Camping at Stefan’s
It seemed like no time at all, and like an age at the same time, as we drove down the rough access road to Stefan’s house. It had been four and a half months, and it was odd to think that in that time we’d been all the way to Rio de Janeiro and back. Much like when we first arrived, it was a horrible day.
We bumped along the track, which was already flooded as the storm continued. Our windscreen leaked, the windows steamed up, and the suspension squeaked. We were only about a kilometre away when there was a nasty noise from the front, and the squeak was replaced with a loud bang. I didn’t get out to check in the pouring rain, but it seemed the front bushing had failed and the shock absorber had come off its mount. That was pretty irritating. I was planning to take it off when I got there anyway, but it just had to break minutes before.
We continued onwards slowly, and before long we were pulling into the drive and parking up on the lawn. Alessandra and Bjorn were still there, although they were planning on leaving in the next day or so. We said hello to our host and our friends, taking the opportunity to get out of the pouring rain at last. The other VW girls from Honduras were still here too, but we didn’t see too much of them.
The next day, I had a better look at the shock absorber. As I suspected, it had managed to fall off the bottom bushing entirely. Unfortunately, in doing so, it had somehow got bent. I was hopeful that we would just be able to get a new bushing, but now we were in the position of needing a whole new shock absorber. I was annoyed with myself for not dealing with the problem sooner; it could have been avoided completely. I messaged our friend Mario back in Chile. We’d actually left behind a working shock there when we replaced our two front ones. Luckily for us, he still had it. We just needed a way to get it over 2,000 km to us. He told me he would make some enquiries, as he often sends parts to Paraguay for the community of people here with T3 buses.
In the meantime, Lee’s birthday was imminent. We had a meal and some drinks that night with the others to celebrate early, as the next evening we had plans to go for a fancy dinner. I had booked a restaurant in Villarrica that Stefan had recommended. We went into town early to do a few bits and bobs. Firstly, we collected some new gas struts for our pop-top, which had been kindly sent out to us by Space—the company that installed our pop-top back in the UK. These had been sent to Miami and then down here using a freight forwarder—several weeks later, but quite cheap. Then we headed off to Villarrica. Lee finally got a haircut from a barber while I went and bought some oil to do an oil change. Even though we thought we had given ourselves plenty of time, we ended up in a rush. We parked outside the restaurant with only a few minutes to spare, hurriedly threw on some nicer clothes, and headed inside. There was one large table of about ten people and then one little table for the two of us. Everyone was German.
We had booked the tasting menu: Lee chose the seafood option and I had the vegetarian one. We ordered a cocktail and enjoyed our first course. Lee enjoyed diving into an enormous bowl of seafood that I would never have eaten. It was nice that for his birthday he got something he rarely gets!
Incredibly full, we headed home. Bjorn and Alessandra had left, so there was a space in the sheltered section where they had been parked. Stefan parks his car on one side, and on the other is a space for another car on paving slabs under the roof. We decided to park here because in the morning I wanted to do some maintenance on Ruby, and it’s not safe to try and jack her on the grass. It turned out to be a very good decision—in the middle of the night, an enormous storm hit. The wind howled down the side of the building, blowing pots and pans out of the outdoor kitchen. The trees we normally parked between bent double. While we heard the noise, we were completely protected—which was especially important as our roof struts weren’t working, so strong wind was a terrible idea.
The next morning, we swapped out our old gas struts. I checked the rear brakes, as Ruby was pulling under braking. I discovered that one of our driveshafts was making a very nasty clunking noise. We also found out that the shock absorber had not been the main cause of the squeaking. We had expected a quiet drive now that we had taken it off, but no—it was still there. Further investigation showed that the noise was coming from one of our ball joints. One of the boots on these had been broken back in Chile when they were installed new. We had swapped it, but the new boot had already split. Now the joint was sandy, dry, and making a horrific noise. I cleaned it all out, repacked it with grease, and made a temporary clingfilm boot. Changing it properly was going to be quite a job, but if it didn’t stop making that awful noise, we would have no choice. As for the CV joints, they needed changing as soon as possible.
While I was in the middle of discovering all our new mechanical problems, the girls came to say goodbye. They were heading into Brazil to Curitiba, where they planned to fit a high-top to their van. We passed them Jean’s contact details and wished them safe travels. Now we were the only people staying here. We spent another few days working on Ruby, changing the oil and sorting small jobs. We also made use of having access to an oven, making some nice food while we stayed in Stefan’s garden including fancy cheese night.
