WHIZZING THROUGH NAZCA
by Carmen Wise

That it was. And I survived to tell the tale.

The Candelabra
It was no Sunday drive to begin with, travelling to the Nazca desert. It was a steady six hour drive south of Lima, interrupted by a two-hour stop over in Paracas to the Islas Ballenas. There I had a preview of things to come.

The Islas are a craggy chain of small islands that are home to a variety of wildlife that includes cormorants, penguins, and hundreds of families of seals. We paused to admire a strange carving of what looked like a candelabra on the slope of one of the granite-based islands. Our guide explained that since the wind never touches that side of the island, nor do waves crash upon it for that matter, that this graceful carving could have been there a thousand years ago and would still be greeting visitors a thousand years from now. But the questions begged to be begged. Who did this and how? Why a candelabra? Did they have candles a thousand years ago? Why there? This mysterious figure was a taste of things yet to come as we finished our boat tour and resumed our drive south.

The Desert
We found ourselves in a desperately dry desert. I blurted out to my driver Miguel. "Nothing can live here!" For I had not seen a cactus, or a bush, or even a blade of grass along the road. He nodded replying, "This desert is lucky to get twenty minutes of rain a year." An hour passed then another when suddenly we came upon a veritable oasis, a little town surrounded by flowering bushes, and rich green fields. "Palpa," Miguel explained, "There are many such towns in the middle of the Pampa (desert). They are fertile valleys irrigated by run off from the mountains. These towns produce every kind of vegetables and fruit such as mangoes, avocados, vegetables and many different types of potatoes."

Soon we were back in the flat desert again. I had Miguel stop so I could take a photo of the pretty valley. this gave me the chance to examine the desert floor. Not at all sandy but composed of rocks and pebbles. Dry as bone.

In the distant sierra, clouds had formed and moved restlessly. "It's rainy season in the Highlands," Miguel explained "but it doesn't get this far out". I was suspicious about that. It looked like a bank of clouds wee moving toward us. We got back in the car and sure enough, Miguel had to turn on the windshield wipers. Twenty minutes? Those twenty minutes happened, on that very day!

When I arrived at the Nazca Visitor Centre, owned and managed by Air Paracas, I watched a professionally produced video that explained very comprehensively the history of the discovery of the Lines and the possible theories surrounding their creation. I learned that they are not carved as such but created by the lifting of the darker coloured rocks in the desired pattern. The exposed lighter coloured rocks then formed the actual "drawings".

There were about ten figures in the form of animals and other shapes as well as a vast network of straight lines and geometric figures scattered over a field of 350 kilometers. Many of the lines jut out for miles on the flat desert, like straight arrows pointing to unknown destinations or even looking like the ancient runways of a long-gone airport. The video whetted my curiosity. In fact I couldn't believe I was actually there, after those many years ago of reading Von Donniken's book "Chariots of the Gods" where he postulated Nazca was the scene of alien space ship landings. Now I could see it all for myself.

The Flight
One can only appreciate this ancient artwork by assuming the eyes of God, that is by looking at the desert floor and its markings from above. Our pilot Jose took us up, leveled off around 900 feet, and circled around each figure allowing plenty of camera time. Sometimes it seemed as though we were close enough to touch the figures. One time I was sure we would touch down on one of the great trapezoids.

Jose would zoom down to barely a few feet above his targets, tip the Piper on its side, take both hands off the yoke to point at a given drawing shouting "Mira! Alli Alli!!" I, squeezed into the co-pilot's seat, contemplated whether or not, perhaps, in the interest of keeping the plane in the air, that I should reach over and surreptitiously place one hand on the abandoned yoke. Somebody should be steering this thing, I pondered. The other hand would have to remain tightly pressed against my stomach, of course, as I pathetically tried to prevent hurling despite my empty stomach. But before I could take action, Jose would grab the wheel again and speed off to the next amazing sight.

As we pulled home I noticed off in the distance a tower and the superhighway that looked as though it were cutting right through the wide shape of the dog. "That is Maria Reiche's home, " explained Jose. "She built it soon after she arrived here more than fifty years ago. She also had that tower built so that people would not be tempted to trample over the figure that is close to the road. Her house is now her burial place and a museum." I would visit the Reiche home later.

At last the Nazca line I was longing to see appeared before us: the Air Paracas runway. I felt like the Pope in wanting to jump out and kiss the tarmac. That was a once in a lifetime trip, if I had my way. I thought I heard some chittering as I stepped out of the plane and walked shakily back to the hangar. I looked over my shoulder. No, no one was watching me or whispering behind my back. Hmmm. It's that Monkey. He thought I was funny. He was right. I'm just glad I lived to tell the "tail"..

Below is a chart of the huge "drawings" we peered at as we flew over them.

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