Overlanding – Second Time Around The World

Finally it starts to feel like summer! Or not…

We left the Carretera Austral at Villa Santa Lucia, (remember from the previous post, the town that had been covered by mud) and headed up the dirt road towards the Argentinian border, following the Futaleufu river after passing Lago Yelcho. At the start it looked like we were going to climb high up through the mountains, but in reality the pass over the Andes ridge was an easy one. The blue Futaleufu river was a popular destination for those who like whitewater rafting and canoeing: everywhere along the way we passed launching spots. At the few peek-a-boo spots through the trees, we could see rafts speeding downstream. In the town of Futaleufu – filled with adventure seeking backpackers – it was easy to find a restaurant to have lunch before we’d cross the border. Despite being surrounded by snow peaks, it was getting hot: a short siesta time in our camper parked along the central plaza felt more like sauna time: we soon continued towards the border.

*The restaurant along the Plaza in Futaleufu where we had Italian pasta*

Once back in Argentina, we looked for an overnight spot and ended up at “The southernmost vineyard” which also offered camping. It was truly a beautiful, well built and maintained place that promised designated RV spots with electric and water hookups and Wifi throughout the premises. The camping fees were the highest we’d encountered so far in Argentina so we were a bit disappointed when, after we were informed of the price and some shady RV spaces were unoccupied, we were directed to a tent camping spot where all the amenities were out of reach and shade trees too low to keep us somewhat cool during the 30⁰ C heat. Using the Wifi from outside the bathroom block was not what I expected either – for that price and promise. We decided to look for a better, cooler spot further down the road.

*Elderberry (Sauco) bushes are very common in the Andes mountains. This was the tree we had to find shade under. (Didn’t work) But we love the jams an jellies made of this superfruit!*

*It was really a lovely campground, and since we left we’ve seen prices much higher*.

We found our place in the shade after Kristopher and Verena, a German couple we’d met before, on the pretty beach in Chile and again on the road, adviced us to go up to Laguna la Zeta, the lake nearby the town of Esquel – they had enjoyed quite some time there when the COVID-19 quarantine started and they were not allowed to enter the town. They knew the area well and showed us a few beautiful spots along the shores… we elected to stay in the shade of a pine forest overlooking the lake and its beach guests enjoying the cool clear waters below us.

*Laguna la Zeta is both the public pool and beach of Esquel: under the watchful eyes of lifeguards, kids play and the swim club practices alongside rentable kayaks.*

Here we stayed for the hottest days, waiting for the weather to cool. During the cool early mornings we walked around the lake: about half of its perimeter was accessible for camping with many lovely spots on soft green grass or between low hanging trees; the other half was pasture for horses and cattle, the lake’s edges were bordered by reeds. The far and shallow end of the lake was a bird sanctuary: the soft, marshy ground along this side kept us, intruders, at a safe distance for them not to feel threatened. By late afternoon our shady pine forest filled up with day guests, who parked their cars around us and emptied their trunks of beach chairs and blankets, and walked down to the waterside loaded with food, their thermos bottles and mate cups. By evening all would be quiet again when everyone, except for a few campers, left. We made friends with our Brazilian neighbors Mattias and Clarissa,who arrived one day in a tiny overloaded Suzuki Jimmy, heavy with a roof tent with side extension, complete camping gear, bicycles and their dog. Befitting the norm of many Brazilians, they automatically included us in their dinner plans, so sweet! We contributed wine, appetisers and salad, and enjoyed some rich meals together at -for us- odd dinner times.

*Early morning view from the other side of the lake*

*Full moon rising. This was going to be the night to see the green comet…no chance with that moon!*

*Thijs had the BBQ, Mattias had the meat. Food collaboration!*

When the weather cooled down some, we hit the road again. Unfortunately the Parque Nacional de los Alerces, which came highly recommended, was on fire. We heard from our German friends, who went ahead, that they were forced to leave the park when the fire encroached around them. We took the main road instead and approached El Bolsón when the next heatwave hit. Just in time we reached a pebble beach along the Rio Azul, where immediately we found a friend in Mario and Maria, who practically lived there already for a few weeks in their camper and trailer. He went out of his way to show us the best spots. Here, again (it is mid-summer here) the beach filled with day guests by late afternoon, leaving us by ourselves for the rest of the time to enjoy the sun in the shade, the clear, cool water of the river, and nature beyond…Until all of a sudden the location seemed to have been discovered: on our last evening we got inundated with campers who settled all around us! Good thing we already were planning to leave the next morning, with the next cool spell.

*We found another great spot. Along the Rio Azul.*

El Bolsón is a small town on Ruta #40. (With a surprising amount of traffic!) The main square and several buildings around the center are charming, while along the main through fare, an abundance of bakeries, deli and cheese stores tempt one to buy too much. We should not stay too long here! Already a while ago, our South American insurance agent had invited us to visit their farm/campground not far north of El Bolson, so we made that our next stop. We reached it over an extremely bumpy road, when – fate has it- I forgot to lock one upper cabinet door and a heavy glass bowl fell out, shattered on, and broke our sink cover: during our seven- some years of travel this was only the second time this happened. !Always check the locks of your cabinets before driving!

The farm, embraced by mountains on both sides, stretched along a stream lined with green trees and bushes. Most of the land was naturalized, somewhat controlled by the grazing of a small flock of sheep and a family of rabbits. From an elevated viewpoint you could see a multitude of green circles in their dry grassland, created by a sprinkling system. Three years ago a forest fire nearly destroyed all the work done to the land, the life stock, and the buildings. Since that time they try to keep the worst of the drought out by diverting a water source into the sprinklers. We enjoyed a couple of quiet days by ourselves, and evenings in good company of our hosts Klaus and Claudia.

It was time to revisit Bariloche; the town that used to be the pearl of Argentina back in 1978. Back then, every Argentinian we met asked us what we thought of their country, and asked if we’d been to Bariloche yet – we should defenitly visit – which we did, just before crossing into Chile. From that time, I remember the beautiful mountain scenery with poplars in their golden autumn glory, with bushes full of rosehip and clearwater creeks. Of Bariloche I remembered the German/Swiss Alpine building style, with lots of natural wood and balconies, and their chocolate – you could not leave without buying some. How it had changed: the chocolate was still popular, but Bariloche had become a rather ugly city with hectic traffic and a terrible reputation of petty crime. We heard so many warnings, never to leave your vehicle unattended. We heard from fellow travellers that had their window shattered and camera equipment stolen when shopping for groceries, or of some, even when in the car, that had their door locks broken… We decided this time for an expensive campground, and not to stay longer than necessary. By then the temperature had dipped to 13⁰C (30⁰ Fahrenheit dip from the week before) with freezing winds throwing up white caps on the otherwise beautiful blue lake bordering Bariloche. We were ready for the last leg of our Argentinian trip, along the 7 lakes (actually 13) in the Andean mountain range north of Bariloche. And hopefully some more summer weather.

*Every now and then, little fish, or even a trout would jump up out of the water, chasing a flies.* *But so far we have not been bothered by many insects along this route going north.*

*Even when the days were warm, the night were chilli. You had to have your breakfast in the sun.*

Where the Carretera Austral ends in the water.

