Highway 14

Argentina Highway 14 up the Brazilian border 

 I didn’t really need reminding but Argentina’s infrastructure is crumbling. The president promised to fix spectacular rates of inflation and he did by laying off thousands of bureaucrats and canceling infrastructure projects. Consequently roads, the stuff we drive on, are in a woeful state of disrepair.

They patch the roads but it ends up an awful potato patch lumpy ride, and there is a ton of truck traffic that apparently melts the road in summer into ridges and valleys of asphalt.

It’s a hard drive especially as the traffic up the border was heavy with trucks and impatient cats dodging between them to get ahead. Layne for some reason was hell bent on getting to Paraguay but I was tiring of fixating on asphalt and avoiding getting run off the road.

We spent Thursday night at a truck stop which offered free RV services to anyone that stops by, electricity, potable water, a toilet dump station and was it surprising the spots were all taken?

The photo I took the next morning shows a spot where our Brazilian friends finishing their vacation had survive night and were hurrying home. We parked Argentina style in a non parking spot to the side while a late arrival had parked in front of another RV…a popular spot for the night.

We left late and got on the road after ten, still shared how Argentina offers free stops for RVs. Back on that infernal road we got.

There were a ton of dead dogs on the shoulders probably pets abandoned and killed lacking street sense. Poverty in Argentina is rampant. We also saw many rusting hulks of abandoned automobiles.

A nice stretch of road there too, all too short unfortunately. Then we ran into a smokescreen reminiscent of the wildfires causing havoc all over the world.

It came, it went and there was no explanation. By now temperatures were in the mid 60s and we even got some sunshine, it felt completely different from the cold damp days in Uruguay. It feels like Spring even though it isn’t.

The countryside changed too, less orderly farms and fields and more marshy wilderness. 

I got fed up with the road after six hours not least because we had agreed to keep our days shorter for Rusty’s sake though he was keeping up just fine. We stopped to eat a sausage sandwich, a classic Argentine choripan photographed by Layne: 

While Rusty snoozed in the shade. By 4:30 we found a gas station with hot showers and overnight parking  so we stopped two hours shy of Paraguay. 

I walked Rusty and we came across a motorcycle and tent on the edge of the parking lot. It reminded me of my youth.

Aridtides the rider came by Timor’s tice his English and told me his story, a former truck driver who quit in a dispute with his boss. He wanted to stay on the road so he rides and looks for work as he goes. Argentina is a mess he said, we don’t plan for the future we only live for today because with a shrug.

President Milei is an attempt at change head after forty years of hopeless corruption. Hope springs eternal. I fed the gas station dogs much to Rusty’s irritation and I saw a guy collecting cans working at it. I gave him a five dollar bill as our supply of pesos is low. He looked at it like I’d offered him the holy grail and doffed his cap like a medieval serf. He couldn’t believe his eyes and backed away bowing and thanking me. It takes so little in a ruined economy. Oh Argentina.

Argentina

We had an uneventful border crossing from Salto in Uruguay to Concordia in Argentina yesterday so we are at last on the road.

The biggest hassle was finding the correct customs agent to take and and cancel our Uruguayan Temporary Import Permit (TIP) to make sure they registered GANNET2 had left the country on time, but eventually I found her and she languidly got our vehicle officially out of Uruguay, as you can see above…

We spent our last night in Uruguay free camping on the streets of Mercedes, a place familiar to us from a previous fly by, a quiet safe spot on the river front and a good place to sleep for free. Then it was time to drive four hours north to our chosen border crossing point, Salto, the northernmost bridge over the Uruguay River to Argentina.

The reason we went up the border on the Uruguayan side is three fold. One is the roads are far smoother than the badly maintained lumpy Argentine roads which in our experience are always a trial. Second there are reports on iOverlander of continuous police harassment at checkpoints.  We have all the required safety gear, reflective stripes on the van, a 110 kmh speed limiting sticker, a first aid kit, fire extinguishers, triangles, flares and a high visibility vest but the gendarmes apparently love to try to find a way to fine you on the spot. It sounds slanderous as we’ve yet to meet corrupt cops oddly enough, but we figured why not avoid them as long as possible. And finally Argentina apparently has the gall to extract tolls for these horrible roads from booths that only accept automatic  payments, a system we can’t access as we don’t have an Argentine ID number…so we stuck to the Uruguayan side as long as we could. The black line is the border.  

We picked up a hitchhiker at one point figuring he could use a ride on a cold day.

Marcelo was from Florianopolis, the tourist center in southern Brazil familiar to us where he works as a chef but he decided he wanted to see snow so he was hitch hiking to Ushuaia in winter. Then we saw a dude sitting by the side of the road selling empanadas so we bought three and had breakfast on the go.

