Money Crimes with Nicole Lapin - Who Drew the Nazca Lines?
Episode Date: June 29, 2026In Peru's scorching Nazca Valley, ancient inhabitants carved enormous animal figures into the desert floor over a thousand years ago — figures so large they can only be understood from the air. In t...his episode of Conspiracy Theories, Cults, and Crimes, Vanessa traces the decades-long quest to decode these mysterious formations, from the mathematician who dedicated her life to the desert to the bestselling author who claimed they were built for alien spacecraft.For more, follow Conspiracy Theories, Cults, and Crimes wherever you listen to podcasts: https://pod.link/1828469754Join Crime House+ to binge a special limited series on Murder: True Crime Stories for America’s 250th: The Crimes That Built America. These are the cases that created the FBI, gave us Miranda rights, sparked criminal profiling, and gave us America’s Most Wanted. Join at crimehouseplus.com or if you’re listening on Apple Podcasts, tap “Try Free” at the top of this show’s page. You’ll also get ad-free and early released episodes across the Crime House lineup.🎧 Need More to Binge? Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Crime House 24/7, Serial Killers & Murderous Minds, Murder True Crime Stories, and more wherever you get your podcasts!Follow me on SocialInstagram: @CrimehouseTikTok: @CrimehouseFacebook: @crimehousestudiosX: @crimehousemediaYouTube: @crimehousestudios
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Hi, listeners, exciting news.
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This is Crime House.
Okay, it's 1927. Somewhere in the foothills of southern Peru, a young archaeologist named Toribio Mejia Sespe is hiking up a steep, dusty trail.
He's on his way to a dig site. The Nazca Valley below him is one of the driest places on earth, a flat expanse of
of reddish-brown pebbles baking under the sun. Almost nothing grows here. Almost nothing ever has.
But when Toribio glances down toward the valley floor, he sees something. He can't quite explain.
Long, straight lines scratched into the desert, six feet wide, hundreds of feet long,
running for what looks like miles. When he scrambles down for a closer look, he can tell the lines
aren't natural. Someone dug them by hand. He has no idea who. He has no idea why. And he has no
idea that the answer will take decades to find, or that some people will refuse to believe it.
From UFO cults and mass suicides to secret CIA experiments, presidential assassinations,
and murderous doctors, these aren't just theories, they're real stories that blur the line
between fact and fiction. I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is Conspiracy Theory's Cults and Crimes,
a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I'll explore
the real people at the center of the world's most shocking events and nefarious organizations.
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conspiracy theories cults and crimes show page. Today I'm investigating the NASCAR lines, a group of
enormous drawings that were carved into a Peruvian desert almost 2,000 years ago. They include
a hummingbird the size of a football field, a monkey with a curly tail, a spider, a dog, a whale,
and dozens of others. From the ground, they look like roads or scratches in the dirt. From the air,
they look like something else entirely. So who made them? And why? Some say it was an ancient
calendar. Others think it was a tribute to the gods. And then there are those who say it was a landing
strip for alien spaceships. But what's the truth? All that and more coming up. The Naska Valley
sits at the foot of the Andes Mountains, about 250 miles south of Peru's capital, Lima. It's a flat,
arid plateau in one of the driest regions on Earth. Daytime temperatures hover in the 90s, less than an
inch of rainfalls in a typical year. Nothing really grows in the open desert. The whole landscape is
just reddish-brown pebbles, stretching for mile after mile under the brutal sun. But the valley
isn't lifeless. A handful of rivers flow down from the Andes and cut through the desert,
creating narrow green valleys where the soil can actually hold water. That's where people built
their homes for thousands of years. They farmed corn, beans, and squash along those rivers. They wove
textiles. They buried their dead. And eventually, they did something else. Something nobody outside the
valley would understand for almost 2,000 years. But to get to that story, we have to start with the
people who came before them. The first major civilization to settle the valley was the Paracas, who lived in the
region from about 800 BCE to 100 BCE. The Paracas were extraordinary artists. They made elaborate
textiles out of dyed wool, woven with scenes of dreamlike creatures, humanoid figures with
birdheads and cat tails, often carrying severed human heads. That was a theme in the Paracas
culture. They were obsessed with their dead. The Paracas wrapped corpses in layer after layer of
these textiles, effectively mummifying them and buried them in tombs filled with gold ornaments,
ceramics, and food offerings. Starting in 1925,
Peruvian archaeologist Julio
uncovered a Paracas burial site north of the Naska Valley,
and when he unwrapped the bodies inside,
he got a shock.
