You spend four days at the beach and then you want to get going. The feeling that it’s time to go just grows on you in a way that is organic, unbidden and not specific to any particular reason. You just know it’s time to go.
So we slept through our alarms and got up at seven and got in gear. The plan was to be at the laundry in the town of Las Grutas, a seaside resort where the laundry opens at nine.
First of course young Rusty needed a walk to set him up for the day. He was under observation as we passed the Clampett campground. They brought a full sized grill, a revival meeting sized tent with chairs and pictures out an adorable puppy.
Daniel came by on his early way home. He and Layne had exchanged WhatsApp numbers so if we go to Bariloche we know where to stop. He was great company.
There was a pair of American vans the beach but they parked so far away you can hardly see them. One is the family that nearly came to blows with a German in Arequipa over their cats so spending time with them seemed riskier than we’d like as we aren’t much into physical violence. The other van was a Promaster similar to ours but apparently they were traveling together do they disappeared in the distance. People maintain their social oddities when overlanding and I prefer to keep my distance. My wife likes to live dangerously.
The road to Las Grutas started with two and a half miles of the usual gravel smoothed only slightly by the grading last Friday.
The remaining forty minutes to town were spent at sixty miles an hour enjoying black top.
“Las Grutas - place of emotions. Welcome.” Very nice.
First stop was at La Anonima, the Patagonian supermarket chain but that didn’t open also till nine so we pressed on into this bright shiny town looking for the laundry service.
The idea was to get in first thing and get the clean laundry back as soon as possible which it turns out was five pm. Plus the large bag of clothes cost twenty bucks to clean. Argentina is not cheap.
This town is modern it turns out: vegetarian food available.
This was the Monday of Carnival weekend which runs through Tuesday (today as you read this) so businesses were as likely to be closed as open.
I’ve included a Wikipedia page on the town partly gut information but partly also because it’s a translation from the Spanish original and it reads that way. It gives me hope that Artificial Intelligence is still identifiable as such. “Wide tidal amplitude,” made me smile.
We try not to talk about chores in our retirement as that sounds kind grinding work so we call them jobs. After we dropped off the laundry we went grocery shopping which Layne found less than satisfactory finding some shelves at La Anonima were empty and even sliced cheese was missing. Not the end of the world but we moved on to a fruit stand…
…and empanadas for lunch. And we found a self service car wash; how cool was that? I expect we aren’t the only beach goers anxious to wash off sand and salt. I spent six bucks shampooing rinsing and waxing the Beast.
Of course this being Argentina streets are not all paved and last nights thunderstorm that bypassed our beach camp hit the town head on.
But the sun was out, the bread was fresh and younger love blossomed in matching clothing under the fresh green trees.
These are a few random shots of an Argentine beach town, no Spanish colonial architecture and no massive cathedrals.
Gas lines especially on a holiday cone as no surprise. We are planning to see Bolivia before we go to Brazil for the winter and Bolivia is a failed state with shortages and lines so we call this good preparation.
And because this is a beach town I took a walk to the beach on Carnival Monday and it reminded me of the Adriatic coast of Italy in summer. If you like crowds you’ll love this.
I used my phone so it’s not great photography but you get the idea. It’s said the Atlantic waters here are warmer and better for swimming. I guess the secret’s out.
My idea of hell but I expect I shall have to submit to overheated solitary confinement as the legend requires.
I would bet a Venezuelan or Haitian refugee making ends meet under the sun.
Standing and bending all day. You have to be tough to live in exile.
I saw the Rimini hotel and I thought of Rimini on the Adriatic, an Italian town loaded with beach umbrellas souvenirs and summer crowds. Apparently someone ended noticed the resemblance.
Some smart people take their maté to the park for some peace and quiet. We stopped here to seek out some cheese, successfully though Layne looked askance at the unknown brand in her hand.
We hoped our clothes would be ready at 4:30 and they were so we took off due north. We had not found a potable water faucet nor had we located showed but the other jobs were done. Van life in Argentina is full of romance glamor and excitement.
I asked at a gas station truck stop place and they had excellent hot showers to two bucks apiece. I got four gallons of gas, as much as would go in just to set off across the Pampas with a full tank and we went looking for somewhere to park.
One of the great fears of life in a van is not knowing where you will sleep but I actually enjoy the uncertainty. I remember on our first trip after we got GANNET2 new from Custom Coach we took three weeks to go to the Great Lakes and one night we couldn’t figure out where to park in the Upper Peninsula and we got quite stressed driving into the night to find a rest area on Highway 25. We have been doing this so long we don’t worry any more. Something will come up. We’ll make do. And we did in an informer’s area under some eucalyptus trees. Rusty, the chief security officer kept a close eye on the cows…
…and I kept a close eye on the magnificent array of stars. Of traffic there was almost none.
We had roast chicken with a sunset for dessert.
The better part of van life in the middle of nowhere alone.