Giant chilean Gunneras, with leaves averaging over one meter across, rule the open spaces between the road and the woods. At times it tends to compete for airspace with equally giant bright green tree ferns, or hugged by the neighborly fine leaved bushes of fuchsias, sparkling with tiny red flowers. Here and there, tall stalks of pink foxgloves triumphantly poke through the oversized foliage. Then a bouquet of flaming orange crocusmias steals the show, while bright yellow parasols of flowers – I don’t know the name of – try hard by sheer volume. The gunneras however, not to be outdone, are raising their own rust- brown blooming stalks, growing solidly from the bottom crown upwards.

After our visit to the marble caves, we rattled northwards to the largest town along the Carretera Austral: Coyhaique. Here we could stock up on groceries and check in at a campground to clean up ourselves, the camper, and our clothes. It was a busy campground where we even met some fellow travelers that we last saw in Uruguay. They came from the north, where we were planning to go, so they pointed out some interesting must- see locations. Soon we were off to see for ourselves.

*Creek with a view adjacent to the Coyhaique campground*

*That long and dusty road…has so much beauty to offer.*

The road brought us through the damp mountain side forests of Queulat National park, where lichen, mosses, and flowering vines decorated the tree trunks. We stopped at a short trail to a waterfall – where for a moment I lost my balance on an uneven slippery rock above a cliff, after Thijs urged me to come up just that much further than the official end of the trail – to where the water splashed into a deep pool. It gave me a scare, but I survived the challenge without a scratch!

Before we knew it, we arrived in the quaint fjord side village of Puyuhuapi. Many Germans had settled here, which was especially visible by the street names and one or two houses with distinct building style. Most other houses drew their charm from wooden clapboard and tin roofing, pretty typical for this region. We found a grassy camping spot overlooking the mirror flat water of the fjord (no wind!!) where a few seals and dolphins played within sight. Occasionally a weathered looking man with his dogs walked by, handling a crooked wheelbarrow, which he proceeded to fill with grass sods selected from the waterside. He greeted us and didn’t seem to mind us as temporary neighbors.

*The road was getting from bad to worse*. *Unbelievable, but we preferred the washboard road to this*.

*Looking over the fjord of Puyuhuapi. On the mountainside on the left is one of the first (German style) houses built here.*

*Clapboard* *houses are the most common here.*

*Big trees are cut lenghtwise with* *a chainsaw. But the chainsaw was too short, so the last bit was split apart with wedges, which were made on the spot.*

*In this town they either loved – or received an good deal* *on yellow paint*

After a few relaxing days we continued on our way north through landscape that increasingly looked more developed, with green meadows, more homesteads and a perfectly paved road – you don’t know how much to appreciate smooth pavement until you’ve gone a while without. So here we could focus our attention on the beauty around us: the turquoise rivers and lakes, the ancient forests and roadside blooms, the views of the snow topped mountains… It all looked so idyllic, until we reached Villa Santa Lucia, where in the morning of December 16, 2017, after torrential rains followed an extended period of drought, a large chunk of a nearby glacier collapsed, causing ice, rocks, mud, trees and debris to race down the mountain and bury half of the village. At 72 km/hour, it took the mudslide only five minutes to run eight kilometers from the top of the mountain down to the village, surprising people in their houses. Four years later the evidence of this disaster still makes an impact. We stopped to visit the small museum established by the inhabitants of the only house that withstood the inundation (though they had to remove meter-high mud in- and around their house, and restore a collapsed side) The one room museum showed photos of the disaster and the rescue that followed, samples of items found in the mud, and pictures naming the 22 victims that did not survive. Seeing this record in the actual disaster area made a deep impact on us and proved how fragile the beauty of this part of the earth is…

*Villa Santa Lucia, still covered in mud (now dry)*

*In the distant mountain one can see the collapsed glacier that caused the mudflow*

“*One Saturday morning, we were all surprised*
*by a strange and extended rumble,*
*an overwhelmingly cruel silence.*
*Twenty two lives ended on that sad day”.*

The carretera remained smoothly paved, so it did not take long to reach Chaiten, the last town before the end of the road – although one can actually continue some more when you take a couple of ferries across the water that separates the developed northern mainland from the laid- back patagonian land frays. We did not want to leave Patagonia yet, so we turned around at the ferry landing. But before returning to Villa Santa Lucia, for the turnoff back to the Argentinian side of the Andes mountains, we found a pretty beach outside of Chaiten. The weather was quiet, sunny and pleasant, the people we met here were friendly and approachable, and the sunsets just gorgeous. Again, we could not resist staying for a few days. Life is good when living on the beach.

*Playa Santa Barbara, just north of Chaiten, allowed us a few days of camping.*

At the land’s end of the Carretera Austral, there was one more great National Park to visit: Parque Nacional Pumalin happened to be the first land purchased by Douglas Tompkins (and the start of land purchases under his name that would turn the Carretera Austral into the Ruta de Parques); this time to protect the primordial forests with trees of up to 3000 years old. We went to take a few hikes here and felt like we were walking through a fairy land, lush with ferns, babbling brooks and waterfalls, and tall trees covered with soft, dripping mosses. It reminded me of a cross between the Sequoia forests and Olympic National park in the Western United States. The park also contains a few volcanos. In 2008 the volcano Chaiten suddenly and violently erupted after 9000 years of dormancy. The sediment flow, activated by rain, covered half of the nearby town of Chaiten with one and a half meters of mud. Fortunately people had been able to evacuate in time. Pumalin park however, was seriously damaged, and needed to rebuild it’s infrastructure as a National Park. That setback took several years. But the volcano – still letting off steam- added one more element to the feeling of walking through ancient history.

*To get us through the the mud, over creeks, and rocks, these kind of steps and walkways were constructed*

*Often the bare roots kept us from slipping*

*A short review of the birth of this park*

*At the end of the road, one can still continue the Carretera Austral by taking a few ferries, to bring you into the developed world. For us, this is where we leave it for now.*

Marble Caves, and why I dislike tours

When on Saturday it was clear that Sunday remained the best day to visit the marble caves, we walked over to one of the waterfront kiosks and reserved a spot for a ride. We knew what we wanted and made that clear: 1. for the best light, when the low sun would shine deep into the caves, we wanted the earliest as possible ride, 2. A boat with at the most 10 people, so you wouldn’t have other people (faces) in your photos when looking over the other side, and 3. We wanted to see just the caves… We were assured that would be no problem and we signed up for the earliest at 8AM ride (still, in our opinion, on the late side). Sunday morning at 7:30AM we walked over to report our presence. No-one was there yet, but other kiosks were opening up. At 7:45AM the organizers were there, but no other customers. At 8:00AM, while at some other kiosks customers were all ready in life vests walking to the boat landing, a volume of customers showed up – way too many for a 10 people boat. Only then were we told we’d have to wait until there would be enough people to fill a smaller boat for the “caves only” ride – maybe by 10:00AM… Annoyed, we cancelled our ride with this company and I ran over to another one that seemed to be ready to depart, and yes, they could add us on their ten person boat, but it would be the full tour (whatever that meant, we’d find out) We signed up and left right away. So, the full tour meant that first we went to the other side of the lake to admire a boat wreck, followed by a stop in a village that used to have a marble mine (not interested in either one- been there, done that similar stuff before) So I sat and waited along the beach, which I must admit, was peaceful and pretty.