Many of the skulls were strangely elongated,
stretched into a tall, narrow shape.
Experts came to believe the Paracas had done this on purpose
by tightly binding babies' heads
while their skulls were still forming.
After that discovery,
archaeologists flooded into the region.
They wanted Paracas to take.
tombs, treasures, mummies, weird skulls, they wanted it all.
Toribio Mejia Sespe was on his way to one of those dig sites in 1927 when he climbed a
hillside overlooking the valley, and he saw something nobody had really noticed before.
From up on that hill, Toribio could see lines, long, straight grooves running through the
valley floor below, six feet wide, hundreds of feet long, and lighter than the dark stones around
them, like someone had scraped the surface clean to expose the pale dirt underneath.
When he climbed down for a closer look, he could tell these weren't natural.
Someone had dug them by hand, pulling back the surface stones to reveal the soil below.
Teribio became the first archaeologist to document them.
He surveyed the grooves and measured their length, width, and depth.
And based on what he could see from the ground, he came to a conclusion.
These were ceremonial paths, sacred roads used in religious processions.
That was it for him. He didn't have time to dig deeper. He was supposed to be studying the paracas.
The archaeological world wanted treasure and elongated skulls, not some long lines in the dirt.
So Trebio wrote up his findings in an academic paper and went back to his other work.
The paper sat in a drawer for years. It wasn't published until 1939. And when it finally came out,
it landed quietly.
But Teribio's work hadn't been wasted.
A few years later, his findings would catch the eye of someone who would see the lines
from a completely different angle.
In 1941, an American historian named Paul Kosok came to Peru to test a theory.
Kosok was a professor at Long Island University, and he had a pet idea about ancient civilizations.
He believed every major one, Egypt, Rome.
all of them, had grown out of a single shared technology, irrigation. The Romans had aqueducts.
The Egyptians had canals. So if the ancient Peruvians had pulled off a major civilization in a
desert, they must have built waterworks too. Kosok wanted to find them. So he and his wife,
Rose, chartered a small plane and started flying over Peru's coastal valleys,
photographing the ground for traces of ancient canals. It went well. Kosokoskos.
found plenty of irrigation networks to study, but eventually he heard something interesting about
Terebio's paper. A few academics who'd read it had suggested the NASCA lines weren't roads at all.
They thought maybe they were canals dug to capture and channel water during the desert's rare
rainstorms. Canals were exactly Kosok's beat, so in late June he and Rose flew over the
Naska Valley to see for themselves. But once they got up there, they immediately knew they
weren't looking at canals. From a few thousand feet up, the lines did something they couldn't do
from the ground. They formed a picture. Specifically, a giant bird etched into the desert floor.
Paul and Rose couldn't believe it. They were looking at a massive piece of ancient artwork
hiding in plain sight. Local Peruvians had known about the lines for generations, and Peruvian
pilots had spotted some of the figures from the air in the early 1930s, but nobody had taken in
the full scale of what it was down there until the Kosaks saw it. After they landed, the
Kosaks rushed back to the valley to survey the site on foot. The couple spent hours walking the
bird's outline, and as they did, they noticed something. The central line of the bird's tail led up a
nearby hillside. So they followed it. When they reached the top, they found a rocky plateau
looking over the rest of the valley, and from up there they could see more lines, radiating out
in different directions, like the spokes on a wheel. Most were faint. Centuries of wind-blown
rocks and dust had filled the grooves and made them hard to see from the air. But now that the
Kosaks knew what to look for, they could tell the valley was full of these figures. They
lingered on the hilltop to watch the sunset. And that's when they made one more discovery.
