Panama Flashbacks

That morning we left our beautiful, tranquil beach spot to head back into the town of Mejillones for more supplies. We planned to return and spend another week there, watching the sea lions, catching up on odd jobs, and more importantly — not spending any more money. It sounded perfect.

We packed up, leaving our newly scavenged beach umbrella wedged in its pallet-and-rock base. Hopefully it would still be there when we returned.

The road out from the beach is a steep one — a kind of first-gear, foot-to-the-floor affair that makes you feel a little sorry for the engine. Still, what else could you do? So we screamed up the hillside, shattering the silence. It’s not far to town, just a half-hour drive, but the road is hard — full of steep hills and tight bends. Normally nothing Ruby couldn’t manage, but today it was hard to get the gears. As I pulled away from the beach, I couldn’t get it into gear at all. Eventually I managed it and put the problem down to our clutch cable, which we already knew was wearing out. To avoid gear changes going wrong on the steep sections, I changed gear early at the bottom and climbed everything in first rather than risk dropping down the box mid-climb.

We made it to town and headed for the biggest supermarket we knew to get supplies. We also needed gas, as our cooker was still on the blink while we tried to source a part from Argentina. We also spied a pile of wood by the bins and decided to grab it for a campfire. Before attempting to move again, I crawled underneath and adjusted the clutch cable. It was fraying, but still holding, and I hoped it would be enough to get us back to the beach where I could swap it at my leisure.

As we pulled away, this was the point I started to worry.

There was still a problem with the gears, and it definitely wasn’t the clutch cable. We drove around to load up the firewood, the gearbox occasionally grinding while in gear. It was the noise we’d heard when we turned the engine off on arriving at the beach. Still, apart from this occasional problem, she seemed to move fine. I hoped it was just clutch-related — something relatively easy to sort.

We began heading back out of town towards the beach.

We made it up the long, steep winding road to the observatory and began driving along the top of the cliffs. The gearbox now ground more often and there was a horrible clunking noise coming from somewhere. As we reached the top of the next large descent, it got noticeably worse, and I stopped. With Lee’s help, I backed down the road rather quickly, because driving slowly triggered the horrible crunching, and pulled off to the side.

We clearly had a big problem. And it didn’t seem like the clutch.

We parked up and considered our options. We both agreed that driving the steep 500m descent to the beach was unwise. It was a lot of load on the engine and gearbox to get back out again, and if we didn’t make it, we would be very stuck. We decided the best plan was to retrace our steps and camp at the beach nearer town. There we could decide what to do, and help would be close if necessary. Reluctantly, we turned around and headed back to Playa Rinconada on the outskirts of town.

This too was a pretty beach, and here we parked on a small cliff overlooking the sand. There were a few other people there, as well as another camper. As it was a Thursday though, it was fairly quiet.

Here we met Samantha and Guillermo. They came over and introduced themselves, partly because they also had a kombi but also because they told us how much they loved meeting travellers. They invited us over to use their shower, washing machine, and whatever else we needed.

It was a lovely offer, but we couldn’t think of anything except our Ruby problem — and the large pool of oil sitting beneath the van. It had gone from a small dribble in Peru to a puddle of doom.

There weren’t any recent reviews for the spot we were staying in, so we weren’t quite sure what to expect. I can’t say I expected the all-night party we ended up with though— on a weekday too. Guillermo had warned us that people sometimes came there to play music, but he never warned us that they’d be doing doughnuts next to us at 5am. People came and went, the music blared. When it reached 3am I thought surely it must stop soon — but it didn’t. It was a truly horrible night, and not what we needed when we had a big problem to sort.

We had messaged Luis in the hope that he might still let us use his space, and were kind of holding on for a reply. While we didn’t want to stay there again, we didn’t know where else would be better, and so against our better judgement we stayed a second night. I thought maybe it had been a one-off. Now of course it was Friday — and it was exactly the same.

No sleep. Just kids partying and driving around in their battered cars with no bumpers or exhausts. We contemplated going to Samantha and Guillermo’s. Maybe they knew someone. We could do our huge bag of clothes washing and have a shower. In the end though, we couldn’t face it. They were pretty hard to understand on a good day, and after two bad nights we couldn’t face trying to keep up our end of the conversation.

We decided Antofagasta would be a better place to be, as this was where the big shops were and the courier offices if we needed to order anything. We packed up and drove, very gently, to the end of the bay near La Portada. We hoped it was far enough from town that no one would come out there, despite the fact it was the weekend.

