35
It was another hundred kilometers before a MAN SE truck came near them again. They were out of the track country and hopefully clear of any more fesh fesh holes. If he never ate fesh fesh dust again in his life, it would be too soon.
Behind them, the Peruvian Andes drew a looming wall that extended along the entire eastern horizon. Someday he was going to have to come back to this country when he could move slowly enough to admire it.
They were deep in dune country. These weren’t the monster dunes like the last time they’d hit them in Chili, but they weren’t in nice linear rows either. Their directions could best be described as confused—like a confused sea that had no directional wave pattern after a hurricane. It was as if they’d been built by contrary and battling winds, duking it
