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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:

The travelers we had met in Peru had all spoken of how different Ecuador was to Peru in terms of being cleaner and having better roads but nonetheless our first 100km took us totally by surprise, the change was truly significant.  

Not only were the aforementioned claims true but also drivers used indicators for the purpose they are intended and didn’t just leave them on and even more surprising to us was how quickly the environment changed – during the last kilometres to the border in Peru we had started to see some more greenery but it still remained very much a dry desert like place but almost as soon as we crossed the border we began to see larger trees and grasslands and in fact we spent our first night only 20km inside Ecuador in a large tropical forest reserve.  That night and the following morning it quickly become apparent that something else we hadn’t seen much of in Peru was birds, as the forest was alive with them, resulting in a rather early morning wake-up.

Entering a new country always brings a new challenge, usually it is the “simple” things like getting used to a new exchange rate in order to calculate what is affordable and what is not, while shopping.  Ecuador however presented us with something entirely new – our Garmin GPS had no map coverage even though we have a South American “continent” map set installed on it which should in theory cover us all the way to Colombia, so the moment we crossed the border we could no longer use the GPS for navigation.  Ecuador gets its name from the fact that it straddles the equator and Stuart initially assumed that perhaps Garmin map considered Ecuador to be in the northern hemisphere and therefore to be part of the North American mapset.   Subsequently we have discovered that there is in fact no maps for Ecuador but have no idea why not.

By a huge stroke of luck we had downloaded offline google maps for Ecuador onto one of our phones before crossing the border, this is something we usually don’t bother with as we prefer navigating on the GPS (except in cities where live google maps are better) but something had prompted the idea while in Peru and it saved our bacon, enabling us to navigate hassle free to the nearest cellphone shop in order to get a local SIM card.  With our ability to “google” restored, it was time to head into Ecuador’s largest city, Guayaquil, for some shopping before moving on towards the coastline.  It had been a long day and we were really looking forward to a quite evening when pulled into Finca Gloria which based on iOverlander reviews had nice swimming pools and plenty of place to camp – our experience was to be a little different.   Finca translates to “estate” in English and in this part of the world is often used to refer to a farm type establishment, in this case it was more of a daytime party venue for the residents of Guayaquil and when we arrived they were just busy cleaning up after one such event and they asked us to park next to the fiesta hall and bathrooms.   In order to keep themselves motivated the workers blasted Latin music until they finished around 10pm and just as they went quiet a noisy petrol-powered pump started up which we very quickly discovered (based on the aromas that drifted our way) was being used to pump out the septic tank!    The icing on the cake for the night was a couple of dogs that were kept in a yard nearby that started barking incessantly at 3am. When nobody appeared to make any effort to shut them up, Stuart eventually shouted out the window at them and incredibly they went quiet.  The peace and quiet was relatively short lived however as the morning crew arrived at 6:30am to start setting up for the next fiesta which included cranking up the music once again.   As one can imagine, when we left, our review on iOverlander was not nearly as complimentary as the ones before us and hopefully we help to forewarn other travelers.

Our rough plan for the first month in Ecuador was quite simple, to spend an extended period along the coastline, surfing and hopefully enjoying some good beach time as we worked our way northwards.  Our first stop was at the small fishing village of Engaboa but sadly only for lunch and a brief look at the surf point as none of the camping options held any appeal.

It was good to have Mr Jones when leaving Engaboa as we had two routing options, one being a fairly lengthy drive back to the main road before doing a dogleg northward or the alternative being to follow a narrow dirt track through the dunes which went directly to Santa Elena.  We opted for the latter, which part way through did leave us wandering how many vehicles actually come this way but also had us smiling with fond memories of some of the smaller tracks we have followed in parts of Mozambique.  Once back on the tar it was a short hop north to Montanita and the pleasant surprise of seeing a South African flag flying next to a statue of a surfer.

Montanita is a “bipolar” town, it is very popular with the backpacker crowd and has a bit if seedy reputation for being a party destination where anything and everything happens and is acceptable, in fact the main part of town reminded us very much of Phuket in Thailand with its narrow streets crammed full with hostels, bars, nightclubs and little restaurants.   In total contrast to this is the little suburb of La Punta at the northern end of the beach which has a very serene and tranquil vibe with no all-night parties or loud music.   No prizes for guessing where we opted to stay, it also helped that La Punta has a nice surf scene and that for Tania, the camp offered a very nice yoga class in the mornings. 

