Pirate Camping

CHAPTER 23

The border between Ecuador and Peru caught us a little off guard, or should I say, didn’t catch us at all.  We were driving along on the deserted highway at 60mph and without warning came to a long, newly built bridge spanning a dry river bed.  In the middle of the bridge there was a placard indicating the dividing line between the two countries, but that was all- no long line of waiting cars, no dilapidated border posts, no military police touting heavy machine guns, there was nobody at all.   We were quite literally the only one’s there, so we stopped and took the requisite “standing in two countries” photo, clicked our heels, and continued down the road into Peru.  This was shaping up to be our easiest border crossing yet!

Soon enough we came to a Peruvian immigration checkpoint, and asked them about the absence of the Ecuatorian border post (yes, they spell it with a “t” even though they spell their country, Ecuador, with a “d”).  The nice official, who at that moment was leisurely decorating her office for Christmas, considering the absence of another traveling sole, informed us that we could just fill out the paper work and enter Peru without first getting our exit stamp from Ecuador, but if we chose to do this, Ecuador might impose a heavy fine if we ever wanted to return to their country.  We decided someday we would want to return, and go to the Galapagos Islands, so we thanked her for the warning and got directions to the hidden Ecuatorian border post.   The dilapidated buildings we had been looking for turned out to be located at a crossroads a couple of miles before the actual border, but even with directions, it was still hard to find since there were no signs at all.  Wouldn’t you know it, their computer system was down, so we would have to drive in to the adjacent town, pay a toll for entering the city, and wait in the heat and dust just to be told they couldn’t process our car paper work at that office.  We got our exit stamps in our passports though, and after 20 minutes of driving around trying to find the vehicle processing office without luck, we decided to give up and go back to Peru- even if we wanted to, we couldn’t take the truck to the Galapagos anyways.  Our seemingly easiest border crossing had turned into yet another long and bewildering process that took most of the afternoon- luckily when we got back to the Peruvian post, we were still the only ones there, and were on our way in less than an hour.

The verdant banana plantations of southern Ecuador astonishingly disappeared at the border, and from the moment we crossed the dry river separating the two countries, an arid expanse of desert unfolded before us.  We didn’t know it at the time, but this dry wasteland would continue for another 2500 miles down the coast from the northern extents of Peru practically all the way to Santiago, Chile.  This would mean countless tedious hours and days of driving through a mostly barren, featureless landscape, but for large sections the highway would hug the ocean and provide spectacular vistas of white breakers crashing on desert beaches.  The other incredible change this new environment would herald into our normal routine was based on the fact that not too many people live in the desert, most of the land is free and open, and no-body cares two pennies if you camp out.  Unlike some of our more adventurous traveling friends, throughout Central America, and Colombia and Ecuador, we found it hard to feel comfortable camping in most places unless we were sure it was safe and secure- i.e. we paid for a spot at a private camp ground.  Our good friends Nick and Rochelle (www.ramblerwriter.com) have perfected a little thing they like to call “Pirate Camping”, which is basically finding out-of-the-way and inconspicuous places to park their truck and bed down for the night- in a parkinglot, on a street, even in the main plaza of a town sometimes.  They have saved a lot of money by doing so, and looking back, I wish we had made more of an effort- our bank account would certainly have appreciated it.  But, we have it a little harder looking like a parked car with our big sleeping tent unfolded on top of the truck, and quite frankly we just weren’t used to it.  It takes a certain amount of gumption, and practice, and in the end a good teacher to show you the ropes.

Luckily for us, 2500 miles of empty desert and beaches awaited us, and by incredible chance, we happened to run into Nick and Rochelle in the little beachside village of Mancora, Peru.  We hadn’t seen them since leaving Cartagena, Colombia almost a month earlier, and were understandably surprised when they happened to be sitting at a table in the bar we had chosen for happy hour.   It was like running into old friends, though we had actually only know them for about two weeks while we were waiting for our truck to arrive on the ship from Panama.  We spent the next couple of days trying to surf in the jellyfish infested waters off the long white sand beach, without much success, and when we got tired, set up the sun umbrella and beach blanket in front of one of the many beachside bars where the waiter would deliver a constant stream of 1liter beers to our relentlessly drained glasses.

By an amazing coincidence, Nick and Rochelle planned on heading further south the same day as we did, so we all decided to caravan.  Aside from a few short hours in Nicaragua when we followed our friends Erik and Noah along a bumpy dirt track on the Isla Imotepe, we had never driven with another car before and we were a little apprehensive about how our traveling styles would mesh, but the next two days turned out to be some of the most enjoyable we had experienced on the entire trip.  The only thing better than seeing a burning sunset over a white sand beach with your beautiful fiancé, is sharing it with your good friends.  We spent that night cooking camping pizzas and drinking tailgate cocktails, with a fair sized bonfire to boot.  The previous night we drove off the main highway over a few sand dunes into the empty desert- the feeling of solitude was complete, except for the expanse of white diamonds glittering overhead.

Besides the good times we had, we gained something far more important in those two nights than we ever would have guessed:  Nick and Rochelle made us realize what fools we had been over the last five months by not camping out at every possible opportunity.  We learned our lesson well though, and from the time we left them till today, we have only paid for lodging on a handful of occasions.   We have come to appreciate, especially in the more temperate climates of South America, that a night spent in our truck topper tent is far more enjoyable, clean feeling, and convenient than spending $15 to $25 on a seedy third rate hostel that might or might not have a double bed, a private bathroom, or even hot water.  Really, the only thing gained by staying at a hostel is air conditioning if necessary, and wireless internet- but that can be found at a handful of other places if you look hard enough- like, most gas stations down here.  Showering is another sticky issue, but we have found that if you can take a real shower at least once every 3 or 4 days, you can get by with “spot” cleaning for the times in-between.  Needless to say, we owe a lot to our Ramblewriter friends and to the few days we spent with them learning the tricks of Pirate Camping.