As the sun touched the horizon, Rose realized it was lining up perfectly with one of the lines
running up the hillside. That's when they remembered the date, June 22nd. In the Southern
hemisphere, that's the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. This was no coincidence.
Whoever had built the lines had clearly designed at least one of these enormous drawings
to align with the solstice, which meant the other half-buried figures probably had some
kind of astronomical meanings too. Years later, Paul would call the NASCAR lines, quote,
the largest astronomy book in the world.
But finding it raised an obvious question.
How would they read it?
The answer would come from a 37-year-old
part-time nanny in Lima.
Her name was Maria Reisha.
And before long, the locals would come to call her
the Lady of the Lines.
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Hi, listeners, it's Carter Roy, host of Murder True Crime Stories.
I want to let you know that Crime House Plus and Murder True Crime Stories are celebrating America's 250th
by dropping a four-part limited series on the crimes that built America.
These are the crimes and cases that gave us Miranda rights, sparked criminal profiling,
and a murder that built America's missing children movement.
Follow murder, true crime stories for a new episode every Monday leading up to July 4th,
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You're listening on Apple Podcasts.
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In 1941, American historian Paul Kosak and his wife Rose
flew over a Peruvian desert and realized that the strange grooves in the ground
were actually a giant, ancient drawing.
The first of dozens they'd find scattered across the valley.
But Paul had to get back to his teaching job at Long Island University.
He needed someone who could stay on site to study and protect what he'd found.
And he knew exactly who to ask.
Maria Reisha was born in 1903 in Dresden, Germany.
Her father was a judge, and she had a comfortable upper-middle-class childhood,
until 1916 when her father died fighting in World War I.
Maria's mother stepped up.
She was a fiercely independent feminist intellectual,
and after her husband's death,
she went to work as a teacher and social worker to support her three kids.
She also pushed them to chase whatever they,
were passionate about. For Maria, that was science. From an early age, she'd been obsessed with
the natural world. As a kid, she built her own scientific instruments out of knitting needles and
match boxes. As a teenager, she'd sometimes sneak math problems into class, practicing complex
equations on a sheet of paper hidden under her desk. After high school, she went to the Dresden
Technical University, where she studied math, astronomy, geography, and linguistics. Eventually,
she would learn five languages.
She was brilliant.
She was curious, and by the early 1930s,
she could see exactly where Germany was going.
As Adolf Hitler's Nazi party rose to power,
Maria knew she had to get out.
In 1932, the 29-year-old answered a newspaper ad
to work as a nanny for a German diplomat's family in Kusko, Peru.
Maria's first years in Peru weren't glamorous.
She loved Kusko,
the mountains, the food, the centuries-old Inca stonework, but taking care of a seven-year-old wasn't
really her cup of tea. And then in 1934, she nicked her finger on a cactus. The cut got infected
and the infection turned into gangrene. She ended up losing the finger. But that didn't stop her.
After a few years, Maria quit the nanny job and moved to Peru's capital, Lima. She found
steady work teaching languages and translating scientific papers at the University of San Marcos.
That's where she met Paul Kosak. In 1940, he hired her to translate one of his research papers,
and the next year, he reached out again. This time, he had something more hands-on in mind.
He told Maria about the figures he'd found in the NASCA Valley and offered to hire her as a
research assistant. Paul was thinking short-term, maybe a year of fieldwork until he could come back
himself. But as soon as Maria flew over the valley and saw that giant bird in the desert,
she knew this was it. This was what she'd been looking for, her entire life. After Paul left,
Maria began the slow, deliberate work of surveying the lines. Every morning, she got up at 3 or 4 a.m.
and hitched a ride into the valley on a passing truck. She had to start early. By afternoon,
the heat made fieldwork impossible. And to take accurate measurements, she needed to take accurate measurements,
she needed proper surveying equipment, which she had no money to buy,
so she did what would become her trademark over the next half century.
