14- 27 May 2026. Descending out of the mountains we dropped nearly 4,500 metres, below the clouds and down to the Pacific Ocean. We’d spent less than 48 hours in Chile before heading to the border with Peru.
A trip to the supermarket to fill the pantry, as we knew supermarkets along the coast of Peru would be few and far between. Spending the night just outside the city of Arica, we camped above the high tide line on the beach beside a military training camp, only 15 minutes from the border.
Exiting Chile we once again had to prove the kids were ours and not stolen. Cancel the vehicle TIP, and surrender our visitor visas before entering Peru. We were only granted a 30-day visa this time, having already used 60 of our 90 allowable days within a 12-month period.
So where to now?
Looking at the map we really only had two options. We could take the coastal road, easier on the truck with better road conditions, but grey, dusty, dirty, and mind-numbingly boring. Or we could head back into the mountains: higher altitude, colder temperatures, stunning scenery, but horrid indirect roads filled with potholes that would take four or five times longer to travel.
With only four weeks remaining, we knew we wouldn’t have time to hike the Huayhuash, so we decided to take the coastal route, retracing almost the exact path we’d taken south months earlier.
The coastal highway is Peru 1, the country’s main trucking route where dangerous driving feels like a regular occurrence. Polarsteps showed the French family — Nicholas, Sandrine, and the kids — within 100 kilometres of us and travelling in the same direction. We had first met them in El Chaltén, Argentina. Reaching out, we connected on the road ahead and soon joined the traffic jam snaking out of a valley. The kids were thrilled to catch up again, a welcome distraction from the monotony of the coastal drive.
The traffic jam was caused by a chemical tanker truck that had overturned on a corner while climbing uphill, spilling 20,000 litres of sulphuric acid onto the road and into the surrounding environment. With traffic backed up for miles in both directions there was little chance of a containment crew getting through quickly. As we carefully passed the scene, yellow-green liquid bubbled across the asphalt, likely eating away at metal and rubber alike.
That night we camped on the beach beside a small town. Nicholas mixed us all a strong drink while the kids dragged everyone onto the sand for a parents versus kids soccer match. Final score: 5–4 to the kids.
HUACACHINA
A place I had said I would never return to. Once was enough. Alas, here we were again.
Only this time it was worse.
We had inconveniently arrived at the busiest time: sunset. The tiny oasis town was completely overwhelmed, bumper to bumper with far more vehicles than it could possibly handle. Attempting to find the French family at the rendezvous point resulted in an hour-long battle just to retreat back out.
At the final intersection we encountered a bus trying to turn in while we were attempting to exit. I’ll spare you the details and frustrations of a situation where logic had entirely ceased to exist and nobody moved, while oblivious drivers only compounded the situation.
Nicholas and Sandrine were trapped at the opposite end of town, completely boxed in and resigned to being stuck for the night. Yet somehow, a few hours later, the traffic vanished and the streets sat nearly empty. We parked beside them for the night.
The following morning Charley and Jaxon joined them for a dune buggy ride. Afterwards we headed out for a sand skiing session. For Charley’s early 15th birthday celebration she wanted to go sand skiing. It took a little to get used to the feeling of sand instead of snow, but by their second run, they were flying, making it look easy.
LIMA
By late afternoon we were back in the centre of Lima. Only this time we camped right on the waterfront in the heart of the city. No fences, no gates, just a 24-hour security guard casually reassuring us that it was perfectly safe to leave the truck and go enjoy the city without worry.
The reports on iOverlander agreed, so we set off on foot to explore, naturally stopping to high-five Paddington Bear once again.
It was a quiet night. The following morning we joined Lima’s relentless rush-hour traffic, taking nearly two hours just to escape the city before continuing north up the coast road. The next two nights were spent with the French family at a lovely mango farm near Casama.
PACASAMYO
Another town we had stopped in on our journey south was Pacasmayo. Not the prettiest town, but out on the point lies one of the longest left-hand surf waves in the world, making it a popular kiteboarding and wave surfing destination.
This time we camped on the point beneath the lighthouse. Perfect lines rolled in all afternoon and Jaxon was in the water immediately, chasing waves. After catching a few good rides, the stoke returned instantly.
Conditions weren’t nearly as good for kiting. The wind was light, with most riders flying 11- and 12-metre kites while our largest is only a 9-metre. Tim still went out for a session but spent most of the time fighting to stay upwind before eventually having to walk back up the beach after the wind suddenly died.
Camped beside us was a famous Brazilian professional para-athlete, well known on YouTube for his extreme adventures and lifestyle after becoming paralysed in a car accident at 25 years old when he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He travelled in a modified Porsche Cayenne towing a 4×4 camper trailer. Along with his team, personal assistant, photographers, and film crew, he had come to Pacasmayo to kiteboard.
Unfortunately his custom chair hadn’t made it off the plane from Brazil, so he was stuck waiting several days for a replacement. Nice guy though — he was genuinely stoked watching Jaxon catching waves.
This is probably the best view, the town is nothing much. From here we will make our way into the hills, back to Cajamarca.