it was a vapor lock issue. We’d really needed the bathroom more than fuel so the guy had overfilled the tank in this instance. In hopes of a simple fix, we syphoned some fuel out hoping that would solve the issue. It did not.

I’m lucky enough to have many mechanically-minded friends around the world and at this juncture we had cell and internet reception so we called up Andy in England, an overlanding friend, who helped me troubleshoot some potential issues and guided me to the fuel bleeder valve behind the engine block to see if the fuel system was primed. I had to use the girls’ small hands to get at it and I think they enjoyed being able to participate in trying to solve the problem. But alas, after some fiddling, it seemed that this problem wouldn’t be solved alone in the gas station and we decided to seek help.

Asking the gas station attendant if there was a mechanic nearby, we were pleased to learn one was a short walk away. So the girls and I locked the car and went for a walk to seek help. I was extremely pleased to find a very large, clean and covered workshop with a very decent parts store within five minutes walk. If I had to guess, I would say it was likely the most modern and well-stocked mechanic within 50-kilometres so we counted ourselves extremely lucky to have found ourselves walking distance.

After a short wait and explaining our problem, the mechanics agreed to tow the car the short distance with a simple rope connected to their van. So the girls and I jumped into the back of an old Hiace filled with leaf spring suspension parts and went to fetch the car. Upon arriving, confusingly, my car started again and I was able to drive it to the workshop under my own steam. What I didn’t know at this point is that this workshop would be my home for the next four days as I tried to solve the problem with the help of the mechanics there and others contributing their knowledge and input from around the world to solve a mysterious problem.

As part of the standard operating procedure in such situations, I would reach out to the Land Rover de las Americas group and find out who was in the area. I was lucky enough to be connected with one of the most generous souls I’ve ever met in Augusto from Lima. He would become my point-man for navigating the issue and sourcing the knowledge, parts and people I would need.

In a huge coincidence, it happened that one of Lima’s best Land Rover mechanics was on a road trip in the area and would be passing by that afternoon. So as the mechanics at the local shop and I were several hours into the diagnosis, they showed up in two Defenders and jumped in to help. Within minutes, one of the guys was expertly removing the carpet in the rear of my car to access the fuel pump assembly and had it pulled out. Their initial diagnosis was a fuel pump replacement so knowing there was nothing more to do and with their own adventure calling, they bid me good luck and were on their way with their fingers crossed that they’d solved my problems.

In another coincidence, with a little research it turned out that the Bosch fuel pump I needed was also the same unit as in a Hyundai Santa Fe. While Land Rovers are not common in the region, Hyundais are. And the workshop happened to have the part on hand. So we switched it out, put the car back together (no small feat given the awkward placement of the fuel pump below my drawers, fridge and carpet in the rear) and they had me back on the road that afternoon.

So the journey continued. The girls and I would head on to the next town and resume our itinerary towards Caraz and on to Laguna Paron.

As a side note, all this took place in a town called Yungay which is known for being the site of the worst natural disaster in Peru’s history - the 1970 Ancash Earthquake. A 7.9 magnitude earthquake off the Peruvian coast caused a horrendous landslide which, due to large amounts of snow, mud and ice in the mountains above, killed an estimated 70,000 people. It is considered to be the deadliest avalanche in history.

Looking at the maps, we had been asking ourselves where the actual township of Yungay was. It showed to be a significant town on the map. And yet when we were there, it didn’t appear that there was a city there at all, more so just a road connecting other towns and a few businesses and houses along the way. So it was a sad fact to learn the reason is that the city was all but destroyed in such an extreme natural disaster with so many lost. And worse still when we considered that the mechanics and people there - people that would become my friends in our days in Yungay - would have lost so many of their family and friends in that great disaster. It’s almost hard to fathom what life is like in a place where, only one generation ago, the majority of the population was completely wiped out and the people there still lived in the shadow of the tragic event.