She?
Asked.
Maria walked into the local offices of the Peruvian military, explained the project,
and convinced them to lend her the gear they used for mapping.
They said yes.
It was the first of many times the Peruvian military would help her,
partly out of curiosity, partly because she was hard to say no to.
Using their equipment, Maria carefully measured the dimensions of the bird the Kosox had spotted.
She was there that December for the summer solstice and confirmed that the setting sun aligned with the bird's design then, too.
But that was just the start. To keep going, she'd need more than a one-time loan from the military.
She had a little funding from Paul's research grant. The rest came out of her own pocket or from donations from friends and family.
So she got creative. When she needed a higher,
vantage point to photograph the lines, she borrowed a garbage truck, drove it into the desert,
and climbed on top of it with a ladder she borrowed from the electric company. When she ran out of
actual paper, she took notes on toilet paper. Maria had only been hired to survey the bird,
but the more time she spent in the desert, the more obsessed she became with the other lines.
The grooves were there, but so many dark pebbles had blown into them over the centuries
that the shapes were impossible to see from above.
So Maria started cleaning them.
At first, she used a rake.
That's how she uncovered the second figure at the site,
a 300-foot hummingbird with a long, narrow beak and pointed wings.
To this day, it's one of the most clearly visible drawings in the valley.
But the rake was slow, so Maria switched to a broom.
Line by line, she brushed the dark pebbles out of the grooves,
charting her progress on graph paper as she went. She'd often spend weeks on a single figure,
returning at different times of day to check the lines in different light. Once, she spent weeks
uncovering a long, spiral-shaped tail and assumed she was working on a lizard. When the figure
turned out to be a giant monkey, she collapsed on the desert floor, laughing. Over the next few
years, she uncovered several more figures, a dog, a pair of llamas, three killer whales, a
150-foot spider, flowers, and two lizards. One of the lizards had been cut in half by a highway
someone had built years before she got there. To photograph the new finds from above,
she eventually persuaded the Peruvian military to take her up in one of their helicopters.
When she realized she couldn't get a good angle out the window, she came up with a wilder plan.
Maria had a long wooden board strapped to the bottom of the helicopter. Then she strapped herself
to the board, face down, and had the pilot fly low over the valley while she snapped pictures.
By 1948, Maria had been working in the desert almost continuously for seven years
and had become a familiar sight to the people in the surrounding villages.
She was the strange German woman with the broom, walking the desert before dawn,
and that year, the man who'd given her the job finally came back to see what she'd done with it.
Paul Kosok hadn't meant to be gone so long.
He'd planned to return after a year or two of teaching, but the U.S. had entered World War II in December of 1941, just months after his first trip to Nazca, and travel to Peru became very difficult, then nearly impossible. Then his teaching duties piled up, then the war ended and he had to wait for things to normalize. By the time he finally made it back, the desert he returned to was nothing like the one he'd left. And neither was Maria. She was practically a hermit.
She'd moved into a tiny one-room shack on a ranch near the valley, where she spent her nights pouring over charts and calculations.
The place was infested with mice, so she'd taken to pinning all her paperwork to the ceiling to keep it from getting chewed up.
Paul was blown away by how much she'd done and how meticulous she was about it.
While he was visiting, he and his son helped her clean one of the lines by just kicking pebbles out of the grooves with their boots.
Maria must have been horrified.
Her technique was a single soft brush.
The contrast wasn't lost on Paul.
He'd been the one who first identified the bird from the air.
He'd been the one who'd hired her.
But while he'd been back home teaching,
Maria had been here every day in the heat and the dust.
She knew every figure.
She knew every groove.
She was risking her life, dangling out of military helicopters,
to photograph her own discoveries.
By the end of his visit, Paul Reef.
realized something. This wasn't his sight anymore. It was Maria's. Before he flew back to the States,
he formally handed control of the NASCA Lines archaeological project over to her. The Lady of the Lines
was officially in charge. Maria didn't waste a moment. In 1949, she published a book about
her discoveries called Mystery on the Desert. It was a hit, translated into multiple languages,
and sold around the world.
