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If you look at a map, Mexico and Colombia are relatively close yet it took us 24 hours of travel to get from the port city of Cartagena to the port city of Veracruz as the travel involved an internal flight in Colombia, then an international flight to Mexico City, a 4-hour twilight “sit-around” in the airport and then finally a 6-hour bus ride.   Needless to say, we were quite tired when we finally arrived.

Tiredness and our casual approach did unfortunately catch us out when we landed in Mexico City at 2am: the customs official asked how long we wanted to stay and normally an answer of “as long as we can” means you get granted the maximum allowed period.  This time however the officer only saw fit to give us 90 days instead of the 180 we could get and we only noticed this after he had stamped and returned the passports.  We figured it was not a train smash and probably would be easy to get an extension to the maximum allowed amount and so didn’t say anything further.

Once in Veracruz we settled into a routine of hurry up and wait for Mr Jones.  The physical sailing time from Colombia is just under 5 days but we expected at least another week of administration until we could get Mr Jones out of the port, so we would “hurry up” wherever we could in order to ensure that no delays were caused by us not completing a task quick enough and then wait for the wheels of bureaucracy to turn slowly.  The first task in the hurry up part was to go to the government bank (Banjecito) and pay for the Temporary Import Permit.  In Mexico, certain classes of vehicle are able to get a multi-year permit which, based on friends experience with a vehicle identical to Mr Jones we were hoping to get as it would make our future travels and parking of Mr J much easier in future years.  Our clearing agent had processed the documentation for this but the official at the bank interpreted it differently and granted a TIP for the same duration as our visa period.

In hindsight this was a blessing in disguise as despite being travel weary we had been pushing ourselves to stay on the road longer in order that we could slot in our “vacation” and visit to see Devon for later in the year but this forced a rethink.  Within 24 hours of the “bad news” we had decided on a new plan of action which involved parking Mr J in the trade free zone around Cancun, flying home to South Africa from there, spending 4,5 months in SA before flying back to Mexico via the UK.  In the UK we would celebrate Devon’s 30th birthday.  While both of us had known we were travel weary it was only after making this decision and noticing how excited we were to be going home that we realised just how weary we had in fact been.

Despite Mr Jones having been through a very thorough drug inspection in Colombia and been sealed up for the journey, this did not save him from another one in Mexico so midway through the process Stuart was taken to the port by the clearing agent in order to do another full unpack and repack. As was to be expected all went well with the inspection even if there was one heart stopping moment when the sniffer dog took a particular interest in the area around the one front mud flap.   Thankfully it did not do whatever such a working dog should do if they smell something inappropriate but it did cause his handler to bring him back to that spot a further 2 times “just to make sure”.

The weekend was fast approaching and we were getting quite tired of the wait as if we did not get Mr J out before then it would mean waiting until Monday so when we got a WhatsApp at 16:30 on Friday today he was cleared and could be fetched, Stuart was out the door in a matter of minutes.  A tired but very happy Stuart eventually got back to the Airbnb at 20:30 with Mr J in hand having been forced to once again break our cardinal rule (the last time being a month prior on our way to the Colombian port city of Cartagena) and drive at night but this time without even a second set of eyes to assist.

The following morning, we threw everything into the back of Mr J and headed out of town hoping to find a quite campsite where we could disassemble the partition, unpack everything that had been stashed in the back for shipping and return him to being our home.  The campsite we found was not exactly quiet, as it was the weekend, but did have very shady camping and thus suited our purposes perfectly.  

We generally try and stay on top of mechanical issues and deal with them as soon as we recognise them and before they become a bigger issue.   Just prior to shipping from Colombia we had noticed bad wear on the tyre tread and diagnosed it as a wheel bearing issue but had taken the decision to delay attempting any repairs until we were in Mexico, the logic being very simple: you can never be certain that a repair will go smoothly and if we encountered an issue it may affect our ability to delivery Mr Jones to the port on time.   Therefore after “restoring” Mr Jones back to a home, the repair was at the top of our list but when Stuart attempted to remove the large hub nut it would not shift at all which meant we were going to need specialist help. In the end this specialist help, actually come down to asking a garage if we could use a large breaker bar and the brute strength of their mechanics.  The garage then very kindly allowed us to park in the shade of the workshop and for Stuart to affect the repairs himself.  After a couple of very sweaty hours, (temps were in the mid 30’s with 90% humidity) we were back on the road !

At this point we had just under two weeks to drive approximately 1000km to the border with Belize and then another further 400km back “up” to Cancun where we would park Mr J and fly home from.  For anybody who looks at a map it would seem more logical to just drive straight to Cancun but in order for us to legally leave Mr Jones in Cancun we needed to cancel his Temporary Import permit and that could only be done at the Belize border.  The region between Veracruz and Belize/Cancun is rich in Mayan ruins and cenotes so we intended along the way to stop at a few.  Cenotes are basically limestone sink holes filled with underground water, some are open air but many are almost entirely cave-like and spectacularly beautiful (based on pictures we had seen) when just a small shaft of light shines through from above and into the turquoise water below.

One aspect complicating our route planning was that Mexico has many very very expensive toll fees which we were determined to avoid wherever possible, with the advantage being it would take us on (hopefully) scenic back roads but the disadvantage being much longer days in terms of hours.  Our first stop was at an area only 150km from Veracruz with many waterfalls and cascades, some of which you could camp near.  Although it took 3 hours to cover that distance it still left plenty of time in the afternoon to enjoy the surprisingly cold waters.

The following day turned into a typical longer one than we envisaged and 9 hours later we stopped, very hot, sweaty and tired, at a basic but adequate spot in the jungle a few kilometres away from the Mayan ruins known as Palenque.  While Palenque is not the most famous or biggest of the all the ruins scattered across the Yucatan peninsula it is in the top 5 for size, state of preservation and naturally number of tourists.  As our first experience of a Mayan ruin we enjoyed it and considered it to be as interesting and spectacular as our visit to Machu Pichu in Peru.

In contrast a couple of days later we stopped at the little known (and thus little visited) Hormiguero ruins.  At Palenque we had to pay a hefty sum to enter and then fend off vendors, parking guards, photographers and all the other annoyances associated with a popular tourist attraction whereas at Hormiguero we needed to negotiate a narrow dirt track through the jungle for 10km to arrive at an empty parking area and then just sign a visitor’s book before gaining free (& unfettered) access to the ruins.  As a bonus we could camp for free in the parking area.  It was very hot when we arrived, so we opted to set up Mr Jones first and enjoy lunch in the shade of his awning with the intention of making a sunset exploration of the ruins.  Late in the afternoon a Canadian family arrive and we set off to explore the ruins together while chatting and exchanging information about our mutual travels.

The exploration felt very “Indiana Jones” like as there were no signs giving descriptions or preventing access to parts of the ruins and we were basically alone in the jungle, listening to the sounds and admiring the ruins.  The ruins complex is much smaller than Palenque but equally spectacular and for us more enjoyable, even a little spiritual.

It was thankfully a relatively short drive from Hormiguero to the town of Chetumal and the Belize border, so once we had cancelled the TIP at the border we hopped across town to a spectacularly located campsite right on the edge of the Caribbean where we intended to spend a few days, firstly to just relax on some nice green lawn and secondly to stay off the streets for Mexico’s election weekend. The election was the largest (in terms of candidates at both national, provincial and mayoral levels) that Mexico had ever held and had been marred by a number of assassinations and political violence so nobody was too sure how the weekend would go.  In the end thankfully, it ran quite smoothly and everything seemed to be perfectly normal on Monday morning.

Our next and equally spectacular spot was found thanks to needing to get some laundry done before flying home.  Tania had done some research and found a self-help laundromat in the little village of Bacalar which sits on a spectacular lagoon of the same name.  The lagoon is spectacular both because of its white sandy bottom which really highlights the crystal-clear blue water and because part of its bottom is a gigantic cenote.  The hostel and camping we found on the outskirts of town had a very squashed parking area where we could just squeeze Mr Jones in but what it lacked in atmosphere for camping with your car was more than compensated for by the open kitchen & lounge area which led onto a beautifully shaded garden leading down to the lake and their own little jetty.  It was the kind of place we could easily build a home / live at and so our ideas of only spending a single night very quickly went out the window and we spent five, only leaving because we had flights to catch.

Leaving Bacalar we made one stop a little bit past Tulum in order to be close to where we would park Mr Jones for the next 4 months. Thanks to iOverlander we had identified a spot just outside Cancun where Mr Jones would live but as it was nothing more than a clearing in the bush where a Canadian operates a vehicle storage facility we didn’t want to spend more time than was necessary to prepare him for our time away.  That preparation basically involved a good clean (inside and out), emptying any open food stuffs, defrosting the fridge/freezer, spraying lots of WD40 on anything Stuart could find that he felt would benefit from it (Cancun is very humid and we feared rust or seizing of mechanical items) and then packing our bags for travelling home.  All went quite smoothly even if we did get drenched in a tropical downpour and had a bit of stress about whether the tent and awning fabric would dry before we needed to shut-up.

Mr Jones home for the next 4,5 months

Even though we were only about 30 minutes from Cancun, the storage location is a bit remote and with a very early morning flight we did not fancy risking a taxi not arriving to fetch us on time or getting lost and so spent our last night in hotel close to the airport.  It felt quite weird but equally exciting to be leaving Mr Jones behind and heading home for our much needed “holiday”.

Below are links to pages that complement this travel diary entry:

In total contrast to our difficult exit from Venezuela (previous diary) our entry into Colombia went smoothly if rather slow, as thanks to all the delays in Venezuela it meant we arrived at the Colombia customs office just in time for Siesta.  Adding to the confusision was that by crossing the border also meant we changed timezones, with the clocks now being an hour different to Venezuela.   The lady that captures the Temporary Import permit for Mr J only returned to her post after 90 minutes but at least when she did, she was super helpful and gave us a laugh or two.

Once we had cleared the border we headed into the town of Cucuta hoping to purchase insurance for Mr J and get a local SIM card.  The purchase of insurance seemed quite complicated (even for Colombians) and after navigating a long queue Stuart got to the front just in time for the office to close.  The sourcing of a SIM card didn’t go much better with multiple service providers telling him that it wasn’t possible to register a SIM card for an extrajaneiro (a foreigner).  Eventually we ran out of daylight and with no camping options in the area, resorted to finding a value for money hotel for the night.  The upside of this, was that we went out for dinner and had some really nice burgers and beer.  We have generally rated the quality of a simple burger to be rather poor throughout South America, so this was a pleasant surprise.  The following morning, we took advantage of having safe parking at the hotel and went off in search of ATM’s in order to obtain some Colombian Pesos and a SIM card. For the SIM cards we took a different approach to the previous afternoon and simply purchased one from a little kiosk instead of an official store.  All we weren’t sure of now, was whether the online rumors would prove true that you needed to register the SIM card & the phone it was used in within 30 days or risk having the phone blocked!  Given that as an “extrajaneiro” we couldn’t purchase a sim card the day before it would imply registering one would also be an issue but we figured we had time to work that out and if in fact we did get blocked that we could just switch to one of our older backup phones and thus start the countdown clock again.

Having had a successful morning, we headed out of town hoping to find a supermarket and complete the last of the typical tasks required when arriving in a new country, that being stocking up on fresh food and getting a feel for pricing in that country. 

Our goal for the next few days was to work our way southwards to the capital, Bogota, where we for some reason needed to “verify” Tania visa status at the immigration offices and where we also hoped to get a water tank built.   We mentioned that while in Venezuela we had attempted to have one manufactured but that the material costs were prohibitive, Stuart had subsequently established contact with a chap in Bogota who had a good reputation for assisting overlanders and he had given us indicative pricing which was more in the price range we expected.   

Colombia is incredibly mountainous which means there is lots to see and do but it also means that travelling is very slow as you twist your way across the country.  Unfortunately for us, there were a couple of public holidays coming up which would result in many business’s closing for roughly a week and as we didn’t want the manufacture of the water tank to be delayed by these, we would need to move relatively quickly across the country to Bogota.

Leaving Cucuta we almost immediately started climbing on what was a spectacular road up into the mountains until 90 minutes and 70km later, we reached the little mountainside town of Pamplona where, based on iOverlander reviews, we hoped to overnight next to a football field but being a Friday afternoon, it turned out to be an incredibly busy spot.  A little bit of roadside research revealed another possible spot an hour further along, called El Oasis.   It wasn’t quite an Oasis but the owners of the restaurant were super friendly and we were able to tuck Mr. Jones next to the rooms they rent out and enjoyed a very peaceful but chilly night.  Being up in the high mountains it was quite the contrast from the jungle lowlands we had been in earlier that day.

The following day was once again a spectacular day of driving along mountain passes into Bucamaranga (3,5hours for 120km), including some steep ascending up the slopes surrounding town as we went in search of a campsite that was not to be and then another spectacular drive to a spot above Canyon Chicamocha.  The canyon is 2000m deep in places and 227km long making it the second largest canyon in the world.   With spectacular views from the campsite, it was the perfect spot to take a rest day and in between admiring the views finalize the plans and logistics for the new water tank.

After a productive day of rest, it was another long day of stunning scenery and many mountain passes as we made our way to a little hippy commune style camp outside Bogota.  We immediately felt at home, which was a good thing as this was to become our “on & off” base while we set about the task of upgrading Mr. Jones for the new water tank along with all the ancillary jobs and upgrades associated with that.  The only downside was that Bogota is a rather wet and chilly place, something we were not used to after so many months in the hot lowlands of Brazil’s eastern coastline, the Amazon and then Venezuela, but in some ways, it was quite refreshing.

Bogota with a population of nearly 8million people is Colombia biggest city and its traffic congestion reflects this.  In fact, they have had to implement a congestion reduction plan whereby only certain vehicles registration numbers are allowed into the city on each day of the week, fortunately this does not apply to foreign plated vehicles and thus allowed us to roam freely but it did influence some of the logistics around the water tank as Juan (our water tank facilitator) could only travel into the city to meet engineering shops and so forth on every alternative day.

We had also discovered that Amazon deliveries to Colombia don’t incur any import duties or delivery charges so Stuart had created quite the cart of items (mostly all the auxiliary items required for the water setup) and was having these delivered to Juan as well.   It did require some ingenuity and figuring a way to work around the system as on his first attempt with all items in one basket he got hit with “customs handling fees” of nearly half the order value, but with a little experimentation he discovered that orders under USD190 did not attract this fee.  Needless to say, multiple orders under the $190 mark where placed!

In the meantime, while we waited on both the Amazon deliveries and the manufacturing of the water tanks we decided to escape the cold and wet of Bogota and head into the lowlands for a few days.  We chose to set off for this “escape” on a Sunday in order to hopefully avoid some of the crazy city traffic and while we were successful in avoiding the cars we instead discovered that Colombians are cycle crazy and the mountain pass we had chosen to descend down is a very popular cycle route on the weekends.   When Stuart was still very much into his cycling, we would always watch the Tour de France and in particular enjoyed the coverage of the mountain stages.   Having now witnessed the sheer size of the mountain passes in Colombia and seen how many cyclists are out traversing them, it is no wonder that many of the superstars in those TdF mountain stages where the Colombians.

It was a bit ironic, considering that we had come looking for warmer weather, that after our first day in the lowlands we decided it was a little too hot for us, even though where we had camped had a river to cool off in and so after only one night we started climbing back up the pass we had just descended hoping to find a place midway up and a “compromise” in terms of temperatures.

It turned into a bit of a mission finding somewhere, with a few trips along tight narrow and twisty roads only to find that the camping was either exorbitantly expensive, not suitable for vehicle camping or closed, until finally in the late afternoon we stopped at Laguna el Tabacul.  The camping was very simple but peaceful and the nature reserve around the lake had some nice little walks.   The only downside was that, there was nowhere to plug Mr. Jones into electricity and with the thick forests surrounding us, running off solar for more than a single night was not practical.

Fortunately, by this time the majority of the Amazon orders had arrived in Bogota and so we decided to use our time wisely by collecting the orders from Juan and then going back to our hippy campsite in order to begin installing the items that would eventually connect up to the water tank. 

When the fresh and grey water tanks were ready we packed up for a night or two away and headed back across town (on a good day a 90-minute commute) to get them installed before coming back to La Calera in order to complete the remainder of the installation ourselves.

The list of upgrades is quite extensive and Mr. Jones can now truly boast to be  “glamping on wheels”:  a 55litre fresh water tank (in addition to his existing 60L tank); a 15l grey water tank to collect our sink water; a secondary pump system for the new tank; changes to the gas geyser setup so that we have instant and automatic hot water on tap; a flow meter in order to monitor water usage and tank levels; a second tap in the sink; a new “shore power” battery charger due to us now being in the 110v hemisphere; modifications and improvements to the shower cubicle curtain and finally a quick release connection for our shower hose and head.

In total we spent 15 days in the Bogotá area which when considering the extent of the upgrades and that the manufacture of the tank could only start once we had removed the old 3^rd fuel tank, was not a bad timeline.

In between our hard work we enjoyed socializing with both the overlanders that passed through while we there or with the semi-permanent residents, and as a result made quite a few new friends from as diverse a places as Canada, Russia and of course Colombia.

Camplife @ La Calera, Bogota

We thought we had timed the completion of our “to-do” list perfectly when it meant we could leave Bogota part way through holy week (Easter) as we thought everyone would already be on holiday and so largely off the roads.  Our initial crossing of the city seemed to confirm this, with very little congestion and easy flowing roads but only an hour out of the city we realized we were horribly wrong as we encountered roadworks and worse congestion than we had ever experienced in the city itself.  It seems that many people had not taken holidays for the whole of holy week and were instead trying to squeeze in a trip home to family over the long weekend – 250km took 8 hours and ZAR500 in toll fees, we will never complain again about South Africa holiday traffic!

To add insult to injury, the spot we had planned to stay at near Cajamarca turned out to be a little disappointing and was definitely only good for a single night so the next day we were back on the road and heading in the direction of Medellin, hoping for a quiet commute based on everyone having travelled the day prior and that even if there were late weekend travelers they would be going in the opposite direction.  The area between Cajamarca and Medellin is quite popular with “coffee” tourists and it was a sure sign that at this stage we were travel weary when our attitude was: we have already visited coffee plantations and attended demonstrations of the process to create the perfect cup of coffee, so why divert from the main road.

Medellin sits in a valley at 1500m above sea level and is surrounded by quite high hills and like all big cities offers very little in the way of camping, there is however one well known overlanders destination just outside of town called Al Bosque and that was naturally where we were headed. It was only when we started to head out of town that we realized how steep those surrounding hills are! Al Bosque sits at an altitude of 2600m (so 1 kilometre higher than town), poor old Mr. J was not impressed with this and forced us to engage low range just to pull-off from some of the traffic lights. Thankfully the roads were quiet otherwise it would have been quite stressful.

