Just a few days before leaving for Peru in early July, I ran across a fascinating hypothesis and paper by James McCanney. What makes it more interesting is that I wasn’t looking for information about the Nazca lines, but instead checking in on his web site, which I haven’t visited in years.

Here are a couple of photos I took from the air. You can find better on the web.

As with all the later Nazca designs, they are made with a single line. And no one has an even remotely reasonable explanation for them. Well, of course, except for National Geographic, which dismisses them as ritual footpaths. They stop — just barely — short of calling them temples.

However, McCanney has a different idea, and, like his original explanation of the electric universe, it makes more sense than any official story, and as with the ancient “Inca” stonework, involves technologies far in advance of ours. Start this video at 50 minutes for a his background, then the fascinating next hour.

(With the little lower-right YouTube “settings” gear, you can play it at 1.5X or2X speed.)

Hint: this is a modern cell phone antenna.

Here is a rundown of various theories about the Nazca lines if you’re interested.

Lima — at least the part worth seeing — is built on a high bluff. If you go between May and October, this is pretty much what it looks like every day. No sun.

But you can imagine how exploring on foot gives a good workout. Of course I had to go check out that pavilion on the jetty.

Proof! Lots of crabs. And happy seagulls, no doubt. You’ll also see lots of wannabe surfers. I thought I had a picture of them, but the light was so drab I found it difficult to get enthusiastic about taking pictures.

Miraflores, where we stayed, is upscale (and has the kitteh park). If you stayed and ate there, and avoided the rest of the city of 10 million, you might be convinced Lima is an OK place.

In the middle of Miraflores, you’ll find the Huaca Pucllana, a massive construction of mud bricks. We took many photos, and most are about as drab as you’d expect when photographing piles of mud bricks in dull light. This particular construction technique, with spaces between the bricks, makes it resistant to earthquake damage.

And in places it does indeed look like it’s been shaken around a bit.

Did I say there was no sun in Lima? I lied. This must have lasted a full five minutes.

And then, finally, some interesting light in Lima. Sort of.

Part of the Tiwanaku complex, Pumapunku doesn’t jump out at you. It’s just scattered rocks, until you look more closely.

The stones that form the platform are immense, and — as seems to be the theme — quarried and transported from a site improbably far away. Evidence of elaborate and precise machining of the stone is everywhere. This platform is called the temple, which is archeologist-speak for we have no idea what the hell this thing was.

Here Yousef Awyan points out intricate and precise stonework similar to what he sees in Egypt.

Evidence of machining includes perfectly circular drilled holes. in the background, Pumapunku’s distinct “H” blocks.

An interesting feature of these blocks came to light last January. Brien Foerster (pictured) had along a British engineer in his 80s (amazing guy who had stopped flying his own helicopter just a couple years before) who had brought a Tesla meter (magnetometer). Lo and behold, new mysteries! Knowing this, many on this tour had brought compasses. in this case, moving the compass inside the “H” recess causes it to point south instead of north!

One person brought dowsing rods, which reacted wildly. One would hold steady while the other spun like crazy. Changing position would cause the spinning one to reverse direction, or stop while the other started spinning.

Throughout the site, excavated stones are piled up more or less randomly, further demonstrating that the archeologists remain clueless about their positioning or function.

And there is much more of the Tiwanaku complex to be discovered. Here Antonio Portugal shows the results of ground-penetrating radar, which reveals promising excavation possibilities that may never happen for political reasons.

In closing, a couple more images from Tiwanaku:

Amazing stonework — function unknown — from many thousand years ago.

Tiwanaku lies close to Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world, divided between Perú and Bolivia (the joke goes that Perú got the Titi and Bolivia the caca — OK: hey, I just work here). I found the site  underwhelming. The “reconstruction” and archeology feels contrived and inaccurate.

However.

From this courtyard, the very large “Bennett” monolith was excavated, displayed in La Paz for 70 years, then “returned” to a museum hall nearby where it would be safe from pollution and pigeon crap. When I descended the metal stairs with Antonio Portugal, there were very few people present (unlike this picture I took a few minutes later).

Jutting out from all sides are facial representations, each is carved on a piece of rock a meter or so long, he told me, based on other excavations. Caraclavos, I think he called them: face nails.

They supposedly represent every different race. In some cases, clearly, better than others.

When I spotted the one below, I turned to Antonio and gestured toward it. He simply pointed upwards. Yes, aliens.

And I thought of the “Starchild” skull we had seen in Paracas.

Then there’s another that seems just a little out of place.

This made me think of the Andayhuaylillas Museum and its enigmatic Huayqui skeleton, which some (and clearly the people who created the display) believe to be a hybrid human.

