From Darren Loucaides
“What the fuck is that?” I shout, pointing at a light above me. The night sky is incredibly clear, which is one of the reasons so many ET-chasing stargazers come up here to the mountains of Marcahuasi, Peru. I’ve managed to pitch a tent and build a fire, and I’m warming my hands with the flames and the rest of my body with a bottle of rum when I spot it.
It looks like a plane at first, faintly flashing blue, gliding towards Orion’s Belt. Then I realize it’s not gliding at all, but performing a zig-zag that, as far as I’m aware, is impossible for a 500-ton block of flying metal to achieve. It strikes a straight path for the first half-second, then spells a wobbly W, before going back to the start point to do it all again.
I rub my eyes and stare at the fire for a bit. ‘Must be some kind of optical illusion,’ I think—or I’ve just hit the rum a little too hard. But my friend sees it too, and when I lift my head to take another look… fuck, it’s still there.
In the scheme of things, this should be a win. You head to Peru on a UFO-hunt and you actually see a UFO. But now that it’s staring me in the face on the creepiest mountain on Earth, all alone except for my terrified friend—who’s desperately trying to get into the tent and suppress her nerves with sleeping pills—I’m not so sure I’m up to this. Maybe I’d have been better off just writing another gourmet food tour guide for the Delta Airlines’ inflight magazine.