1,000 Kilometres Across The Chaco

The drive to San Luis del Palmar hadn’t been a long one, and so far, since entering Argentina over a week ago, we’d only made a few hours’ progress on our long trip back to Mendoza. Now it was time to put some kilometres on the speedo and make up some ground. We hoped to break up the drive into two-to-three-hour chunks, but we knew that inevitably, when it came to crossing the heart of the Chaco province, we’d probably have to do some longer stints.

As we left the campsite that morning, we headed to our favourite supermarket, La Anónima, to stock up for the coming week of long drives and tiny towns. Corrientes also had an Easy—my favourite DIY shop. I couldn’t resist a mooch around, but on the whole, I remained horrified by the price of everything. A large plastic box would set you back £40. A string of LED lights was about £15—easily double the price of the UK equivalent! Buying nothing more than some silicone and a few new batteries, we headed off.

The planned stop for tonight might not be one for the superstitious, but finding somewhere to park that wasn’t a petrol station was hard. As a general rule, we avoided those as much as possible. Firstly, they’re noisy, as they tend to be situated close to busy roads. Secondly, it’s not safe to let the cats out, especially with their annoying love of engine bays. So tonight, Lee had chosen to spend the night in a cemetery: a large grassy space behind the tombstones that was set well back off the road. No passing traffic here, and far enough away from everything to let the cats out for a wander.

We arrived after an uneventful drive and set about unpacking while the cats darted off to explore. The weather was hot, and we opened all the doors to try and cool Ruby down after the long drive.

There were hardly any people around, and the cemetery looked unloved, to say the least. Tombstones stood broken open, coffins dumped inside. I thought there might be a water tap—as there often is for people to put out flowers—but no such luck. Lee came back looking slightly depressed by the whole affair. Across from us on the other side of the field, a burial was taking place. Only the gravedigger and two other people were present. While it was a sad sight to see, the cats were completely oblivious. Aimee returned later covered in grey ash, which we really hoped was just some kind of dust and not the other possibility...

After a quiet, but hot, night, we got ready to move on. This time we planned to visit somewhere we had stopped at on the way up. We had spent a night at a meteorite museum previously, but having arrived late after a very long drive, we hadn’t had time to see much. We thought this was the perfect opportunity to go back, especially as they offered free camping. I suppose we should have done our research, though, because when we were only around 20 minutes away, we checked the listing to find that the prices had gone up hugely. As we had already stopped once and seen some of the biggest meteorites already, we decided we would keep going. We had driven around two and a half hours to get there, but we thought we may as well press on. We headed for the only other option: a Shell petrol station another two and a half hours away.

This one had an enormous parking lot at the back, and we hoped we’d get far enough away from the main forecourt for a quiet night. It also had showers. And if it was horrible... well, it was only for one night.

By the time we arrived, we were dusty and tired. The road in parts was in a terrible condition, covered in potholes that required rally driving and unending concentration to avoid. Even with our best efforts, we’d hit a couple far harder than we would have liked. We pulled into the car park, ready to stop. It was, indeed, enormous. We headed into the farthest corner, hoping to tuck ourselves away from truckers arriving in the night. We were quite a way back from everything here, so we even let the girls out for a run around after being confined to a hot car for over six hours.

After setting up the van, it was time to figure out the shower. Lee had bought us two tokens and apparently knew what to do. We headed over to the block. On the wall in the men’s was a machine with a coin slot and some buttons. They had told us to use shower number six for the women’s side, so we pressed the button until '6' came up and dropped in the coin.

Instantly, I heard the water start as a timer appeared on the screen, counting down from seven minutes.

I rushed into the ladies', peeling off clothes as I went. There was no door to the main block, meaning you could see straight out into the car park, but I couldn’t get undressed inside the cubicle without getting all my clothes soaking wet since the water was already running. Lee somewhat blocked the view while I threw off my remaining things and jumped in.

The water was pretty cold, but it was a hot day at least. After three minutes, the hot water finally arrived. Not wanting to mess around with the temperature controls with only a few minutes left, I ended up with a shower so hot I could barely stand under it! Every now and then, Lee checked how long I had left, and just in time, I finished up. It felt so good to be clean after hours of dusty driving. As for Lee’s turn, he was now better prepared. We used the same shower so we didn’t have to wait for the water to heat up again, and both left feeling glorious—the best £2 we’d spent all week.