At around 9:30AM, when the sun was already high in the sky, we reached the caves. The first ones turned out to be around the corner from the village, and had multiple entries to reach by boat. The marble was grey with white stripes and yellowish growth coming out of cracks. The boat and its people both shaded the caves as well as bounced off its colors on the marble surfaces. There were many caves we floated into, enough for many other boats to join in the fun without being in each other’s way. Only at the very end we reached the marble cathedral and marble chapel (which resembled a big rock on marble stilts) Here, one had to accept a large gathering of boats and canoes crowding the site and I wondered if maybe only these last two places would make up to be the “caves only” destination we initially had in mind.

Once we reached the caves, it was selfie time! There and then it dawned on me why the magic light of the morning didn’t seem important to the majority of the visitors: most were not even admiring the caves, but only themselves through their phone cameras. Selfie sticks poked out from every side for faces grimaced in posed smiles, and fingers held up with peace signs. The tour leader volunteered to shoot pictures of groups that crowded out the views we came to see. I was glad to be in the front row seat, with Thijs a way back on the other side. The other front row seat was occupied by a young guy who must have made at least a hundred pictures of his same overly happy face, only looking over his shoulder to make sure he would not get hit by a protruding marble point.

Despite the crazy tour experience we didn’t regret waiting for that one sunny day or taking the tour…unless you have your own boat, there is no other way to see this natural phenomena. We enjoyed the beauty of the lake and got to see and touch the natural marble sculptures from up close. It is a unique sight to see. After the tour, I spoke to the woman who registered us. She informed us that we could have taken a sunrise canoe tour, or hire a whole boat for a private tour, which would cost a small fortune…a little late, and yes, we can only blame ourselves for not shopping around.

From Route 40 to the Carretera Austral: The Patagonia National Parks

From our departure point of el Chaltén, we drove to, and then over the legendary route #40 (stretching north to south across Argentina, from its southern tip all the way to the Bolivian border) Just like in eastern Patagonia along route #3, settlements along route #40 are spread thin: with a 400km stretch between the turn-off near Tres Lagos and the one to route #41 past Bajo Caracoles, it takes a good detour to reach the gas station about halfway along, at the town of Gobernador Gregores. In the hamlet of Bajo Caracoles, we found a large gathering of motorcyclists and a couple of cars waiting to be serviced at the sticker-plastered fuel pump. The guy first in line turned around, throwing up his hands in despair: they’d run out of fuel, and it would be a day or two before a new supply was expected. The next fuel station would be at least 200km either way… Caracoles had just a few buildings and one hotel with, from the looks of it, maybe five rooms … The (only) store/restaurant- half of the building had an overload of sodas and alcoholic beverages, as well as sweet and savory snacks, but little choice in nutritious food. We still had a comfortable amount diesel to get us to the next town, but I wonder about all these people waiting to fill up…

*Stickers along the southern highways are the traveler’s grafiti. Tags everywhere, like on fuel pumps. (Note: This was not the Caracoles station)*

*The road stop at Baja Caracoles: not much in descent food to get here*

*Ruta #40: the famous Argentinian North-South highway is not always a smooth road*.

Ruta 40 had gradually deteriorated from perfectly smooth for the first half, to a few potholes and sinking pavement, and finally unpredictable stretches of dusty corrugated gravel. And we decided we wanted to have more of this! Route 41, which connects the #40 in Argentina with the just as (in)famous # 7- Carretera Austral in Chile is a generally rough gravel road. But what a beautiful road it was! With that I mean the scenery. The land around us turned from desert grey-green, to a sparse spring-green in the wide riverbed of the Rio Blanco and, once we crossed the Paso Roballos and the border to Chile, a jubilant range of yellows, whites and greens welcomed us. Argentina’s version of Patagonia National Park is divided in several parts: we drove the part along old sheep farms (where we spotted more guanacos and rheas than sheep) between foothills of the Andes mountains, and up along the river valley of the Rio Blanco. Here, we thought it peculiar that green and wet land sits right beside desert ground. Maybe because the road cuts through it, the park had no entry fee and, since no wild camping is allowed within the boundaries of the park, we had to spend the night at the park’s (also free) camping area -with basic but clean facilities. It was nice to have trees for wind protection, to see a puma warning sign but no puma, fruiting bushes along the trail to the river, and grass to sit among the free roaming horses.

Route#41, the road that connects Argentina’s #40 to Chili’s #7, the Carretera Austral. It’s a rough road but it leads through the increasingly beautiful Patagonia National Parks via Paso Roballos

*The first signs of (bright) green in the Rio Blanco river bed* *in the Argentinian Patagonia National park.*

*Near Paso Roballo the land gets wetter*

The next morning we continued our rattling drive towards the Paso Roballos, where a tiny border post let us out of Argentina. Soon, even before the Chilean border post, we passed a signpost announcing the Patagonia National Park of Chile. Only there and then we learned that this is one of the parks that Kristina Tompkins (former CEO of Patagonia brand outdoor wear) and her husband Doug Tompkins ( founder of The North Face) purchased as a Tompkins Conservation project, restored and developed it as a nature park, and donated it to the Chilean National Parks system to be enjoyed by the world. The initiative started years ago, when this couple hiked and camped there and saw the potential of this beautiful land, though at the time most of the Chacabuco valley still consisted of overgrazed sheep farms. Now most of it is rewilded, with undulating grass lands, wildflowers, fruit bearing shrubs, and stands of indigenous trees; an environment that encouraged the proliferation and comeback of guanacos, rheas, chinchillas, hares, foxes, armadillos and pumas. Although the connecting Argentina-Chile road runs straight through there, driving by car when visiting is discouraged – hiking encouraged. Only one of the pristine campgrounds is accessible to camper cars, the others are walk-in, tent camping only. Most trails are for foot-traffic, but from our camper-site there was a rare track that one can drive or walk: it leads up to the Doug Tompkins lookout. Of that 6km track, one can drive up, and walk the last 500m (a ridiculously short hike) or hike the whole way, and as a third option, drive halfway, park your car and walk up 3km. Nearing the top, there are other, longer walking trails veering off in a several directions. The bottom half cuts through flowering shrub lands, with vistas over the valley, while along the top half of the trail, trees shade the path. Once we reached the lookout, we found a well-built shelter with sturdy benches and tables inviting us to take a lunch break, while gazing at the distant snow peaks and the blue Lake Cochrane below us.

*Just across the border to Chile, the desert turned colorful.*

*Historic Lucas Bridges’ house on what formerly was an overgrazed sheep farm in the Chacabuco valley. Now lush grass moves with the winds.*

As opposed to the well-known parks we recently visited, there was no-one else on the trail. We had the whole place to ourselves. The low park attendance may be due to its difficult accessibility, which is by rough corrugated gravel and dirt roads with steep inclines and descents: beside the Paso Roballos road from where we entered, there’s also the north-south artery, the Carretera Austral, which is a mostly unpaved dirt road. Plus, this park, especially in comparison to the Argentinian parks, costs a small fortune to visit and camp. But nature is so beautiful and peaceful, and the area so well managed, that it is worth the money.

The stages of this strange bloom on the patagonian beech tree. First we thought we were looking at a miniature type of mistletoe, but the yellow bunches are the budding stage of the whitish bloom fluff.

At the headquarters we stopped to pay our dues, and visited the excellent museum. There are three permanent exhibits: the world’s environmental history and state, the history of the park and its inhabitants past and present; and the Tompkins Conservation initiative.