The cities altitude gives it a rather pleasant climate of around 25degC all year round, the some cannot be said for Al Bosque which being so much higher was quite cold and wet, especially in the mornings and evenings.

The major attraction for us of an overlander campsite was the opportunity to hopefully meet like-minded souls and enjoy some quality interactions and perhaps even make a few new friends.  

Of course, this is not always guaranteed as even though we may all have the same passion for travelling independently in our own vehicles, we are all still different personalities and just like in life you are not guaranteed to like everyone you meet who has a common interest.

Thankfully in this case we did meet a few couples who we liked, chief among them being Sue & Hugh from Canada, the fact that they drove a Landy probably also helped.

On one of the days we accompanied them into Medellin to visit the very popular tourist attraction of Communa 13. In the 1980’s and 90’s Communa 13 was a notorious neighborhood occupied by drug gangs and rebel guerilla groups along with the turf wars that naturally followed. At that point it was considered one of the most dangerous cities in the world, until in 2002 the military conducted a number of operations (which included the use of tanks and helicopters) to “clean it up”. While partly successful, the subsequent military occupation was also controversial in that many citizens literally disappeared.   Finally, in 2010, a rejuvenation project was started and the result is now a peaceful, but still poor and densely populated area, which feeds off its notoriety as a tourist attraction.  Sue and Hugh had been on a guided walk through the barrio a few days prior but felt they had missed out on certain aspects so they were happy to go back and also be our informal guides.    For us it was interesting to see but ultimately was way too touristy and commercialized for our tastes, a sure give away was the abundance of fridge magnets and T-shirts declaring “I have been to Communa 13”.  Another indicator that it was perhaps going to be a fool’s errand should have been that we visited on 1 April – for more insight into the shenanigans of the day, see our Captain(s) log for 1 April 2024.

After a few days and couple of nice evenings socializing, on which we introduced everyone to a braai, we felt it was time to move on.  Sue & Hugh had raved about a little beach camp they had spent quite some time at when they first arrived in Colombia and so that was were we headed for.  Our plan was simple, we had 1 month until Mr. Jones was due to be shipped to Mexico and we intended to spend it lazing on Colombia’s Caribbean coastline.   

To get there however required 2,5 days and 900km of fairly hard driving with each night spent in a truck stop.  Over the course of our time in South America we have spent many nights in truck stops, Colombia was the first country where we were often the only people sleeping in our rig. In Colombia the drivers sleep in a simple hotel or set of rooms that is attached to the truck stop.

Over the next 4 weeks we mixed up our time at two beach camps roughly 80km apart, the one had decent surfing close by and the other a nicer vibe.  So just as we started to get bored at one, we would move to the other and then a little while later back to the first one.  It was a pretty idyllic life with your feet in the sand and a lovely azure blue ocean on your doorstep but not entirely without its challenges.

The first challenge was when we switched camps and on opening the roof the one gas strut that holds the roof up, blew its seal and leaked hydraulic oil everywhere. In principle this was not too big a deal and just required a replacement one to be installed, which we had in our spares as the lengths are very specific to the roof design.  However, while trying to remove the strut the bracket it attached to sheared off as it was badly corroded, which added a little bit of extra stress to the equation but Stuart had in his box of tricks (aka “random spares”) a similar style attachment which he thought we could probably fit onto the bracket.  To do this however would require removing the whole bracket from the car and to remove that meant removing the second gas strut on that side of the roof.  The roof is held up by two gas struts on each side and the moment the second one was removed the roof wanted to sink down into the closed position.   At this point the stress levels went up ten-fold as Stuart now had to support the roof in a “lying down gym-style leg press position” while giving instructions to Tania to find something suitable to wedge into the roof and provide temporary relief.  A little bit of improvisation with the bottle jack which we use for changing tyres allowed us to lift the roof back to normal height so that the bracket could be removed.  Then all that was required in order to modify the bracket was to find an angle grinder, which Stuart had seen the camp workers using to sharpen their pangas a few days prior.  

Sundowner drinks, that evening, overlooking the ocean felt well deserved and went down a treat.

The second challenge was when we ran out of cooking gas (we had been trying to run our gas bottles as low as possible as in principle you cannot ship with gas) and had to go off in search of a place to refill one, this resulted in a small round trip of 160km one day.  Our gas search was at least easier than a German couple in the camp, whom we assisted with adapters for their gas setup as they had to make a 12 hour round trip into Cartagena to fill their tanks.

Our time on the coast was great but after 4 weeks we were starting to get itchy feet and looking forward to the next stage of the adventure which was a good thing as the cupboards were nearly bare.  We had been deliberately running them down, knowing that you can’t ship with fresh foods.  We also had a full laundry bag and while there are no rules against shipping with dirty laundry we wanted to get laundry done on our way to Cartagena and Mr. Jones date with a boat.  This resulted in us breaking our cardinal rule – never to drive at night! For more on this, see our Captain(s) log entry of 1 May.  

For this shipment to Mexico we were once again going to use RORO so prior to arriving in Cartagena we stopped at one more campsite where we knew it would be possible to source and cut a piece of plywood for making the barricade.  Once the barricade was installed, we removed all items from the roof and stashed them in the back away from potentially light fingers.  The final task before Mr. Jones could be taken to the port was to get him washed at what is without a doubt the scariest car wash we have ever been to!

Our last week in Colombia was spent in a hostel close to the historic district of Cartagena while we waited for the whole shipment process to be completed, part of which involved Stuart having to go to the port a few days after dropping Mr. Jones off in order to participate in a very thorough drug inspection.  The inspection involved an almost complete unpacking of Mr. Jones which was not fun in the hot and humid conditions but was also one of the reasons we felt comfortable shipping RORO again as once the inspection is done, all doors and openings get sealed with tamperproof security tape, further adding to our own security measures. 

Cartagena’s old city is very beautiful and so in between completing the procedural aspects required for shipping, we made the most of city dwelling by enjoying some time walking the streets, enjoying the sights and searching for the large door knockers that are to found on many of the old doors and for which Cartagena is well known for.  The knockers come in a variety of shapes and traditionally indicated the nature of the owners employment, for example a “lion head” would indicate the head of the house was part of the military whereas a sea creature meant the household had business in the maritime trade. 

On the 14^th May, we boarded a flight for Mexico City, it had been 798 days (342 different overnight locations) since we first arrived in South America with many adventures, trials, tribulations, highs and lows but undoubtedly the thing that will stand out for us most from the travels, was all the wonderful people we got to meet and often subsequently call friends. 

Hasta Luego South America.

Below are links to other pages that complement this travel diary entry:

In total contrast to what one might expect of a country that is subject to strict sanctions from western governments, suffers from hyper-inflation and whose de facto currency is the USD as its own currency is effectively worthless, the border post was a picture of prosperity with quite possibly the newest and cleanest buildings we have encountered at a border so far.  This did not, unfortunately, translate into a fast entry into the country, not due to any problems but rather that the system to capture Mr Jones details and issue him with a Temporary Import permit (TIP) was very slow and beuracratic.  It wasn’t too much of a hardship however, as we had a clean and airconditioned waiting room to sit in while the 2+ hour process was underway.

Remote border towns can often have a bit of a Wild West feel to them, Pacaraima on the Brazilian side certainly did, especially given the number of stores advertising “we buy gold” – the border region in both countries has a high number of illegal mining operations.  In contrast, Santa Elena which lies just 15km inside Venezuela was surprising clean and seemed like just any other town, that is apart from the high number of very pimped and lifted Land Cruisers driving around.  Almost all needed a small step ladder to get into!

Santa Elena sits at 862 metres above sea level which gives it a very pleasant climate and was a welcome relief from the hot & sticky Amazon basin, so when we could camp at the back of a pousada with grass underfoot it didn’t take much to convince us to stay a few extra days. In general, South American countries are football mad but when we took a walk into town on the Sunday we discovered a new and unexpected craze: baseball and as we learnt over the next weeks baseball is a big thing in Venezuela including a number of professional teams.

The southern part of Venezuela is largely an undeveloped natural area known as the Gran Sabana (great Savannah).  For us it is a lot less like an African savannah and more a combination of grass highland area (like the Lower Drakensberg or Dullstroom) and the Magaliesberg but it certainly did not lack for large open spaces with fantastic vistas interspersed with many rivers and waterfalls or cascades.  

Our first excursion into it was westwards along the border/escarpment edge with Brazil to an area known as Paulji.  Along this section we got our taste of what would be a regular occurrence (and general frustration) in the country: military, police or civil checkpoints.  They were almost never a problem but far too frequent and often time consuming.  The first one we encountered was as we left town and headed west where, after offering us coffee they manually wrote down in a book our passport & car details and stamped the back of our TIP.  The next one was 20km after that and then another 20km later before another one 15km after the 3rd – thankfully at all the latter ones we didn’t get offered coffee otherwise we would have had serious bladder control issues on the bumpy dirt road but we did estimate that they probably added an hour plus of travel time to the days journey.

After 2 days of just soaking up the natural beauty and sounds of nature, it was time to head back the way we come, this westward road was a dead end in another 40km or so.  Thankfully, the checkpoints only stop you going west and not when you return so we were back in town earlier enough to source a local SIM card (it had been the weekend when we were here before) and to be able to head out towards another attraction of the Gran Sabana, Venezuela highest mountain; Mount Roriama.  We had no intention of climbing it as that is typically a 5 day round trek but rather of driving reasonably close to a viewpoint where we intended to spend the night. The track there turned out to be quite narrow and steep with many ruts making us very grateful to have the 4×4 capabilities of Mr Jones.  The views and location were a fantastic reward for the effort, big sky country with a 360-degree view and nobody around for at least 20km in any direction.

After a wonderfully peaceful night in our million star glamping location we headed back down the way we come and then a bit further south to other parts of the Gran Sabana.   This time we were in search of a waterfall or set of cascades to camp next too, of which the Gran Sabana has plenty.  From what we understood almost everywhere was public land or allowed free access, all you had to do was follow the various small tracks leading off the tar road and pick the spot you wanted to stay at.  Initially we didn’t have much luck, as the tracks turned a bit too rough for our liking and even though Mr Jones is more than capable we tend to err on the side of caution for two reasons; firstly, we are solo travellers so if something goes wrong there is no rescue or recovery vehicle and secondly, Mr Jones is our home and the last thing we want to do is damage him on some macho 4×4 track.  By mid afternoon we had found a perfect spot and got to enjoy a couple of glasses of white wine while lazing in the river.

The following morning, we debated, should we do a bigger loop into the one area that has some larger waterfalls or should we head south and away from the Gran Sabana?  In the end we opted for the latter as we felt there was still so much of Venezuela to see but in hindsight a few extra days in the region would have been good and as we learnt from some Venezuelans we met later in the trip, they regularly travel to this area for trips of 3 weeks or more.

Leaving the area, we once again started to encounter regular checkpoints with the associated manual book recording and offer of coffee while you waited.  The road also deteriorated quite badly, with evidence of many truck accidents, and so it was a long day to reach the town of Upata where we headed to a pousada which we understood you could camp at.  As it turned out, you couldn’t but the atmosphere was very good, we were tired and the rooms were well priced and so we opted to stay.  We hadn’t been there long when Jose arrived and introduced himself as being part of the “travellers support network”.  We had joined a number of WhatsApp groups focused on travel in Venezuela prior to our arrival and seen on those the wonderful support given by locals to travellers, Upata was to be our first (of many) experiences of that.  Tania had cracked a tooth the one evening in the Gran Sabana so she was in need of a dentist, Jose organised an appointment for early the next morning and then come and collected us and escorted us there and then once the tooth had been removed, he escorted us out of town to a fuel station where he arranged for us to get diesel at the standard rate of USD0,50 per litre.  

Venezuela has the worlds largest oil reserves (more than Saudi Arabia) but as a result of sanctions and mismanagement most of its refineries aren’t operating and so the country suffers from crippling fuel shortages.  From what we saw during our nearly 2 months in the country, 95% of fuel stations are either closed or spend most of the time non-operational due to empty tanks which means there are always long queues at a station that does have fuel.  Then add in the fact that, in this country at least, petrol is a far more common engine type and diesel becomes a very precious commodity.  

Jose & his family plus tooth extraction time

After thanking Jose profusely and saying farewell we stopped in town for one last item, some painkillers, just in case the extracted tooth and associated cavity become a problem in the next few days.  While sitting in the parking lot plotting the days route on the GPS, a young guy approached us to say he had seen us drive into town the night before and “welcome to Venezuela”.  After taking a few pictures of Mr Jones and leaving us with his contact details in case we needed any assistance he went on his way.  As we recorded in the Captains log, we couldn’t have felt more welcome and comfortable in a country, it certainly wasn’t living up to the dire warnings of western government travel advisories…

From Upata we intended to head roughly due north to the Caribbean coast, thus hugging the eastern side of the country and then to hopefully slowly work our way westwards along the coastline over the next few weeks.  The days journey was relatively uneventful apart from a stop over lunch time to investigate why our coolant level alarm would occasionally sound, we were losing a bit of coolant which was concerning and had Stuart particularly worried that he had damaged something or created a mysterious vapour lock when changing the coolant in Brazil, a  week prior but logically this didn’t make sense as we had done over a 1000km since then.   It would take 30 days and much head scratching until we finally discovered the source of the loss, but more on that later.

In the town of Maturin, iOverlander had a check-in for camping inside the local municipal zoo which we duly stopped at, late on a Saturday afternoon.  It was less of a zoo and more of bird and local recreation park but it was fenced and secure and best of all the camping was for free.  In an effort to encourage tourism, the local municipality had decided that travellers passing through the area were welcome to stay for free.   As an added bonus, there was also a large potable water point in the park, free for use by anyone, so we could fill our water tank and not have to worry about filtering the water first.  That evening we stepped out of the “zoo” and wandered around the park next door where there was a big outdoor auditorium and dancing displays being done by the various schools and communities of Maturin – once again a more normal, safe and wholesome community life could not be imagined.

With a host of sanctions imposed on the country one would expect that the availability of general consumer goods could be limited but when we went shopping on the Sunday morning we were pleasantly surprised.  Not only was the supermarket incredibly modern but its shelves were well stocked and with a large variety of goods and brands, perhaps even more variety than we had become used to in Brazil.   Equally surprising was that while the prices were a bit higher than we were used to, they weren’t too bad, that is apart from cheese, yoghurt, beer and wine.

It must be noted that we had stumbled upon the upmarket supermarket chain which was a good thing as the difference we found the next time we shopped at the larger more common chain was quite significant, the latter being very basic with limited choice and if it had been our first experience would have had us rather worried about food purchases for the remainder of our time in the country.

Before leaving town, we stopped at a few fuel stations, to enquire if they had diesel which we found on the 3rd attempt.  Every country has something unique and for an outsider perhaps a little baffling, in Venezuela, it is the method of purchasing fuel.  At almost all stations you have to go to the cashier window and pay for your purchase upfront which means you need to calculate the quantity required and “order” accordingly.  This means that you never really get a full tank which in normal circumstances may not be an issue but if you are crossing a country with reasonably large distances and uncertainty as to where you may next find fuel, is less than ideal.  In Maturin, Stuart ordered 50l but then upon seeing that there was still quite a bit of space in the tank was able to convince the attendant to give him “mas” (more) and to pay a second time for the extra 9litres he received.

After a long day through the rolling hills on our way to the coast, we arrived at a little piece of heaven, Playa Pui Puy. A beach sandwiched between two headlands with a grove of palm trees and grass underfoot to camp under, only metres from a pristine beach and crystal-clear water.  To Stuart’s pleasant surprise the Caribbean has some waves, meaning he could squeeze in some board meetings even if he was the only attendant. The only negative, there were no formal facilities so we were limited as to how long we could stay by the amount of water we can carry. 

Unfortunately, Tania had begun to show symptoms of flu while we there and by the time we left was feeling quite rotten which doesn’t make travelling in a hot and humid environment when your car has no air-conditioning much fun.   This did however lead us to a very opportune and fun meeting with a Venezuelan Land Rover owner.  We had pulled over on the side of the road to search for a pousada in the area where she could recover in relative comfort, when Romulo drove past and then in the course of the subsequent conversation with him, invited us to come and stay at his house and pousada.

A couple of fun evenings followed with Romulo and his family, we had to rely quite a lot on google translate for the finer meaning of some parts of the conversation but for once it worked really well.  Of potential concern though is that we may have got insight into the type of grandmother Tania may be if we ever get grandchildren, she had way too much fun making and throwing balloon water bombs with Romulo’s 6-year old son!

Everyone knows that Landrovers leak oil (or more correctly “mark their territory”) but Mr Jones had been leaking for a while quite severely at his vacuum pump which together with the fact that Stuart felt the brakes were sometimes a bit soft, signalled that it was time to replace the pump.  It seemed only right to do this on the front lawn of a fellow Landy owners house and so on the second day of our stay Stuart duly set about swapping out the pump with a spare one we had been carrying.

After a warm farewell to Romulo we headed further east along the coast towards Puerto La Cruz and the beach town of Lecheria but first we made a diversion to what looked like a very pretty waterfall called La Sirena.  On arrival at the start of the short walk to the waterfall we were greeted by a car park attendant, who amusingly had very clear ideas of where and how we must park Mr Jones (even though he was the only car there), and two police officers.  Upon asking the police officers which path we must take to view the waterfall they took it upon themselves to escort us on the 20-minute walk there, waited for us while we take photos and then accompanied us back to Mr Jones.  At no time was there any hint that it was unsafe hence the escort or that they expected a “collaboration” fee/tip but rather just that they were grateful to have tourists visit the park.

As with the zoo in Maturin, the local Lecheria town council had designated an area next to the main lifeguard station for Motorhome camping but when we had looked on iOverlander we had thought we most likely wouldn’t stay there as it appeared to just be a large empty parking area fronting onto the beach boardwalk/malecon.  It was however lunchtime when we got to town and so we decided to swing past and have our lunch there and see if our impressions were correct which they were apart from the fact that the Guardia Civil employees were so welcoming, offered us the use of the toilets in their building and the use of their Wi-Fi so we decided to spend the night. That evening the first of what was to become a regular stream of welcoming committees stopped past to welcome us to town and in a couple of cases to deliver food and drinks as gifts.  For people that generally prefer to fly under the radar it was all a bit overwhelming especially when journalists and their cameramen started to appear and request interviews on our experience so far in the country.