The Peruvian government even used it as proof
that the NASCAR lines were a national treasure.
For the first time,
international tourists started showing up to the valley.
That quickly became a problem.
The Peruvian government had recognized the NASCAR lines
as historically important,
but it hadn't put any real resources behind protecting them.
There were no fences, no signs, no park rangers.
The site was just out there,
and visitors were free to wander,
wherever they wanted, including in some cases driving cars and trucks right across the figures.
So Maria appointed herself the site's protector. She lobbied the government to reroute a planned highway
so it wouldn't cut across one of the lines. She kept curious visitors at a respectful distance,
and on at least one occasion, she warned a tour group not to come back at night unless they
wanted to catch her dancing naked under the moon. While Maria was clearing and protecting
the lines, she was also trying to figure out what they meant. After years of measurements and
observations, she became convinced that the giant animals weren't just art. They were a calendar,
a massive, walkable star chart on the desert floor. In multiple books and papers, she argued that
each figure was tied to a specific constellation. The spider lined up with Orion. The monkey
lined up with the Big Dipper, the famous star pattern inside the constellation Ursa Major,
The way the lines crossed each figure tracked the way the constellations moved across the sky.
Here's why that mattered.
The Big Dipper rose into the desert sky about a month before the December solstice.
That same window marked the start of the rainy season in the Green River valleys where the people who built the lines actually lived.
So picture one of those builders, a priest maybe, walking out to the giant monkey on a clear desert night.
He looks up, sees the Big Dipper rising in the world.
the right position and he knows the rains are coming. He sends word back to the farming communities,
time to plant. A giant hand-built calendar drawn into the desert by a civilization that lived and died
by the timing of its harvests. It was an elegant theory, but to test it, Maria needed to know more
about who those builders actually were. And in the early 1950s, an American archaeologist arrived
to fill in that picture.
In 1952, Columbia University archaeologist William Duncan Strong started excavating a major ruin
about 15 miles from the NASCAR lines.
The site was a sprawling complex of 40 small adobe pyramids, mounds, and plazas.
Today, it's called Kawachi, and it's where archaeologists got their clearest look at the people
who'd built the NASCA lines.
The NASCA turned out to be the cultural air.
to the Paracas, the same people whose elongated skull mummies had drawn archaeologists to the region in the first place.
Most experts now date the Nazca civilization from around 100 BCE to 800 CE.
That puts them on earth at the same time as the late Roman Empire.
Like the Paracas, they mummified their dead, and they were just as fixated on severed heads.
Trophy heads kept showing up in Nazca pottery and textiles, sometimes hanging from the
belts, sometimes held aloft.
Archaeologists have also found the real thing at Kowachi, human skulls with carrying cords
threaded through holes drilled in the forehead.
At first, Strong and his colleagues thought Kowachi was the capital of a powerful NASCA Empire.
That was the obvious read for a site that size.
But the more they dug, the less it fit.
There were no barracks, no storerooms, none of the trash and household debris you'd expect
from a city full of people.
In fact, Kowachi was strangely clean.
Almost the only thing they found at the site was the shattered remains of thousands of decorated clay pots and panpipes,
instruments that looked like they'd been smashed on purpose as part of ceremonies.
Strong's team also unearthed what may have been the largest piece of woven cloth ever made in the ancient Americas,
buried at the base of the main mound.
It took decades of follow-up work to fully revise the picture.
Most of it was done by two archaeologists, Helene Silverman and Giuseppe O'Efici, and the conclusions
they reached were striking.
Kowachi wasn't really a capital.
It was a pilgrimage site, and the NASCAR weren't an empire.
They were a network of loosely affiliated farming communities scattered across the green valleys
around the desert.
A few times a year, those communities would gather at Kowachi for ceremonies, burials and
religious rituals.
And archaeologists now believe that one of the most important rituals was creating the NASCAR lines and reading them.