A few things however were disappointing in this park: when crossing the Chilean border, no fresh and raw food can be kept, so with the little food we had left, we wanted to splurge on lunch at the park’s restaurant – reported to be expensive but excellent. We couldn’t. Twenty-four hour advance reservations were required, and nothing could budge them, even when the grounds looked sparsely populated (mostly staff there). We were directed to the coffee shop – which we found in the administration building (the buildings were re-assigned after the handover, but the name plaques weren’t) where we could choose a prepackaged sandwich or salad. We opted for the salad and, while the weather outside was gorgeous and inside was dark and gloomy, we looked for a table or at least a seat outside…nothing there, so we ended up eating from our laps on the steps. Sometimes stupid little things like that can sour an otherwise great experience.

Before turning north on the Carretera Austral, we detoured south to get fresh groceries and Wifi updates – except for a few slow 3G moments, we had not been linked to the world for a while. We needed to update our phones and download photos to the cloud. The town of Cochrane – adjacent to the park – was laidback and just big enough to get your necessities. The camping we chose was the size of someone’s backyard, but with clean bathrooms, excellent Wifi, and near the shops, so we stayed for an extra day to wash the dust off our bodies, and catch up with the world. On the map we spotted our next destination, north along the bone-rattling Carretera Austral: some years ago I saw pictures of grey/white marble caves, elegantly shaped by blue water. They’d be about 114 km up the road. It took us half a day to get there, driving over the dusty road along the bright blue Baker river canyon and past pine forests, so neatly planted, they looked like an army of parading soldiers.

*Baker river valley, driving towards Cochrane*

*The main building of the campground in Cochrane. Maybe you wouldn’t think so, but it was clean and had excellent internet. That’s what counts.*

*Along the Cochrane Plaza de Armas, cherries were sold off the truck. Most people bought four whole kilos!*

Flowers along the road made us stop several times. This time we discovered we had a flat tire, which we wouldn’t have noticed if we had not stopped. (One of the rear dual wheel tires) Fortunately it was just the valve that must have unscrewed by the rattling road.

*Big tall bushes of wild hardy fuchsias grew everywhere along the road, like I’ve never seen them before!*

Carretera Austral, on our way to Lago Carrera and the marble caves.

*Lago Bertrand along the Carretera Central seemed to be a popular place to spend a vacation*.

The huge lake of General Carrera looked invitingly blue, even under overcast skies. Puerto Rio Tranquillo was bustling with visitors: it was a Friday afternoon during summer vacation, so of course… The weather forecast gave us just one windless sunny day on Sunday. We had time, and decided to wait, no problem. At the town’s beach, overlooking the lake, we were good.

*Waiting for sunny weather at the beach of Lago General Carrero, so we can visit the marble caves under the best light. (We thought we were big, but look at our neighbors!)*

I will tell you everything about the marble caves in the next blog, coming soon.

Tierra del Fuego and Antarctica

From Rio Gallegos – the town where we dropped off the sailors Daria and Jean-Michel, it was only a hop to get to the border. A World Cup soccer match playing, so the Argentinian officials paid no attention to us. With their eyes glued to the TV, they stamped our passports and car papers, and we were through. On the other side, the Chilean borders have the reputation of being the most restrictive of Latin America: no fresh food, no untreated wood and iteven no honey or raisins are allowed through. Everyone gets searched and given a hefty fine when they find something of the list of forbidden items, sooo… we’d taken one more day before crossing the border to eat and cook everything we had: veggies, fruit, potatoes, onions and garlic, eggs and yoghurt… a big bag of raisins I preserved with pisco- the grape spirit we still had from Peru. Still, we overlooked half a lime in the bottom of the fridge! Fortunately, we had not been able to find and fill out the declaration form online, so the inspector searched our camper beforehand. She warned us to declare this little bit of fruit she confiscated, otherwise we could still be fined. Thankfully, our big chunk of cheese was allowed. In Chile the towns were so small, we didn’t bother to look for fresh supplies, plus we still had two days’ worth of cooked food in the fridge. By then we were at another border – from Chile back to Argentina, who didn’t give us any trouble.

*Ferry to bring us to the island of Tierra del Fuego*

We made it to Tierra del Fuego! Although it was just a question of persistent driving on the #3 – a pretty good and smooth road, it felt like an accomplishment. The island looked different from what we’d seen so far of Patagonia: it was greener and grassier, with occasional wetlands and streams. Everything looked friendlier; less rugged. Cows made a comeback. And then, trees appeared! Short, crooked, halfdead, and covered with mosses, they looked mysterious and pitiful. When the landscape became more mountainous, they started to look so much better, that when we saw a sign of a nature park, we wanted to stop there, but the park was closed because of a forest fire. We saw the ominous clouds, and later also the glow of a large fire from a distance away. So finally we saw trees, and now they’re on fire… Tierra del Fuego – the Land of Fire is burning; what tragic irony.

*Pitiful trees, but as the mountains appeared, the trees started looking taller and healthier*

*The forest fire was visible from the town of Tolhuin, where we stayed for the night*

The approach to Ushuaia was marked by increasingly higher mountains and dense, black forest. Ushuaia faces the Beagle Channel and is surrounded by mountains on the other three sides, which may be why the Patagonian winds are gentle here. We may have hit a sunny and warm spell but did not stay to enjoy it. We wanted to find room on one of the cruise ships to Antarctica before the start of the busy season.

*Tierra del Fuego’s mountains at the southern end of the island.*

*View over Lago Fagnano, on the way to Ushuaia from the town of Tolhuin, at the far end of the lake.*

*The camper’s hangout along the waterfront in Ushuaia. This town is lacking a descent campground*

*View from our window:* *There is the ship we will be sailing to Antarctica with*

Two days later we sailed south on the 168 passenger expedition cruiser Ocean Victory, across an unusually quiet Drake passage.

*Even on level four the waves sprayed against our windows during an “unusuall*y *quiet Drake passage”*

After two days to develop our sea-legs and two nights of seasickness medication (even a calm Drake passage has six-foot swells) the dark outcrops of the volcanic South Shetland Islands appeared through the morning fog. Not everything was covered by snow here– a fact the penguins seem to like, since their eggs would freeze when laid on snow. We slowly sailed to Halfmoon Island to go ashore and check out how the chinstrap penguins live and love (and poop). They are cute, as expected. In the water, when they chase krill for food, they are fast and limber, and seem to fly in groups under and on water. Once on land they clumsily climb the rocks (or snow) to their nest, where they make a big scene of greeting their mate, sometimes with the gift of a pebble to add to the elevation of their rocky nest. The ones that found their place still covered with snow were out to search their mate and make love. At this first landing we also familiarized ourselves with Antarctic penguin’s krill-red poop. Penguins poop every ten to twenty minutes and it was everywhere on and between the rocks. In the snow, a penguin’s rookery as well as the paths they create to and from the water is colored red – it may make a good anti-slip track on the snow, but for us, the rocks were slippery. Upon our return to the boat, we had to seriously scrub our boots and pants – not only to get rid of the filth and smell, but especially to prevent contagion of avian flu. As half of the participants explored the terrain, the other half looked around the waters in zodiacs. The water was clean and clear. Close to us, two humpback whales decided to come up for air. It was a good introduction to the southern continent.

