Jaramillo Petrified Forest

After a great time watching the penguins the previous day, it was time to keep moving onward. Puerto Deseado is a fair detour from the Ruta 3 and so, to resume our original route, it was another hour and a half drive out through the nondescript pampa to the main road again. We decided that we would detour yet again, however—this time deeper into the wilderness of central Argentina. Adding on these two detours meant we needed to plan for petrol. Our next stop was going to be the petrified forest of Jaramilla, and yet again it was over an hour from the highway. Fuel stations on the Ruta 3 are not particularly abundant anyway, and once you add in the driving we would be doing just to rejoin the highway, we needed enough fuel for at least four hours of driving. How much that was is a little unpredictable; the winds down here are so strong they can halve your mpg in an instant if you end up driving into them head-on. To be safe, we filled the tank and the spare roof fuel before heading away from the coast.

Horst and Christine also planned to spend the night at the same spot and we agreed to meet them there later. At first, the drive was pretty boring. The most interesting thing was a few wind turbines. The grass stretched on, mile after mile.

We rejoined the highway, a few extra white lines and signs marking this slightly ceremonial moment. We continued on until the turn-off to the forest. Straight away, we left the tarmac behind. I drove a few hundred metres and then stopped. This was going to be far more pleasant if we aired down. Dropping the tyre pressure by about 30 percent made the drive far more enjoyable. We settled into a slow off-road pace; it was just over an hour to reach the entrance to the forest. As we got closer, the landscape became more interesting.

The flat pampa gave way to red valleys and windswept rock formations. Looking at it, you’d think there was nothing here, but the area is so vast it hides these small points of interest. It was still utterly barren. Guanacos, rheas and foxes were the main things that thrived here, although sometimes I wondered what on. It reminded us of a mini version of the Laguna route we had crossed back in Bolivia. Its desolation made it beautiful.

After an hour or so of steady driving, we reached the entrance. This was a national park and so we needed to make sure they didn’t see the cats. We parked up at the far end of the car park and went to sign in. A friendly ranger greeted us and led us into the small office. The park is free; you just have to sign and show your passport. They then gave us a piece of paper which was our permission to stay overnight in the park. They told us we were allowed to stay one night at the foot of the dormant volcano in the park. Horst and Christine had already passed by and we mentioned they were our friends. The ranger warned us not to go outside at night because of the pumas in the area. They gave us directions to the spot and we headed off along a dirt track that was in better condition than the actual access road. It was a fair bit further in—another 15km or so along a single-track red gravel road.

Following the directions, as well as our map (as his instructions were on the vague side), we turned off and headed along an even smaller track towards the final spot. At the bottom of the hill we spotted Ivo already parked up. Their large truck out here was nothing more than a tiny dot in the landscape. We were really alone. I felt quietly satisfied thinking about what a peaceful night we were going to have here. No animals, no cars, and wind protection from the hill. Sometimes there is nothing more satisfying than knowing nothing is going to ruin your sleep.

As predicted, we had a lovely peaceful, silent night. The following morning we headed off to do the small circular hike around the volcano. There are actually two small volcanoes here, aptly named volcán madre y hija (mother and daughter). The hike is only short and starts directly from our door. We walked steadily uphill, climbing slowly up the base. Herds of startled guanacos ran away across the hillside. A beetle lazily crawled across the tiny scrubby flowers and the wind gently ruffled the grass. It was a lovely day.

Not only were we fortunate with the sunny weather—which is actually quite common—but we were also lucky with the wind. That meant that when we got to the top, we could actually fly Steve and spend some time enjoying the endless view.

As we sat looking down on our tiny camper in the valley below, we saw a dusty trail making its way steadily across the hillside opposite. We recognised the motorhome of Heidi and Peter, the Swiss couple we had been bumping into on and off since Balneario del Condor. They had clearly also decided the detour out here was worth it. We watched them cross the hill and drop down to park below. By the time we got back down, they were outside chatting with the others. While they would be stopping here that evening, we had used our one free night and now had to head out again.

We began to pack up Ruby, ready to leave. We headed off a bit before our friends, wanting to fly the drone some more as we drove out.

Even though we were only permitted one free night in the park, the ranger recommended that before leaving we stop back by the visitor centre. In fact, this was kind of the whole point, as this was where the forest was. As you can see from the previous photos, it is a forest no longer. These trees existed 150 million years ago, a time so distant that my brain can’t really comprehend it. We parked up once more and headed back into the office. We were told that when we left we must hand in our permission slip. They seemed to have forgotten about that part, though, and instead waved us through to the museum.

It was just a small room full of bits of petrified wood and artefacts found on site. The ranger took us through everything from start to finish. He showed us around, letting us hold pieces of rock and showing us arrowheads made by indigenous people. He explained the process of petrification and how the unique climate of the land, along with geological changes over time, had led to these giant stone trunks. He went to great lengths to make sure we understood everything and was clearly very passionate about it. The trunks themselves really still looked like trees. It wasn’t until he offered me a regular piece of wood and then a piece of petrified stone that the difference became obvious in weight alone.

After the tour, he pointed us towards a small circular footpath that wound around the trees themselves. We wandered amongst these huge trunks, some up to 3m in diameter. I tried to picture the whole area submerged under a vast lake, the forest alive, maybe even dinosaurs roaming through it. The mind boggles.

The trunks were fascinating, their details perfectly preserved. Behind one of the larger ones at the far end of the path, we were also lucky enough to spot two foxes, one nestled in the lee of the trunks.

At the top we diverted to the mirador, luckily open that day as the wind wasn’t too strong.

Horst and Christine were a little behind us on the trail. We backtracked slightly to point out the foxes to them before completing our circuit and heading back to the van. It was now getting towards the end of the afternoon, and so we decided that although we couldn’t camp in the park, we’d camp just outside. The cats had been kept in or on their leads for a while and were starting to get restless, so a nice free wild campsite would be just the job.

We didn’t have to drive far to find a smaller dirt track leading away from the main road. Out here the road was hardly busy, and even pulling off we were still easily visible in the flat desert. It didn’t bother us though. We checked the wind direction and tried to anticipate the 3am wind, often completely different from the afternoon breeze. Then we ended the evening sitting together around a campfire, under the stars. The perfect end to a perfect day.