Even More Beach

It’s pretty remarkable but we first met Hugh and Sue and their Land Rover on a beach in Nicaragua. On Instagram they call themselves “mapleleaf drifters” proud Canadians taking time in retirement to explore the world they never had time for while raising kids and building careers, he a banker and she a teacher. 

They are driving north to Buenos Aires and  a container to Europe while we are going northwest to the wine country of Mendoza and eventually Bolivia which we skipped on the way down. I doubt we shall meet them again. It’s a story worth remembering if the notion of overlanding ever occurs to you. Sue misses her new grandchild, and they’ve left behind an active social life in British Columbia and on the road we all come and go and impermanence is the rule. Exploration comes at a price.

Playa El Pozo is a few miles outside the town of Puerto Madryn and we woke to a cool gray morning so there was nothing keeping us here, no swimming and certainly no lounging in the sun.

It was scenic and Rusty enjoyed exploring the dunes so there was that, but it was time to go. 

Besides we had sealions to visit.

A nice facility now open and free with no staff, all part of President Milei’s cuts stressing Argentina. 

We left Rusty aboard GANNET2 and went for a very short walk to see a handful of sealions. 

Maple leaf Drifters told us when they stopped by the night before the beach was full of mammals. 

That’s okay; we lived with sealions for years in Santa Cruz California so we don’t find them hugely exotic.  

But the cormorants nesting in the cliffs I’d not seen before.

Road paving programs have all stopped in Argentina just as President Biden’s infrastructure programs have been suddenly unfunded. Gravel is a fact of life randomly located all over the country and I look at it as a warning of what happens when maintenance is forgotten. 

A Puerto Madryn fruit store in a middle class neighborhood. Not cheap of course but Layne found apples and corn and some lettuce. And avocado at a dollar apiece which she said is a deal. 

Argentina’s financial crisis is causing a lot of stress among a population suddenly finding they can’t afford staples. For us tourists prices are a nuisance but not fatal. For Argentines the question always is: how do you manage? 

The gas station attendant was asking about our trip and I said Argentina is the most expensive country we’ve come across. Another driver came up and said “This is what happens when the International Monetary Fund takes over your country,” and he was pissed. So I said “ What do you do?” And he looked at me and said “When it gets bad enough we’ll deal with them” and made a gesture slitting his throat. Then he smiled and I was glad I’m not elected to office here. 

I was busy filling our water tank at the back of the gas station when a group of kids came up to practice their English. We are on our toes in this country where theft is common and tourists are targeted but clearly this lot were no threat. 

They offered me a taste of the national drink, maté which is a shared cup of crushed leaves periodically topped off with hot water from a thermos. Argentines drink it all the time - good for their digestion they say -and cars pull over anywhere anytime by the side of the road for a maté break. Oh and you all share the metal straw. Yum. Gulp. I sucked. 

It is sharp and bitter and tannic so I, the inveterate tea drinker rate it revolting. They thought I was funny. 

We exchanged stickers as we gave them a Mile Marker Zero for their maté sticker: 

And behind us another guy was topping up his thermos. Gas stations have these free (no coins needed even though they have slots)  hot water dispensers all over the country. 

When you need an empanada for lunch do as the locals do: double park on the street and turn on your flashers. It’s weird but it works. I always stay with the van in Argentine towns while Layne shops. We never leave GANNET2 alone. We have leashes for our cell phones as cell phone theft, snatched from your hand, is common in big cities. Argentina is not a happy place. 

I even found the road signs confusing. I follow the blue line on my phone map but is Route 3 left or right..? Quick! We’re going 45 mph. 

We followed the correct arrow. This is Route 3 north for 100 miles straight as an arrow to San Antonio Oeste (West Saint Anthony) and our next beach. 

Layne stood in the back and washed vegetables and fruit while we played an audio book on the radio.

An abandoned police weigh station and checkpoint. 

Lovely scenery. 

Empty distances here are endless. 

Northern Patagonia about 75 degrees and not a strong breeze. 

They grow olives and almonds around here, that I never knew but Layne loves these stores. 

The owner spoke good English learned from watching TV. Can you imagine learning Spanish from watching Univision? That’s some commitment.

We got rosemary flavored olive oil and a pound of delicious black olives.