*Old volcanic cores show dark against the snow*

*The “chinstrap” stripe makes the penguins appear to have a broad smile*

*A whaler’s boat-wreck on Half Moon island*

When we woke up, we saw icebergs floating by our window. Our ship quietly moved through a dreamscape of dark water, white mountains and blue skies. Icebergs of pristine white, based on a turquoise underwater float silently greeted us when we passed them. A spread of glistening ice jewels in between them vied for attention. A school (or is it a flight?) of penguins rapidly dove and surfaced alongside the boat. A seal looked up from a slice of sea ice. All looked peaceful…clean… serene…otherworldly.

*The first morning felt like being in a dream…so quiet, so serene*

*This breakfast setup was created by some on-board influencers*. *They were not planning to actually eat outside (!)*

In the afternoon we set foot of continental Antarctica – where a walking trail was beaten through the snow, with orange perimeter flags to ensure a distance from the penguins (though the penguins didn’t respect that distance keeping much) and to protect the fragile nature we came to enjoy. Again, to keep our presence on land low, we were divided between landing- and boating groups – and switched halfway through. From the zodiac we saw leopard-, crabeater-, and weddell-seals…it takes a few days of observation to know the difference between them. The floating ice was amazingly varied; from glasslike with crazy shapes, to glossy faceted white, or soft snow-topped blocks with bright blue sides, or flat ice-sheets. The water was so clear, one could see an entire sunken whaler ship, or penguins flit through the rocky-bottomed water.

*Penguins always have the right of way here. You have to wait, and keep a distance*

When the highway is too narrow, you simply turn around and go with the flow, right?

*Two sailboats were anchored beside the whaler’s shipwreck*

*Leopard seals can be recognized by their lizard-like face. They are the only seals that eat – besides fish, squid and krill – warm blooded animals, like penguins.*

*Weddell seals are large, fat and easy going. They like to live in groups. They eat fish, squid and krill.*

*Crab-eating seals actually don’t eat crabs, but crustaceans, like krill. You can see this one ate krill by the red poop. They can be distinguished from leopard seals by their snout, which bends up*

On Gouldier Island, we landed at Port Lockroy, the British research station/ turned museum and Antarctic post office, where we could get an impression of how researchers lived – a couple of decades ago. Newer quarters for the crew now manning the station were off limits, but two of our ship’s expedition crew worked there for four months, fell in love and got married later on. They gave us more details about the work they still do there, like counting the island’s penguin nests and their eggs, and see how many return next year; clean the penguin poop off the rocks, man the museum and post office, and clear the snow around the buildings, and probably much more that I forgot… Every day there were lectures about everything concerning Antarctica, like about it’s wildlife, explorer’s expeditions, photography tips, and recaps of the places visited.

*The museum and (British) post office had to be dug out of the snow this winter. Now the penguins can move under the building to make a real mess!*

*These are Gentoo penguins, by the way.*

*This big Weddell seal almost blocked one of the penguin highways.*

*I believe this is a skua cleaning up a dead penguin.*

*The zodiacs are coming to pick us up for the exploration of the bay*

*Can you believe this little tern flies from the arctic to the antarctic, every year?*

*We saw around four sailboats, two super yachts, and two other cruisers while we were in Antarctica. With the upcoming Holiday season and southern summer, it will be a lot busier.*

*The canoe team is going out for a separate tour.*

For four days we meandered through the chain of islands that hug the coast of Antarctica, with stops around two times a day. One of the last days we landed in snow so deep, that despite the snowshoe team having beaten a path, we’d sink in thigh-deep at times, mostly, but not always, when passing or overtaking someone and just stepping one foot to the side. At one point I had both legs to above my knees in the soft snow and had to crawl out- I guess it was the hardest for us since we were the first group after the snowshoers and the snow had not settled completely yet. (The way back already was easier) Anyway, that night my knees hurt, I had trouble taking the stairs up or down, so the next morning I skipped the last outing and stayed on the ship. But even from aboard there is enough to see: one night while sailing through the Gerlach Straight, we were called out of bed by the bridge, when they’d spotted a pod of orcas. We ran outside in our pajamas, as not to miss these majestic animals in their natural environment.

Swimming penguins

*This shows a good view of a penguin rookery and the highways to and from the water*

*In the left front there are a few penguins that built their elevated rocky nests right on the beach.*

*Imperial cormorants taking off. Sometimes they get mistaken for flying penguins. But penguins only fly in the water.*

*Beautiful imperial cormorant (also called imperial shag)*

*Imperial Cormorants build their nests on top of the snow, using seaweed. As the snow melts around them, the nests sit on a snow tower – until it collapses…*

*It was such a warm and sunny day, that a BBQ was organized on the top deck.*

Orcas spotted in the late evening sun.

*Antarctica has the world’s most glaciers*

*Along towering mountains and glaciers, through the Lemaire’s channel*

*The sheathbill is Antarctica’s only non-seabird. It likes to take rides to the South American continent.*

Before turning back to Ushuaia, we were surrounded by glaciers and floated through packed icefields, then Lemaire Channel, a narrow passage (could not believe at first that the ship could fit through, and it felt like moving into a giant sluice/lock) where on both sides tall mountains loomed over the ship. As soon as we hit open water, the Drake Passage made itself known with wild, high swells, and wind that broke the balcony partition between us and our neighbors. The floor of our cabin flooded, and we asked for sea sickness pills, which gave us a good night sleep despite the shaking and bouncing. The following days at sea were better: the swaying lessened somewhat; Mark, our cabin’s steward offered free laundry service and a bottle of wine to compensate for our remaining wet floor; last day’s lobster dinner was the best food we had on the voyage, and the recaps and entertainment made everyone feel like we had the best Antarctica trip ever. Too soon we disembarked and returned to our camper, waiting for us at the Ushuaia Airport parking lot.

Across the Argentinian plains: Mendoza to Uruguay.

Leaving Mendoza, we decided to take the longer, no-toll road to Cordoba. The first part of this route we’d already seen, since we had previously come to Mendoza this way: a country road that led us through small villages, vineyards and later olive groves. Slowly even the olive trees became more scarce and dry shrubs replaced the struggling trees. As the land naturalized, the settlements became fewer and lonelier. One more time, we stopped at Reserva Bosques Telteca, where a few weeks ago, on our way to Mendoza, we stopped for the night and walked a good trail through the desert terrain on the following day. These trails among the dunes were sparsely marked and obscured by wandering sand over hectares of land. Occasionally we climbed up the sandy dunes – one step up, half a step sliding back down, to find the landmark radio tower, where our camper was parked nearby. When, even on the trail, we sank ankle deep into the sand, we decided to turn around and find our way back.

This time around, we stopped to scale the ridge of the tall sand dunes across the street. (If only we had snowshoes…!) After lunch, we continued on the perfectly paved, straight road across an endless scrubby desert plain. This road is so smooth, with so little traffic or opportunities to stop, that it is hard not to fall asleep, and indeed, along the way we passed two serious accidents of what looked like single cars that just ran off the road and overturned. By late afternoon we reached a mountain range, where lush green grasses and rows of yellowing poplars indicated human settlements. We looked around for an overnight spot, but found only a gas station, so we crawled up the mountain, along hotels and summer homes, green lawns and colorful flowers that lined the street. A little further up, at the Embalse Allende reservoir, we found a quiet campground with a view over the water. The night silence was intense, the sky dark with clear bright stars: we decided to soak it in for at least a day or two.

