Rusty At The Beach

 

Ten days ago I was in tears saying goodbye to my friend. Yesterday the little runt went for a romp on the beach. I guess he fooled me and I’m delighted and he seems to be also.

What? Him worry? He is a little wobbly in the hind legs but at this point I attribute it to his lack of glucosamine as mandated by the vet who said he has to finish his stroke medication first before getting his joint pills, and I hope we can start him again after he gets his final check Thursday. You can see in the photos his hind legs are a little weak looking.

At the beach? Indeed we drove five miles to the shore of the River Plate and even in winter it looked quite pleasant.

Think of the Great Lakes, fresh water yet with small tides in this case but you can’t see the opposite shore of the River Plate. Argentina is over there 45 miles south of here. 

It was a day of fissures in the overcast, much enjoyed slivers of blue in the persistent oppressive cloud cover of recent days.  Next week the forecast promises endless days of cold crisp but sunny winter weather across Uruguay but yesterday we did get a taste of a little sunshine along with a reminder of the color  of the sky when not covered in cloud.

We had bought a slightly bizarre looking picnic tray at the supermarket because we are suckers for cultural experimentation. It was I’ll admit not something we’d try again…a little dry and lacking flavor I’d say but it did the job with no clean up required.

And the Serrano  ham chips tasted of…potato chip and nothing more. So much for cultural exploration but the beach was splendid. And while I’m in the confessional let me say I really liked this picture of my boy except I screwed up and put the focus on the tree. Nice work. Sigh. 

You can imagine hordes of summer holiday makers here on a beach almost deserted in winter.  

Almost deserted…the eternal quest for fish captured by Layne and her camera:

We ignored the “no dogs” part of the sign figuring there wasn’t anyone to piss off as we were alone on our stretch and the summer homes lining the street were unoccupied. I mention the ban to Adrián back at the workshop and he looked surprised.  “There are dogs all over the beach in summer” he said. Hmmm. 

Herewith some pictures of a lovely day at the beach.  I’d like to swim here in summer. 

He needs glucosamine to strengthen those hind legs. 

The seaside village of Playa  Fomento was deserted but there was an ATM which as usual limited us to US$100 but was better than nothing. Most places take credit cards luckily. There was also a hardware store but all the eateries were closed. I’m guessing some few places might open on the weekend but the place was dead as you might imagine. 

The approach road drive straight through the usual rolling  farmland, the patched  and lumpy asphalt lined with shade trees as is often the case in Uruguay. 

There are cottages to rent and second homes to buy here: 

A retired old gringo could do nicely here pottering out with his dog to stare over the flat waters of the River Plate, listening to the sound of guns across the northern hemisphere: 

No earthquakes, no hurricanes, no claims of election fraud in South Americas most stable (and boring) democracy. 

Permanent residence is easy to obtain but we have a van and we’ve got places to go and tires to wear out: 

And a dog to keep entertained. 

Uruguay is a place to bear in mind if you want a retreat from the hurly burly of real life.   

 

Monday In Uruguay

 Rain was in the forecast so Adrián announced he would complete a couple of interior jobs in our van which kept us stationary till lunch time so we decided to postpone our visit to the mural city until Tuesday.

We use this  basket to carry stuff most often fruit, but Layne wasn’t ready for me to credit down so she used a mess of sticky tape. Until Adrián came to the rescue. “I could have done that,” masculine me protested as he screwed it to the wall…”Not as nearly with such small screws,” my wife replied heartlessly as she scored her much improved galley. I had managed to glue together a main shelf in our fridge (that I accidentally cracked years ago) but the would was looking terminal so I asked Adrián for help. “I have just the thing,” he said.

There it is looking as ugly as sun but welded permanently (I hope) into the fridge door. RV fridges for sake down here which we have looked at find offer the sane useful spaces as our old Frigidaire does which is why we had it converted to 12 volts and wanted to keep the unique wide shelf  in place. Plus the electricians are now finished and working so the bed platform got screwed down.