An aspect that had been missing in our life for quite sometime was being able to socialise with fellow like minded people (i.e. other international overlanders) and even perhaps to form a friendship or two, in fact by our calculation we had not camped near another international traveller for the last 5 months. At Lecheria, in a country where international travellers are warned not to go by their governments, this changed and over the course of our time on the malecon we got to meet and chat with fellow travellers from France, Italy, Germany & Argentina and even form a bit of friendship with Fredrika from Italy.   Fredrika’s “back story” was for us quite amazing and inspirational; she had started her journey in Canada by buying an old stereotypical “American soccer mom station wagon” and fitted it out to be able to sleep inside.  She had then travelled all the way down the Americas and backup up through Brazil on a similar route to ourselves, doing 90% of it on her own.  We often find it hard with two of us to share the load in terms of all the challenges and obstacles one faces, so to do it on your own as a single female – Wow!

We very rarely get to camp and easily enjoy an evening out on the town but the advantage of this spot was that it was within easy walking distance of a variety of restaurants including a Lebanese Arabian one, which quickly become a favourite and saw us returning a second time after our first meal and then when the owner told us he also sells vacuum packs of the delicious pastrami we had just eaten, another stop past was made a day later for “groceries”. 

Despite often feeling like a goldfish in a fishbowl, our planned zero night stay quickly become a 5 night one. Apart from the reasons already mentioned another was, we had been invited to stay at a pousada (once again as “welcome to Venezuela gesture”) in the hills high above town which looked quite spectacular.  The timing was opportune as Tania’s birthday was approaching so we had arranged to spend the night there for that, unfortunately a miscommunication between the owner and his workers meant they weren’t expecting us when we arrived and with no cell signal in the mountains we hadn’t been able to communicate with the owner and had returned back to the causeway for an extra night. 

When we did eventually drag ourselves away it was to head only a little further west to another pousada belonging to a member of the travellers support network where once again we were showered with hospitality and found it quite difficult to both leave and pay for anything.  On the list of gifts this time was breakfast followed by a haircut for Stuart from a visiting barber, then cocktails, lunch and dinner and wine along with beers when we walked down the beach with Abdel to visit one of the neighbouring pousada which was hosting a pool party.   When it come to the last item, Stuart did eventually manage to pay for the beers but only after a lot of insisting by ourselves that it was the least we could do.  

Carnival weekend was approaching and we thought it would be wrong to be staying for free at a pousada, even if it was just camping in the parking, and that it might also be a bit noisy and another fishbowl experience and so moved on to an official camping area called Las Caracas which was also supposedly near a surfing beach.  The route we chose to get there, definitely appeared like the logical way when we studied the map and looked scenic as it drove through a natural reserve area of coastal forest, we were wrong about the former but correct in respect to the scenery.  The route through the coastal forest ended up climbing over a number of headlands on very narrow dirt roads with quite a bit of mud and axle twisting hollows to negotiate.

Carnival in South America conjures up images of parades through cities with big floats and scantily clad dancers, which we got to see in Brazil when on the island of Ilha Bela in May 2022 but in Venezuala it seems to generally be a time when people leave the cities for a weekend of partying on the coast.  The weekend was a bit like our experience of family week (Easter) in Uruguay but with less wholesome family fun and more load drunken partying.  Unfortunately, the surfing spot was a rather strong and big point break with a difficult entry, strong currents and a very rocky exit and so not being familiar with the environment Stuart decided not to participate in any board meetings.

We mentioned in a previous blog entry that Stuart had been contemplating for quite sometime how we could increase our water tank capacity along with planning to make improvements to our hot water geyser and shower setup.   Venezuela has a lot of very pimped off-road vehicles and by necessity most of this “pimping” is done with locally manufactured products so he had been keeping his eye out for possible manufacturers of tanks and in that process had come across a guy, who had manufactured from scratch, a setup for a Land Cruiser very similar to Mr Jones and as a bonus he spoke good English which meant we wouldn’t need to struggle with potential misunderstanding in translated communications.

Pablo had his business in Valencia which is about 3 hours east of Caracas.  There were a few places between Caracas and there that we wanted to visit but we knew that if we went ahead with the project there would be at least 10 days between measuring and giving the go ahead until the tanks would be ready and that we could therefore double back in that time and visit those spots.

Unfortunately, because of the sanctions imposed on the country stainless steel is very expensive and the eventual price quoted for the upgrades was more than double what we had estimated and so had to decide to not go ahead with the project. It was rather disappointing as we had no doubt that the quality of workmanship would be excellent and have definitely concluded that it would be an upgrade we will afterwards look back on and wander how we travelled so long without. The search for a suitable supplier shall continue.

On the freeway between Caracas and Valencia we had noticed a number of concrete pillars that seemed to have signage indicating free potable water so when we left Valencia we stopped at one to investigate. The one we chose to stop at had two police/military persons standing guard near a broken-down vehicle and after enquiring with them if it was acceptable to take water we set about filling our water tank and all other available containers we have, as we were hoping to spend the next week wild camping on remote beach and weren’t sure if there would a freshwater available.  Of course, the two policeman were curious about Mr Jones and ourselves and after only a few minutes couldn’t resist coming over to us and assisting with the water filling process while quenching their curiosity.

The remote beach we were headed to is called Cuyagua and is located in the Henri Pittier National park. To get there you have to climb up and over the coastal mountain range which makes for a spectacular drive through the forests but is also very slow going – the last 50km took over 3 hours.  However, the reward is worth it, with a roughly 1km beach sandwiched between two high jungle covered headlands and where you can camp metres from a crystal-clear blue ocean.

The Land Rover community in Venezuala is very small (roughly 150 vehicles) and so they all know each other and usually where somebody is travelling (if they are travelling).  On our second day on the beach one of the locals who provides services to campers had tried to tell us that he had a friend who has a Landy, unfortunately part of what he was trying to tell us got lost in translation but as the weekend approached we discovered what he had meant when two very pimped defenders drove down the beach.  As it turned out, he had also left them a little confused a few days prior when he had sent them a message saying that one of their friends in a White Landy was camping, with the reason for their confusion not being poor Spanish but rather that they know of only one white landy in the country and it was at that stage on the other side of the country.

Playa Cuyagua ticked most boxes for us: a pristine beach surrounded by nature, lovely warm and clear waters with some pretty decent surfing, a river at the one end where we could top up with water for showers (but it did confirm why we want an extra water tank) and as a bonus it had a pretty decent and reliable cellphone signal.  Apart from finding a source of diesel, in Venezuela a decent cellphone signal is possibly the next most valuable commodity – cell service was very sporadic and unreliable, even in cities.

The other destination we had skipped on our way to Valencia was the quaint German colonial town of Colonia Tovar.  Most people had mentioned to us that it was a “must-see” in the country and as an added bonus it appeared to have one fuel station that had a regular supply of diesel. We were running a little low on diesel having used up the fuel in our 3rd tank when hoping to get the water tank made as the “new” water tank would have replaced this 3rd fuel tank.  By now we are pretty used to some steep mountain roads but the approach to Colonia Tovar from the Maracay side took us by surprise and resulted in more than a little cursing when we were in low range and Mr Jones was not only struggling but stuttering!   This had Stuart wandering if were about to run out of fuel (Mr J’s fuel gauge doesn’t really work), fortunately we didn’t come to a stop on the hills but were only able to get 50l of diesel as the garage was running low.   The attendant told us there would be a new delivery on Friday so we resolved to stay in. town for 3 extra nights in order to ensure we could fill our tanks properly. This wasn’t too much of a hardship as we got to enjoy a nice lunch out of bratwurst, sour kraut and a German craft beer the one day.  It was also a pleasant change in temperature from the beaches, as we were now at an altitude of 1800m asl.

When we left on Friday, all in low range (even through town), we encountered chaos and a long line of cars outside a different fuel station which supplied petrol and had us hopeful that the attendant at the diesel station on the outskirts of town had been correct.  Sadly, he wasn’t and, on our arrival, now had no idea when the delivery would arrive.  His tanks were now also dry which left us no option other than to head back down the super steep hills we had come in on and start the search for diesel in every town we would pass on our journey for the day.  Around 3pm we did encounter a long queue of trucks on the outskirts of Valencia and at the end of the line a fuel station that was about to receive a delivery.  Being a small vehicle and a tourist meant we could skip to the front when the tanker arrived 45 minutes later.  The price for this: lots of photos and selfies with the station manager and various others while answering questions about our journey.

Until this point the beaches of Venezuela had blow us away for their pristiness, location and general tranquility and so we were pretty much expecting the some for our destination that evening when we left Valencia.  Playa Patanema turned out to be none of those things, it was filled with little beach shack restaurants and all free space was taken up by, for hire, shade baraccas and chairs.  To make matters worse, while it was meant to be another free camping spot we got hassled by a young boy and then a restaurant worker for money or gifts/collaborations from almost the moment we stopped. Needless to stay, any ideas of staying longer than a night quickly evaporated.

We had arrived on a Friday night, and while we had a peaceful night once the opportunists had left, we had a very early morning wake-up call as unbeknown to us we had parked only metres from what on the weekends becomes a stall selling food and the vendors had arrived early to prepare arepas ( a local maize style flat bread which is often stuffed with cheese or ham) for the days visiting beach goers.  After a quick breakfast we hit the road in the direction of San Felipe, a small town roughly 90km inland and a camp spot which had rave reviews on iOverlander and was marked as being at the back of a hotel run by members of the travellers support group.  Upon arrival we discovered that the hotel was in fact a “love motel”,

All through South America you come across these love motels where a room can be rented by the hour, multiple hour or even night.  Many have pictures outside clearly showing the amenities which may include a jacuzzi, dancing pole, soft or bright LED lighting and so forth and from early in our trip we had often joked that we really needed to add an iOverlander check-in at. While we weren’t going to be the first to add a check in this was going to be our opportunity stay at one or at least at the back of one.

While the concept of a love motel seems quite gaudy, there is a very good reason for there existence; that being that many households are multi-generational and the homes are quite small making it quite difficult for any “love time”.   That is what was explained to us, at least, but we are still quite fascinated how these establishments have a highwalled entry and exit driveway which allows for total discretion in the comings and goings and as we saw at Campo Belo most rooms also have a locked garage so you that your vehicle is not visible to other guests either.  

The camping was setback from all the rooms so we were never aware of the comings and goings and it turned into another highlight of places visited, the extended family that own the motel were super friendly and once again would not accept any payment from us apart from posing for pictures and taking our paw prints.

They have a really cool concept, in that they take a handprint from all the campers that pass-thru and in this way are collecting slabs of the visitors which one day they will use too tile the wall of the kitchen and communal area in the camp.

The pouring of concrete and collection of handprints only took place on the morning we wanted to leave, so it was a rather slow start but after such wonderful hospitality we could not complain.  As a final gesture, they phoned around to the garages in town to find diesel for us and then when they found one arranged with that station manager to expect our arrival.  Once we were finally on the road we headed back towards the coast and then westwards to the Coro Peninsula.  

This large peninsula juts out into the Caribbean ocean and is the northern most point of Venezuela, unfortunately it isn’t the northernmost point of the continent, that honour is taken by Colombia just next door which has a similar peninsula jutting a few kilometres further north otherwise could have claimed to have visited the all the major geographical points on the continent having already passed through the southern, western, eastern and central points on our travels.  Interestingly and in stark contrast to the rest of the Caribbean coastline this section is very desert like whereas just before this it is 100% tropical.  Colombia’s peninsula has almost identical characteristics in both being desert like and surrounded by tropical forests and high coastal mountains. 

We overnighted on the beach on the peninsula before attempting the following morning to drive to the San Roman Cabo (lighthouse).  We say attempting because we hadn’t gone far when Mr Jones low level coolant alarm would sound every time we hit a slight bump. As mentioned a few time in this diary entry we had been experiencing this occasional sounding of the alarm and a slight daily coolant loss for a while but Stuart had not been able to find a leak and was a bit mystified and worried that we were losing coolant into the engine which would be a major catastrophe.  On this morning when it kept going off and because we were on lovely quite roads we pulled over to investigate and this time there was a clear puddle in front of the passenger seat footwell which indicated that the heater matrix which receives hot coolant from the engine was leaking. In many ways it was a major relief to have this issue as it is relatively easy to bypass the matrix but it does mean we no longer have a heater.  We had an identical issue in August 2019 in Mozambique and between the East Africa travel leg and then the Covid lockdown weren’t able to fix it until well after the winter of 2020.  Hopefully we can source a spare part sooner (and remember to do so) this time and before we get to colder climates as the consequences of not having a heater can be unpleasant as can be read about in our blog post of July 2020 

Once the engine had cooled sufficiently, we bypassed the heater matrix and continued on our merry way to the northern point where the wind was blowing quite strong and there wasn’t much to do other than snap some pictures.  Supposedly the island of Aruba was only 20km away but all we could see was blue water out to the horizon, Stuart did attempt to climb the internal stairs of the lighthouse to get a better view but ran into a locked door halfway up.

Leaving the peninsula, we headed into the town of Coro in search of diesel as despite having filled up just 2 days prior we had already done 500km and the next known town for diesel (Merida) was at least 600km away which in principle we have enough range for but with supply so unreliable it is always best to fill up as often as you can.  Once we come across a long line of trucks we knew we were in the vicinity of a fuel station that supplied diesel but on finding it we were told that their tanks were empty and a delivery would only happen tomorrow at 10am.  With no known camping options in Coro we set about searching for a hotel that had suitable (i.e. no height restrictions or is at least 2,7m high) secure parking for Mr Jones.

The old town of Coro is currently undergoing a rejuvenation and the parts that have already received attention are very attractive.

In our previous experiences of obtaining diesel in Venezuela we have been quite fortunate that as tourists, we have always been allowed to go to the front of the truck queue and received attention almost immediately.  When we arrived at 10am there was already a hive of activity and it was quite difficult to get attention or know where to park, etc, but eventually Stuart did manage to find the manager and he told him we would need to wait for an hour or so.  While a little frustrating, we couldn’t complain considering that many of the trucks had probably been waiting days, fortunately after only about 30minutes we were called over and were able to obtain an almost full tank based on our estimate of what we required (as previously written: you have to prepay for your gallons so its really difficult to estimate exactly how will make the tank full).

At this point we had pretty much seen all there was to see along the coastline and so had the intention of heading roughly south west across the interior of the country via the mountain town of Merida and onwards to the border with Colombia.  From what we could tell looking at the map, whichever way we went would be fairly slow as this route followed the spine of the final bit of the Andes as it stretches northwards from Colombia.  The GPS gave us the option of an initial fairly direct and theoretically fastest route through the mountains outside Coro and google maps gave us two options that either went around via a westward route or eastward route.  The eastward route would take us back the way we had come a few days prior (and so didn’t appeal) and the westward one would take us via Maracaibo (which a number of Venezuelans had warned us was a relatively dangerous area) so we opted to trust the Garmin.

The Garmin route was spectacular and reminded us of some of South Africa’s southern cape mountain passes between the coast and the Little Karoo but within an hour the ETA was already creeping out far and we knew we were in for a long day and would be lucky to get to our intended overnight spot before dark.  For the entire drive we averaged 35km/h and when, with less than an hour to go until sunset and still 100km to cover, Mr J started to sputter a bit on the uphills we knew we needed to find somewhere to stop for the night. For most of the drive there had been very little options to even just stop on the side of the road, thanks to the dense bush, let alone pull over for a sleep so when we come around one hairpin and there was an open space in front of what looked like a rural community hall we pulled in and enquired with the ladies cleaning the hall if it would be okay to park for the night.

In the morning we set about trying to fix the issue.  Stuart surmised that it was probably the result of a clogged fuel filter thanks to dirty diese,l which made sense seeing as we had just filled up and perhaps it hadn’t been the best quality.  We do carry spare filters for such an eventuality but they are stored in a box mounted underneath Mr Jones next to the chassis, so the first job was getting the box down.   After changing the filter the issue and trying to bleed the system the issue was still there and as Stuart was convinced it was related to the fuel supply  ( we have quite some experience with this from incidents in South Africa and the Pantanal, Brazil) so the next obvious culprit to assess was the manual fuel pump.   As soon as Stuart removed that, we knew he had found the source of the problem – operating the camshaft manually created no suction whatsoever.   When we had replaced this in the pantanal a year and half prior, the garage had thought us crazy when we had requested they supply us with two as in their opinion these last forever, thankfully we didn’t listen.  After a consultation of the spares spreadsheet we knew where the spare one was hidden/stored and could retrieve it from the cavity behind his kitchen drawers.

As we drove away and where reflecting on the symptoms Mr J had displayed the previous afternoon we realised that in all likelihood Mr Jones had been struggling with the defective fuel pump for a while and had perhaps already tried to tell us this on the steep hills driving into Colonia Tovar (see above).  It would appear that on flatter terrain the fuel pump was coping fine but once we hit steep mountains the poor suction from the pump was insufficient to pull fuel from the tank to the engine.

In many ways it was a good thing Mr Jones forced us to stop the night before as the remaining distance to our intended stop took longer than expected and so between conducting the roadside repairs and stopping to shop meant we only arrived at the dam outside Barquisimeto late in the afternoon.  

The area surrounding the dam is a small nature reserve and the rangers at the gate had told us we could camp anywhere but that there would a regatta taking place over the weekend.  In our tired state we had misunderstood them and not realised they were warning us that the areas closest to the water would get very very busy the following day with participants for the regatta.  The first arrivals started from around 6am and by 8 we were practically surrounded and once again feeling like goldfish in a fishbowl thanks to all the curiosity being directed towards ourselves and Mr J.  We were tired from the last few days and in need of a break but knew there was no ways we could survive the weekend camped where we were, thankfullu there were other areas a bit further up the slope, they weren’t as pretty and more in the direct sun but did have an a-frame shelter so we packed up under the stares of many and moved. Overall it was a good decision and we enjoyed the weekend and got to recover.

From the dam to Merida is only 400km but google told us that it would take 9,5 hours, so not wanting to repeat the mistake of a few days prior we looked on iOverlander for an overnight spot that would be roughly half way.  The only viable option appeared to be at the Basilica Coromoto, we haven’t camped in the grounds of a large church before but there is always a first for everything.  The church was reminiscent of the large concrete cathedral in Brasilia and after a brief walk around to admire it, we settled down in the shady parking area behind the police post for a relaxing afternoon.  As camping spots go, it turned out to be quite good with great security, peaceful and the ability to use the bathrooms and showers attached to the back of the basilica.

Before getting to Merida we had one other stop we thought we might make for a night, some thermal pools that from the pictures looked to be in a spectacular location.  What we hadn’t factored in/didn’t know was that they required a rather steep hike to get to them and while Stuart could have done that, it was most definitely not something Tania would be able to do with her foot issues.  Also, upon arrival we got swarmed by flies when stopping in the parking area where you would camp which would make the whole experience unpleasant so we moved on to Merida.

