Back in the 1930s, air travel was taking off in South America, offering folks an easy way to soar over the towering peaks. Those fortunate enough to secure a window seat on flights traversing Peru’s elevated plains were in for an unforgettable experience. Peering down at the parched Nazca desert—a sprawling, sunbaked stretch about 250 miles south of Lima, covering roughly 200 square miles—they’d spot something wild: giant markings etched into the dusty ground. Some of the markings resembled people or animals, such as a monkey, a spider, or a hummingbird, while others appeared as a chaotic jumble of lines zigzagging in all directions. The locals had always known about these odd scratches in the dirt, but it wasn’t until planes started buzzing overhead that the full picture came into view. And once it did, people couldn’t stop wondering: who made these things, and why?
The drawings were scratched out using the desert’s own materials—gravel, soil, and the reddish underlayer beneath. With barely an inch of rain a year and hardly any wind to mess things up, these shapes have stuck around for centuries. There are over a hundred of them—plants, animals, even what some folks swear is a spaceman—plus a tangle of straight lines making squares, triangles, and all sorts of wonky shapes. One line even stretches nine miles across the desert like it’s got somewhere to be.
Way back, over 3,000 years ago, this place was home to the Nazca people. They were a clever bunch, masters of pottery, weaving, and building, who figured out how to farm in this brutal landscape with smart irrigation tricks. Most people believe they were the ones who created these designs, but pinpointing the exact date remains a puzzle. Nearby, there’s a city called Cahuachi, just south of the lines, that archaeologists recently pegged as the Nazca’s likely base. As it turns out, a series of harsh natural disasters forced most of them to flee, and those who remained were either driven out or killed by the Spanish conquistadors.
So why’d they make pictures you can only really see from way up high? One of the big names in this mystery, Dr. Maria Reiche, spent her life trying to crack it. She had this idea that the lines matched up with stars popping up in the sky, and the animal shapes were the Nazca’s take on constellations. It’s a cool theory, but not everyone bought it—mainly because those lines can’t be dated. The Earth’s dance with the cosmos shifts over time, so any random line could line up with something starry if you squint at it long enough. Maria dedicated her life to studying the place, and upon her passing in 1998, her remains were interred in the Nazca valley.
Then there’s the wilder stuff. In the ‘60s, guys like Louis Pauwels, Jacques Bergier, and Erich von Daniken started spinning tales about the lines being alien landing strips. Others figured they were a giant calendar, or maybe part of some sacred rituals, or even pointers to hidden water underground. One guy’s got this notion that the Nazca used the lines like a massive loom, with people standing along them holding thread before weaving tools were a thing. But none of these really explain why the view’s best from above. The craziest idea? The craziest idea suggests that the Nazca were the world’s first hot air balloonists, floating up to admire their handiwork.
We’ve learned more about these folks as archaeologists dig up new clues, but the lines themselves are in rough shape these days. Lately, political campaigns and ad companies have been scrawling their junk all over them. Gold and copper mining is tearing through the area too, with trucks and machinery chewing up the desert. The growing local crowd needs water and power, so utility companies are stringing cables and laying pipes right across the site. When you factor in some natural deterioration, these ancient doodles, which represent a peculiar and perplexing glimpse into the past, may not endure for much longer. If they vanish, we’ll lose a piece of humanity’s story that’s still got us stumped.