Having small hands is an asset at times. The girls trying to check the fuel bleeder valve awkwardly tucked between the plenum and the fire wall

Back in the pit once again and beginning to search for the issue

To my knowledge, the guys from Automundo SA in Yungay had never worked on a Land Rover before but they weren’t shy about jumping in

The girls in good spirits on the first day being stranded in Yungay

Getting to the fuel pump: Not that bad pulling the carpet up but it’s a bit more challenging when you’ve got ~100kg of drawers, equipment and a fridge sitting on top of it

The cavalry arrives. Land Rovers de las Americas members put together that a Lima Land Rover mechanic is in the area and willing to lend a hand as a detour from his weekend adventure up to Llanganuco

Coincidentally, I would break down in almost the identical spot (within 10 metres) twice - once driving it back to workshop from Caraz and the second time when we thought we’d found another fix and I was on a test drive. It was one of several times the car was given a tow back to the workshop.

Setting off for Caraz, our renewed optimism about the mechanical fix was short-lived. As we pulled into the busy centre of the city, the car suffered the same problem - losing fuel to the engine, refusing to restart and blocking a main thoroughfare. Horns blazed as our relatively giant vehicle plugged a main artery of the town. Within a minute or so, we had several locals assisting us to push the car out of the traffic and conveniently into a free parking spot immediately adjacent to where we conked out. In such situations, I’m still able to see the positives and was simply thankful that, in that moment, we’d broken down right next to vacant parking spot. The situation would have been much more traumatic had there not been a viable place to push the car on that busy evening.

For me this was the low point. Mechanically, it went from being a simple diagnosis with a simple solution to a difficult diagnosis with no known solution. I was a bit frazzled at this point and my confidence in the car was crashing. We resolved the girls would stay in Caraz and I would go back to the shop in the morning - driving as far as I could and getting towed the rest of the way if I needed.

And this is exactly what happened. The car started in the morning, as expected and made it most of the way there. But again, I broke down just shy of the 20 minute drive to the workshop. I walked the rest of the way and got the guys to help tow me the last 300 metres to the workshop.

Thus began day two in the workshop. With no idea what the issue was, we began searching for the problem. The mechanics had their ideas and would pull things apart, fiddle with multimeters and test their ideas. For my part, I sat on my computer trawling through internet forums looking for symptoms that resembled the ones I was experiencing.

The mechanics made little progress through the day but I had developed a theory. The fact that it would start and run cold but then switch off the fuel to the engine when hot resembled many issues I was reading about with the crank shaft position sensor (CPS). When they fail, they do so when the engine is hot and the ECU, without knowing the crankshaft position, will cease sending fuel to the engine.

Late in the evening of the second day, a mechanic from an adjacent town showed up with a diagnostic computer to assist and he confirmed my suspicions - there was no signal from CPS and we’d found our culprit. With nothing more to be done that day, I opened my rooftop tent in the workshop and the mechanics went home. I was kept company for the night by a giant slobbering guard dog which thankfully accepted that I was a friend and not an intruder and I cooked pasta to feed us both, had a few cold beers and called it a night.

Day three: the third day was dedicated to finding the replacement sensor. It was a daunting task. In rural Peru, this is not a simple proposition with very few Land Rovers in the country and even if there was one in the country, who would have it and how would I get it. Leaning heavily on Augusto, my new friend from the Land Rovers de las Americas group, we started scouring the country for the part.

Meanwhile, I’d given the Dutch girls my blessing to carry on their adventure and start exploring the lakes of the area. While I spent my day hunting for the elusive part, they would explore Laguna Paron. For my part, the pressure to solve the mechanical problems was largely in part to wanting to keep this travelling group intact and not have them move on without me. Or worse, if they stayed, impact their travel plans unduly.

By mid-afternoon, I had put my feelers out, exhausted possibilities and was feeling a bit despondent as I waited to hear back. There was nothing to do but sit and hope that the generous community of South American Land Rover owners would have a solution for me. I had put a lot of faith in Augusto and some leads he had. And I’d found and ordered the part on Amazon which would take ‘3-5 business days’ but I wasn’t overly certain it would actually arrive in the remote region of the workshop.

But, as they say, ‘when it rains it pours’. Late in the afternoon, in quick succession, the community had come through. Augusto had a lead on a Peruvian who was rebuilding a Discovery 2 like mine and would sell me a used part. Alex, my Ecuadorian mechanic, had one and another guy, Lucho from Bolivia (who would later save me another time down the track) had a lead on one and thought he could have it sent within a reasonable timeframe.