As in many places with this crazy weather nowadays, the water in this reservoir was ten meters below normal level. The last time the lake was full was in 2014. The already extended concrete boat ramp barely touched the water’s surface. Some small boats below us, along the water’s retaining wall were hard to reach, but on the other side, around the bend, a beach had surfaced, accessible for cars of fishermen to enjoy. During the day their voices echoed across the water.

We found the kitchen of the family’s restaurant, where we ordered a meal with local fish. The seafood they recommended however turned out to be calamari – I don’t think that can be found in this mountain reservoir… As the only guests, we chose a spot under the shade roof, overlooking the lake. Soon a flock of chickens joined the friendly cats and dogs under our table and flaunted their best hungry attitude, to the embarrassment of the restaurant manager, who shooed them away, without avail: within minutes they were back. I rewarded their insistence with the crumbs of my food.

On Saturday, when a small crowd of fun seeking visitors arrived, the serenity of the place disappeared. Diners attended the restaurant, and smoke from the grills filled the air. We had witnessed a day of peace and a day of action, and decided to continue on our way on Sunday morning.

To reach the city of Cordoba, we first climbed over what seemed to be rounded masses of granite mixed with glistening chips of mica, dressed up with bushy trees and dry shrubs, like the pyracantha loaded with yellow, orange and red berries. Just before turning around the top for the descent, an idyllic picture caught my eye: shouldered along a creek with tall green grasses was a small cottage farm accentuated by yellow poplar trees, and protected by an embrace of surrounding elevations. Only after we passed it, I realized we should have stopped for a photo. I reminded myself we already have a similar picture from our first South American travels through Argentina, and how many pictures does one need?…. I still regret not having stopped, though.

On a Sunday morning, it was easy to find a place to park in the historic center of Cordoba, where opulent buildings echoed times of privileged wealth. Not much was open – we passed through empty, tree shaded promenades and peaceful squares, where outdoor cafes were protected from the elements with bright parasols, and from the wind with flowering bushes. At the foot of the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de Asunción, we stumbled upon an alley with an installation that took our breath away: a memorial of the desaparecidos: the thousands of mostly young Argentinians who disappeared during the brutal dictatorship between 1976 and 1983. Above our heads, hundreds of photos of the lost, printed on cloth flags, fluttered in the wind – like laundry on lines criss-cross over the length of the alley. Two creamy yellow walls contained four displays of continuous lines, each like an enlarged fingerprint. At a closer look, the lines consisted of names of all those that disappeared, clustered in the year they vanished. We remembered hearing about it when we traveled through Argentina during that time – a time when so many people of the South American countries were silenced by their dictatorial governments, to the point that we as outsiders only picked up snippets of the atrocious tales.

The land east of Córdoba is cattle country. Endless fields with corn and soy, interrupted by cattle pastures reminded me of the North American midwest. The expansive, efficient looking farmland could explain the neat looking towns, where butcher shops and icecream stores stood out as the most popular retail venues. The buildings looked modern and well maintained, and the roads remained good. We stopped for the night at an american style gas station, with a small, popular restaurant and convenience store, as well as clean bathrooms with showers. Fortunately here, trucks stop somewhere else for the night, so we enjoyed a quiet night without running engines as neighbors. Instead, our neighbor was rusty brown or black cattle in a spacious holding pen. They looked young – I hope they’d only be there for transfer to some farm’s pastures. That morning we watched them throwing up dust – running to the feed bins as they got filled, followed by a flock of green parakeets that landed underfoot for the spilled corn.

The name Santa Fé evokes visions of a legendary country town, so we parked our camper on the Plaza de San Martín, which in most Argentinian cities is the central square. A parking guard helped us navigate into a narrow slot, and offered a much needed carwash service while we explored this city. To our surprise it looked like the buildings that used to be grand needed major restoration. We had not seen this in a while. Apparently the province of Santa Fé is not as prosperous as that of Córdoba or Mendoza, and it shows, though the countryside had not changed much from what we could see. The port of Santa Fé has a direct access to the Paraná river. Looking for the waterfront, we found the port terminal, where the inlet had high walls which could indicate large differences in water levels. Across the inlet, a large modern casino and mall obstructed a further view towards the river estuaries. In the water, floating plants replaced absent ships. An old crane/vacant tourist information booth – beside the old port administration building overlooking the terminal added to the omnipresent sense of lost grandeur.

After we crossed the bridge over the rio Santa Fé, we found ourselves looking down from the elevated highway over a network of wetlands, rivers and creeks, to finally descent into an ultra modern tunnel under the main river, which brought us to Paraná city on the other side of the estuary. Here we veered north, through a fancy looking neighborhood towards the shores of the Paraná river to enjoy the sense of steamy tropics in autumn.

The expansive campground we entered was empty – let’s presume because of covid. With many building under construction, we could find no one in charge for admission. In the end, a person who looked like he was in charge allowed us to spend the night, for free. He pointed out the newly renovated bathroom building, but we could pick any spot on the premises. An old pump station and dense forest prevented us from finding a spot along the river, so we parked near the new bathroom and went for a hike, in search of the riverfront. A comfortable concrete path and steps led us down along the steep cliff. Halfway down, the steps had collapsed sideways and disappeared into dense undergrowth. We climbed across the crevice to find the continued path, but it became clear that most steps and paths had collapsed as if affected by an earthquake or, as was the case here, earth slides after recent heavy rains. Finding our way down this way, like Indiana Jones exploring ancient ruins in the jungle, we discovered an extensive ruined network of paths leading to crooked platforms and skeletons of shacks near the water. It must have been a lively destination at the time! Finally, washed up tree trunks and branches left little of a beach to be enjoyed, but the expedition down and back up was worthwhile and memorable. The last leg of our drive to the border of Uruguay was another smooth ride through agricultural country, interrupted by pretty villages with an orderly tree lined main street. Hot springs were the tourist attractions around here. We got so used to this impression of comfort, that the turnoff into the border town of Colon surprised us with a dirt road, while they named this road after one of the most prestigious car brands: Ferrari! We found our way to the riverfront – with an accessible beach – where we planned to stay a few days to spend our last Argentinian pesos before crossing into Uruguay.

Colón turned out to be a pleasant small town with a malecón (waterside promenade) and nice restaurants along plaza San Martín. It was clear this town accommodates tourists. The riverside recreation area was extensive, with groups of Argentinian campers spreading out along the beach. Paddleboards and canoes made their way across the river, while fishing was the favorite pastime at the water’s edge. When we splurged on a nice lunch at a restaurant overlooking the plaza, our neighboring table guests broke out in a dance when a troubadour stopped by for a song or two. The following day, at another restaurant, we sampled the finest wine we found so far in Argentina – though the excellent food may have helped with the experience.

When we crossed the border to Uruguay, we left Argentina with fond memories, sure to return for the trek to Tierra del Fuego, as soon as the South American spring warms the weather in September.