He was bundled up against the cold but as we drove north we noticed it getting warmer which was surprising as we hadn’t come a huge distance.  The countryside reminded me of north central Florida with scrub palms suddenly dotting the scrubby unkempt fields.

Marcelo told us a bit of his life as I drove and we ate ground beef empanadas and it’s the usual story of one member of the family eager to travel and see the world while his father a factory worker and his younger brother following in Dad’s footsteps in the factory think he’s mad. His mom works as a school lunch lady and out of this family of normal suburban values sprang Marcelo the odd man out. Note the palms: 

By the time we drew level with Paysandú it was time to cut the story telling and find a spot to drop Marcelo off. His plan was to find a truck going west to Cordoba in Argentina and the last we saw of him was among the border crossing trucks at the weigh station. 

We turned back to Uruguay and the final 90 minutes north to the dam at Salto that generates 50 percent of the country’s electricity from the flow of the Uruguay River. “Represa” means dam. 

The two countries have consolidated their frontier controls on the Argentine side of the river so the old Uruguayan border post is closed and abandoned with one wobbly sign pointing to Argentina. 

Then you cross the dam which sends electricity to both countries.

And then after all this high tech excitement come the border controls. The southern countries of South America, Chile, Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay and Brazil have formed a trading union called Mercosur (Mercosul in Portuguese) which roughly translates as Southern Market and through this pact they have reduced border controls to try to encourage trade. Consequently when a gringo shows up at the border we tend to gum the works up as they have to write out a Temporary Import Permit for our vehicle instead of just waving us through  like they do the locals. 

You get in line and wait for a green arrow when you arrive at the front. We waited just a few minutes.

We told the lady in the booth we were going to Paraguay so instead of the eight months they often give at this border we got 90 days and we drove into Aduana (customs). “Nice dog!” he said as he reached in to pet Rusty sitting in front of Layne on the floor and that was the last time anyone referred to our dog; his papers sat unseen in our folder. 

After we got the van checked out of Uruguay we were free to go, no inspection of the fridge and no confiscation of fruits and vegetables. We had cleared out most of that stuff but you never know how they will react at these crossings. Paraguay is usually pretty easy going so we won’t worry about them confiscating agricultural products when we cross that border. The first order of business was to buy gas. 

But first we had to say hello to what passes for highways in Argentina, a patchwork quilt of asphalt. The good news is that gas is $5:44 a gallon for regular instead of $8:83 in Uruguay which was why we were running on empty. 

And after that because we had preemptively unloaded the fridge we set our sights on a supermarket in Concordia.

We parked next to a Brazilian RV on the street as the height restriction kept us out of the parking lot where the civilized shoppers park their sedans. Love you Argentina! 

The old boy has come alive traveling again and I’m slightly amazed. He eats like a horse, sleeps soundly and is walking and exploring more than he ever did while we were stationary. Layne went shopping and I took the oversized bunny to explore around the Carrefour shopping center. He wanted to check out the parking lot after we walked around the block and we passed one of my favorite small cars, a long discontinued Ford Ka sold in Europe and South America and I think it’s cute, like an egg on wheels.

And then we met the occupants of the Brazilian RV, the parents of triplets two of whom were on display. They are from a small town in the hills that we visited when we were in the German part of Santa Catarina State so we could talk (in English) with at least a little fluency of their home town. Dad inherited a cigar factory where they hand roll cigars as they used to in Key West and Ybor City, and they were on a weeks vacation driving around. Like Marcelo they wanted to see cold weather possibly snow in the mountains before returning to tropical Brazil where we would go if we hadn’t used up our time in Brazil for this year. 

It was starting to get dark and we had to cut things short as we were all heading to a truck stop with free facilities for motor homes, electricity, potable water, a dump station, laid out for anyone’s use. We love you Argentina. 

We stopped at a roadside stand to check out the local stuff, that is to say Layne went shopping but was very restrained and cane back with a single jar of delicious black Greek olives, a type we haven’t seen in a while. A short hop to the truck stop ended the days journey with an early night and much snoring.

We dined on bread and a particularly spicy Gouda both of which survived the crossing from Uruguay. As expensive as it was I will miss funky orderly Uruguay and its rather shy population of three and a half million. We plan to pay another visit in the fall next year to enjoy the beaches as we start our journey north back to the States.

Simplicity

We have just completed a huge overhaul of our home’s electrical systems. It started in Brasilia and finished yesterday at last in Uruguay. Our problem was apparently a defective battery system monitor which sent mixed signals to our 3,000 watt inverter which read low voltage signals at inopportune moments. So far the problem has not reappeared so as we prepare to enter Argentina at long last after several false starts we think it’s finally fixed.