Conferring with Augusto, we pinned our hopes on his friend and started to focus on logistics - how could we get the part as quickly as possible? Thankfully in Latin America, there is a very robust and efficient system of sending packages via the bus system. What was once a informal means of transporting goods around the countries had developed into a sophisticated delivery service and you can send something pretty much anywhere in a country within a day, so long as there are a series of bus routes that connect the locations. We paid the guy for the part and requested that he put it on a bus to me from Lima. With the search over, I would set up camp again in the workshop while one of the mechanics dropped brought me some chicken and rice and I would spend another night alone in the workshop with the guard dog.

Things went smoothly from there. The part arrived first thing the next morning. I was sitting on the ground outside of the bus terminal when the bus with my part arrived at 9:30am. Walking 30-minutes back to the workshop, I waited for two of the mechanics to arrive to help me fit it and get me back on the road (and very gratefully given it was a Sunday and their day off). The fix was a success and very soon I was on my way to Caraz to pick up the girls and join them on an aggressively planned day to make up lost time and head up to Laguna 69.

As has become a theme of my adventures and these posts, I was totally overwhelmed by the generosity of strangers to help me through this whole process. So many people were involved and contributed to solving my issue. I had friends, old and new, from Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, Colombia, the US and Canada assisting along the way. Various Land Rover groups across South America were made aware of my problem with many people contributing theories of what my problem may have been. And crucially Augusto, until days before a complete stranger, worked tirelessly around his life and work schedule to help me ultimately get what I needed to get back on the road. I’m infinitely grateful for the generosity of these people to help a stranger stuck in a strange land. It’s heartwarming to know that such generosity exists in this age. And as I reflect on this whole experience, it is a positive one simply because of the many giving and supportive people that participated and who I now count as friends.

My home for several days. Certainly not the first time I’d slept in a workshop and it definitely won’t be my last

Conferring with the guys

A happy moment: my sensor arrives via bus from Lima. I’m so elated at this point that I feel it warrants a selfie with the guy manning the office who signed over the package

The mechanics from Automundo. I spent a lot of time with these guys and really appreciative of their generosity in putting me ahead of other customers to get me on the road, bringing me food in the workshop, showing up on a Sunday to finish the job. And mostly for making it a fun and enjoyable time working alongside them in the workshop for the four days I was there

I had become quite close with the mechanics there and after four days more-or-less living in their workshop, it was even hard to say goodbye. They’d prioritised my issues to get me back on the road in front of their other clients, towed my car in total four times back to the shop, showed up on their day off to finish the job, taken me to lunch with their families when there was nothing to be done, shared beers with me at the end of each hard work day and brought me dinner when they knew I was alone in the workshop with dwindling food supplies and no way to drive to pick up something for myself. I’ll fondly remember my time with the guys and their families at Automundo SA in Yungay. And remarkably for all of this, the bill they handed me (excluding parts) for the four days in the workshop and all this help was close to USD$70 with an invoice that just listed my name as ‘Mister’, the name they’d come to call me while I was there (‘Darcy’ isn’t the easiest name in this part of the world).

With the car working, the girls in the car, the fridge and drawers stocked with drinks and food, we headed for the hills. Specifically, we set our sights on Laguna Llanganuco and the trailhead of Laguna 69. I’d marvelled at the photos my fellow travellers had posted on this lake and I was happy to be out of the workshop, behind the wheel and pointed at this wonder.

Happy travellers. With the car working and back on the road, we headed for Laguna 69

Lake Llanganuco

We set out foolishly late on our six-hour hike up to Laguna 69. It seemed with the late start and one of the girls struggling to keep pace that for sure we’d be returning home in the dark. But after a tough conversation to leave Latoya behind and return to the car alone, Sanne and I picked up the pace and charged up the trail to lake. Our unconventionally late start to head up there meant that we were rewarded with magnificent views of Laguna 69 all to ourselves. But tight on time and the sun low in the sky, our time at the lake was short and sweet.