While the shower had been a success, the sleeping was less so. Throughout the night, truckers arrived at all hours. We had a broken night's sleep and awoke to see what had been a completely empty car park now packed with lorries all around us. Today would be another long one.

Our final stop was the reservoir in Capilla del Monte, yet another spot we had stopped at before. It was another five hours of driving across the Chaco, but once we reached it, the boring bit would be done. So, we set off. The roads were no better; at points, the tarmac was so broken that it would have been better if it were just a gravel road. We drove on into the wilderness where there seemed to be very little except goats and, at one point, an extraordinary number of birds.

The hours ticked by, broken up only by stopping for fuel. Again. It was an expensive business driving 1,500 km, but it would be worth it. By the time we rolled into the little town, we couldn’t wait to get out and stretch our legs. After several days of moving, we had covered over 900 km, putting us within eight hours of our final destination going south. We decided we’d stop for a few days and have a break here at the side of the reservoir.

Our first two days were cloudy with a threat of drizzle. We just about made it through to the weekend, when the sun finally came out. I went off for a walk down by the reservoir alone after being cooped up for a few days. Lee, however, was still ploughing through the Rio video and didn’t want to stop.

It was a pretty place, understandably popular with the locals. Even though it was Saturday, there were plenty of spaces all along the shore, so it didn’t feel busy.

Further along, some guys had brought out their dirt bikes and were having a great time on the numerous trails around the lakeside. I skirted around the back and walked until I reached the end of the trails. Here, there was a bridge and some kind of overflow, I assumed for the reservoir.

After this point, it was hard to go any further. I made it to a small beach, scared a local herd of sheep, and climbed halfway up a small rock trying to find the path before admitting defeat and sitting down to admire the view. From my vantage point, I could just make out Ruby across the water.

The next day, we debated moving on, but as it had been so quiet for a Friday night, we decided to stay. Lee was now up for a walk, so this time I re-checked the map. I wanted to walk around the reservoir to the dam on the other side. There was the trail I had already walked, and another trail on the opposite side. They didn’t connect, however—separated by a matter of metres. Now that I had seen it on satellite imagery, I knew exactly which bush I would need to plough my way through.

This time, Lee and I walked back down together. At the end, I pulled up my map and made a beeline for a likely-looking bush. Lee was not convinced by my attempt at all.

“I don’t think there’s a path here, love,” I kept hearing a slightly plaintive voice call from behind me.

I was not about to give up that easily. After forcing my way through a particularly spiky bush, I arrived triumphant on the other path. Lee begrudgingly followed me—previous experience having no doubt taught him that I can be slightly optimistic with what I call a "path". This, however, was a proper one.

Soon enough, it opened out and joined a dirt track. We walked along in the glorious sunshine, enjoying the views.

After a little while, it ended up near someone’s house, where we cautiously skirted their dogs and came out by a small restaurant. We were now behind the dam, on the small stream at the bottom. It was surprisingly picturesque, and many families were in and around the area, as it was a Sunday.

After walking right up to the wall and realising that the steps were clearly made for maintenance workers rather than the public, we started to walk back up the road to see the view from the top. In an uncharacteristic fashion, there were a lot of signs: “Keep your pets on a lead”, “This area has no signal, cash only”, “Don’t leave the path”, “Climb the hill in first gear”, and so on.

As soon as we reached a likely-looking flat bit at the top of the hill, we promptly left the path and crossed over scrubby plants and rocks to meet the trail that goes to the viewpoint.

From here, you can walk across the top of the dam and look down on it from the other side. There are also several other vantage points, all offering lovely views over the reservoir. From these, we could clearly see Ruby parked on the far shore. The reservoir is long and thin; as the crow flies, she was less than half a kilometre away, though it had taken us 6 km to walk here!

We decided to complete the loop and walk back via the town. This added another 6 km, mainly because of the river, which forces you to walk all the way to the main road to take the bridge across. Still, it gave us an opportunity to pop into a shop and pick up a couple of things we hadn’t grabbed when we arrived—half of which we ended up carrying in our hands because, according to the shopkeeper, “No one uses bags here.”

By the time we got back to Ruby, the sun was setting and our feet ached, but it felt good to have done a proper hike again. It had been way too long.