One of the selling points of living on wheels is the urge to simplify, to live with less, most straightforwardly to live in 70 or 80 square feet. But is it the simple life that we have chosen? 

We aren’t nomads to save money or live simply or be rebels, but in order to travel. The other stuff is nice but living on the road is a pleasure for both of us.

Compared to many travelers we are much less goal oriented in South America. We did start with a fixed point on the horizon but   after we reached Ushuaia in Christmas 2024 we found ourselves enjoying just being in South America. As always when taking a self portrait I assume the posture of a hostage under duress:

Other travelers we met in this road have completed their South American expeditions, long since, and have shipped home to resume daily life or in many cases have taken up European journeys yes but we have settled into a long squiggly meander to nowhere and everywhere. 

We designed GANNET2 to be our home in retirement rather than to be a vehicle to reach the southernmost city or to drive the longest road in the world. To be our home we wanted a certain level of comfort which creates a level of complexity not necessarily seen in overland vehicles. 

Starting out from Florida air conditioning was a requirement, at first 110 volts but this was revealed to be inadequate and after sweating it out in the Amazon we wanted a more efficient 12volt unit. That was a big expensive change. 

We have a microwave and we use it. An air fryer…induction stove and a decent sized fridge which started out as a 110 volt unit but in Buenos Aires we also sought more energy efficiency and had it converted to 12 volts.

We made a very deliberate decision to build a suburban home on wheels. Most recently we added a gasoline heater fed by our fuel tank to heat our home, a feature as necessary as air conditioning we discovered when we lived through high altitude and high latitude journeys. For winter in Uruguay it’s a life saver. We live small but we do not live simply by the standards of most travelers. We have our own toilet too which is often preferable to suffering through public toilets or shrubbery. In some respects we blend in perfectly with the homes we park amongst on urban streets.

We don’t have hot running water or an inside shower but we are sybarites compared to the more run of the mill would- adventurers seeking goat tracks  to drive in the Andes. Hugh and Sue from British Columbia currently in Denmark:

Overlanding for good from Utah now back in the US:

A pop up camper on a Toyota Tundra for a family of four seen in Argentina:

A European couple we met one afternoon in Ecuador, naked not noted in my photos because I wasn’t too bright: 

Hubert and Agnes from Germany first crossed paths in Chile then Paraguay and latterly Brazil now home spoiling their grandchildren:

And now here we are driving in circles still marveling at things to see from the comfort of our only home, our not so simple home filled with wires and dreams and plans. Ecuador two years ago: 

Webb Chiles, a sailor who has been around the world in an 18 foot open boat and who rounded Cape Horn alone bailing his sinking boat remarked on my notions of simplicity as we struggled over the past several months to modernize our electrical systems. His sixth circumnavigation he undertook on a 24 foot sliver of a boat fully equipped with a toilet bucket and jugs of water for plumbing and rechargeable lights for an electrical circuit. Heat is from clothes and cooling from the breeze. Seen in Marathon in 2017 this is GANNET, the original after which our Promaster is named. 

Built in Santa Cruz California where I used to live (I delivered pizza in my youth to the man who designed her), a weird coincidence. This lightweight downwind racer was never designed to be a home or to sail around the world. But this one did and it managed somehow without a microwave. The great cabin of GANNET: 

Webb said it was okay to use these photos of his home afloat and I wanted to point out rapidly I would have a tough time spending months at sea aboard GANNET crossing an ocean. Webb revels in it, out of touch eating freeze dried food, reading, thinking and sleeping. Coping with actual simplicity. 

Search Webb Chiles in youtube for various videos describing this sailing life.

We have spent twice as much money on our refit as Webb spent buying GANNET in the Midwest and trucking her to saltwater years ago.  Simplicity is a relative concept. 

If it isn’t already obvious let me say it out loud: my level of simplicity would keep a peasant family living in the Andes in the highest level of luxury they could imagine. I don’t miss hauling wood for the fireplace these past two months or breathing wood smoke. I may enjoy my Walter Mitty fantasies of being a simple man but I know I’m not that. I have evolved for good or ill into a sybarite who likes his comforts. 45 years ago I traveled without even a tent sleeping under the stars. Today I am rather different. The Tropic of Cancer in Mexico 42 years apart:

Our plans for European travel? After Rusty we could buy a 90 day Eurail pass, first class of course, for a thirteen hundred bucks each and travel like our youthful back packing selves leaving the driving and the fuel costs and the parking headaches to someone else. Travelers evolve, for better or worse. My idea of old age simplicity: 

No microwaves allowed. I will suffer manfully in old age. For now we drive.