Setting out for Laguna 69

The hike starts flat and easy but the altitude makes the latter stages a lot more challenging

Looking back on our trail as we near the top

The mountain the overlooks Laguna 69

Success, and thankfully still with a decent amount of daylight to spare.

Drone shot capturing Sanne and I at the top and on the banks of Laguna 69

Always thankful for blue skies when seeing natural wonders like this

Returning from the hike, we headed back to Lake Llanganuco and set up camp. We were the only people camping in the open campgrounds near the lake which made for a stunning evening together enjoying the clear night skies and one of the best evenings of stargazing I can recall. The only thing tempering the experience was that the near 4,000m altitude and windy conditions made for an uncomfortably cold evening. But the warmth of three bodies in the rooftop tent partially offset that discomfort.

Looking down on Lago Llanganuco the way we’d entered the park

A campground all to ourselves

Four days in a local workshop was more than enough to also gather some local knowledge and get some advice about where we should explore. Rather than returning the way we came, we pushed east through the Parque Nacional Huascarán, crossing the mountains and reaching a peak height of 4,700m before descending down the other side.

The road to Chacas was exceptional. Clearly not commonly travelled by tourists, we passed through many small towns as we travelled our way through the winding roads. The locals we met along the way seemed as interested in us as we were in them. At one point, we stopped at a village that was preparing for a wedding and was in the process of slaughtering several pigs in anticipation of the ceremony. They welcomed us warmly and excitedly told us about the upcoming event.

The pass through the national park that came quite close to 5,000 metres at its peak

Nice to have others in the car for once to let me fly the drone while someone else drives. It’s possible but definitely harder doing both at the same time

A family prepares a slaughtered pig for tomorrow’s wedding

As I’ve no doubt said before, one of my favourite parts of the driving yourself is crossing through areas that don’t see tourists and travellers. The family and friends preparing for this wedding were as interested in us and what we were doing there as we were with their local traditions and made for a pleasant and interesting stop

Having seen what we wanted in the Ancash region, we pointed the car south again. The plan was to pass back through Lima and begin to explore the south of the country.

Unfortunately, once again, mechanical problems stopped us in our tracks. While coasting down the hill towards Lima it was apparent the car was, once again, starved of fuel and we pulled over on the side of the road. This was a cruel blow. Thinking I’d come up with a clean and accurate diagnosis which seemingly solved the cars problems, it was both confusing and devastating to have the (seemingly) same issue reoccur.

At least having built up a good support network in Peru, we were on the Garmin satellite phone to our friends who quickly arranged a tow truck back to Lima. I didn’t have it in me to do anything else other than accept that it would be an expensive seven hour ride back to Lima on the back of a tow truck. I assumed this would be the end of the girls patience for my unreliable truck and so we’d head to the big city again and take it from there.

At least spirits stayed relatively high as we grabbed a bottle of rum for the ride home, the three of us sitting inside the car on the back of the tow truck and we drank and sang along with music on the drive to Lima. Arriving late into the night, I would sleep in my car outside a Lima workshop on the roadside while the girls would seek out a hostel for the night.

Stranded yet again. And very far from everything at this stage

When breaking down in remote places, I usually start with a beer to just stop and consider the issue and the options if it can’t be solved. In this instance, with the complexity of the problems I’d had and the reliance on parts I didn’t have, the best bet seemed to be to drink a beer and call our friends again for a tow truck.

Help arrives. We’d drive through the night to Lima, arriving a few hours before dawn

Augusto from the Land Rovers de las Americas group. I can’t thank him enough for everything he did to help during the trials and tribulations of our time in northern Peru.

Thankfully this round of repairs was much simpler. The guys in the Lima workshop were experienced and didn’t take long to figure out what was wrong this time. In doing our repairs in the countryside and during one of the many times we’d taken apart the fuel assembly, one of the fuel lines was damaged (and had developed a fairly significant crack in it). The diagnosis was that split in the line was sucking oxygen rather than fuel into the engine after the fuel level dropped below where the line had split.

So the next morning with the car running once again, we’d bid Lima goodbye once again and continue on south towards the coastal deserts of Ica and Paracas.