In Merida there was supposedly a reliable supply of diesel and also a nice-looking camping spot just outside of town, both turned out to be untrue and after a frustrating couple of hours seeking both we resorted to checking in to a hotel for the night.  As we picnicked on the bed for supper, Stuart hit up the travellers support WhatsApp group in the hope of someone finding diesel – in theory we had enough to complete the remaining 300km to Colombia but as we had not been able to complete full the tank previously we were unsure exactly how much fuel we actually had in reserve.

Thankfully he received feedback regarding a garage we hadn’t tried, that may have fuel and so the next morning we set off to find it.  On arrival the security guard told us you could only get diesel if you were on an approved list, not to be deterred Stuart pulled up at a pump and asked again which at that point the owners son arrived who spoke perfect English and happily helped us.  The only catch; it was black market supplies and come at a cost of USD0.95 instead of the standard $0.50 price per gallon.

As with the previous days driving, google predicted a long day ahead of us to get to San Critobal (the closest big town to Colombia) with a driving time of over 6 hours to do the 300km.  We are almost always slower than google so expected closer to 8 especially when after entering a particularly long tunnel through the mountain our headlights seemed dim and so we pulled over after the tunnel to investigate.  The lights were working and we think it was just our eyes not adjusting to the sudden change from bright to dark that made us think this but while checking the lights Stuart did notice that we had no working rear tail or brake lights so that meant a quick change of bulbs on the side of the road.

We had really enjoyed our time in Venezuela but the last week of heading towards the border had tested our patience (slow and poor roads, breakdowns and on-the-go maintenance, lack of diesel etc) and so by this point we were really looking forward to Colombia.   The country still however had one more challenge to throw our way, the border crossing.  There is a newly built and very smart “international bridge” for vehicle traffic where they happily processed the cancellation of our TIP on the computer but when we got to the passport control area only 100m away we were told they had no power and would need to go to the other border post 5km away to process those. Assuming we could then exit via that border post we weren’t too concerned but when we arrived, there was no obvious parking so Stuart squeezed Mr Jones into the taxi rank parking and we joined the line to get our passports stamped only to face the next burecratic hurdle.  The Venezuelan passport officer wanted a hard copy of Tania’s Colombian visa (why it was of any concern to him is beyond us but there is a first for everything!) so we had to now walk into town to find a print shop and then come back and join the line again.

When everything was finally complete, we hopped into Mr Jones and attempted to drive through to Colombia only to be stopped 50m later and informed this border crossing was for pedestrians only and that we needed to turn around and drive the 5km to the post we had visited the first time.  Except when we attempted to do this, a Venezuelan customs official wanted to see our TIP which of course had already been cancelled and no manner of trying to explain the whole process to him and his colleagues made any progress.  He eventually requested us to drive into the yard attached to the customs office to resolve the issue, which we did, and when Stuart parked in one of the many parking bays (there was not a single other car in sight) a different official insisted we move 5 parking bays over and further away from the building – if ever there was a display of meaningless power this was it and it was too much for Stuart who duly started to rant in his bestest worse Spanish at the multitude of officials standing around doing nothing!  This seemed to do the trick and fairly quickly a “jefe” (Spanish for boss) arrived and we got some action – we were free to drive the 5km to the other border post and exit Venezuela.

Below are links to other pages that complement this travel diary entry:

Despite us having just spent 5 days doing nothing but laze around as we “cruised” up the Amazon river, on arrival in Manaus we were both shattered from the journey and so when we found a rather pleasant camping spot outside of town it was an easy decision to spend 2 nights andd have an “active” rest day in between. “Active” in that we could slowly potter through some jobs although one of those did result in Stuart hurting his shoulder when the drill slipped while he was trying to fix a bracket on Mr Jones snorkel.

In the buildup to the Amazon ferry trip we had run our supplies of fresh and frozen food down quite low as we weren’t sure where Mr Jones would be parked on the boat and if he would be able to receive enough solar power to maintain the fridge/freezer battery.  Our intention had been to shop in Manaus before heading out and we had done some on arrival but had eventually called it quits when both of us started to exhibit warning signs “that enough was enough”, so after our rest day we had to make a 1 hour round trip back into town before being able to hit the road north.

Brazil generally has excellent gas stations/truck stops and for transit days they have become our go-to place to spend a night but as we discovered on the section from Manaus north to Venezuela this was not the case, with most possible stops being quite small and dirty. Late in the afternoon we pulled into one such spot just before the native Waimiri-Atroari Indian forest reserve as we had read that it was not allowed to drive the section through the reserve after a certain hour.  The conductor of Mr Jones was feeling quite sorry for himself after a long hot day in the car as not only did he have a sore shoulder but was now suffering with a cold that he must have picked up on the boat, efforts were made to console him with a cold Fanta from the stations little kiosk followed up with a beer.

The efforts clearly worked as the following morning, he decided to drain and change Mr Jones coolant before we set off.   The changing of the coolant had been on the to-do list ever since our less than satisfactory encounter with mechanics in Fortaleza, we had the 10litres of fluid necessary to do the job but had never been in a spot suitable to do the job as it is next to impossible to do without spilling at least half of the old fluid on the floor.  With a dirt parking area and plenty of rain each day to dilute the impact, Stuart had decided that this little garage in the middle of the Amazon jungle was as good an opportunity as we may get for a while.

The drive through the Waimiri-Atroari reserve was spectacular in respect to the dense nests of the forest but sadly this also means you see very little other than a mass of green next to the road and it all tends to blend into itself.  Just the other side of the reserve we crossed the equator (our 3rd time on this continent and so stopped for the obligatory photo). Compared to other equator “crossings” it was a very low key affair with no touts demonstrating the theoretical physical effects of being in the northern versus southern hemispheres and so forth.

Our overnight destination for that day was the National Park of Virua where we hoped to spend a few days and get the opportunity to soak up the sounds, sights and atmosphere of the rain forest.  In order to visit you in theory need to send an email requesting this a few days before arrival but as we travel with no fixed itinerary we had only done this the day before and then since then had not had internet signal which meant the rangers were a bit surprised by our arrival, it was however not really an issue and easily solved by signing the manual register.  

The campground is in a beautiful clearing in the forest but unfortunately it was oppressively hot (even by our standards) and so after only a very short while we decided it would only be a one nighter.  An aspect that totally surprised and mystified us was how quite the forest was, we took a short walk into it and apart from the dense vegetation meaning you cannot see very far off the path to spot birds or wildlife we also heard no activity, apart from the briefest glimpse of a solitary monkey.  It was so eerily quite that we actually could hear a leaf falling.

Two hundred kilometres south of the Venezuela border is the town of Boa Vista and it was here that we had or first (and thankfully only) opportunity to wander if visiting Venezuela was a sensible thing to do, the reason being it is home to some very large white tented refugee camps.  That night though as we sat in a river to cool off from the days heat it was more, for us, about reflecting on our journey through Brazil: in total over our two visits we had spent 309 days in the country and visited 25 of its 26 states plus of course the Federal district of Brasilia, had countless fantastic experiences and only a few negative ones (mostly with regards diesel injector specialists). Sadly, after all those days our Portuguese is still terrible!

Muito Obrigado Brazil.

Below are links to other pages that complement this travel diary entry:

Tuesday 9 January (Day 1)

6:00 – Early morning wake-up call at the private marina we have been camped at the last few days as many kayakers and rowers arrived for what we presume is pre-work exercise session.

9:30 –  After a quick stop at the bakery we arrive at the ferry dock and Stuart sets off to try find out how we “check-in”.  There seems to be a lot of organised choas.  At first there is some confusion as too our ticket and the boats list but eventually it is clarified and we are told to wait.  The ferry is only due to depart at 18:00 today but we had been told to come early, no idea when they will load the cars and there seem to be far more cars than deck space. In the meantime, they are loading all sorts of cargo into the hold and onto part of the car deck.

10:00 – We take our hammocks on board and find the bottom deck to be quite full so head upstairs to the 2^nd deck.  It is not clear how or if anything is organised and while standing around looking a little lost, a friendly chap in plain clothes introduces himself as the Captain.   We ask him where is the best place and side to put our hammock and he helps to rig them up.

10:15 – Stuart decided he may as well start working on the new bumper watertank (our previous one cracked a couple of days ago) and so leaves Tania with her kindle and hammock and our phones plugged-in too a electrical outlet directly above our hammocks

12:00 – There seems to be some activity around the cars, so Stuart finsihes up with gluing the watertank and packs his tools away.  Hopefully he can complete the cutting and gluing of the tank while underway on the ferry so we are “good to go” once we reach Manaus.

13:00 – Roughly 14 cars/SUVs have been loaded, Mr. Jones was second to last to be loaded.

14:00 – Upper deck is starting to get fuller.

14:35 – we get our taste of what could be a regular occurance, a torrential downpour.  There are tarpaulin sides which can be dropped to prevent rain entering the sleeping quarters.

18:18 – We are underway, no streamers or firecrackers to mark our departure so we pop a selfie of the two of us in our hammocks.  Not being regular selfie takers, in the first attempt Tania looks like we suspect we might feel on day 5.

19:00 – the rivers serve as a highway to all over the Amazon river delta and its tributories and so there are many ferry boats going all over the place.  We get overtaken by one that is similar in look and size to the one we are on

21:00 – 

Our location @ 21:00

We had originally hoped to be able to lift Mr. Jones roof and sleep inside him as well as cook suppers but as we didn’t know how easy it would be to access him and had read that the deck of the ferry was quite sloped, Tania had pre-prepared a number of meals which just required heating up.  As it turns out we can’t lift the roof without potentially blocking the Captains view of the river ahead, the deck is sloped and we won’t even be able to use our external gas stove as there is no space next to MR. J, the cars are packed in like sardine.  Supper tonight was cold hot dogs!  At least we can bring our chairs upstairs and have created a “lounge” in which we can drink our wine.

10 January 2024, Wednesday (Day 2)

6:00 –

Our location @ 06:00 on 10 January

8:00 –

Docked in Breves, loading new passengers and offloading cargo and for some perspective: this is the largest town on an island called Marajó. The island is comparable in size to Switzerland and is the worlds 35th largest island.  And we are not even in the ocean, just the river delta!

10:44 –

Latest location, we are idling in middle of river so this guy can pull up and offload his multiple bundles of what look like broomsticks.  Who would have guessed the logistical chain involved in getting a wooden broom stick to a store near you…

13:30 –

Cruising slowly through a narrow tributory. The locals paddle out towards the ferry boats in anticipation of “parcels” being thrown overboard for them. The parcels consist of food or clothes which passengers have put together and donate – on one hand it can look like a nice charitable thing to do but having seen how many boats are plying this route their must in fact be a booming second-hand thrift shop in the area. And in the most extreme case a powered motorboat picked up a few packets, then pulled alongside and proceeded to sell sundried shrimp and açaí to the passengers (don’t think they where in need of donations).

14:30 – 

We just paused for a quick passenger pickup: Mom and her about 6-year old daughter transferred from this local taxi to our ferry. Stationary time, possibly under one minute 👀👀

17:15 – 

We have finally entered the Amazon River having reached it 23 hours since leaving Belem and as we did, this little canoe motored up with a food delivery. It’s about the 4th one today, so we are beginning to think that some passengers have the equivalent of a Mr D delivery app. Always the same food: sun dried camorone (shrimp) and acai 

21:00 Gurupa Town – 

Per Wikipedia, the town is 300km inland from Amazon mouth and is the centre for palm heart extraction in the region. Looks like we will be here for a few hours as they unload cargo. We thought it was strange when the boat lights went out 30min earlier tonight in the sleeping area but that was so they could switch them on again at 9pm it seems..

11 January, Thursday (Day 3)

5:00 – Town of Almerien – 

Didn’t think the boat could take anymore passengers but silly us.  Stuart was already almost bumping hammocks with the lady next to him and yet a mother and daughter who just boarded managed to put theirs either side of the lady next to him.  The mother has serious attitude but on the “bright side” she had to string her hammock like a bunk bed and her top bunk is now directly below the night light that stays on when we sleeping and so Stuart doesn’t have to sleep with his hat over his eyes anymore

With two nights of sleeping in hammocks under our belts, we haven’t done too bad for rest, Tania slept very well on night 1 and Stuart okay. On the second night we seem to have reversed the roles.  Hammocks are not that great for sleeping in as they place a lot of pressure on certain points and you can’t just roll over. Also, ours are perhaps a bit small when comparing to other passengers. It seems the best way to sleep in them is slightly diagonally and a bigger one is better for that. (The things you learn 🙈)

9:10 –

We are in the middle of nowhere, all of a sudden the engines go into idle and many curious passengers get up to see what’s happening down the side of the boat.  A small boat has pulled up alongside, ties on briefly while a few huge polystyrene cooler boxes are offloaded (presumably shrimp or fish) and one passenger who is standing on the roof of the small boat embarques.   5 minutes later we are back underway

12:00 – Prainha

The larger village of Prainha. After the 5am boarding earlier today we were now truly convinced that no more passengers could be fitted, guess we were wrong once again. All those under the canopy in the below pictures are boarding. We are hanging tight to our seating area and having learnt from previous “space invaders” when we lost valuable real estate because we either weren’t in the hammocks or had them tied out the way for our seating/lounge have put our hammocks and chairs out BUT based on the circling peeps with hammocks in hand looking for a spot,  don’t know if we will be able to resist an invasion for too long.  Interestingly, based on the map it seems this town and a few west of it are actually connected by some kind of road inland.

17:00 Town of Monte Alegre

It has taken 5 hours to sail from Prainha to this one, two of the towns connected by road inland.  

It is also the first first mass disembarkation since we started in Belem and we actually have a little space around us, we were a bit sad to see the family directly next to us leave, as they have been super sweet and had a real cute little boy who, on the first morning,  decided Tania was his new favourite aunty to play “hide behind a 10cm wide pole with”.  We have felt quite sorry for some passengers as some that boarded earlier today could not find space anywhere so have been hanging around the last 5 hours hoping to get a spot. As soon as people started to pack up they moved into spaces.  Will be interesting to see if we get a lot of new arrivals, embarking from this town as well and where they will find space.

The dockside vendors here have an ingenious method for both receiving payment and passing goods up to the passengers.  In other towns they have just stormed on board as soon as the boat pulled alongside and then have to dash to get off again when it starts to pull away.

12 January, Friday (Day 4)

00:35 The major town of Santarem

The Captain told us when we passed him on the deck yesterday afternoon that we would dock in Santarem at 1am, so when we were woken by the engines going into idle at 00:35 we thought we were early BUT in what was a truly impressive parallel parking maneuver (over the next 25 minutes) we did in fact tie off to the dock at only a few minutes passed 1.

The ferry behind us only got bumped once in the entire process, causing it to shift slightly and create a bit of excitement for a few of its passengers who were on the gangplank disembarking at that point.

If Stuart’s Portuguese counting was correct we will be here until 11am although our Ghanaian friend who speaks Portuguese seem to think we may be here all day as the offload and load cargo.  And if we understood the Captain correctly we can go ashore and wander around Santarem. 

First priority however, once it is a more reasonable hour is to use the fact that we should now have cell signal on our “hotspot” phone to answer some queries that have come through on Tania’s Colombia visa application (while we have Starlink connection on our phones these queries need a computer the WiFi we paid for on the boat is for one device only).  We have limited time to answer those and so don’t want to wait until getting off the ferrry in Manaus to attend to that.

Once we had dealt with the visa queries we decided against going onshore in case we had misunderstood the departure time, last thing we need is for the boat to pull away without us as there is no passenger check as to who disemabrks or embarks at these stops.  They do very informally “check-in” new passengers.

So instead Stuart used the stationary time to finalise the last bit of cutting and gluing for the watertank. In the below pic it is clear how tight the parking space was when we arrived, the forward hull of the next boat overhangs ours.

11:00 Santarem

And we are underway again.  Looks like Stuart’s  ability to count and tell the time in Portuguese has improved as he understood EL Capitan perfectly yesterday for both arrival time and departure time.

As we pull away from town we get to see our first “meeting of the rivers”.

There are a couple of points along the Amazon river system were two rivers come together but don’t mix for a number of kilometres.  This non-mixing occurs because the two rivers flow at significantly different speeds, have different temperatures as well as different solid densites making the division clearly visible.  In the case of Santerm, it is the sediment heavy Amazon and clearer Tapajos river.

17:20 Middle of nowhere, Time for sundowners

It has been a long day of cruising with no stops or small boats pulling up alongside, probably because we have been in the main Amazon channel which is just ginormous. You can barely see the other side and even ocean-going size vessels look small when far away.

Got the GPS out around lunchtime to see what speed we cruise at = it seems to be constant 17km/h

When we do venture into the side channels or around islands there is noticeably less dense forest and more grassland which means cattle farming. Have spotted a few barges setup like floating kraals presumably for taking the beef to market. 

13 January, Saturday (Day 5)

5:10am, Small town of Parantins

Another early wake up call, as we pull into this little village. Mr Jones will lose one of his voyage mates as the car next to him (with bicycles on the back), gets off here. But first they must offload the one in front of him (this one joined in Santarem).

That was our 4^th night of sleeping in the hammocks and hammock life ain’t all it’s cracked out to be (not a palm tree or cocktail in sight). Sleeping twisted like a banana is awkward, puts a lot of pressure on your neck and gives us a headache! Wriggling can set off a domino effect with the hammocks to your side BUT wriggling is the only way to change position and put the pressure on a different point.

5am wake-up call

The locals seem to cope with hammock life much better than we do, from really young to some on the boat who must be in their late 70’s already.   This youngster even had a very cool hammock which was perfect for a little boy. 

As we pulled away from Parantins we made a number of sightings of the pink river dolphin, known in this part of the world as a Boto.  Folklore has it that they morph at night into handsome men and seduce the women. Seeing as it was early Saturday morning we reckon they were heading home after a succesful night on the town.

8:15 Middle of the main Amazon channel

As we head down the back stairs for breakfast @ Mr. Jones, the further inland we have gone the wider the river seems to have got. For perspective, in the below picture, there is another ferry boat in the top middle left of the picture.

11:25 / 10:24 Saturday

Time zone crossed, we just gained an hour, however lunch (for those that take it in the canteen) is being served on the old time zone time. In the meantime, while we are cruising close to the one bank, you can barely see the other side.

In the dry season (which we are currently at the end of) the Amazon is usually between 3 and 10km wide. In the wet season that width can triple meaning some parts are 50km wide creating huge underwater forest areas. 

And the delta mouth where it empties into the Atlantic is 328km wide, the fresh water pushes up to 300km into the ocean. The river was first discovered by a Portuguese sailor in March 1500 when he noticed that he was sailing in “freshwater” while over 200km offshore.