Transamazonica, part two

To continue our Amazon crossing, we took the ferry from Itaituba across the Tapajôs river where (surprise!) a beautiful tarmac road awaited us on the other side. After 15 km we landed back on dirt road. Oh, well … we were still on the Transamazônica, right…? Good we did not wash the camper yet!After a dusty stretch, we enjoyed regular stretches of 10 km or so of beautiful tarmac, followed by more increasingly dusty dirt road. The dirt road climbed and descended over steep hills, where we could imagine getting in trouble in wet conditions. Steep hills and soft dust turned into mud would make for a slippery ride, not only for yourself, but imagine an out of control truck sliding towards you, and there’s no other way to avoid getting hit but to drive and get stuck in the deep muck of the road side. We’ve seen that happen on our first trip through the Amazon…
At the same time, driving off the ferry from Itaituba, we hit real live burn territory in the state of Parà. All around us we saw signs of fire, either as smoke billowing up in the distance, as charred fields around us, or as live fire with flames consuming even the traffic signs along the road.

So much smoke filled the sky that the horizon where we’d suspect the edge of the jungle, was not visible. Only patches of forest remained within eyesight… Rolling green hills with grazing cattle replaced the dense Amazon vegetation. In the end I stopped looking for the forest we came to experience. I think we can write this part of the Amazon off as a permanent loss – at least in the vicinity of this road.

That one lone tree on top of the hill indicates how tall the forest used to be. The last one standing…

Driving the Transamazônica, just before the start of the rainy season went easier and faster than expected. But how exhausting it was, especially with a broken air conditioning, for which we needed a new part that was not available in this part of Brazil. With the windows opened to catch a breeze in the suffocating heat, we also swallowed dust whenever a truck drove close. At times the dust was so dense, we had to stop and wait for the dust to settle. Inside our camper, the road’s washboard- and pothole rattles made sure that dust got evenly distributed on every surface. We just had to bear it: it was part of the Transamazônica adventure – and it beats getting stuck in the mud!

Down the road, a denser population supported more towns, so we were pleasantly surprised when a sign informed us about an Arara indigenous reserve, but also warned us that outsiders like hunters, loggers, or people like us were not allowed to enter. Good for them! Thanks to this indigenous tribe, a few hectares of primal forest were still standing.

We entered the heart of cacao country, though you wouldn’t tell by the looks of it. In my memory, cacao grows in moist, shady jungle-like conditions. Here, however, cacao trees grew on dry soil, coated in the dust of the road it faced; and in the shade of imported eucalyptus trees. In the local cacao capital of Medicilândia we had lunch. We could choose between meat, meat and meat. The advertised chocolate venue was closed for the weekend. We stopped because we discovered that after a long time, there was a cell tower with descent internet! After catching up about what is going on in the world, we continued, again on an off-and-on-paved-road (true to the red – white striped road indication on our Michelin map)…it looked like the road was pretty much finished, but the bridges were not, which brought us to dirt road detouring over the old wood plank bridges once more…and why not a little more dirt road for the more complicated stretches?

The road is finished, and the bridge is finished, but when will they connect?

We heard that the dirt road would end in Altamira. Since it was one of the larger towns en route, and it looked rather inviting with a promenade along a good looking river, we stopped for a drink and a final blog update and release, before settling down for the night on an empty parking lot of an unfinished marine museum next to a classic boat wharf.

In Altamira, we could spend the night next to a boatyard, building these classic river boats.

Soon we got spoiled by the good road and covered quite a distance through still burning or burnt landscapes…(this was getting old!) For the night, we stopped near an intersection with a road to Belém. Thijs wanted to go to Belém, as we had never been there and we’d missed going to Manaus this time. This way we would still have the feeling we’d visit a historic Amazon port town. At the intersection’s truckstop, we were assured that the road from Novo Repartimento to Belem would be paved and good, so we decided to go… but it started with swiss cheese pavement – more holes than street – which quickly deteriorated to a potholed dirtroad – so bad, you could easily disappear in many of those holes. Maybe this was an unofficial shortcut! After a gruesome 40-some kilometers – like it dropped out of heaven – a perfect bridge appeared in front of us, followed by a smooth paved road leading us over a body of water, down along a large dam, and up again over a dam -where protesters forced us to stop and wait until the police came over to clear the way. We never found out what the protest was about, as we were urged to step on the gas and move on, but I suspect they were part of the indigenous groups living along the now dry part of the river that had been blocked off by the dam.

As we were now comfortably driving over smooth pavement, we again had to pay the toll of the previous potholed pavement by way of another old tire giving up his life. Good thing Thijs had taken three new spare tires from the USA, so we’re still good with one spare left!

We never got used to the endless burnt and increasingly arid land, so when the landscape turned greener with moist forest we were happy to see some lush açai plantations – which were mostly small scale. Large scale palm oil plantations followed as we got closer to the river delta and the coast. The amount of trucks, loaded with clusters of palm oil fruit on their way to the processing plants exploded. The heavy traffic decreased the quality of the road to a pitiful state. With all that traffic we could not even do the pothole dance; everyone was forced to drive in the relatively smooth berm beside the road, sometimes at a scarily tilting angle.

How much further can one burn land?What could they possible want to grow on this arid land?

Açai palm trees look lush in moist shade.

Since the bridge leading into Belem was hit by a ship and collapsed some years ago, we rode the last stretch to Belem on a nice long ferry ride. While we floated along, stilted stick houses appeared out of the bush along the waters edge. When we saw the high-rises of a modern city come closer, I was surprised. Belem looked so much larger and more modern then I expected of an old Amazon jungle town!

Once on land, we made a beeline to the Mercedes garage, where a full crew of specialists started working on everything at once. For the first time since leaving the USA, we were not allowed to spend the night in our camper in the garage, but had to check into a hotel. The next day around noon, we drove out of the garage with a cool camper and a new windshield. We still needed to come back for a diesel tank and fuel filter cleaning, tire rotation, and wheel alignment which was done first thing next morning. Eduardo, one of the employees who spoke English, offered to show us around historic Belem. On our way back after a good lunch and a nice tour, our new windshield completely released itself from the cabin … like not too long ago in Cuzco. Maybe, again, the glue was old? (What is it with us and windshields??) Which meant one more day in the garage, and this time the installer insisted we had to leave the camper there for the windshield glue to cure for a full 24 hours, so we checked into a hotel once more. When finally all repairs were done, we took a second look around old Belem, stocked up our food supplies, and headed south.

Lunch on Belém’s beautiful waterside. Eduardo insisted we’d try Belém’s famous açai here. Now we’re hooked!

At the Parque Zoobotanico we could not believe the color of these scarlet ibis.

In Belém there is a fort that was built to keep the Dutch out. Obviously it didn’t work, since we made it inside!

The Transamazônica starts after crossing the ferry in Humaita, just north of Porto Velho. In this blog page we continue our drive from Itaituba and leave the Transamazônica in Novo Repartimento to go to Belem.

The Cordillera Blanca– part three: Chavin, the Pastoruri Glacier, and Lima.

We don’t remember having been in Chavin de Huantar when we traveled the area forty years ago, but we do remember having heard about its old and important culture that flourished between 1200 – 400BC. This time we wanted to make the trip across the Cordillera, also to see if we’d recognize anything or not. The road across the mountains was supposed to be good, and there was a possibility to make a roundtrip, along the accessible Pastoruri Glacier.