And then we passed through the most thorough police checkpoint. He checked my Florida license, my vehicle temporary import permit and for the first time ever our insurance receipt. Sometimes Argentine police have breathalyzers at their checkpoints. Zero tolerance for alcohol while driving. He was very pleasant and professional and asked me to write down the document babes in English for his next tourist stop. I wrote  DRIVER LICENSE. VEHICLE PERMIT. INSURANCE.  The irony was we later learned that Mapleafdrifters had already been waved through this checkpoint.

We never actually went through the town of San Antonio Oeste but Google maps suddenly said we had just 15 minutes to go and off course Provincial Route One off the National Highway 025 turned to gravel immediately. 

iOverlander said to look for the tires…

…marking the entrance to a beach campsite called:

I don’t know who Arjan is but his beach spot really is awesome. 

We arrived Thursday on a sunny day, not too windy and not at all cold. 

And look who was there already waiting for us. 

There were two Argentine campers on the beach and no one or anything else. 

Clouds rolled in and Sue and Hugh were leaving the next day. We sat out and talked and reminisced about meeting in Nicaragua, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador and here. 

Our plan was to enjoy a forecast sunny weekend right here. Clean our home, read our books, and ponder our future. 

Our idea is to go north from here up the Andes foothills into Bolivia then back to Peru to see Cuzco and then turn east and take a tour through Brazil to avoid the cold winter down here, to arrive in Buenos Aires in November in the austral Spring.

It looks rather ambitious on a map but there is no hurry as we aren’t anxious to leave South America.

The news from home depresses me as anarchy sweeps the government and long standing international commitments and treaties are ground into dust. I grew up in a different world and this one isn’t for me. I like being a nomad, now more than ever. 

Perhaps in a while things will settle down and the new way of living in the US will feel less frantic and uncertain. I just hope we don’t accidentally trip into war, as I like traveling much more than feeling I’m in exile from a system of governance I don’t understand. Misunderstandings lead to more wars than you would expect and we seem to be lurching through a time of pretty significant inabilities to communicate. Best of luck to us all. 

Beach To Beach

Punta Ninfas in the morning, peace, quiet, sleep and a dog walking. That was Rusty wandering around the campers. 

We set off around 8:15 after a night of powerful winds honking over the headland. We were the first away back on that damned washboard. 

Lots of lovely washboard especially for the first five miles. 

50 miles of this to Puerto Madryn. Including an old sign putting advising no passing as the road goes uphill ahead. 

We stopped for a ham and cheese breakfast sandwich from the Layne Café. 

And there he goes again, the dog walking. 

Rusty loves Patagonia. 

A car! A car! We saw a handful on this leg of the return to the mainland. I got that feeling of being in “Lawrence of Arabia” silently watching the dust cloud of Arabs approaching across the desert. 

Sue and Hugh caught up to us and passed. 

We finally got to lavender around midday and inflated our tires before trundling into town where most of the streets are paved. 

This town is Welsh in name only and the architecture is modern practical and ugly. 

Puerto Madryn does not enjoy much of a reputation among overlanders with lots of reports of breaking and thefts among foreign registered vehicles. We never left GANNET2 alone which was a pain. 

Some fruit shopping.

Plus we picked up some more glucosamine to keep Rusty perky. 





At the waterfront we stopped to have a free shower in a municipal facility. Layne went first and cake back in record time. It’s okay she said and I went in. The bend showers had two cubicles and one was occupied. The occupant had scattered his clothes  while he washed which looked odd but who am I to judge? There came a massive whim from behind his curtain. I peaked in and he was alive and conscious, laying on the ground with a wet bandage on his arm. Drunk quite possibly but happily not in need of assistance. I too showered in record time and got out of there. Last I saw he was sitting on a toilet naked with his head in his hands. 
It could have been a pleasant spot to park for the night even if the town didn’t have so many warning notices attached on iOverlander.

Mapleleaf drifters sent us a message they were at a beach south of town so out we went. This coast is popular with RVs. Looks a bit like the US. 

It’s a windy spot and the temperature was about 68 degrees so it’s not hot enough to swim really even if the wind were to die down. But they do like to fish, the locals. 

The Atlantic Ocean is a gorgeous shade of blue here. 









Free camping, steak and mashed potatoes for dinner and the sound of waves to lull us to sleep.