The beach itself is an enormous bay. Turning off the main road just before entering the city, you divert down a long stretch of tarmac that sits in stark contrast to the white sand on either side. To the left, the blue sea stretches away, and to the right the road is lined by an enormous pet cemetery.

At first you drive along the cliffs, looking directly down at the sea below, but then the road drops and you continue along the back of a huge sandy bay. We headed to the far end and parked in the small car park, hoping for some protection from the wind. A large number of kitesurfers suggested it was perfectly normal for it to be this windy.

The car park was fairly full, as was to be expected on a Saturday. We walked down to the beach, crossing an odd boggy section where seaweed had routinely washed ashore and been covered in pebbles and sand. It didn’t look soft, but one wrong step and you’d disappear up to your knees. After that we came out onto a beach made entirely of shells. Naturally, I couldn’t resist grabbing a few.

As we spent the afternoon there, the car park slowly cleared out. We let the cats out for a run around and were silently optimistic for a quiet night. We had seen warnings — and been told — that La Portada wasn’t a good area, but being several kilometres away, we hoped it would be fine. At first, it seemed perfect. We had the place to ourselves as night fell.

A few hours later we headed to bed, finally ready to sleep. We had only been there an hour or so when the first car arrived. They pulled into the car park and sat there silently. Then another joined.

We heard the clink of bottles, but thankfully there was no music. I even relaxed a little — it was somehow weirder having them sit silently next to us than if they had simply been meeting for a drink. Every now and then another car would arrive, sit with headlights blazing, then turn around and leave. Something that happens often, but I never really understand. The cars in the corner didn’t get going until past midnight. Then the music kicked in, and once again all hope of sleep evaporated to the sound of relentless reggaeton.

Lee was hopeful that Sunday might be okay. Everyone might be done for the weekend and ready to work on Monday, he reasoned. We could try again tonight. I wasn’t having it. I wanted to move. NOW.

We thought perhaps we’d go and park up on the cliffs a bit further up, really not wanting to drive our suffering gearbox more than was absolutely necessary. This wasn’t far though, and was a huge area where we would be unlucky if someone stopped right next to us. The problem with the cliffs was not only the wind, but the proximity to the road. It was a fast one, and we didn’t want to add our pets to those buried just behind it. This wasn’t really an option.

In the end we went back down the hill, but instead of parking in the car park, we parked at a large abandoned building a few hundred metres away. It was a bit scummy, the floor covered in rubble and the walls graffiti’d, but we hoped that would keep others away. It was a little further from the road so the cats would be safe, and it also offered us some welcome wind protection inside its partially standing walls.

At this point I was a little incoherent from lack of sleep, so we fell into bed early and, for the first time in three days, slept.

As we had finally found a spot where no one disturbed us, we decided to try and make plans there. We messaged a few other people. One guy, Hector, in the city might be a good bet, and Luis had replied to us asking how we were getting on. We decided we would stay there until we had a garage sorted that we could drive to. The only problem was that we hadn’t really stocked up this much. We had planned to stay a week at the beach and had stocked up for that, but we were now reaching the end of our supplies.

Lee wanted to drive over the headland to the next town, but I didn’t want to go up the hill. In the end, he went on his bike while I cleaned out the toilet. He bought enough cat food to stretch another day there, but then we would really have to leave. We hoped by that point we would have a more definitive reply from someone.

Unfortunately, by the time our food and water had both run out the following day, we weren’t really getting any closer. We were still kind of holding out for Luis — he used to let overlanders stay in his garage and it would have been perfect. However, after a few days it seemed he was choosing to ignore us. His friend Eduardo, who had helped us, was also not responding, but we had to try something. I had spoken to this guy Hector, who seemed to have a good space, but then he’d also stopped replying. We decided that we’d drive there and speak to him in person.

We packed up and drove Ruby as gently as possible to the city. The more I drove it, the more it felt like the same problem we had had back in Panama when the pilot bearing fell out. I did my best to avoid crunching anything and we parked up outside Hector’s.

This was a big open yard with several businesses down one side and houses down the other. We found Hector in the part he was clearly renting for his garage. He came outside and listened to the nasty crunching, and we explained that until we took it apart we couldn’t be sure of the problem — we might need a space for a couple of weeks to order parts. He said that while he didn’t mind us using a space in his workshop, it wasn’t up to him, but the owner of the property. He said that they didn’t get on well, since apparently he had brought in a truck that was too big and the owner hadn’t liked it. We asked if he would check for us anyway and let us know.

In the meantime, we needed to find somewhere to wait for an answer.

