[Above: A llama-like vicuna in the pampas wilderness as we drove into the Andes.]

Journal by Adam Burgess

We came into Peru on New Years Day, which offered a surprisingly easy border crossing. The roads and streets were rather quiet and the border was tranquilo. I was pretty damaged that night so going out to party wasn’t really an option. After taking a dose of CIPRO, the wonder drug of all drugs, it cleared up my guts by the next day. Now it seems that the rest of the crew has been attacked by some form of heavy flu; Neil was barely audible, shivering like a wet rat and going numb in the hands yesterday, apparently I’ve been immune because of the CIPRO. He seems better today, so its not typhoid or some other crazy jungle disease. Northern Peru is desert spotted with little cube houses of handmade sand colored bricks sometimes covered with a roof of either woven reed, adobe mud or -- sometimes -- no roof at all. It seems incredibly poor here, and people have little more than the occasional chicken, few goats and a pleasant demeanor. The sand dunes rise to the left and right of the highway with mountains of sand in the distance. It reminds me of images of the moon, or the Sahara. Our destination is Cusco, to see Macchu Picchu, and we decided to take this bleak road instead of the beautiful mountain roads to the east in order to make up time.

Yesterday was one of those days where very little happened but we accomplished a lot. The day before we spent in Nazca to see the Nazca Lines. Over a thousand years ago, someone drew massive images of monkeys, trapezoids, spiders and an alien. Massive is an understatement, as some figures are hundreds of meters in size. It’s a big mystery as to why and how they drew these images only visible from the sky in the desert soil. I’d try to explain them, but you really have to see for yourself. Before I knew it Neil and I were off to investigate for ourselves. The 1952 motor sputtered a few times and then warmed up a little, crammed shoulder to shoulder like a British sports car, four of us were motoring down the runway in the classic Cessna. I was determined to get some aerial footage of the images combined with the Land Rovers in convoy, so we hired a pilot to take us up. I had the pilot remove the passenger window so I’d be able to shove the camera out at 70mph but as I leaned out the hole as we buzzed down the runway I realized that the consequence would come from the two black oversized kazoos attached to the side of the plane just in front of the window. Exhaust pipes, loud. I was so busy filming Neil squashed in the back seat introducing the camera to what we were doing that I failed to notice we were already 90 feet off the ground. I’m so used to the minute-long rocket launch of jumbo jets that floating up in 10 seconds felt effortless. We buzzed up pretty high and there they were all across the desert for as far as the eye could see, the Nazca Lines. Archeologist Maria Raiche spent her entire life analyzing them, caring for them and offering theories of origin. For decades she swept them with a broom, she went through hundreds of brooms in her lifetime before she recently died of Parkinson’s in her 80’s. It was no surprise then when the pilot appeared confused that I showed little interest in flying circles around the images and insisted that he follow the three white Land Rovers driving in convoy on the nearby Pan-American Highway. As I leaned out the window the rush of wind sucked my contacts out, filled my eye sockets with air and my left cheek inflated. This carried on for a while as we crisscrossed the highway for 15 minutes. I managed to get a few good shots of the crew driving down below and then we headed back.

A sense of guilt sometimes smothers me as we travel. I wonder what I did to deserve the position behind the wheel of a $40,000 car instead of that of the man farming small cactus plants on a rocky plot next to the highway or the woman weaving sheets of thatch in the desert outskirts of Lima. We just pop out anywhere in this world and make the best of it; I suppose that’s what I did to get myself behind the wheel, and that’s what they are doing in the dunes where it never rains. But the eyes continue to stare as 4 identical cars barrel through their little village or homestead. Some wave with excitement; others are stopped in their tracks; but one smile and a thumbs-up gets the crowd going. Almost immediately the children are jumping around and the woman weaving thatch breaks out into a sun-damaged smile. Their smiles only add to my guilt and I begin to wonder why so many people are obsessed with repeated participation in driving expeditions. I’ve come up with one possibility. We are addicted to the immediate celebrity status it appears to offer. Instant fans line the road calling out in excitement, yelling “Ingleterra!” or “Camel Trophy!” often confusing us with Brits or Germans. Months of this special treatment is something we've never experienced at home.

So we kept driving east towards Cuzco. In 2 hours we climbed from an altitude of 1500 feet to 15,000. The cars pushed rather effortlessly up into the Andes, offering a drastic change in climate. As we crested the range, the GPS dithered between 14,900 and 15,000 feet. There was little up there but shrubs and funky little llama-like creatures, called vicunas. We filmed them for a bit and they shrieked out and scrambled off into the chaparral.

The altitude has definitely had an effect on us. Breathing is a new challenge; you feel it up here, climb a few steps or run to set up a tripod and your panting like a smoker. To make it worse. I have a blocked nose that at times makes me feel like I’ll suffocate at any given moment.

As I’ve told everyone a hundred times, losing my sense of smell in a car accident 10 years ago has changed my life for the better, and driving to Cuzco proved this once again. Altitude and other ailments left Colin with a case of sulfurous burps. In our vehicle, Colin belched constantly, and Neil would scream out in disgust. Apparently they carried the stench of rotten eggs and could be smelled outside from 12 feet away. Other than that not a lot happened -- just long hours of driving through beautiful highlands.

Logbook for January 6th, Day 67
Start: Nazca, Peru, 1000
N: 14* 49.752'
W: 74* 56.542''
Finish: Chalhuanca, Peru, 2000
N: 14* 17.704'
W: 73* 14.860''
Mileage: 195
Notes: Nancy and Chanda are still fairly out of commission, but without fever. The team traveled along mountainous switchbacks to inland Peru and crossed the Altiplano. Peak elevation for the day was just over 15,000 feet. The team saw local wildlife, including vicuñas and flamingos. The temperature at that altitude dropped to a low of 38 degrees F. Driving was slow and winding, but really, really fun. (N.O.)

Help support our cause: The LONGITUDE Expedition is the longest journey ever attempted with a focus on Parkinson's Disease. The Drive Around the World team aims to raise money for Parkinson’s Disease research by driving four certified pre-owned Land Rover Discoverys around the globe following lines of longitude. Readers are encouraged to pledge small amounts of money per expedition-kilometer via a pledge form that can be found on our Parkinson’s page by clicking here. 100% of donations received go directly to Parkinson's research and all who donate $10 or more will be entered into a raffle to win an expedition-equipped Land Rover Discovery.