It all fit Maria's theory.
The lines weren't random.
They weren't decorations.
They were part of the religious and agricultural life of an entire civilization.
Most archaeologists came around to some version of this picture.
A few held out, arguing the figures had nothing to do with the stars at all,
that they were religious art or pathways or something else.
entirely. But the loudest challenge came from a man with no formal training, no excavations to his
name, and one very strange idea. He thought the Nazca lines were built by aliens. By the 1960s,
Maria Reisha had spent two decades in the NASCA desert. She'd cleared and mapped dozens of giant
figures, traced their connections to the sky, and argued in book after book that the Nazca lines were an
ancient astronomical calendar tied to the ceremonial center at Kowachi. The world's archaeologists
were paying attention. But so was somebody else. His name was Eric von Denikin. You might remember him
from our Stonehenge episode. And surprise, surprise, he had thoughts about the Nazca lines too.
In the early 1960s, von Denikin was managing a hotel in Davos, Switzerland by day and trying
to solve the mysteries of the universe by night. He was an amateur archery.
archaeologist, no formal training, who'd traveled to ancient ruins all over the world.
The Egyptian pyramids, Stonehenge, Chechnica in Mexico.
In the mid-1960s, he added the NASCA lines to the list.
These weren't vacations.
He was working on a book that combined his love of ancient ruins with his other lifelong obsession, UFOs.
And the question that drove the whole project was, in fairness, actually a pretty good one.
He asked, how could the NASCA people have made figures this enormous if they couldn't see them from the air?
It's worth taking seriously. For more than a thousand years, everyone who'd encountered the lines had just assumed they were roads.
You really can't make out what the figures are without a view from a few thousand feet up, and human flight wasn't possible until the early 20th century.
So how did the NASCA pull it off? How did they get the proportions right?
how did they know where to dig?
According to von Dakin, the only answer that made sense was guidance from above.
Someone overhead, something overhead, telling them where to scrape next.
In 1968, Fondanagan's book hit the shelves.
He called it Chariots of the Gods.
His pitch was simple.
Throughout human history, a super advanced alien race had been quietly guiding our development.
They'd buried secret technology underground.
Technology the ancient world wasn't ready for.
And they'd helped early humans build monuments like the pyramids and Stonehenge
on top of those burial sites as markers for future generations to find.
But the NASCAR lines were different.
They weren't markers for buried tech.
They were an airport.
According to Von Daniken, the layout of the NASCA lines wasn't designed by the NASCA at all.
It was designed by those aliens.
They laid out the runways, parking spots, and flight paths exactly the way you would at a modern airport.
And he didn't stop there.
He pointed to the figures and symbols drawn on hillsides around the valley, including the famous 100-foot humanoid known today as the astronaut.
It has a round head, large eyes, and a hand raised in a wave.
Most archaeologists think it represents a Nazca priest, a shaman or demon, or demon.
possibly tied to the imagery of an owl, which was sacred in many Andean cultures.
But the figure's bubble-shaped head looks a lot like a spacesuit helmet, so visitors started
calling it the astronaut, and the name stuck.
Fondanikan claimed the astronaut was a tribute to the Nazca's alien gods.
He said the other hillside markings were signals, visual guides for incoming UFOs.
Together with the airport-style line layouts, the picture he painted was vivid.
a kind of intergalactic transit hub, hidden in plain sight in the Peruvian desert for 2,000 years.
Chariots of the Gods was a worldwide phenomenon.
It eventually sold more than 70 million copies and was adapted into an Academy Award-nominated documentary.
In the early 1970s, Fondannikin became one of the most famous amateur archaeologists on Earth.
There was just one problem.
He'd been funding the whole project on borrowed,
money. To pay for his global travel, Fondanagan had been forging hotel records and credit references,
eventually running up roughly $130,000 in fraudulent loans. In November 1968, just months after his
book hit the shelves, he was arrested. In 1970, he was sentenced to three and a half years in prison
for fraud and embezzlement. He served one year. The book sales paid off his debts and banked
rolled the rest of his career, but while Fondanagan was selling millions of copies,
the Lady of the Lines wasn't buying it.