14 January, Sunday (Day 6)

6:15am – Roughly 4 hours until we reach Manaus

4 hours to go until we can dis-embark

The rain is pouring down and it’s a little chilly. Weather app says it is 24 deg C but after months of living with the temperature never really dropping below 30, this may have us searching for jackets when we get back to Mr Jones.

Rain has scuppered Stuart’s plans to get up early and mount the bumper water tank, which he completed during the voyage, and to be able to put the grill back on the front of Mr Jones.

It’s a good thing that we plan on going shopping once off the boat and that most attacadao’s (Makro style supermarkets) have large undercover areas – guess he will be completing that job while Tania shops.

9:00 – getting closer to Manuas

The storm has cleared up giving Stuart the opportunity to mount the watertank and tidy up his tools from the passenger footwell so that Tania will have place to sit once we disembark.

10:40 – The meeting of the waters outside Manaus

“The meeting of the waters outside Manaus“

This time it is the meeting of the Rio Negro (with it’s clearer tanin coloured water which flows from the Venezuela highlands) and the sediment rich Amazon river which has ultmately flowed from the Peruvian Andes.  It is surreal to think that we parked Mr. Jones on a small cement bridge which in theory crossed this river close to it’s source back in 8 months ago!  To read that travel diary entry click here

Having crossed into the Rio Negro, we have clean water off the back of the boat now.

Tannin collared waters of the Rio Negro

11:15 – Manaus

It is crazy to think that we are 1600km from the Atlantic Ocean, yet only 45m above sea level and we are surrounded by ocean going cargo vessels and even a cruise ship. Almost everything that comes to this city of 2,5million people arrives by boat.

We estimate there was somewhere between 300 – 350 passengers on board the boat and we had hoped we would not be the only international overlanders (aka persons able to speak English) on board in order to have some company.   As it turned out there was a Belgian on board (who was not friendly and we had zero engagement with) and one Ghanain (married to a Brazilian) who was super friendly and helped us out with a number of things, not least of which was understanding how the one and only single gas burner (available to passengers) worked so that we could reheat suppers.

saying goodbye to Tedd and his family

If we had thought getting Mr. Jones onto the ferry had been a little nerve wracking, it was a good thing we did not know what awaited us in Manaus until it was too late.  The dock was super busy and our boat pulled up offcentre in front of small floating dock.  Stuart and Mr. Jones were the first to exit but because of the position and tight spacing of cars on the boat it took quite some manovering just to get onto the ramps of which the right hand one was super close to the waters edge and a pole with bent metal sticking up only centimtres from Mr. J.  To keep things interesting, it was pouring with rain.

Hold on tight while you watch the below video:

Once on the floating dock we needed to get him up the other side, but the ramps didn’t reach all the way and the metal was super slippery, even with the differential locked and in first gear low range Stuart could only make it halfway before losing all traction and slipping.  Once the wheels started to slip it changed the angle Mr. J was facing meaning that as Stuart backed back down, Mr. J got close to the waters edge between the dock and boat alongside.  After two failed attempts, the help of a delivery truck was sourced and we got an assisted tow up the slope.   Needless to say, the ferry located to a different berth for offloading the rest of the vehicles.

And that is how our first ever “cruise” ended, perhaps next time we consider a 5-day cruise experience we will spring for tickets on a fancy ocean going cruise ship with a proper cabin for berths.

Last months travel diary ended with us reaching the end of the BR101 coastal road in Brazil, it also meant we were about to enter the state of Ceara which was to be the 21st state we have visited in Brazil. Ceara is world famous for kite-surfing which means it is windy, our first indication of this was when we got a little lost on our first day in the state and spent hours driving past massive wind farms for electricity.

Based on our timing, we were under the impression that while it would be windy we would be travelling in the tail end of the windy season, and therefore shouldn’t experience hectic winds.  Our intended destination on that first day was a wild camp on the beach just a little south of the small village of Sao Bento do Norte but when we arrived there and parked just above the beach in order to figure out how to access the beach and drive south we got sandblasted.  It was clear that a wildcamp on the beach would be positively unpleasant and so we moved on, at which point we got lost in the maze of dirt roads traversing the wind farms.

After a long day we arrived at what was described as a surfcamp in another small village called, Sao Cristavoa. However, on arrival, there was nobody home and the site looked more abandoned than appealing so off we went in search of a wild camp, which we found just next to the beach as the sun was setting.  What had meant to be an 80km day had ended up being over 400km.

In the morning, when we could observe the ocean better it was clear that there was no surfing to be had and so after a leisurely breakfast during which a number of locals slowly cruised past clearly fascinated by Mr Jones (we got the distinct impression that word had gone out about the strangers just outside town), we packed up and moved on to a campsite under development called Vida Nova.  It was quite a popular spot with long term Brazilian motorhomes, who seem to spend over a month in each spot they stop at, and the owners were also super nice, even organising an asado for us the one evening.  The downside, was that the camp is very exposed to the wind meaning you get buffeted all day long by wind and sand and it had an unattractive beach.  The beach was very flat and reasonably hard packed which meant that everyone took their cars onto the beach and drove up and down it, often at high speed which made going for a stroll on the beach, feel more like walking down a 4 lane highway.

In the meantime, Mr Jones had picked up a loud “knocking” sound which Stuart couldn’t trace and so we had decided to seek out a mechanic in Fortaleza.  We have had pretty good experiences with garages operating under the “Bosch Service centre” brand and google told us there were a couple in Fortaleza, the last major town we would encounter for over a 1000km.  The garage convinced us that the issue was the fuel injection pump, which was very frustrating as that had been overhauled in a small Brazilian town just over a year prior, at quite some expense.  As the weekend was approaching and we didn’t want to be without Mr Jones for days when he would not be worked on, we agreed with them we would come back on Monday morning.

While we waited for the weekend to pass we put the time to good use to research ferry boats, and ultimately book one, for the trip up the Amazon river from Belem to Manaus.  Despite the Amazon river being the main transport route for everyone who lives along it, the booking system is surprisingly informal, we did everything via WhatsApp once we had managed to find the cellphone number of a booking agent.  Brazilians love WhatsApp and in particular voice notes, which made it quite challenging with our limited Portuguese as the agent would send long voice notes in reply to our enquiries and requests for additional information.

Knowing that we would be without Mr Jones while the fuel injector pump was being overhauled we booked into a backpacker hostel in Fortaleza, hoping that there would be other international backpackers who we could interact with.  We hadn’t met or engaged with another international traveller since the middle of September, which meant that apart from talking to each other, every other social engagement had to some extent relied on Google translate.  Google translate is a wonderful tool which we couldn’t do without but it doesn’t allow for free flowing conversation, thus making all such engagements rather limited and frustrating.  Much to our disappointment, the only people staying in the hostel were Brazilian!

What was meant to be a 2 night stay in the hostel turned into a 4 night one and what was meant to be a relatively expensive job turned into an exorbitantly expensive job!  It had escalated from the fuel injector pump to include the injectors as well, plus a whole lot of ancillary items which in Stuart’s option did not make sense and he spent a whole lot of time arguing with the garage about the extent of work and getting items removed. Once again google translate was invaluable and at at the same time incredibly frustrating.

When the injector pump had been repaired a year ago, we had experienced a rapid overheating of the engine when driving away, from what we believed was an airlock in the cooling system – this ultimately led to a head gasket replacement a month later.  At the time that mechanic was adamant that they hadn’t touched the expansion tank of the cooling system and as we hadn’t been in attendance at the time we could not prove them wrong.  There was no ways Stuart was going to allow that to potentially happen again and insisted on being in attendance for every step of the reassembly process and as he witnessed  – it is next to impossible to do the job without the removal and replacement of the coolant – chalk one up for one lying mechanic last year!  It was a good thing Stuart was in attendance this time as they proceeded to overfill the cooling system and with the wrong mixture of antifreeze, leading to more google translate arguments as they insisted they were right.  In the end Stuart prevailed but then with it past closing time and getting dark, when he took it for a test drive the coolant leaked  – thank goodness for our coolant level alarm.  The stress levels at this point were through the roof! 

Not wanting for them to rush while trying to fix the leaking coolant, nor risk further issues when driving through dodgy Fortaleza in the dark we called it quits and called an Uber to take us back to the hostel for another night.  We were both physically and mentally shattered and most definitely not in love with Brazil anymore.

The saddest part of the whole experience, while we do believe that the pump and injector pump overhaul has made Mr J run a bit better, the knocking sound we had been concerned about was still there, just slightly subdued and so they had ultimately not fixed the problem we were concerned about. 

We were very keen to get the hell out of Fortaleza, apart from the mechanic experience it is the first major city in Brazil where we have felt you need to watch your back, however we had one important logistical task to deal with once we got Mr Jones back the next morning – swap out our Brazilian 5kg gas bottle for a new one as ours was empty.  Brazil does not fill foreign gas bottles and only swaps its own for full ones. We had purchased a Brazilian bottle in September when our South African one had run out and this bottle was now also empty.  In theory it should have been an easy task of stopping at a depot, and making the swap however as we were to find out, in the north east of Brazil, 5kg bottles are not used and so the depots only had large 13kg ones.  We spent roughly 4 hours driving from depot to depot in the town until one eventually pointed us to the actual gas plant outside of town but even there we did not come right.

So, with no options left, we headed out of town to a little village that appeared to have a surf camp but upon arrival found that the restaurant associated with it no longer offered camping which was a great pity as the surf out front looked rather nice and so as was a theme for this month, we moved a bit further up the coast to our next option.  This was meant to be fantastic, based on the reviews, and only metres from a wonderfully quiet beach with nobody on it.  When we got there, we found very high walls around a locked up large compound and at least 500m of dunes separating it from the beach.  It was by now late in the afternoon and as this spot was quite remote we decided, if nobody was home then we would just camp outside its walls.  Some hours later, as we were finishing cooking supper, the German owner and his Brazilian wife arrived back home and so after eating our food, we packed Mr J up and moved inside the compound.  The following morning, we did try and access the beach, but wind and fine sand do not make for a pleasant experience and we abandoned that idea after only a few hundred metres.

For weeks, every Brazilian Motorhome owner we interacted with had told us that we must visit a spot called “Beach Camping” in Praia do Baleia.  Based on our most recent experiences we were fully expecting to be disappointed but thankfully that was not the case and it was the perfect spot to restore our karma.  As always language was a bit of a barrier but we had some great interactions with fellow campers, enjoyed an asado with them, took long walks on the beach (the wind wasn’t even that strong), Stuart managed a bit of surfing and perhaps most importantly managed to sort out our gas problem.  As every South African knows, a braai is a wonderful place for men to stand around and discuss a variety of topics and it was at the asado (South American term for a braai) that the issue of not being able to find a replacement gas bottle come up as well as a solution offered.  The suggested solution was to gravity fill the 5kg bottle from a 13kg one using a special adapter that the one Motorhome owner had and after a bit of further discussion (with google) Stuart proposed that they in fact try and fill our South African bottle rather than the Brazilian one. The following morning after searching through the multitude of different sized fittings Stuart had purchased before the trip for this exact prospect, he found one that fitted onto the Brazilian adaptor and our Cadac bottle.  30 Minutes later we had a full Cadac bottle and had gifted our 5kg Brazilian one to the helpful Motorhome owner, who in return gifted his adaptor to us which is guaranteed to come in useful somewhere else in the world.

For the technically minded (and for those not – skip this paragraph):  the issue with gravity filling a gas bottle is that you need liquid gas to flow from the donor bottle to the receiver bottle.  This is done by hanging the donor bottle upside down and connecting it to the receiving bottle with a high-pressure hose, however the receiving bottle has air in it from when it emptied and in order for the liquid to enter the air needs to be displaced.  There are convoluted ways of trying to change the pressure differential to allow for this, such as placing the donor in the sun and the recipient in the shade covered with a wet towel BUT the beauty of our gifted adapter is that it allows you to bleed off the air in the donor cylinder while controlling the liquid flow making it a relatively hassle free process.

Beach Camping was great and we could easily have spent Christmas there, in fact our fellow campers and the owners were quite disappointed when we said we wouldn’t and needed to move on.  We needed to “move on” for two reasons, firstly with a ferry date secured we need to keep moving north towards that and secondly, we were hoping (against all odds) to find a spot which had perhaps another international Overlander (or two) with whom we could socialize over the festive period.  With that in mind we had decided to move to Jijoca de Jericoacoara which is more touristy.   Unfortunately our gamble did not pay off, there were no international tourists and the camp was surprisingly empty but nonetheless we did find ourselves in a very nice campsite and ultimately had a fantastic Christmas day full of WhatsApp calls to family as we juggled timezones from Sydney, to South Africa, Switzerland and London and then finally ending with a fantasistic roast pork leg on our mini Weber.

We have spent a number of Christmas away from home now (Malawi, Uganda, Argentina’s Patagonia & now Brazil) and it has been interesting to see the different approaches to this holiday period in each country.  In South Africa our Christmas holiday rush (when everyone dashes from inland cities to the coast) always starts around the 16th, in Brazil we learnt it starts the day after Christmas.  On the 26th we started to see the campsite full up throughout the day and late into the night, and each subsequent day more and more families arrived until it was bursting at the seams and we felt like we could be camping at one of the very popular KwaZulu Natal south coast spots where guy ropes interlink between sites and there almost isn’t an inch to move.  There were no designated sites but Stuart had anticipated a fuller place when we arrived and positioned Mr Jones next to a couple of trees which prevented anybody parking right on top of us, on the one side and on the other we had our hammocks strung out between Mr J and a tree, so overall we had quite a large footprint and some space to move.

Although we had more space than many around Mr Jones and the location itself (on a stunning aquamarine lake) was very nice, we were very “alone in a crowd” and so decided to rather seek out a more isolated spot for the New Year.  For this we had in mind a stretch of beach a little further north on which it appeared you could easily wild camp and so on New Year’s Eve we set out to explore.  It took a few attempts in the little town of Tutoia to figure out how to get onto the beach with Mr Jones but once we were on it, we could have been on a multi-lane highway with many tracks heading up and down it. Unlike in South Africa, driving on the beach is a very common activity in this part of Brazil.  After 15km we come to an area with many tracks heading off into some large sand dunes which is nicknamed “the mini Lencois”.   One of the main tourist attractions, called Lencois Marenheses,  just north of here is a huge dunefield which has many natural pools that form between the dunes.  The natural pools form during the rainy season and make fantastic swimming pools surrounded by dunes.   It was one of the attractions Tania had been very keen on seeing but we were concerned that we were too late in the year and that the pools would have dried up, this was confirmed for us at mini Lencois which also has such pools but they were all dry, which a local tour guide who passed by confirmed for us, was because of the season.

We backed Mr Jones up against one of the dunes, grabbed some drinks and climbed the dune for sundowner drinks.  Incredibly we still had cellphone signal and so were able to make a few WhatsApp video calls and send messages to wish everyone a Happy New Year.  While it was a quiet New Year’s Eve for us, it was an improvement on the year prior which had been spent in a truck stop in the middle of nowhere on Argentina’s Patagonia steppes.

While the location of our New Year’s Eve wildcamp was quite spectacular, the sea itself was not very inviting and so instead of spending a second night there we moved on to the town of Barreirinhas which had two campsites marked on Overlander that promised swimming pools.  Barreirinhas is the launch point for all trips into Lencois Marenheses and so we were also expecting an attractive tourist town with perhaps a nice looking restaurant or two.   Sadly, we were disappointed on all counts and would have been better off staying at our peaceful wild camp another night.

At this point we were wary of moving too fast as we still had 9 days to go until our ferry sailing date from Belem and only really had one more campspot in mind before we did a couple of days trucking to Belem.  Fortunately for us the little oasis and campsite of Camping Encanto das Aguas, lived up to its name. Not only was the location spectacular but the family that own and run it just exuded peace and tranquility, it was exactly what our souls needed.

After wiling away 4 days, it was time to put our heads down for a couple of days trucking to complete the last section to Belem and our awaiting Amazon Ferryboat.

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After a massive trek across the breadth of Brazil, we ended last month with a few days on the beach which we hoped was going to set the trend for our next few months in Brazil, lots of beach and surf time with short hops along the coast as we did this.  

Our first stop was just 50km north but before getting there we went on a mission to find a gas bottle as we had run out of gas for cooking.  As with electrical plugs and sockets, there is no standard size for gas bottles or their regulators and the threads required to refill them.  In preparing for the South America Stuart had purchased a wide variety of every type adapter he could source both in South Africa and globally in order to make the refill process easier and much to our surprise we have only needed one of these so far, the simple “bullnose” adapter we have in SA for large to small bottles.  Brazil is however a different matter altogether as they will not refill anything but their own style bottle and so we knew, from last years experience, that we had to purchase a bottle.  Further complicating the process is that the standard bottle size here is 13kg which is way too big for mounting on the back of Mr J but they do also have a 5kg version (different shape to Cadac) that we had been able to fit onto the bracket we have – it was just a case of finding one.  

We knew the brand that had this size and had googled a number of their locations/outlets in Ilheus and so were reasonably optimistic that we would find one but after about the 5th fruitless stop that optimism was fading fast as we headed out of town to the factory/distribution centre.  As if things weren’t complicated enough, the data on our phone run out (meaning no Google translate) upon arrival at the factory and Stuart was left to try and explain in his “best” Portuguese to the bemused security guard what we wanted and from that interaction we obtained rough directions to a new address which sadly also turned into a failure.  As one last resort we headed back to the factory for another attempt and this time got lucky as a manager was leaving and he took pity on us, with the end result being him leading us back through town to another distribution point where we could purchase a 5kg bottle. After what had been a frustrating search, we were left grateful for the kindness of complete strangers.

After parting ways on the side of the road (he even helped lead us out of town), we quickly covered the 50km north to the next campsite, having been there already last year we thought we knew what to expect and so were rather surprised to find a campground bursting with silverbacks and their very large mobile homes.  

Based on our past interactions with Brazilians, we expected to be using Google translate plenty over the course of the next days as curious neighbours stopped by to check out Mr J and welcome us to Brazil but strangely in this camp everybody very much kept to themselves and in one week we only had a single visitor.  

Last year Stuart had had some enjoyed some quite nice “board meetings” on this beach but this year the wind and swell direction were not playing ball and blowing in some seriously scary looking (&large)Portuguese Men of War, so instead we occupied ourselves with long beach walks and kindle time while lying on the beach.  We had still not fully recovered from the long trek across Peru and Brazil so the 7 lazy days spent at Camping Paraiso were exactly what we needed.