After ten days, we were ready to leave, although this time our plans had changed. We had planned to drive from here down to Mendoza, trying to get there for my birthday in two weeks' time. The discovery of the knackered CV joints had put a spanner in the works. After Mendoza, we would head to the Puna de Atacama, and for that, we needed our suspension and brakes 100% operational. With this in mind, and with absolutely no money to pay for immediate repairs, we decided we’d rent a room at Stefan’s. Stopping for a while would give our finances a chance to recover and allow us to catch up on a lot of outstanding admin, like writing this blog. We could also make use of the freight forwarder to bring down new joints for the best price possible. My parents had been planning to visit us in Brazil in September, but they were actually happy enough to change their plans. They had once planned to come and visit us in Salta, but the inflation previously had made it too expensive. Things had stabilised a little recently, though, so now it was possible. After a big re-plan, we set off for Ciudad del Este to get ourselves some new tyres and treat ourselves to some birthday presents with our birthday money, planning to return soon and stop for two months.
The idea of going to Ciudad del Este was to pick up some new tyres for a cheaper price. I wanted to buy myself a new watch, and Lee was after some headphones. Electronics are a lot cheaper there than anywhere else—it’s a huge duty-free zone with imports from all over the world. It is a little overwhelming and somewhere you need to go with a specific list of what you want, rather than window shop.
In my head, it was about a two-hour drive, but in reality, it’s more like three. By the time we arrived, we couldn’t go and register for the campsite spot we wanted. We headed back to the free spot by the little lagoon and decided we’d head around to the other one in the morning. We tried to go back to the Irish bar for a cheap bite to eat, but it was shut, so we ended up at a new place just down the road, enjoying some sushi.
In the morning, we packed up and went to drive around. The other spot is a proper campsite, but it’s completely free. To get in, you have to register, and that has to be done before 3 pm. Once inside, you’re allowed to stay for a week. This sounded like the perfect base to leave the camper and go into the city, as we didn’t really want to take Ruby into the center. The chaos there is something else, and it’s not the safest place to leave the van unattended.
In order to park level the previous night, we had pulled up under a tree. As Lee went to reverse out, I stood outside to make sure the roof didn't get caught on the solar panel. I waved him back, and he began to reverse up the bank. I glanced down and saw that just in front of me on the ground was an oil filter, and running down from where Ruby currently was a few metres further back was a large river of oil. I yelled at Lee and waved frantically: "TURN IT OFF!!!" I screamed. Lee looked confused, but obviously registered my look of panic and killed the engine. Outside, we both stood over our small pond of brand-new oil, with the new oil filter sitting in the middle of it. It didn’t look like we’d be driving anywhere for a bit.
We pushed the van back and set it up so we could shut the cats in and keep it as cool as possible. We shovelled mud over our enormous oil leak, cleaning it up as best we could. Then we looked for the nearest auto parts shop. It was a fair walk, and the day was getting hot already. We should have taken the bikes, but instead, we trudged down the main road for several kilometres to reach the shop. When we explained what we wanted, the guy told us he didn’t have it and asked us to bring the old filter. I explained that the old filter was the wrong size anyway, so that wouldn’t help. After realising that we’d have to walk to another shop and there wasn’t one close by, he made a few phone calls, suddenly announcing that it was sorted. About 15 minutes later, someone arrived on a motorbike and dropped off a new filter for us. We bought another four litres of oil—which was a bit painful considering our last oil change had only lasted about 200 km—and then walked back in the hot midday sun to the camper. By the time we got there, there wasn’t time to get across to the campsite before 3 pm, so I fitted the new filter, topped up the oil, and made us ready to go again in the morning.
Fortunately, the next morning when we went to drive away, the filter stayed firmly attached. We drove around to the other side of the bay where the free campsite is. As we pulled up to the entrance, I noticed a sign that said "No Pets". Hoping they wouldn’t notice the cats, we pulled up to security and asked if we could stay. They waved us into a side car park and said someone would come and process us when they had finished lunch. They invited us to use the water and ice machine, as well as fill our tanks with a nearby tap. We did all that and continued to wait. After an hour passed, I decided they must have eaten lunch by now and went to chase them up. I caught one man mid-sandwich. Clearly, they weren’t done, but they told me to bring over our documents anyway. The whole process was almost like crossing an international border! They wanted all our documents, and then they came out to take photos of the vehicle. Then he asked if we had pets. We said yes, fully expecting them to tell us we had to leave after all that effort. He then asked to see their vaccine cards, which we supplied. After that, to my surprise and happiness, he gave us the go-ahead.
The park is long, running for several kilometres down the bank of the river. Here, the river is incredibly wide, its banks featuring many coves and bays, meaning this spot was only a short distance across a small bay from where we had previously camped, though driving around took quite a bit longer. We drove down to the final gate, where they were ready for us with a little permit slip. They told us the gates shut at 9 pm and we must be inside with the vehicle before then. As it was Friday night and the bass was already pounding from across the river, I was delighted with this news; no late-night party traffic was fine by me!