There’s no real camping, paid or otherwise, in the city apart from the spot we had already stayed at down in the south. We decided to head down to the beach at La Chimba and see if we could stay there. On the way, we headed to Tottus and stocked up. Hector had warned us that La Chimba was “the party spot”, but it seemed like the entire coast was that anyway. We approached some very battered-looking gates that proclaimed they would be shut at 9pm. It didn’t look like they’d moved in years, so we headed in and decided to try our luck.

We parked up on a narrow stretch of land at the bottom. To one side the waves crashed against the breakwater and a rather ominous-looking foam lay across the water. On the other side was a nice little sandy beach, including a playground and some seating areas. Apparently this had been a government project to turn the area into a nice tourist spot, but during the pandemic it had fallen through. You could see the remains of the idea — dead palm trees amongst new concrete flower beds, and all around broken glass and some trash littering the floor. We parked up on the wavy side, away from the car park. Behind us the road continued down a small peninsula with an abandoned visitor centre.

It had seemed unlikely that they actually shut the gates, but sure enough at around 10pm a guy came and told us we had to leave. Lee spoke to him and, despite his best efforts to explain that we would just need ten minutes to pack up, he apparently didn’t understand.

As we were packing, he came back and told us that he had phoned the president of the area — who apparently lived in the houses that looked down on us — and they had given us permission to stay. This was a stroke of luck, as not only did we not need to move, but they were also going to lock the gates, which meant that the party couldn’t come and bother us. We were pretty happy with this outcome and now we could relax. While the camping had turned out well, the garage had not. Hector had messaged me to say that the owner would not allow us to stay there. He sent me a contact for a friend who might be able to help instead.

That meant the next day was spent messaging people. I tried Hector’s friend, who didn’t reply. I tried some other contacts recommended by someone from one of the WhatsApp groups we were in, but none of these could help. I messaged a regular workshop, but again they were only interested in having the van and doing the work themselves. This wasn’t really the route we wanted to go down. We had promised ourselves that no one would work on Ruby except us. We have been burnt too many times before. Finding a garage that would let us do that was pretty hard here, normally it’s something we have found easily.

The other sticking point was that we wanted to stay in the van at the same time. The cheapest pet-friendly accommodation was around £30 a night, and that adds up pretty quickly. Back in Panama, our single greatest expense had not been the engine or the parts, but paying for a hostel for two months. We had come up with nothing again, and now it was the weekend which meant we couldn’t really do anything else. As we sat about the camper, a woman came up and asked us if we wanted to stay in the spot longer. We said we would like to stay over the weekend if possible, as we had a problem with our van and didn’t want to drive. She said (we thought) that she would ask permission for us to stay longer and let us know. We never heard anything though, so when it came time for them to lock the gates, we decided to sit outside and wait to speak to the guy. He came over a little confused, saying that we had only agreed one night. We said we had spoken to someone else and that we were going to get permission for the weekend. We explained the situation with the car to him. He seemed to think we’d spoken to the president — we weren’t entirely sure. Either way, he was happy to lock us in again. Despite the fact that the gates stopped any cars from coming down to us, we still needed our earplugs to try and drown them out as they partied just outside. I can only imagine how people manage to live like this on a daily basis — it’s not like their houses are insulated. I think I would go insane.

The spot was not only popular at night but during the day. Families came and sat on the beach and the entire road filled with cars. Sunday was even busier. For me it was just too cold to swim, a cold breeze always seemed to be there and despite the heat of the sun I didn't fancy it. It didn’t stop Lee or a million other screaming children going for a dip though. The entire beach was covered in barbecues, inflatable toys and people selling fruit. While the locals cooked meat, we made use of a rare bonus. For once we were in a town with Uber Eats at the right time to get a promotion from one of the websites I used to make money. What this boiled down to was £40 of free food vouchers. At least now we could finally get the traditional ‘breakdown’ pizza as well as 80 pieces of sushi.

Eventually Sunday funday wound to a close and we enjoyed that period where they all started to leave and we were thankful we had been allowed to stay again. This time no one even bothered to talk to us, just locked the gates and let us get on with it.