As already mentioned we had travelled this part of the coastline already and so had decided to make a relatively quick move up to and past Salvador but first we wanted to visit one beach called Praia Engenhoca, from what we had read and the pictures we had seen it looked absolutely stunning.  You approach it via a 30-minute walk through the rain forest to emerge onto a 500m strip of sand which is wedged between two headlands, as an added bonus it, supposedly, was popular for surfing.   The only downside being that there was no camping in the vicinity so our plan was to spend the better part of the day on it and then do a 3 hour hop towards Salvador and a truck stop which had a self-service laundromat onsite, this would give us somewhere convenient to sleep and mean one less “admin” task for our time in Salvador.

The walk to the beach, the beach itself and the surfing did not disappoint and we spent a great morning there before hitting the road for what should have been an easy commute to the truckstop.  Perhaps it was because he was feeling neglected from having been left up on the road while we enjoyed a tropical paradise beach but Mr Jones clearly had very different plans, when after just an hour he cut-out from fuel starvation.  This brought back terrible flashbacks to our time in the Pantanal one year prior, as we hadn’t run out of fuel, he had had a service less than 1500km ago and there were no obvious symptoms for the issue.  Over the course of the next 3hours, Stuart bled the fuel system 10 or more times which allowed us to cover a few more kilometers forward each time before cutting out again and just as we were beginning to think we may be spending the night stranded on the side of the road he decided to dismantle and clean the fuel sedimenter in case we had some contaminated fuel.  The sedimenter turned out to be perfectly clean but thankfully after re-assembling it, Mr Jones ran for a “record” (at least for the previous 3 hours) of 25km with no issues which allowed us to get to a town and its associated campground. No laundromat for us that night but at least we were safe and could sleep soundly before regrouping in the morning.

Over breakfast the following morning, we made the decision to push forward, given that he had run so well for the last part of the previous evening and see how far we could go.  Our logic being that either the problem would rear its ugly head quickly and then we could turn around and come back to the small town we were in, to search for a diesel mechanic or alternatively it would take longer to appear and that would allow us to get closer to the BR101 ( a main arterial road in Brazil) and its associated truck support garages scattered all along its length where we were more likely to find an expert diesel mechanic.  5 hours later we found ourselves driving into the outskirts of Salvador and even confident enough to risk the traffic so that we could go searching for a butchery and supermarkets.   It remains a mystery as to what the actual issue had been but Stuart surmises that a small air leak must have appeared at the seal of the sedimenter and by removing and reinstalling it, this inadvertently fixed the issue.

As we had been in Salvador a year prior there was no need to spend time doing touristy things and so as we often do with big cities we focused on getting jobs done and acquiring items we don’t usually find in the smaller towns.  After a very efficient but busy day we were ready to head north and into what would now be new territory for us, unfortunately we had inadvertently picked a holiday to do this and it felt like every “Salvadorian” was headed in the same direction, at least for the first 100km or so until we had got far enough away from town for it to make sense as a day trip.  

We had in mind a wild camp spot on a what we thought was a relatively deserted peninsula but upon arrival realised that the picture and review in iOverlander had been a bit misleading, however not to be deterred we headed further along the peninsula on some deep sand tracks.  99% of the time we do not need the 4×4 capabilities that Mr Jones has but when we do use them or need them they are invaluable and this evening was one of those.  The sand tracks took us past a few villages and into a large coconut palm forest where we could back-up against the dunes for an idyllic camping spot which we nicknamed “Coconut Alley”.  Sundowners on the sand dunes overlooking the ocean with nobody around for many kilometres certainly made up for the issues and stress of a few days ago.

Leaving Coconut alley we were hoping to find another “long stay” venue were we could be stationary for a week or more and so this meant a 6 hour day in the car to cover the 370km it took to get to a small village called Coruripe were we found a very well organised campsite.  It is not a recognised surf spot but upon arrival it appeared to have some pretty decent waves out front at high tide but the high water can potentially hide unknown dangers such as rocks and reefs so if there are no locals to “guide the way”,  Stuart always waits for a full tide cycle to pass where he can observe the water both at high and low tide before deciding whether to surf.  Some rocks did become exposed at low tide but having observed their positioning he felt comfortable to hit the water alone and over the course of our stay had a number of really good sessions, even if he was the only one in the water each and every time.   

Another advantage of the campsite was that it had pretty decent WiFi which meant we could watch the Springboks in action at the Rugby World Cup. Although it did require some “out the box” thinking as to how to get a decent video stream with the final solution being us video calling family via WhatsApp and having them face their device towards the TV.  Where there is a will there is a way!   Both the quarter and semi-finals were nerve wracking affairs with the Springboks prevailing by only 1 point in each case which meant some very intense time in front of the screen and probably had our neighbours a little bewildered as to what was going on.

The day after the semi-final we were up way early (5:30) and quickly on the road for a short 60km into the relatively large town of Maceio hoping to get haircuts and shopping done.  When seeking out services such as a hairdresser or perhaps a smarter supermarket, Google is an invaluable tool for us.  Firstly, using the search engine for finding options and then following that up with the maps but not so much for the aspect of navigation but rather for reviewing photos and in particular the “street view” photos.   With street view we can rotate the picture to get a good idea of what the neighbourhood looks like and even more importantly what the parking situation is, the latter being important because of Mr Jones height.  Google maps is also usually pretty good at showing the business operating hours which we had overlooked as it never occurred to us that every single hairdresser and barber in this town is closed on a Monday.  All was not lost however as we at least did get to confirm that we would be able to easily park Mr Jones in the area and that the salons looked pretty decent.

Once we had completed our shopping we backtracked on ourselves a little bit to a smaller village where we hoped that perhaps we could spend a few days at an “estanciomento” which was located just back from a popular surfing beach called Praia do Frances. An estanciomento is a parking lot and along the coast they often offer toilets and showers for people coming off the beach, in the case of this one it was well documented to have an area for motorhomes and even provided electricity hookups.   It was certainly very popular and we have stayed in a few others before but for us, this one, felt very crowded and a bit dirty so our hoped for longer stay quickly become a one-nighter.

Stuart was up with the sun to join a few locals for a dawnie session in the surf before we headed back into town for haircuts.  With fresh new haircuts we hit the road for what should have been a short hop up the coast hoping to arrive in time for lunch, but when that didn’t appeal we tried the next spot and then the next spot and so forth (all free /wild) ones until we resorted to heading for what sounded like a nice formal camp but turned out to be a big open patch of sand (with nice bathrooms). As we did not feel like paying R280 for that, we went another 10km up the road to another option that also sounded nice to arrive and discover he wanted R400 for nothing exciting but parking under some trees with an iffy bathroom and a solid hike down a steep hill to get to the beach but as it was by now dark we had no choice than to cut our losses and stay. To add insult to injury, Stuart managed to reverse into a tree in the dark while trying to position Mr J, thankfully the tree was rotten and the metal guards we have over each light lens worked, so there was no permanent  damage to Mr J.  On the positive side the scenery on the drive was quite good and while checking out the free camping spots we had stopped at a number of very pretty beaches. 

The following morning having perused iOverlander we found a pousada (guesthouse) that offered Motorhome camping/parking which was just down the road and headed there.  It was a little cramped but right on a pretty “Tania friendly” beach (no waves), had a nice vibe from the other campers and most importantly had decent WiFi which we considered essential as the Springboks were due to play New Zealand in the Rugby World Cup final that coming weekend.

Once the springboks had prevailed and become the first team to win 4 Rugby World Cups we once again pointed Mr Jones nose northwards for what was now a recurring theme: “ a short hop with a number of failed attempts at finding a decent camping spot”.   

This time we ended up free camping in the city park of Macaraipe along with many Brazilian snowbirds in their vans and a large number of homeless people, which for us felt very much like squatting.  Travelling the way, we do puts you in touch with all levels of society and generally helps you realise and appreciate that we are all cut from the same cloth no matter your status in traditional society but one thing we have not been able to get used to is this style of urban camping.  Perhaps we would feel differently if we had a van or Motorhome where you could retreat easily into your little bubble and lock the world out but that is not sustainably possible with Mr Jones setup and also not the lifestyle we want.  

We did however have a pleasant afternoon, when a German chap who lives in town drove past and recognised the South African flag on our number plate and stopped by for a chat.

Needless to say, we hit the road fairly early the following morning and just as we had done the night before ended up free camping but this time in a spot that felt far more natural and acceptable to wild camp at, even though it was only 15km outside the major city of Recife.   The difference was, it was just above the beach, nestled in a grove of coconut trees with the nearest residences a good few hundred metres away and most looked like holiday homes and therefore empty.   Recife is the only area in the entire South America that has a history of recorded shark attacks and has in fact for the last decade imposed a ban on swimming or surfing at many of its beaches.  Therefore Stuart had no expectation of surfing but when not long after we arrived a number of surfers arrived and the water got quite busy, he decided to join them.  Later that day when we went for a sunset walk along the beach we come across signs which banned swimming to the left side but not the right – we did wander if the sharks had themselves received notification of which side of the designated line they were allowed to swim and thus avoid interfering with the surfing activity.

Brazil has a public holiday called “All Saints day” at the beginning of November and once we had shopped in (and passed through Recife), we sought out a nice campsite where we could stay off the roads for the long weekend, which we found in the beautiful campground of Vida Lida.  Apart from the super friendly owners there was lovely grass underfoot which made a welcome change from sand and we made sure to make the most of this feature by giving the inside of Mr Jones a good clean.  

The other reason for staying put over the long weekend was that it would allow us to “fall into the window period” where our visa could be renewed and the next town, Joao Pessoa, supposedly had a very efficient office of the Policia Federal where we could do that.  And it certainly was an easy process, we even had time afterward to find a self-service laundromat and get to our campsite at the lighthouse by mid-afternoon.  A fun little fact was that the lighthouse is located on the eastern most tip of South America, which meant we have now visited the continents eastern, western and southern most extreme points as well as passing through its geographic centre in our travels.

The renewal/extension of our visa means that we have received an additional 90 days and allows us to stay in Brazil until the end of February 2024 if we so desire, but most importantly it means that we can continue to enjoy the slow pace of short hops up the coastline and this is exactly what we did when we left Joao Pessoa.  Forty kilometres out of town we almost however didn’t take the turnoff to the little village of Barra do Mamanguape as it was just a little dirt road through sugarcane fields, but thankfully we did as an hour later we emerged on the edge of a beautiful estuary.   As we were debating if it would be okay to camp there, a local approached us to welcome us and tell us that it was super tranquilo and seguro (tranquil and safe) and we were welcome to camp under the nearby trees.  

After a fantastic evening and night next to the estuary, we seriously considered staying another night but with no facilities and after Stuart looked around and didn’t find a freshwater tap where we could perhaps fill up and obtain shower water, we sadly departed.  We have a 60 litre “clean water” tank in Mr Jones which only ever receives filtered water and while we could use that for dishes and showers we prefer not too. In addition we have a bumper tank of around 12Litres and a loose bottle of 6litres which are filled with general water and are used for cleaning purposes.  Until now this has been sufficient as often when we wild camp there is a fresh water source nearby from which we can easily refill but in drier parts of the world and in particular on coastlines we have found we could do with more general-purpose water capacity.  Stuart has been scheming for a while on how we could increase our carrying capacity and thinks he has a solution, it is now just a case of finding somewhere that can build a tank as he wants it.

Leaving our idyllic estuary camp we headed to the small fishing and surfing town of Baia Formosa with high hopes for a long stay but somehow both of us expected to be disappointed, thankfully we were both horribly wrong as from the moment we arrived, we felt at home and welcome.  During the week it is a tiny fishing village with a big surfing culture, thanks to it being the home of current Olympic gold medalist and past World Champion – Italo Ferreira.  On the weekend it transforms into a busy tourist destination with many surfers and other weekend tourists flocking to enjoy the waves, beach bars, buggy and quad bike tours on offer.  In total we enjoyed 12 days there and just as we felt the locals did, breathed a big sigh of relief when each Monday rolled around and the tranquilo vibe returned.

A more well-known beach and surf destination is the town of Pipa which is roughly only 30km up the coast from Baia Formosa but before going there we needed to go a bit further into the bigger city of Natal in order to re-supply our groceries.  In Brazil the majority of shopping is done at large warehouse like stores (similar to Makro in South Africa) known as attacado’s where you can get everything from wine, to household products and fresh fruit and vegetables. These do however tend to focus on the mass market and so the quality of meat is not great nor is the selection of more luxury items like jam, etc.  For these items we prefer to visit a supermercado in the better parts of town. In Natal Tania thought she had identified one such supermercado which looked like it had parking that would accommodate Mr Jones but when we got there we discovered this not to be the case and while circling the block to see if there was any alternative entrance to the parking, Stuart spotted a gym with street parking available directly in front of its entrance and coffee bar.  The main risk for us in big cities is having Mr Jones broken into while we are not with him, so the opportunity to park outside a busy gym with many people coming and going was too good to pass up and we quickly claimed the spot.  Naturally Mr Jones immediately garnered attention, meaning a number of free car guards, and when we come back to him after shopping, a number of the gym bunnies were eager to ask about our travels and because we were in the more upmarket/professional part of town could even chat in English.

Pipa unfortunately turned out to be a disappointment. We had been hoping that given that it is a well-known tourist destination, we would perhaps bump into some fellow travelers and that it would also have some funky restaurants, with perhaps even some live music, where we could enjoy an evening or two out. Sadly, it seemed to have neither.  We did however enjoy a few nice days on Praia Amor (the beach of love) although Tania did have to conquer her fear of heights getting to and from it!

From Pipa we piggybacked our way up the coast for a week with a number of short hops to end the month of November in the little village of Touros.  There is not much in Touros apart from a lighthouse and a number of lovely rock pools which become exposed at low tide and are perfect for sitting in while enjoying a glass or two of white wine, if low tide happens to fall over lunchtime, which it did for us. For many Brazilian overlanders though, it is probably better known for being the point where the BR101 starts or ends depending on the direction you are going, as could be witnessed by the many stickers on the road sign designating this fact.   Just like South Africa’s N2 highway, the BR101 runs along a large portion of the Brazil coastline, in fact 4765km of it, and was the first “major” road we drove on when we first entered Brazil in April 2022.  

We, on the other hand,  still have 2000+ kilometres to go until we reach the end of our journey along Brazil’s coastline, but that will be December’s travel diary.

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Having entered Brazil at what is its most western border post where the countries of Peru, Bolivia and Brazil meet we had a fairly simple plan: we knew we wanted to spend close to 6 months in the country and intended for most of that time to be on the coast which meant we had a long drive ahead of us to traverse the country in order to get to the Atlantic Ocean.  In our rough planning/thinking we had thought ahead to how and where we would exit the country and effectively had two options in mind.  

The first would be to continue a northern route along the Atlantic coast into French Guiana, then Suriname and British Guyana before briefly popping back into Brazil and then out via Venezuela.  Venezuela has recently become an interesting option to travel via with the borders re-opening and a number of travelers reporting very positive experiences there despite what mainstream media might tell us. The potential stumbling block with this option was that Tania would need a visa for French Guiana as it is a French territory and therefore requires a Schengen visa which we hoped we could apply for while in the capital Brasilia.

Our second and fallback option was to take a roughly 5-day ferry boat ride up the Amazon river to the city of Manaus and from there to head directly north into Venezuela.  With this option we could still potentially divert into British Guyana and Suriname if we desired but as we are not into visiting countries just to claim an additional country visited we have yet to decide if we will make that diversion or not.

As option 1 was our first choice, our route planning was also influenced by that as it meant we needed to spend time in Brasilia which pretty much sits in the middle of the country and fortunately based  on where we entered could easily be included on the line drawn to get to the coast, provided we first headed roughly 2300km along and around the edge of Bolivia from our entry point which coincidentally would take us to the Pantanal region.  

The Pantanal is the world’s largest wetland and famous for its Jaguars, it is also the place where one year prior we experienced near disaster in Mr Jones and ultimately never got to see the Jaguars – we therefore had unfinished business and it seemed fitting that we should start our second extended visit in Brazil here.

Normally when entering a new country, we have two priorities which can usually be accomplished on the first afternoon:  finding an ATM to obtain some local currency and then finding a cellphone provider shop in order to obtain a local prepaid SIM card so that we can connect to the internet and be both in touch with the world and use essential apps like google maps and translator.  This time was however rather different as the nearest major town from our point of entry was Porto Velho, a mere 800km from the border post.  With no tourist infrastructure on this route, we put our heads down and arrived in Porto Velho 2,5 days later.

In most countries obtaining a prepaid SIM card is a relatively easy (if somewhat slow) process of presenting your passport and being registered on the system but not in Brazil as here you fall foul of the infamous “CPF”.   The CPF is technically a Brazilians taxpayer identity number but in Brazil it is often requested when arriving at the supermarket checkout, when using an automatic self-service laundromat, when buying bus tickets and so much more. For many of these transactions you can usually state you don’t have one and continue but not when obtaining a prepaid cellphone sim.  The cellphone company’s computer software just simply does not allow them to register a SIM card on the system unless it is linked to a CPF number.  We had encountered this back in April 2022 and that time thanks to the kindness of Brazilian friends we had made just after crossing the border we had “worked around” this obstacle when they registered the SIM under their name.  

Stuart had done some research this time around and found out that firstly it was possible to register for a CPF as a foreigner and more importantly that provided you don’t overstay your tourist visa period, there is no risk of falling into the Brazilian income tax system and thus becoming a Brazilian taxpayer as well as a South African one.  He had therefore applied for a CPF just prior to leaving Peru and with perfect timing and thanks to being able to use the shopping centers free WiFi, it arrived via email as we stood outside a cellphone shop and therefore after just a few hours we were once again connected to the World Wide Web and perhaps even more importantly would be able to use self-service laundromats “hassle free” for the next 6 months.

Porto Velho is a major river-port town as the river it sits on (the Madeira) is a tributary of the Amazon and as such it is the most Western city that is navigable to by river boat and ferry. For many overlanders it is the city where either their foray into the heart of the Amazon begins or ends, whether it be via the infamous BR319 (for some a rite of passage dirt road that connects to Manaus) or as an embarkment point or disembarkment point from a river ferry which may have brought them all the way up the river from close to the Atlantic ocean.   

We knew that whichever of the route options mentioned above we ended up using, that we would be returning to the Amazon region in roughly 5 months’ time and so once we had the SIM card, we turned Mr Jones nose south towards the Pantanal.  The theme for the next 1600km was a simple one:  rise early, intersperse a full day’s drive with some regular rest stops when we spotted some shade and then spend the night in a gas station/truck stop.