Once in the camping section, we drove down to the very last spot to have it all to ourselves. It was a bit far from the bathrooms, but it was nice to have the space. There were multiple hook-up points and water taps everywhere. Next to us were barbecue areas with a picnic table, a fancy grill, and a sink. It was incredible that it was all completely free, and we planned to stay for a few days.
The weather wasn’t the best, so it was nice to have a large covered space where we could sit out of the rain. We had loads of room to cook and made ourselves some sushi. Having unlimited water and electricity definitely makes cooking a whole lot easier!
The cats were enjoying the huge space: there was an abandoned toilet block to explore and several trees to climb. Lexi played with any ant unfortunate enough to get near her, and Aimee enjoyed hiding in an abandoned concrete pipe. There were no dogs to chase them and no moving cars to worry about.
We planned to let the weekend pass before heading into the city during the week to buy what we needed, hoping it would be a little less crazy. Everything changed on Monday, though. I looked out of the window and saw two campervans pulling into our area. My initial irritation at having to share instantly vanished when I saw the side of one van: it was our Colombian friends Carlos and Marce! We hadn’t seen them since El Chaltén in Argentine Patagonia, and once again, by complete chance, we had bumped into them 4,000 km and an entire year later. They were travelling with another van, and soon we met Klaas from the Netherlands, who had been travelling with them for several weeks since starting his trip in Uruguay.
While we had initially planned to head off sooner, we realised that the campsite permit gave us more time than expected, meaning we could spend my birthday here and celebrate with friends. Carlos also wanted to head into the city to buy a power station, so a couple of days later, we all went together. I can never get used to the chaotic bustle of the place—huge skyscrapers with floors of electronic equipment. I had my list and so did he, so we knew exactly where we were going, but it’s still a time-consuming process. You have to register with your passport in order to buy anything; proving you’re a foreigner exempts you from paying tax on the products. Then you pay and go to a completely different floor to collect them—it’s like a slow, chaotic version of Argos! We bought a new watch for me and some new headphones for Lee, and then headed off to find Carlos's power station. Shops close early there—at around 3:30 pm everything is already shutting down—but we successfully got what we wanted and ordered a taxi back.
That night we cooked together, grilling fish on the barbecue while the others made salads. They said they’d cook for us on my birthday, which was coming up on Friday.
We weren’t the only vans there: another Kombi from Brazil arrived, as well as some Argentinians. The Brazilian van was a simple, white tin-top Kombi containing a mother, father, and teenage daughter. I couldn’t even comprehend how that worked layout-wise—fair play to them! While the family kept to themselves, we spent some time chatting with the Argentinians and invited them to our birthday pizza night.
When Friday rolled around, I was completely spoiled. Lee cooked me a birthday brunch with the obligatory Bucks Fizz and even went out of his way to make me a pineapple upside-down cake, despite the fact that he hates pineapple.
Carlos and Marce gave me a nice bottle of wine—with strict instructions not to share!—as well as a lovely handmade bracelet. That evening, we weren’t entirely sure what was happening about food; we’re used to taking control of the cooking, but as we had bought dinner for everyone the other night, we decided to sit back and see what happened. Despite the fact that we barely knew the Argentinians (I don’t even remember their names!), they put on a proper spread. The lady, helped by Marce, cooked pizzas, churning them out with production-line efficiency while we all sat around the large picnic table. Marce also made me another cake. We barely lifted a finger, except to make a blue cheese sauce that went onto our custom apple, blue cheese, and walnut pizza. After sharing our unusual creation, the Argentinians shared their traditional pizza, which apparently features grated hard-boiled egg.
Later on, another cake was brought out, and I was sung Happy Birthday in English, Spanish, and Dutch—certainly a first for me! We enjoyed a few drinks and some guitar music before heading off to bed. It was a lovely evening, and I was so glad we’d bumped into our friends to celebrate.
The following day, our camping permit expired, and everyone else was leaving too. We messaged Stefan to let him know we were on our way back and set about packing up. The cats, who had thoroughly enjoyed the spot, didn’t want to leave. Aimee hid deep inside a giant concrete pipe with no way to reach her. We sat in the drizzle, waiting. Eventually, I got fed up, and knowing we’d run out of time to get into our room later, I implemented my cat-retrieval plan. Using our long hose, I filled it with pressurised water from the tap, walked over to her pipe, and sprayed inside. A soggy, furious cat shot out and was instantly captured. It might sound a bit harsh, but we had already waited four hours for her, so it felt entirely justified! With everyone accounted for, we set off back to Melgarejo once again.
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