This was typical of the experiences on this trip: walk into a place with absolutely no prior knowledge, notice something with no prodding, ask a question without speaking, to be answered by an expert* with a single silent gesture.

* he has been researching Tiwanaku for decades. He showed us the site map done with ground-penetrating radar, which reveals large subterranean chambers. Alas, permission for excavation unlikely any time soon, he says, because the locals (and current political leadership) don’t want to know that the builders weren’t their ancestors. Who knows?

After three nights in a strange room in the Hotel Ruinas in Cusco, which opened onto the lobby, whose only ventilation was the bathroom fan which involved leaving on an extremely bright ceiling light all night, which guaranteed disrupted sleep, we returned there the final night to a wonderful room with a balcony (#306) — and this gorgeous view in the morning.

Located near Cusco, Tipon isn’t mind-blowing like Machu Pic’chu or Ollantaytambo. But it is an amazing place.

I realize I’ve been kind of slamming the Incas: not because they were incapable of the megalithic work they built on, which is technologically more advanced than anything we can do even now, but because of the “stupid history” that gives them credit for work they could not possibly have done.

I didn’t show it yesterday, but here’s the side of the cave opposite the megalithic “portal.” Megalithic “altar” behind the dude with the hat.

Tipon has a number of well-watered terraces, a collection of microclimates. But your first introduction is a small gurgling waterfall.

Channeled from another waterfall.

And then you realize there are many of them, on every wall, every corner.

Our guide, shaman Dr. Theo Paredes, urged us to pay attention to the distinct sounds of each. When I observed many empty streams (the walls above and to the left), he explained that work was being done on the aqueduct from the source, 2 km away. I could only imagine that with all flowing, the atmosphere must be magic. As it was, all who visited left feeling energized.

Near the very top, the water enters through four streams. Simple, yes?

No! The water enters as one stream, which is divided into two streams, which recombine to one stream, which is then fanned out into four channels (that is not just perspective; the final four streams are farther apart at the end than the beginning).

As Theo tried to explain, what’s going on here is a profound understanding of energies we tend to ignore. Given his credentials —  struck by lightning twice, first time at age 11 — I am happy to accept his word that more is happening here than I perceive.

So it was a place of healing as well as agriculture. And it wouldn’t have been monochromatic — amazing to imagine the effect of the water and geometry with the terraces planted in vibrant colors. Why not?

Returning from Ollantaytambo, we turned off the main road near the Skylodge Adventure Suites, where you can spend the night in a hotel room hanging off the side of a cliff. You can. Me, no thanks.

After winding along a riverbed with 1,000′ cliffs either side, we were let out to scramble up a steep terraced incline to a triangular cave.

Inside, we found a perfectly machined wall and “portal.”

Our guide Wilco explained that in his grandfather’s day, the cave was open and extended very far into the hillside, but had collapsed at some point. The recessed ridges in the “portal” represent levels of consciousness. Portal to where? None of us found out (I think).

I spent a few minutes sitting in it, not as long as I’d have liked (we were quite a few people), but long enough to experience a gentle probing contact, like tentacles of consciousness coming from the rock on either side of me.

Then onto the megalithic gem at the mouth of the cave.

Wilco explained this could be used kneeling, facing the morning sun, or sitting, allowing the energy to be channeled through the base of your skull. Being late in the day, there was no sun.

Again, I took only a short time, out of respect for others. I didn’t feel much here — until I was ready to get up. Then I felt a distinct need to ask permission to disengage (immediately granted). Nobody had mentioned anything like this, nor had I thought of it before. But it clearly felt like the necessary and respectful thing to do.

Life among the easily amused: pity those poor bored tourists behind, missing the subtle excitement of observation and discovery.

On the other hand, perhaps it’s just me: preparing to fly over the Nazca lines.

Ollantaytambo: looking beyond the rock piles

At the end of Perú’s sacred valley lie massive terraces towering above the town of Ollantaytambo.

Fortress, experimental planting center, hangout for the elite, it reflects the Inca’s awesome organizational skills.

But, again, the fun begins with details at the bottom: megalithic carving and stonework.

And at the top, more distinctly megalithic remains. Note the monster monolith, upper right.

Towards the top, an amazing wall of six  monoliths, generally attributed  — without a shred of evidence — to the Incas.

Here you can get an idea of the size of the rocks. And see that mountain in the background? That’s where they were quarried — somewhere the other side of it.

Here’s a closeup, a section perhaps a meter high. And the relief to the right is not a design, insisted Stephen Mehlen, one of many interesting people along on the tour.  Purely functional. How? Probably in a way an Inca with a copper chisel would be hard-pressed to explain.

Think energy, vibration, frequency….