Around lunchtime on the 3rd day, we stopped Mr Jones under the “TransPanteneira” sign for a photo even though Tania was a bit superstitious about doing so!  The reason for her fears were well founded, almost exactly 1 year prior we had taken the exact some photo and then experienced the toughest and most harrowing 48 hours we have ever had in our travels while we dealt with serious fuel starvation issues which on the second day had caused us to take 10 hours to complete 100km, including dealing with a small fire in the engine bay, as Stuart tried to nurse Mr Jones back to the nearest big town.   (See our September 2022 Travel Diary for more). Needless to say, we did not have fond memories of this road but thankfully this time we made it across the 120+ plus bridges the road is famous for and to the village of Porto Jofre, the river gateway to the Pantanal.

We were hoping to find some fellow overlanders in Porto Jofre with whom we could share the cost of a Jaguar boat tour and when we arrived our hopes were buoyed as there were a few vehicles in the campsite but sadly they had all arrived a couple of days prior and already completed their tours.  The many long and hot days of driving had taken it out of us and even though it was equally hot in Porto Jofre, the views over the river were pleasant and the river did provide a bit of a cooling effect so we decided to take a rest day which would also hopefully result in some new travelers arriving with whole we could share the cost of a boat.   Alas nobody did arrive but in hindsight this was perhaps a good thing as it meant we had the small boat to ourselves and our guide was happy to stop and let us admire the many birds and perhaps less sexy attractions of the Pantanal.  While the Pantanal is the world’s largest wetland, the quantity of water is seasonal and at this time of the year there is the least water around which means the wildlife (aka Jaguars) are typically easier to find as they hang around near the major watercourses.

Apart from the wildlife the Pantanal is also a very popular sport fishing destination and roughly 30 minutes into our day on the boat we come around a bend in the river to find our neighbors from camp (who were here to fish) staring intently into the dense bush next to the river.  It turned out they had, had the most fortuitous sighting of a mother Jaguar and her baby swimming across the river and had lost sight of her in the undergrowth.  

Obviously, the success of a jaguar boat tour is in the sighting of one or more Jaguars which means the boat drivers all work together (via radio) in keeping other informed of a sighting and within a few minutes we got to see how many tourists (staying at luxury lodges) there were in fact in the area.  Incredibly the mommy and her cub were right at the water’s edge but remained well hidden for quite some time despite upwards of 50 pairs of eyes scanning for her, there was a flurry of excitement when she did appear briefly before disappearing deeper into the bush.  In no time at all the flotilla had dispersed in various directions, including ourselves.

For the next hour or so, we slowly cruised up a few smaller creeks and along the main Cuiaba river, stopping regularly to admire the many birds, caiman and a family of giant otters all while eagerly scanning the river edges for a Jaguar. 

 (the names of each bird can be seen when reviewing the pictures in the gallery)

We had cruised quite far, when the radio announced a Jaguar had been spotted and then it was a case of hold on tight to your hat as the driver gunned the outboard and brought the narrow little boat up on full plane and banked hard around the corners. As it turned out the jaguar was found in a tree along one of the tributaries we had meandered down but obviously wasn’t there when we passed, this time however the sighting was really close with it resting in a tree and so we joined the flotilla to patiently see if anything happened further.     

Unlike Jaguars in other parts of South America that prey on land-based mammals, the jaguars of the Pantanal have adapted to their wetland environment by largely eating caiman (small crocodiles) and fish.   This one was particularly good at teasing the flotilla as just as everyone looked like they may be getting bored, it would stand up on its branch and stare intently into the lilies below it and directly in front of the boats as if it was contemplating launching itself off to catch a caiman. Needless to say, this resulted in the rapid clicking of shutters from some seriously large telephoto lenses and we were certainly not immune from this behavior.

That evening back in camp we were gifted some fish from our neighbors and early morning Jaguar spotters, which we braaied a few days later and although a little bony were delicious. 

Apart from the potential opportunity to obtain visas in Brasilia, it also offered the opportunity to have a major service (including his cam belt) done on Mr Jones by Patrick the landy guru in Brasilia who we had visited last year as well.   While in the Pantanal Stuart had contacted Patrick, who had confirmed that he would be more than happy to give Mr J some love and attention but was currently attending the annual Brazilian Landy festival and would only be back in Brasilia in 2 weeks’ time.  This left us with quite a bit of time to kill, as while we still had to travel 1200km, we knew from last year that the route did not offer too many spots where we would want to stay for more than a night so when we stumbled across a pleasant little campsite outside Cuiaba we quickly opted to stay for a few days.  It was a very simple setup on the banks of a small river but the husband and wife who owned the property where the most soft and gentle souls and within the first 24 hours had already invited us over for lunch and brought us a lovely orange sponge cake to enjoy with our morning coffee. 

When it come time to leave, Stuart discovered a flat front tyre and was busy setting up to change it when the owner and his friend descended on Mr Jones to help, they were super eager to help and in fact takeover, so that Stuart didn’t have to get hot and dirty (it was 10am and already in the mid 30’s). Our limited Portuguese couldn’t get across that we had this under control and that Stuart would prefer to do it himself as first it needed the hi-lift jack to get the car high enough to put the bottle jack under and we were on a slope with slightly soft sand so preferred to approach the process with a measured pace to ensure nothing got damaged.  There were a few choice words in Afrikaans (although we could easily have used English as nobody understood each other!) between us as Stuarts frustration got the better of him but eventually he slowed things down and with their help the wheel was changed.  Definitely one of those moments when subsequently you feel more than a little embarrassed at your behavior as all they wanted to do was help.

We had chosen to leave Cuiaba on a Sunday which meant the tyre “shops” were closed and anyhow as we were to discover over the next day’s having stopped at multiple spots as we continued our eastwards journey across the country, in Brazil you can’t just stop at a “Tiger wheel and Tyre” and quickly have your puncture plugged.  The tyre shops only sell and fit new tyres whereas there is a multitude of places with the name “borracharia” painted on a tyre outside – Borracha means rubber and these are in theory tyre repair places although as we quickly discovered many in fact only own a compressor and jack and perform inflation services or a tyre swap with your spare wheel.  Eventually we resorted to trying at the truck stops but even then, they didn’t have a bath of water to put the tyre in and spot a leak.  Sometimes what should be the simplest of problems can take the longest to resolve when on the road in a foreign land.

Roughly 2 hours outside of Brasilia is an old historic town of Pirenopolis which we knew quite well as last year when we had some recurring mechanical issues we had stayed here 3 times as we bounced back and forwards to Brasilia trying to resolve them.  It has nice little campsite with a pool to cool off in and decent Wi-Fi which is pretty much all you need when killing time.  The manager may not have recognised us but he did Mr Jones and gave us a warm welcome back.

Brasilia has a very large man-made lake alongside which you can camp for free and a Brazilian friend who last year had helped us get our Covid booster shots had offered to take us out on the lake on his boat if we happened to be there on a weekend which was easy enough to do as we had planned to drop Mr J with Patrick on a Monday. Unfortunately, Herbert wasn’t able to take us on the boat in the end but nonetheless we spent a very pleasant weekend on the banks of the dam, people watching and, in the evenings, enjoying the company of two Swiss overlanders who were parked next to us.

Monday morning saw us up early and heading across town, fortunately against the traffic, to Patricks garage where a warm welcome awaited both Mr Jones and ourselves. It was a fairly long list of items that Stuart needed to discuss with Patrick with the main and most important two being a change of the cam belt and most likely the removal of the gearbox so that the crankshaft oil seal on the back of the engine could be replaced.  The latter item and resultant leak had been with us since January and our time on the Argentinian coast, back then we had attempted to hookup with a Landy enthusiast just outside Buenos Aires to do the job together with no success, then after having driving across the country we had tried to have it done at a landy mechanic in Mendoza and both times not been successful, either due to a lack of interest or Mr Jones being too heavy for the lift equipment on hand.  The mechanic in BA had assured us that it shouldn’t be too much of an issue and we could fix it “somewhere down the line”, to his credit it hadn’t been and in fact the leak had provided a slightly unintended benefit:  because the oil drip fell on the propshaft it then got spread to the chassis either side of the prop and acted as a rust inhibiter..

With the discussions out of the way, we hopped into an Uber and heading for an Airbnb in the city centre which we had booked for the next 3 nights.  With such a big job to be done, it was difficult to estimate the time required and if any complications may arise in the process but Stuart estimated 3 days to be adequate.  As we had already spent time in Brasilia last year we didn’t feel the need to do any of the touristy things and instead immediately set about trying to attend to the To-Do list we had created.  As with Mr Jones, ours was quite extensive and included amongst others: visiting the French embassy; finding a dentist for an overdue teeth cleaning; getting “another” new pair of reading glasses for Stuart; shopping at The BodyShop for face and body creams.  

We also made the most of our time in town to enjoy dinners out at some nice restaurants and it was on our second night out while talking about how different Brasilia felt this time around that it dawned on us that there is a nice comfort in “familiarity” such as knowing where a nice restaurant is and the easiest way to walk there.  It may seem obvious but we have got so used to being nomadic and always being somewhere new that we don’t realise how tiring it can get when done continuously.  The flip side of that is we would also get bored very quickly if we stay too long in one place.

As Stuart had initially estimated, Mr Jones was ready on the morning of the 4th day and once we had settled a rather hefty bill we pointed Mr J’s nose once more eastward to begin another cycle of drive all day and sleep in gas stations at night, then rinse and repeat until we reached the Atlantic ocean.  We had two routing options, the first being to go slightly north and then east on what would be largely a similar route to the one we took last year when coming inland and the second option was to go a little south and then east which would take us across the state of Minas Gerais.  Last year when we had explained our route to Brazilians the majority had been horrified that we hadn’t visited this particular state and so we felt it was only logical that we therefore take the latter route and at least be able to say we had visited Minas Gerais, even if only a small portion.

Two and half days and 1400km later we pulled into a campsite and surf spot called BackDoor.  The last day was a hard push with not many breaks but for good reason, the Springboks were playing Ireland in the Rugby World Cup and we were hoping the campsite would have good WiFi enabling us to see the game, which it did have and we were only late by 15 minutes, meaning we got to see most of the game which sadly we lost.   We must have made quite a sight to the other campers upon our arrival with a super-fast setup of Mr J roof followed by a whipping out of the iPad and frantic search for the Wi-Fi password so that we could stream the game!

A few days later Stuart enjoyed a very low-key birthday with catchup’s via WhatsApp video call with family and friends in the morning, time on the beach either side of a very nice tapas style lunch at Mr Jones and instead of a birthday cake because we are not that organised we improvised with shortbread tarts filled with dulce de leche know as caramel to us in SA sold by a wandering baker on the beach. There were no fancy dinners or nights out because of where we were but we had enjoyed those in Brasilia anyhow.  The only thing missing from the birthday was a fun surf session as the wind had been blowing all week and messing the waves up, but that was to change by the weekend and then he proceeded to make an absolute pig of himself.

It had been quite an eventful month, with large distances driven, a conquering of our nemesis (the Pantanal), a major service and love for Mr Jones and finally a fantastic few days recovering on a great beach with much more of the last part to look forward to in the next months

Below are links to other pages that complement this diary entry:

In our roughly 18 months on the South American continent we had, until this point, almost always been moving “forward” in that we were going to new areas and countries but August was to be the first time we back-tracked on ourselves.  A full 2100km of backtracking!  The reason for this was that we were heading back to Brazil, as despite spending 6 months there last year we had only managed to visit roughly half the country and the only feasible way to enter Brazil when on the western side of the continent is from southern Peru.  

An alternative to backtracking along the predominantly coastal route we had followed north would have been to head into the mountains and try and follow the Andean spine south but as we were never going to stop along the way and do big hikes we had decided that the improved scenery did not counter the negative of spending all day everyday averaging 30km/h or less as you snake up, down and around mountains.

With the knowledge of the long journey that lay ahead of us and also being mindful of trying to time our entry in Brazil to maximise the dry season we had decided that we would break the journey up into parts and in between spend rest days in locations we knew from before where good for a few days of rest.   The first of these was ironically after just one day at a spot called Puerto Verde on the outskirts of the town called Piura, as its name implies it is a true little oasis.

Initially we had only planned to stay a couple of nights but when we discovered that it was Peru National day and that meant a long weekend with many people potentially being on the roads for a short vacation we decided to rather stay put for a few extra days (in general Peruvian drivers are the most dangerous we have encountered so far on the trip).  

Once the long weekend had passed we hit the road with the intention of a few big days in the car until we would could take another break in a little town where Stuart spent some time surfing previously.  We weren’t expecting much out of the first days overnight stop and even less when we pulled into a very dusty and rundown “eco lodge” but it turned into a fantastic stop.  We had just opened up Mr Jones when a van pulled in driven by an Irish & Nigerian/Omanian couple with whom we immediately got on with really well.  Then a local Peruvian/Venezuelan family invited all of us to join them at the pool for some beers as they were curious about our countries and while there, another overlanding couple arrived, this time a German & Chinese combination who we also got on really well with.   Supper only started around 9pm and we got to bed late after many laughs and a few too many drinks.  Needless to say, we started a little later the following morning than we would have if we had spent the night alone.

Once on the road we headed further south down the coast to Huanchaco, a small surfing town, where we had spent a good few days on the way up. The little campsite there doesn’t have much space as in reality you are camped in a very narrow garden in front of the owners house plus there is also a sheltered kitchen, a room and ablutions all competing for space. So, we were truly amazed to pull in and find the place empty and after been told to pull right forward which puts you in the best space but in the worst location as you will be boxed in if other people arrive, we settled in to having some lunch and relaxing after the drive. 

A few hours later the gate opened and in drove a small van followed by an irritated looking woman, who promptly walked up to us and stated “you guys are in our space”. Please note in van life, if you want to retain a space when you go out, you leave your chairs etc in the space to denote that people are camping there and so when there is nothing left then the space is free. Plus if we had parked in the driveway they would not have been able to get to “their” space any rate and we had parked where had, after being told to do so by the owner.   So all in all one of the most passively aggressive introductions we have ever had. We won’t bore you with the details of them (you can get more insight in the captain’s log) but sadly over the two days they remained in camp, the attitude and atmosphere never truly improved.

After they departed friends of ours Keith and Gertrude from the USA, whom we met in Ecuador, arrived and they seriously improved the vibe with good company and some excellent sundowner sessions over the next few days.  We probably stayed a few days longer than initially planned; Tania will blame it on the fact there was some surfing to be had but Stuart is adamant that the extra days were needed to restore the balance from the negative energy the Australian couple initially left in the camp and plus Gertrude poured a mean G&T for everyone at sunset each day.

Leaving Huanchaco we again put in a couple of big days of driving to get us just north of Lima and back at a spot called Sunset Lodge.  Interestingly we didn’t find the driving and scenery as boring or demoralising as we had before on our way north, when the sheer starkness of the desert combined with the huge amounts of litter scarring the landscape had really got to us, and can only assume that this is because this time we had very low expectations and could “see beyond” the negatives and instead find some beauty in the starkness.

In last month’s travel diary, we mentioned the issues we had been having with Mr Jones brake pads, with the last near failure incident happening the day before our border crossing into Peru.  After that incident we had replaced the brake fluid and thankfully had had no more serious issues again but the pads were squealing terribly (as they had before) and so while at Sunset Lodge we had made arrangements with one of the very few Landy mechanics in Peru to purchase new pads.  This determined how long we stayed at Sunset Lodge as we needed to collect these on a workday and so after just a few days we departed early on a Friday mentally prepared for a good few hours of brutal Lima traffic.  Thankfully while the traffic was bad, it was not horrific and we managed to get across town in just a little over 3 hours, which gave Stuart enough time to change the pads that afternoon when we stopped at a Punta Rocas just south of Lima.  

The new “silent” brake pads made the drive to the desert oasis of Ica a real pleasure, where we once again intended to stall for a few days before beginning the next big haul up and over the mountains to Cusco.  For this month’s travel a lot of our timing was being determined by a couple of external factors, the first one being that we only wanted to enter Brazil around the beginning on September in order to hopefully time the rainy, windy and/or summer seasons for the overall route we planned to take.   The second external factor influencing us is that during last month’s debacle with Stuart’s WhatsApp and South African SIM card we had learnt that Tania’s might also suffer the same fate and so had decided to order new numbers and cards, which with the help of family were being couriered out to the campsite in Cusco. 

While it is pretty impressive how quickly modern logistics can distribute something like that, it still takes some time and so we were trying to time our travels to ensure we arrived in Cusco in time to receive the package but not too early to spend multiple weeks hanging around at a relatively high altitude with coldish weather.  A desert oasis with a nice pool to hang out at during the day was therefore a good option.

A couple of days after our arrival, Gertrude & Keith once again joined us and along with them come the daily ritual of sundowner G&T’s and good conversations into the evening.

Once we had confirmation that the SIM cards had been dispatched from South Africa, we packed up and headed onwards towards Cusco.   Ahead of us lay 3 days of some hard(ish) driving as we headed further south in the desert, then up into the mountains with some passes going over 4300m before they descend to 2000m and then go right back up again.  It didn’t take long before Mr Jones brakes decided that they were going to remain silent no longer and once again started squealing, this was both very frustrating (as they were brand new and in theory a good brand and to insult to injury had been very expensive in Lima) and secondly worrying as when we had had this before they had overheated on some steep descents and we had been lucky to avoid disaster.  As there was nothing we could do at this stage about the brakes other than take it super easy, Stuart engaged low range on a couple of the descents and used the engine and gearing to keep us real slow.    

In the meantime we had ended up travelling in an unintended  convoy with a young French couple that we had meet at our first overnight stop in the mountains, the convoy was formed because they had encountered problems with the turbo on the Mercedes Sprinter campervan and so were really struggling on the uphills (so we hung back and waited for them in case they needed assistance) and then we were taking the downhills real easy (so they would hang around and wait for us).  It made for a long and slow second day but thankfully we both got to that night’s campsite safely and along the way made some new friends.  We could sleep well knowing that just one shorter day was ahead of us before Cusco.

The campsite in Cusco, Quinta Lala, is a true overlanders haven:  you can have parcels DHL there, get your laundry done, store your vehicle if you need to fly home & it has decent WI-FI and is conveniently located just a short (but steep) walk above the old city with many sights and restaurants.  As a result, most probably every Overlander that passes through Peru spends at least one night there and therefore during your stay you are guaranteed to have some interesting social engagements.  

While waiting for the SIM cards to arrive we attempted to have the brakes seen too without much success.  Once again, the mechanic was adamant that there was nothing wrong with the braking mechanism and that the squeal was just due to the quality of the brake pads which left us mystified as the set bought in Lima a couple weeks prior was of the exact some brand and part number as the original ones we had on from South Africa which for 57 000km had made no noise whatsoever.  In the end we decided to put that original set on which were close to end of life but still okay and to nurse them over the last bit of the Andes and into Brazil where we hoped availability of quality parts (& cost) would be better.