We thought the music had been loud last night; it seemed one of the houses on the end was some kind of makeshift club. But whatever they had played paled in comparison to the music that arrived tonight. It was that kind of bass that feels like it forces your heart to beat in time with it. There was no way anyone in a mile radius was sleeping through that. We went out about 2am to see where it was coming from. We walked down the beach with the cats in tow. It seemed that several cars were parked above, outside the gates. In the middle they had set up a ginormous speaker nearly the size of another car. It pulsated multicoloured lights that illuminated the silhouettes of the people there. Despite the music coming from this monstrosity, it didn’t actually look like there were many people. I was incredulous—surely someone would phone the police…

There was no point in trying to sleep. So instead, I decided to go for a nighttime walk. The cats were thrilled as we set off for a circuit of the peninsula. A short way past where we had parked, a small track climbs up the side of the hill. It was a shame really, as the access was too narrow and tight for a car here, partly due to the unfortunate positioning of a lamppost. Once you walked around this first bend though, it opened into a wide track. Clearly a lot of people had come up here on ATVs. I walked along the edge, looking down into the abandoned visitor centre. We could have moved the car down here, an extra 300 metres or so from the noise. It was that loud though, it would have made little difference I could still clearly hear it from where I was.

The sandy track runs in a simple ring around the small hill which makes up the rest of the land. It’s not a big peninsula at all. Even though there were clear tracks, its barren sandy surface with only the occasional rock would have made the perfect campsite. Over here, perhaps you could even ignore the thudding of the bass. It was more exposed to the sea and the waves crashed against jagged rocky boulders and cliffs, their sound nearly drowning out everything else. Even though it was dark, birds wheeled above me as I walked along the outer circumference of the rocky outlook. The light pollution from the city, coupled with the moon, was enough to see clearly without a torch. Behind me the cats raced between the boulders. Aimee trotted behind me in a more stoic fashion while Lexi was everywhere, trying fruitlessly to catch a bird that was as big as she was.

As we reached the furthest point, the music stopped. Here I could see nothing of Ruby or the party, hidden directly behind the hill. So it wasn’t until I walked around that I saw the flashing green lights of the Carabineros (police). Clearly someone had had enough. We finished off our walk, rejoining the track up the hill with the cats still in tow. It was now 2.30am, but at least it was silent and some sleep could definitely be salvaged.

While I had messaged nearly everyone I thought could help us here, Lee now tried a garage back in Mejillones. As we had no luck locally, we thought maybe we’d try our luck back there. At least we knew some friendly people. Almost straight away, we got a reply—this time it was yes. Without further ado we packed up and headed back once again to the north. We decided we would visit our friends Samantha and Guillermo first and stop outside their house, then we could get to the garage the next day. We had an enormous bag of washing to deal with and Samantha’s offer of a free machine sounded ideal.

Outside their house, Mejillones really does sit in the desert.

Ruby got us there, with the odd nasty crunch, and we parked up outside. Samantha welcomed us in. Their small yard was full of dogs and cats, while the house was full of children. She waved us to the sofa and moments later brought out two plates of pasta. This was one of those times you can’t be vegetarian. Without even asking she plonked the food on the table, alongside two glasses of Coke, and waved us to sit. I did my best with the food but couldn’t help surreptiously slipping some of the more gristly bits of meat into the empty laundry bag under the table.

Guillermo arrived back from work and brought out the beer. We spent the night chatting (as best we could) with them both and enjoying their hospitality. Our washing was returned cleaned and dried, and bless her, folded. As it approached midnight, we said our goodbyes. Tomorrow could be a big day finding the garage and we wanted to be ready.

As ever, when we want to be somewhere, the cats have other plans. Normally Aimee is the one famous for pulling a vanishing act. This time it was Lexi. She had been so good at staying close when she was younger but clearly she had reached that adventurous age and started to wander. We really should pay for her tracker, we deliberated, but spending all that money before we knew what was wrong with Ruby wasn’t top of our list. She turned up behind a gate early afternoon and we headed out.

In the end, it mattered little. The garage was only a short drive but when we got outside the owner didn’t appear to be there. We waited a while before grabbing a likely looking guy who let us in. We explained that we had already spoken to the owner about working here, and we were welcomed inside. They moved some cars around so we could park under the shade but told us the owner was in the city and wouldn’t be back till later. We decided we’d wait and speak to him before committing to anything, despite the fact we were already being offered tools.

It took a few hours for him to arrive and then he introduced himself. They heard the horrible noises coming from Ruby as we moved her around the garage. So that we didn’t block access to the ramp, they moved a car out of the way at the side where we could park up with enough space to sit outside as well. It was nice to have shade when it was this hot and already one of the older guys brought us over an extension lead. That was all well and good, but we hadn’t discussed a price. No one seemed bothered, but we didn’t want another situation of an unexpected hefty bill, and so we pulled the owner to one side to ask him. He told us that if we did the work, he didn’t want to charge us and just like that a huge weight was lifted. I could have cried in happiness, but instead we sat outside Ruby and breathed a sigh of relief. What a good find this was and what a lovely guy. If only we could have found it sooner, we said, but better late than never.