Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place – Between Nazca and Cusco, Peru

By: Samantha Colburn

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Between Nazca and Cuzco, Peru

We were excited. We had just been told we were four hours away from Cusco. In real terms this meant six hours, but we didn’t care. We were farther from the little town of Nazca where we had experienced a riot from which we were keen to escape.

As we began to cheer, the bus stopped. I could see a few cars, a gap and then a couple of lorries on the other side looking like they were trying to come our way. A young gentleman told us there appeared to be a hole in the road. Everyone was escaping the bus for some fresh air, so we thought we’d investigate.

As we walked down to the supposed hole, we began to get a little confused. We could see no hole. The narrow piece of road in front of us would only allow one vehicle through at a time. We stood and moaned about how useless they were and why didn’t they find someone to direct traffic. I looked further. My mouth fell and my eyes opened wide. We had translated what the young gentleman had told us incorrectly. The hole was a landslide.

My friends looked up and saw the rock movement as well, with fear. The rocks began to tumble down forcefully and in large quantities. We turned around and began heading back to the bus when we heard a noise behind us. We turned to see trees and huge boulders plummeting down the mountainside, creating a huge, light brown dust cloud that filled the air. Everyone started running. Trying desperately to get out of the path of this vast dust cloud, we found ourselves a way down the river before we were able to turn around and see the damage.

The dust cloud settled to reveal an enormous mass of earth with trees and rocks poking out here, there and everywhere. I felt trapped and I realised we were now miles away from the next town, both ways. We made our way back up the riverbank to find that there were at least 20 buses stacked up down the road. Hundreds of people stood around.

Our bus driver informed us that it would be at least two days until they got the landslide removed. We asked him what he was going to do for the two days. “Stay here. What else?” he responded. We had no food, no drink and no money. There was no way we could spend the next two days here. We had only eaten a couple of crackers and an orange in the last 16 hours. We talked to some other gringos to find out what they were going to do.

We stood watching some locals walk across the landslide and make it successfully to the other side. Discussing this option we decided to cross the landslide with the locals. We collected our backpacks and off we went.

The expedition across was horrific. With a heavy backpack and a little rucksack on my front, I began the treacherous walk. You have to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, without looking down as the ground under your feet tumbles into the river below, and the rocks from above are gently tumbling down onto you. You have this knowledge that at any minute more earth could come loose and conceal you forever.

The locals were pushing us and shouting for us either to move faster or let them pass. Halfway across we noticed that the locals had knocked one of my friends, Emily, over. Steve went back to help her and told me to move on. I took a deep breath, trying not to let the panic set in, and pushed on.

The path made by those before us led us down the hill towards the river, along a straight stretch and then up to the other side. I wanted to get to the other side, drop my bags, and go back to help Steve and Emily.

As I started climbing, I could feel my backpack pulling me backwards. So I started to crawl up. This did not help. My feet ended up getting buried in the earth. Panic set in. I couldn’t move anymore. I was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and now, buried. Tears filled my eyes. An old man started shouting at me in Spanish. I was too tired to try and understand him. He held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me up and out of the earth. He then went round behind me and started to gently push me up over the earth.

This newfound kindness gave me the strength I thought I had lost. I managed to pull my way up the rest of the landslide to the other side. I embraced the old man, gratefully and with relief. I found my friends were only a little behind. For the first time in hours, I smiled. We made it.

We joined the locals, passed up our bags, climbed up these small iron railings and pulled ourselves up into the back of a dump truck. We helped with the passing of luggage and aided people to get on. As soon as we were packed in like sardines, the driver headed off to the next local town. We pulled away and watched the earth begin to fall again. We heard screams and prayed no one was hurt. I thought how lucky we were.

About half an hour down the road, the truck stopped and the bus driver got out. He demanded money, explaining that if we didn’t pay him, he would leave us there! So we paid.

At the next town we persuaded a taxi driver to take five of us, for 20 soles each, to Cusco. With me in the boot, three on the back seat and one in the front, off we set through the mountains. The driver drove around corners on the other side of the road and had to brake sharply as animals appeared ahead from nowhere. I have never seen so many animals on one stretch of road before. Yet we managed to arrive in Cusco six hours later. Amazingly, we had not sustained any further injuries. We arrived filthy, flea-bitten, starving, thirsty and exhausted. But we were alive.