In the 1970s, when the Chariots of the Gods documentary was in theaters,
Time magazine asked Maria what she thought of Fondanagan's theories.
She laughed them off.
When the reporter asked how the NASCA had built such precise figures without a spotter in an airplane,
Maria didn't waver.
Based on her research, the NASCA had started by sketching.
watching small versions of their designs on a grid of six-foot-by-six-foot dirt plots near the actual site.
Using two wooden stakes and a length of rope, they could measure out the exact proportions of every arc, line, and center point.
Once they had the small version right, they just scaled it up and repeated the same work, plot by plot, on the desert floor.
And unlike Fondanagan, she had proof.
Archaeologists had found the remnants of those small practice plots near many of the figures.
Maria could also point to small holes at the center points of arcs,
exactly where the NASCA would have anchored their stakes and ropes.
Her last point was the simplest.
Archaeologists had found thousands of traces of the humans who lived and worked in the Naska
Valley over the centuries, bones, pottery, tools, trash.
But in all her years there, Maria had never found a single piece,
of alien litter. If the valley really had been a bustling extraterrestrial airport, you'd think
somebody would have dropped something, a wrapper, a bolt, anything, but the Lady of the Lines
had never seen it. Here's what's frustrating about Fondanagan's argument. It hinges on the idea
that the NASCA couldn't have made the lines on their own, that the math, the precision, the scale
must have come from somewhere otherworldly. But look at who he was talking about.
about. The Nazca built underground aqueducts that still work today. The largest piece of woven
cloth in the ancient Americas. They tracked stars. They built pyramids. That's not a civilization that
needed help. And it's worth noticing which civilizations Fondanagan kept reaching for. The Egyptians,
the Mayans, the Incas, the Nazca. He didn't argue that aliens built the Parthenon. He saved
that theory almost exclusively for non-European cultures. The same ones,
colonizers had spent centuries calling primitive. Fondanagan died in Switzerland in January
26 at 90 years old. Unfortunately, his ideas about the Nazca lines outlived him, but so did the work
of the woman who spent her life proving him wrong. Maria Reisha died in 1998 at the age of 95.
She'd spent more than 50 years in the Nazca Valley, transforming our understanding,
of the people who built it and protecting their artwork from highways, looters, and over-eager tourists.
In Peru today, she's a national hero.
There are streets named after her, an airport.
More than 50 schools are named after her.
But the idea that the site was simply a calendar has evolved.
Today, most archaeologists think the answer is some combination.
The lines were processional paths used by pilgrims coming to Kowachi, with some astronomical
and water-related symbolism layered in.
The calendar was probably part of the picture, but not the whole thing.
The NASCAR lines are now a UNESCO World Heritage Site
and one of Peru's most visited tourist attractions.
Every year, hundreds of thousands of people fly over the valley
to see the figures with their own eyes
and form their own theories about what they were for.
But I really want to hear what you think.
Were the NASCAR lines a calendar, a tribute to the gods, something else entirely?
And what's the wildest theory about them you've come across?
Drop a comment wherever you're listening.
I'd love to hear them all.
And the story still isn't finished.
In 2024, archaeologists announced something Maria never lived to see.
A research team using artificial intelligence and high-resolution imaging had nearly
doubled the number of known figurative geoglyphs in the NASCA region.
They added 303 new figures to the catalog.
Some were humanoid.
Others were animals, smaller and stranger than anything Maria had ever uncovered.
And the technology keeps getting better, which means more discoveries are coming every year.
We may never know exactly why the NASCAR drew their lines.
But Maria spent more than 50 years in that desert, proving one thing.
It wasn't aliens who made them.
It was people.
Thanks so much for listening.
I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is Conspiracy Theory's Cults and Crimes.
Come back next time.
We'll hear another story about the real people at the center of the world's most notorious cults, conspiracies, and criminal acts.
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