There is a very small bug persistent coolant leak in the engine which needs investigating and Adrián has some ideas about building a windshield drain to stop rain water overflowing into the engine in downpours. I figure we might as well use his problem solving  skills while we are here. Meanwhile he spent Monday struggling with Robert’s external battery boxes.

The supermarket in Colonia Valdense is only five minutes away and Layne has become a local greeted by the butcher and the ladies at the bakery as she wanders around. Shopping in Uruguay is as expensive as the US except liquor which is cheaper by far. It’s weird how every country has its quirks. In Brazil we couldn’t find decent yoghurt; they have that Uruguay but they have no decent coffee- it’s all instant. We have the best selection of cheeses in South America and Uruguay produces some pretty decent wine. Meat is superb though nothing is really inexpensive.  I have been missing biscuits for a while but lo and  behold we found a very palatable version right here.

When we get back to the States, probably in 2028 we figure, I went to cross the border at Naco in Arizona which is a ten minute drive from the Bisbee Breakfadt Club where they serve dinner plate sized biscuits as I remember them with some excellent sausage gravy.  I have been giving this some thought. Meanwhile in Uruguay at least I can get small biscuit sandwiches:

I spent the weekend being miserable in terrible but grateful Rusty was there to share it with me. I also noted the milestone of another D-Day which used to be less history and more a memory for the generation that preceded me.

I was astonished to read Secretary Hegseth took the occasion to make a political statement criticizing our allies who took exception. 

I grew up in a different world and find these momments of ceremonial international solidarity that meant a lot to the Greatest Generation have a very different meaning to those that come after me.  Like Rusty I think I am officially old. But I retain the right to remember the past my way.

We old farts nap together. 

Marking Time

We keep our fingers crossed in high hopes this might be our last week here. Rusty has a check up Thursday and we’re hoping he’ll be taken off his steroids so we can get him back on his glucosamine to strengthen his legs. He is almost back to his elderly normal self, getting up without help, eating like a horse, and showing all the signs of being once again a happy alert dog. The cloud of gloom has lifted. Yes I know he’s old and death awaits us all but for now I’m focused on testing our new electrical systems not on contemplating his mortality. We want to test both by taking a tour of Uruguay before we head west toward Peru, land of winter sun. Let’s see how Rusty and GANNET2 do on the road. 

Winter is here with a cold front closing in bringing  rain and damp de-motivating us by also lowering  temperatures that already feel colder than 55 degrees. We want to go for a drive to see some new places and check Rusty’s tolerance for travel and to give us a chance to feel nomadic again even if we need windshield wipers and a car heater to do it.  

Saturday afternoon we celebrated the end of the work week for those not retired with an asado, a grilled meat session. Me Layne Robert Adrián and Maria- José and Rusty the hungry prednisone powered eating machine with his head under the table.

Robert the retired American businessman has absorbed all Adriáns time last week chasing electrical demons in his Toyota Land Cruiser conversion, an overlanding beast assembled by apparently unmotivated builders. Adrián spends half his time trying to convince Robert who uses a translation app, to rebuild from the ground up the wiring mess in the camper. Robert supervises and resists all suggestions until he sees for himself how hopeless it is trying to do things his way. Progress on making improvements is glacial, especially after a short burned out his alternator and a mechanic came by and replaced a burned diode.

I am not a self made man so when I find a technician who knows his stuff I tell him what I want and let him figure how to achieve it. Then I give him money and I enjoy the outcome. I never assume I know more than they do. In Brasilia my approach was not entirely successful but our solar panels and Starlink installation work and our cabinetry is good and Adrián has created what appears to be a fine electrical installation so in the end we are there. Robert is getting there but his approach is generating frustration and I don’t like to see it.  Another reason to get on the road and leave them to debate technical minutiae  that bore me.  

This next week looks to be taken up with an electrical rebuild Adrián suggested at the start that Robert resisted and has been forced to accept as necessary because the half modification of  his system isn’t working as hoped.  Or something. 

I watch the fog rise over the fields, Rusty plunks down next to me, Layne fights the oven in the cottage and Robert and Adrián discuss wiring through Google Translate. 

I carry endless arms full of firewood and dream of the open road.