After 7 days the SIM cards arrived and we could start trying to reconnect ourselves, initially this proved rather difficult and we were beginning to think that the whole expense and waiting for the shipment may have been a pointless exercise when we were reminded of how great South African customer service agents can be – we received and participated in a 30 minute phone call via our local Peru number were the agent talked both of us through the issues and duly resolved it for us.  Considering the cheap plan we are on and the monthly spend on it, this was remarkable and really appreciated!

With our ability to receive One-Time-Passwords and other essential messages via our cellphones and having ticked off most of the other small jobs that needed attending too, we left Cusco after 9 days ready to climb up and over the Andes for one last time.   The first day’s drive was truly spectacular (if more than a little slow) as we first climbed up to nearly 4800m and then proceeded to descend 4000m over just 100km as we dropped down into the start for the Amazon.  While we may have been happy to be putting the high altitudes behinds us we suspect Mr Jones was even more so, in general he climbs very well at altitude and doesn’t smoke too much but he absolutely hates high altitude descents and shows his displeasure by blowing out humongous clouds of white smoke – it is so bad that for cars behind us it is almost impossible to see past him in order to overtake. When we had first entered the high altitudes many months prior, this characteristic had made Stuart quite stressed as typically large clouds of white smoke are signs of impending doom for an engine but having experienced this many times now, we don’t worry too much about it and in fact often quietly chuckle when an impatient tail hugging driver suddenly finds himself enveloped in a thick cloud of white, smelly smoke.

Being in the lowlands should have meant easier driving and therefore faster driving conditions but Peru wasn’t quite ready to allow that to happen just yet and served up a 4,5 hour stop and go for us on our second day in the Amazon.  In the mountains on our way to Cusco we had been caught up in a 2,5 hour one which we thought was bad and frustrating but this one really “took the cake”.  To add insult to injury we were only the 4th vehicle in the queue, meaning we had just missed getting through it, and throughout the time we were stationary there was never any sign or communication to indicate how long it would take.  We did eventually establish from our surrounding motorists that the road would re-open at 12 but weren’t able to understand what the issue was.   When we did get to move, our frustration quickly dissipated when we saw the size of landslide that the road workers were dealing with and realised that they had no choice but to keep the road closed for many hours or else they would never be able to make a dent in the huge pile of sand and rock that needed to be moved in order to repair & clear the road.  So, what should have been a short 4-hour drive into Puerto Maldonado ended up being a whole day affair.

Although we were still very much on the fringes of the Amazon, we were already getting glimpses of just how immense and dense the jungle is together with how big the rivers are that flow through it and at the same time we were seeing the impact that man is having on this eco-system.  We spent much of the drive mulling over the topic and in the end have not drawn any conclusions with regards the rights and wrongs.  On the one hand it is very easy to criticize the massive deforestation that takes place in order to create arable land (whether it be for crops or cattle) but when you see just how dense the forest is and consider that for the people that live in and around it, the forest has no day to day economic value then you have to consider the other side of why deforestation takes place.  Is the rest of the world prepared to pay a “heavy preserve the Amazon tax” for eternity and even if we were, how could you allocate that money to ensure the people of the Amazon benefit correctly and in fact you don’t just make them dependent on a welfare state.   Much more can be written and debated about the subject and we certainly don’t even begin to think that we understand the problem but the drive gave us plenty of food for thought and no doubt when we return to the amazon region in 5 or so months we will gain even more food for thought.

The campsite in Puerto Maldonado was quite pleasant surrounded by large trees full of bird life and so a much deserved rest day was taken before we took on the final few hours to the Brazilian border where the countries of Peru, Bolivia & Brazil all intersect.  When we left Brazil roughly one year ago in the south at the Igauzu falls, the customs lady had not known how to cancel our TIP (temporary import permit for Mr Jones) and had instead written on the back that she certified we had left the country with him and had told us it would be cancelled when somebody else came to the office.   We only had a photograph of this as “proof” because they keep the TIP and so were a little nervous for our re-entry, in case in fact it hadn’t been done properly and therefore MR Jones would still show as resident in Brazil past his allowed time which would imply the payment of import duties.  Thankfully the border crossing went smoothly and all was in order, even if we did have to wait 2 hours after getting our passports stamped as the customs office was taking siesta.

Below are links to other pages that complement this diary entry:

Our last travel diary ended with us turning south in Otavalo having reached (for now) our most northern point on the South American continent. We had also just spent about a week in the northern hemisphere as Ecuador straddles the equator and in fact its name is derived from exactly that, but somehow despite this, not too big a deal is made of the equator line and we quietly slipped back into the Southern hemisphere on our way into Quito.

In Africa we crossed the line a couple of times and each time there was always a bit of a monument and the “dubious” hawkers eager to demonstrate to you, that on one side of the line, water goes down a funnel clockwise and on the other it goes counter-clockwise, which is of course not the case but makes for a good story.  Here they do have a monument, but it was on a different road to the one we were on and we had read that due to it being erected prior to GPS technology it was in fact a good few hundred metres south of the actual line, so we didn’t divert for a photo of Mr Jones straddling the equator.

Quito is the capital of Ecuador and being at an altitude of 2850m asl it is the second highest capital city in the world but it is most renowned and visited for its historical district which is reputed to be the best preserved and least altered in all of Latin America.  Before we could set out exploring this, we had jobs to do, as we always do when visiting a city.   

First priority was finding a self-serve laundromat and thereafter a large supermarket, both of which we found and managed to visit on our first afternoon in the city.  As with most big cities, camping options were limited and so we thought we had been quite clever and pro-active by contacting a hostel in advance that offered “cramped camping” in its yard, to confirm if they had space, which they did.  So, in peak rush hour traffic, with a car smelling of fresh laundry and loaded up with groceries we set off across town to the above-mentioned hostel in the historical district only to discover that while we might be able to squeeze Mr Jones in, there was absolutely no way we would be able to lift his roof and therefore sleep in him.  Undeterred we launched ourselves back into the traffic towards another hostel that somebody had been able to park at previously, also to fail at that one.   By this point we were tired, grumpy and starting to run out of daylight (we try and avoid night driving) so decided the next best option was the “free-camping” one which many use, being the car park at the teleferico which runs up the mountain above town.  There was only one problem, which we quickly discovered, and that was that many of the roads leading there were currently being tarred and thus closed to normal traffic. Eventually after a number of dead-ends and driving around in circles we went up one of the “closed” roads and found our way to the parking.   It was now 8pm and dark but at least we had somewhere to sleep, all we had to do was pack away a car full of laundry and groceries.  Supper was a cold meat sandwich, washed down with some Ecuadorian Rum.

Our second day in Quito was once again filled with errand running, as we sought out an optometrist (Stuart’s reading glasses needed replacing), after a fairly quick consultation he returned to Tania and Mr Jones claiming success and that he had successfully passed his first Spanish eye test.  The proof in the pudding would however be found out the following day, when he would collect the new glasses and discover if in fact they were of the appropriate prescription.  

All our electrical devices (fridge/freezer, lights, charging for devices etc) run off an auxiliary battery and we have 3 means of charging that, firstly off Mr J’s alternator when driving, then via the solar panels and finally via an electrical hookup to a battery charger which is installed inside him.  In sunny climates the first two options are all that’s required even if stationary for extended periods – for instance during our “summer holidays” in Argentina we at one point stayed stationary for two weeks and relied entirely on solar power during that period.  

The tropics however are often quite cloudy which means you need to resort to an electrical hookup to keep the auxiliary battery charged if stationary for extended periods and in Ecuador we had encountered a problem: the power supply is 110v meaning our installed battery charger would not charge.   

We will encounter the same “lower voltage” output in Colombia & all of Central & North America so had thought that if we could purchase in Ecuador, the same brand and model battery charger we currently have we would easily avoid future challenges and avoid installation challenges as it would be a like for like swap.

Google had found a supplier in the suburbs of Quito which Stuart had attempted to contact via email a few weeks prior but with no success, so as we were in the area we thought we would pop-in.   Sadly, when we got to the address the offices were shut with no indication if they were even still in business but all was not lost as the drive had taken us through some quite spectacular valleys which are home to Quito’s smarter neighborhoods, giving us insight into life for the upper class in Ecuador.  

Additionally, the drive had taken us in the direction of the airport, which also meant it had put us closer to a campsite we had looked up the night before and as a bonus it had put us closer to a place where we could refill our gas bottle.  So before heading off to check out the campsite we stopped at an LPG factory and had our main bottle refilled.  As with electrical plugs, gas bottle sizes and nozzles vary from country to country so we are always quite relieved when we are able to find somewhere that can cope with this and doesn’t have an issue filling a non-standard bottle but because it is not a bottle they are not used too, there is always the risk that they under or overfill it.  In this instance, it was the latter, which Stuart discovered once settled at the campsite so a few hours followed of slowly draining off gas in order to get the bottle to the correct weight.

The campsite was located about 40 minutes out of the city centre but we had yet to explore the famed historical district and so the following morning we went back into the city, along the way collecting Stuart’s new reading glasses.  It was a Saturday morning and the old city was heaving with both people out for a stroll and vendors peddling anything and everything at the tops of their voices.  It did not take long before we quickly ducked off the main pedestrian streets and found some peace and quiet, in the side streets, including the opportunity to actually stop and take a picture without too many people in it or worrying about a pickpocket or phone snatcher.   

It was down one of these side streets that we stumbled across a “hole-in-the-wall” bakery.  Since leaving Argentina we have struggled to find decent panaderia’s but this one was an exception and we were like kids in a candy store, walking away with way more bread and confectioneries than we needed.

Getting out of town meant some walking pace crawling down some very steep streets while sitting in the Saturday morning traffic and it was at this point that Mr Jones decided to really embarrass Stuart by emitting the most horrific metallic squeal from his breaks.  It was a good thing we had nothing planned for the next few days as there was now a new to-do item on the list for when back in camp: investigate and hopefully resolve the squeal.

Over the course of the last year we have been in regular contact with Johan from the Voetspore team exchanging information about all things related to overlanding in South America. For those that don’t know, Voetspore (translated to Foot Prints) it is a TV show (and Youtube channel) in South Africa that documents overland travel, and it never ceased to amaze us when we were in South Africa how many petrol attendants were keen fans, despite the show being predominantly in Afrikaans.  We know this about the petrol attendants because invariably while filling Mr Jones up, they would look at the map on his side and then after having seen where we had been would tell us which of those countries was there favourite based on a Voetspore episode they had watched. Our paths have never been able to cross and so when we discovered the team would be in the Quito region around the same time as us, plans were made to meet up and enjoy a couple of evenings together.

A short drive south of Quito is Cotopaxi, Ecuador’s second highest mountain at 5897m.  We had no intention of getting anywhere near its summit but it is possible to camp in the national park that surrounds it and so that is where we headed next.  We enjoyed a chilly but very tranquil night camped among lots of wild flowers with some semi-wild horses for company and couple of deer that wandered past.

From Cotopaxi we had two options, the first being to continue south along the spine of the country toward the historical city of Cuenca or alternatively to head west and back down to the coast.   We had enjoyed the coast, the surf was calling and so there was a very strong vote from one member of HippySquared for the westward journey with the promise that before leaving Ecuador we would still loop back inland in order to visit Cuenca and some other hippy villages to its south.  An added bonus of going west was that it would take us on a scenic loop to the Quilotoa crater lake which Johan (from Voetspore) had told us was well worth a visit.

The Quilotoa Volcano is the most western volcano in the Ecuadorian Andes with its 3km caldera, and subsequent lake, having formed after an eruption some 800 years ago.  The campsite we found our way too had a spectacular viewing platform overlooking the lake but when we arrived it was cold and very misty so we had to wait for the morning before we got to appreciate the views.

By now we have got quite used to some very big, steep and twisty mountain roads, but the one descending from Quilotoa possibly ranks as one of the steepest, dropping from 4000m to 1000m in only 50km!  Mr Jones brakes did not appreciate the workload placed on them and at one point went very spongy – the same pads that had been a problem in Quito were this time overheating – so some time was spent between two hairpins letting them cool before removing the wheel for another inspection and attempted fix.

It was only 400km from the lake to Montanita, our destination on the coast, but with all the mountain passes and a road closure due to a washed away section of road, it took us the better part of two days to complete.  It had been an epic and tiring couple of days, see our 7 July entry in the Captain(s) log for some insights.

After settling in at Balsa Surf camp, where we had previously spent 9 days in June, Stuart headed out for an early evening ‘board meeting’ despite it pouring with rain and him claiming to be tired from the drive – guess somebody was missing the ocean.  For the next 12 days he rinsed and repeated this routine, often enjoying 2 board meetings a day.

The fun part of staying at Balsa is the fab neighborhood it is located in just outside of Montanita, with cool bars and funky eateries all within a very small walking distance. Generally, living life on the road means that we are very seldom “parked-up” near places to go out too, in that most campsites are located further out of town and therefore there isn’t easy access to Uber or taxis and we don’t really like to drive at night.  So having this opportunity we made the most of it:  from meeting other travelers for coffee and cake, to having the most amazing Mexican meal washed down with a delicious passion fruit and habanero chili margarita and then spending our last evening “in town” at the excellent cafe at Balsa with its very funky tropical vibe.

Sadly, the continuous grey weather and high humidity had caused us have mould start growing in the car and so we had to say a final farewell to Balsa and Montanita, we did this with heavy hearts as we felt we had found a little spot on this earth that really resonated with us. Even so, we were also excited to be heading back out on the road despite the long trek that awaited us.

From Montanita we spent 2 days driving firstly south along the coast and then inland over the Andes to Cuenca with an overnight stop at a little garage along the way.  The drive across he Andes took us past Caja National park, which from the road looked quite spectacular but also very very wet and as it was rather cold outside, we decided not to spend a night and do some small walks.  A decision which was justified a few days later when chatting to other travelers and hearing how muddy the trails had been when they visited.

Entering Cuenca we were amazed at how clean and pretty everything was, it is just one of those kind of towns that impress you from the minute you enter and we hadn’t even hit the historical district.  As previously mentioned camping availability in cities is often scarce, but in Cuenca there is a small cramped campsite that is a stone’s throw away from the historical district. The camping is so cramped that you almost have to walk sideways to get past vehicles and to the ablutions but that is very easily compensated for by its location and the real estate saying of “location, location and location”, truly applies to this spot.

Been so well located meant that we could explore Cuenca on foot, meet up with fellow overlanders plus get all the admin jobs like laundry, shopping etc done.

Cuenca is a beautiful city filled with gorgeous well-preserved architecture, town squares, markets, cobbled streets and eateries but the thing that truly stands out is how spotlessly clean the whole town is…

Generally due to lack of space in Mr J we never purchase gifts/trinkets etc but for the first time in ages we were truly tempted by a stunning painting we saw in one of the markets.  We lingered outside the shop for a while admiring it, walked away and come back to admire it some more before finally going into the shop too enquire with regards its price, which to our surprise was very reasonable.  The painting would have made a lovely complement to the large painting of a Maasai lady we have stored in South Africa, so we wandered away debating where we could store it in Mr Jones, about how it would it hold up been rolled up for an extended period of time before we could get it back to SA and ultimately admitted defeat and decided not to purchase it. 

After a few days in Cuenca we headed out on the start of our final run south to the border which would involve a few stops along the way. 

The first stop was in the town of Loja,  planning using maps and travel guides can give you a feel for places but actually how you will feel about a town is only truly felt when you arrive in it and although we had a great wild camp next to a lake in Loja it wasn’t a city to hold our attention, so the next day we started heading to the next town called Vilcabamba but as we drove out of town we made an impromptu decision to first head up to a nature reserve called Parque Podocarpus.  

The park is large and covers a wide diversity of terrain from above 3500m all the way down to 1000m or less, because of the terrain and vegetation much of it is inaccessible.  We entered at its western most entrance and followed the road up to a trailhead and ranger station, from which we did a short walk together before Stuart then took the slightly longer trail up to a view point.

Vilcabamba was a town that Tania had been looking forward to visiting since entering Ecuador as she had read and heard so many positive aspects about the place including the fact that it has a big expat community due to the great weather and surroundings and one of the campsites had a reputation for being very funky and offering great yoga classes. After the many fantastic classes, she had enjoyed in Montanita we thought this would make for a nice week-long stop. 

The town is located in what is known as the Valley of Longevity, thanks to an article in the 1970’s in the National Geographic by a Harvard medical school professor who made claims that the average resident lived to become a centenarian and many until us old as 120.   This claim was later refuted but nonetheless the reputation was established and thanks to the friendly climate has brought many expats to live and retire. 

When we drove in, it was a Sunday and there was a market set up around the town square which is flanked by many eateries and our first impressions were of a lot of gringos desperately trying to appear as hippy and chillaxed as possible. The campsite we had read such great things about turned out to be rather disappointing and after not finding anywhere else to stay that we liked closed to town we tried the very last spot which was campground situated on a Finca a few km’s up a little valley. After all the days disappointment we drove in thinking we would just stay the night before moving on and instead we found ourselves a little spot of paradise and one night became 4 nights spent under the stars next to a beautiful clean river. 

The Finca has a restaurant that they operate only on a Saturday and Sunday with the specialty being trout. Everything used in the restaurant comes from the Finca, from the trout to the coffee and fresh juices, and the family that farm the Finca are as gentle as their impact is on the earth. Sometimes the best finds are found in the most unexpected places!

To end our fab stay in Vilcabamba we stopped at a French bakery on the way out of town and due to the fact that Tania couldn’t choose between all the delicious pastries, she came out with a rather large haul that didn’t even last until that afternoon.

On the way back to Loja, Mr J brakes where once again squealing so bad that it necessitated a visit to the brake doctor who determined that the pads just needed a bit of sanding and sent us on our way, with no bill to pay.  The road out of Loja required a steep climb followed by an equally steep descent which despite using the engine as much as possible required a fair amount of braking and as we drove into the next town Stuart put his foot on the break and it hit the floor!  With no functioning brakes Stuart pulled to the side of the road so that we could look for a mechanic.  As always Mr J is a gentleman and a scholar, as right in front of us was a mechanic. So, after engaging low range Stuart drove us into the mechanic which despite looking like one we may not have chosen if looking up mechanics was extremely professional and this time determined that the fluid needed replacing thanks to all the descending we had done the last few months combined with the recent overheating of the one set of pads. In no time we were back on the road but too late to make the border, necessitating one more night in a gas station an hour or two further down the road. 

Most gas stations we stay in, double as overnight truck stops but this one actually closed at night meaning we had a very peaceful sleep before leaving early the next morning for the border and thus ending a fantastic 2 months exploring Ecuador.  A small country filled with so many different environments and cultures and one where we left a small piece of our hearts.

Below are links to the other pages that compliment this blog entry: