We spent Friday night in a municipal campground on the north side of the river separating Formosa and Chaco provinces and awoke to rain and very welcome 70 degree temperatures. Our first attempt at camping ended in us getting freaked out and scrambling to leave our that campground. This was before the fridge quit suddenly.
The idea had been to pass the various check points at the provincial boundary then spend the night by the river. The Pescadores campground was kind of abandoned and dingy with lots of trash but it was free and it was quiet on a Friday night and we were tired. We had dinner and watched TV (downloaded to our iPad) when around 9pm Layne said “There’s a face at the back window.” Rusty was looking out with his ears up and lips curling ready to snarl so I took a flashlight and peered out. Me being the man and everything. Nothing. Isolated Los Pescadores on our arrival:
I looked in the driver’s mirror and there sure enough was a middle aged man peering at the van. I’d seen him earlier drinking maté at a picnic table but now he had his phone in hand and was staring at GANNET2 in the dark. In this photo you can just barely see him to the left of the yellow wall half obscured by the blue light pole.
I slid the drivers window open a couple of inches and he proffered his phone asking something about sending a message to his boss. He seemed respectable enough, in his late 40s maybe with a back pack and a maté kit (thermos, mug and packet of leaves). Perhaps like us he had no phone signal but walking up in the dark and peering in silently gave us the idea we needed to leave. So we did without delay, one of those rare occasions when not having to get out of the vehicle you are living in to get to the driver’s seat felt worthwhile. We drove over the bridge back to the police checkpoint and asked where we could park safely. They directed us to the free campground on their side of the river “The Traveler’s Campground.”
It was much livelier on this side of the river with dog walkers, families grilling, youngsters on motorcycles sitting at picnic tables with maté in hand and calf love in their eyes. And in lumbered the giant gringo passion wagon. We passed out.
The day dawned much cooler than Friday with rain splattering the tin roof of GANNET2 and a new problem. Layne was in despair over the fridge which is undoubtedly her favorite appliance, the one that makes the van our home and not simply preserves food but adds touches of luxury to our lives with ice and a place to store sauces and cold drinks. What now? We pondered our options as the rain came down.
There was no choice. We had to go back to Buenos Aires to the refrigerator guy who fixed it in April, José Luis. We knew he could get it going whereas if we continued straight to Salta who knew what help we might find.
Here’s the thing and I need yet another map to show the extreme aggravation of the situation…We were adding at least a thousand miles to our journey across northern Argentina.
1) the direct route we were about to start across The Chaco (wilderness) was 600 miles.
2) the drive south to Buenos Aires is 700 miles.
3) the drive northwest to Salta is 1,000 miles.
So we got on the road and drove south after WhatsApp-ing José Luis and warning him of our impending arrival.
At one level I felt lucky we were close enough to get back to him, quite aside from the irritation I felt at this failure. At leadt we knew the fridge would be fixed and quickly as he has brand new compressors and stuff in his workshop.
We’ve been on the road long enough to know the loss of a few days is no big deal in the grand scheme of things.
Plus on this route we will get to see Cordoba, a city long on our list. Yay!
The drive was uneventful until about six pm when we got pulled over at a check point and had to breathe into a breathalyzer. Okay, I’ve done that before. But she wasn’t satisfied and pulled us aside for a secondary test. That was stressful as police in this region have a reputation for corruption, not that we have seen any. But she wasn’t satisfied with me blowing.
They crowded round and filmed as I kept blowing and failing. Layne watched from her seat.
In the end they accepted a blow and I rated zero though I was pretty stressed by then. They weren’t seeking a bribe or anything, just acting tough and intimidating which is unusual but not unknown.
What a caper. This was proving to be one of those days you wished you hadn’t got out of bed. We drove on and found a spot to let Rusty, and us, relax.
We are doing quite well stopping to break up the drives and let Rusty stretch every couple of hours. Trying to avoid rushing is helping make the long drives more bearable for the old dog.
We drove until we were less than 400 miles from our destination.
No Sears appliance delivery in this poor part of Argentina.
Motorcycle towing.
At least it was smooth with lots of 60mph stretches.
Layne’s favorite flowers.
Lots of trucks from Paraguay on this highway.
We might make it to the fridge repair shop early, by Monday lunch time perhaps. We stopped in a truck parking lot for the night Saturday evening. There is a YPF gas station ahead with hot showers but this spot seemed much quieter.
We were aiming for this YPF gas station in the town of Gobernador Crespo as marked in iOverlander. We will stop for showers on our way out of town.
We preferred the less frenetic atmosphere of the silent truck parking lot not marked in iOverlander until I wrote it up and added it to the app.
Motorcycles kept using it as a shortcut.
Across the highway is a dairy products factory of some sort.
It was a good night. And Sunday has dawned sunny.
The idea had been to pass the various check points at the provincial boundary then spend the night by the river. The Pescadores campground was kind of abandoned and dingy with lots of trash but it was free and it was quiet on a Friday night and we were tired. We had dinner and watched TV (downloaded to our iPad) when around 9pm Layne said “There’s a face at the back window.” Rusty was looking out with his ears up and lips curling ready to snarl so I took a flashlight and peered out. Me being the man and everything. Nothing. Isolated Los Pescadores on our arrival:
At one level I felt lucky we were close enough to get back to him, quite aside from the irritation I felt at this failure. At leadt we knew the fridge would be fixed and quickly as he has brand new compressors and stuff in his workshop.
Motorcycles kept using it as a shortcut. 
Across the highway is a dairy products factory of some sort. 
It was a good night. And Sunday has dawned sunny. 