The road was indeed excellent, leading us over gentle golden slopes that slowly turned into craggy peaks before we went through a tunnel after which we descended into the deep valley where Chavín de Huantar was located. We could park close to the entry of the impressive archeological site, where we happened to enter during peak visiting time (bad idea: lots of waiting for people to finish their selfies before we could see something!) There were a few nicely decorated surfaces and monoliths, and one “nailhead” (= are stone head sculptures with elongated horizontal stems to fit like nails in wall-openings) left in a wall, but the most important part of the site is an enormous ruin of a temple with a labyrinth of underground tunnels and chambers. We found one out-of- the-way underground section that we had to ourselves for a while, where we could freely explore the many tunnels, chambers and light shafts, before a fresh crowd filled up the space.
The second part of the visit would be the museum that contained all the artifacts found on the site. However, the way to the museum – on the other side of town – was hard to get to because of a large festival in the town center. There were processions, cockfights, concerts, guinea pig shows, fairground games and a huge market that all blocked most through streets. When we finally got to the museum we found all of the relevant exhibitions closed because of a “power outage” – but we heard from some locals that this is the excuse when the employees want to attend the festivities. So no artifacts to be admired by us! Since the next day -Monday- the museum would be closed, we went back to town and enjoyed some of the party, and went on…

Grand Plaza surrounded by the Chavin complex. Under the roofs are areas in need of protection, like the gate and the “nail head” below.

The extensive underground labyrinth is the most intriguing!

Shaman, or quack? doing his thing.

To reach the Pastoruri glacier, we decided, rather than continue over a long stretch of questionable dirt road, we’d turn back on our tracks and take that good pavement again to the Carretera Central, because our windshield started to protest by thumping and cracking with every bump in the road. I was afraid that soon the time would come when we’d have no protection from wind, weather or thieves… something had to be done ASAP! To secure the window somewhat, Thijs created and installed a few rubber-lined brackets at the bottom, where the windshield had completely separated itself from the cabin. We added some wide tape over the worst cracks to keep glass splinters from falling on the dashboard. That‘s all we could do for now…

So we took the popular road across the mountains to reach one of the tropic’s more accessible glaciers. This time around, we made sure to visit this touristy site early – before the crowds took over- by spending the night just before the entrance to the park and depart early in the morning. At that time of day the light was beautiful, with long shadows that accentuated the golden grasses and the huge tall spikes of the once-in-a-hundred-year blooming Puya Raymondii along the way. And nice to see that even very primitive thatch huts in the fields were powered by solar panels!

Another beautiful overnight spot, just before entering Huascaran National Park

Puya Raymondii
Do you see the solar panels?

When we arrived at the base parking, we were the first ones there. We prepared ourselves with a thermos of coca tea and full winter gear. Even Kakao wore a sweater and, of course, his backpack with his own water. The walk up to the glacier was paved and easy going- but cold. However, at close to 5000 meters above sea level, it was not easy to gather enough oxygen to walk that last kilometer up to reach the glacier. Once there, despite what many are saying that it is too small to be called a glacier, I thought it was worth it. I loved the meters-high ice walls with deep, icy blue crevices, the wet and dripping hollow caves, and pillars of icicles, all within touching distance. It is hard to imagine, that forty years ago Pastoruri was a popular place to ski. Now, the glacier is too dangerous to walk on, with many cracks and crevices that deteriorate the surface. Instead of being a ski attraction, the place is now inviting tourists to be confronted with the tragedy of global warming. With a rate of the ice retreating by about fifteen meters per year, it is expected that in another twenty years the glacier is no more.

Down below, we see we are still the only car on the lot.

On this map you can see how much the glacier retreated between 1962 and 2008

On the way back down we discovered petrified fern leaves imprinted in the rocks, but missed the dinosaur’s footsteps. Everywhere there were reminders of how much larger the glacier used to be, and we were so happy to have come there before there is nothing left. When, after a few hours, we returned to the base parking, we were still by ourselves. Only after our lunch the hordes arrived. We felt so lucky to have come with our own transportation!

After our visit to the glacier we made our decision to drive down to the coast, to Lima, because of four reasons: 1. There may be a windshield there that fits our car. 2. It is warmer on the coast, so we would not need our heater. 3. At sea level our diesel stove might work again, and otherwise, we may find a propane stove there. 4.The road to and along the coast is good and smooth, so if we don’t find a windshield, at least it does not deteriorate more, and we may make it to Chile to get one.

We had not intended to go to Lima, but what can you do? Make the best of it, right? We enjoyed the ride down from the highland to the coast. For hours we had driven along the mountain’s edge of a fertile green valley without any possibilities to stop. But halfway down, on a flat, orchard covered outcrop, we found a beautiful spot to spend the night, and soaked in the beauty of a breathtaking sunset behind multiple layers of mountains. Further down, the green valley strip got narrower; the surrounding mountains turned rockier and drier. Drying pimientos seemed to be an easier source of income than growing them. When the inevitable fog appeared between the mountains, we knew the coast was near. Along the four lane highway, everything is grey: sand fields…mountains…the sky, and even the ocean. Makeshift houses, constructed from four woven reed mat- walls topped by one on the roof keep piles of plastic trash company, and add a sense of despair to the dry and unfertile coast. The only variety of farm that thrives in this desolate landscape is what must be thousands of chicken farms… (also sad)…

But, late in the afternoon, around the time we started looking for a place to spend the night, we looked down from the sandy cliffs and spotted an intriguing site on the beach beneath us. We turned back to have a closer look and found out it was Eco Truly Park, an ashram with adobe buildings in a tall, conical trulli style, which seemed to fit the purpose of the premises and the use of the building material perfectly. For a small fee, representatives of the Hare Krishna community showed us around the ten acre premises and explained about their life principles of living organically and spiritually with little impact on its fragile environment. Though overwhelming, we learned about the Hindu pantheon and what each god or deity stands for. Quite interesting! Then we had a (very!) light vegetarian meal at their restaurant, and spent the night on the beach.

We entered the city of Lima in the morning and made our way through along the coast, to find our camping spot for the week in quiet, suburban Miraflores. From here, we had the opportunity to find the autoglass section in town, where one of the eager shop-owners found us the right windshield, installed it, provided our windows with a break-in proof film, and new windshield wipers, all within a couple of hours. In Miraflores we found a sporting goods store that could sell us the right little gas cooker, so we were pretty much set to travel again.

Parque Antonio Raimondi, in Miraflores, Lima.

Lover’s lane at Parque Antonio Raimondi, Miraflores, Lima.

No fancy workshop here

Relieved, we looked for a last item in Lima to check off our bucket list: we wanted to eat at one of Lima’s two word famous restaurants. Even though we knew that reservations for a table needed to be made months in advance, we heard that at Maido, you may get in when you wait and hope for a cancellation. Maido was a ten minute walk from where we were camping, so we gave it a shot…or two. The first time we arrived at the restaurant close to opening time, and already found a long line waiting. We had no chance. We tried to make a reservation for next Monday, which seemed to be available, but received no confirmation. So on Monday we made sure we were there an hour before opening, and the first ones in line this time. Still- no luck, but the friendly receptionist advised us to come back in two hours and see… so we came back in one hour and waited another hour. We got a seat! We ordered the full tasting menu, with small bites that incorporated a variety of exclusively Peruvian ingredients. It was a delicious, lifetime experience and it was all we wanted out of Lima. In 1978, when the city of Lima was much smaller and our urge to explore much larger, we had seen most of the capital…been there, done that… we didn’t feel like doing that again. So, after we went to the market for some grocery shopping, we left the city, heading south – completely satisfied.