World Oceans day is on the 8^th of June and that day while sitting on the beach admiring the late afternoon sun, we got invited to join some of the expat crowd in a small ceremony to honour the ocean.  Rice and various beans including indigenous corn varietals plus a few other offerings were made to “give strength” to those that come after us to protect the ocean.  The boat filled with the offerings plus what was scattered around it was left at the high-water mark to await the incoming tide,  at which time it would get to set sail.

The most amazing aspect, was as part of the ritual everyone had to walk around the small boat, with the inner circle been made of the men and the outer circle of the women and with the drums beating and shell horns been blown the 3rd small wave that rolled in swamped the boat and moved it closer to the ocean. Who knows maybe the ocean had heard the endeavor to ensure that she stay protected and that all that live in her stay safe.

Ten days passed by very quickly before we started to get itchy feet and feel the need to move on, even if was to just move 30 minutes north in order to experience what was meant to be an equally funky village called Ayampe.   In principal Ayampe should have appealed to us even more than Montanita but we found the vibe to be a little offish – with people trying way too hard to be shuwei.  The one exception to the overt efforts to be cool and tranquil was the Russian caretaker at the campsite we stayed at, perhaps he was trying to provide balance to the environment. It is also meant to be a very popular surfing beach but Stuart found it to be very messy and not much fun, so after only one night we moved on.

The good thing about this section of coastline is that distances are really short between spots, making it very easy to pack up and move a little bit each day if you want and, in this case, it meant only a 15km drive to a spectacular peninsula camp just south of Puerto Lopez.

We found a beautiful spot on a peninsula overlooking Salango Island where initially we were only going to stay for one night but the breeze and been elevated allowed us to escape some of the oppressive heat, humidity and pesky biters that had been munching on us. So, one day turned into two and it was just what we needed to get our sense of “humour”tranquilo” back.

One of Ecuador’s most popular tourist destinations is the Galápagos Islands and rightly so for the unique variety of bird and sea life it offers, however a trip to the islands does not come cheap.  In our case, what we would spend for 3 – 4 months travel is equivalent to a 5-day cruise with flights around the islands, there was however an alternative and that was to visit Isla del Plata which is the so-called “poor mans” Galapagos.  It most definitely does not offer as much variety of wildlife as the Galapagos but you do still get the opportunity to see the different varieties of birds which are endemic to the islands known as “boobies” and it also has a healthy variety of sea life around it.  

Puerto Lopez is the launch point for tours to Isla del Plata and so after a few days of chilling on the aforementioned peninsula we moved into town so that we could join a tour the next day.  The island sits 45km offshore and depending on which source you wish to believe derives its name as the silver island either from its silver appearance when the sun reflects off the bird guano on its rocky cliffs or from the fact the infamous English pirate, Sir Francis Drake, used the island to hide his plundered loot when fleeing from the Spanish.   Just as occurs along South Africa’s east coast at this time of the year, the Southern Right Humpback whale migrates north from Antarctica to the warmer waters off Ecuador in order to breed and raise their calves and as we neared the island some large splashes were seen in the distance.  The captain did a great job of getting us close, in some relatively rough seas and between the bobbing and rolling of the boat we were fortunate to get a few photos of them breaching.  It is pretty impressive how much of a splash a 45-ton mammal makes when it belly flops into the ocean.

Unfortunately, the rolling seas meant we couldn’t hang around too long with the whales before heading into the calmer waters on the lee side of the island where we disembarked for a hike to seek out the various boobies and frigates that nest on the island followed by a post-lunch snorkel to marvel at the marine life below the surface of the waters.

Next stop along the coast was at Swiss Jardin, run by Samuel, a very interesting man who had so many stories to share with us about his interesting escapades in the merchant navy and specifically about the travels to South Africa in the mid 60’s – 70’s. Stuart managed to get in a surf with the local surfers as the sun was setting, a perfect way to end a hot and interesting day.

In our travels in Ecuador we have come across a number of foreigners that own campsites and that are desperately trying to now sell them.  We think that the common denominator is that most of them have spent 30+ years living between their home countries and Ecuador but now the amount of work involved in owning and running a place in a tropical environment where everything grows in abundance is truly been felt & then if you add to this the advancement in age and not having all the amenities that Europe / America provides and sadly the love affair is waning. The campsite on the peninsula with it numerous cabanas, is on the market for a few million dollars and so is Samuel’s but not for as much according to him. 

Our last stop on the coast before heading inland was at an amazing campsite and we mean a proper campsite with a fire pit complete with heaps of free firewood and a lapa with table and benches to sit at.  It is amazing the things that bring joy and after camping in parking lots and the equivalent in all the various formats that we have experienced, this was a spot we knew we could stay at for a few days. It also helped that it had a wonderful outlook onto a private little bay. It’s yet another campsite run by an expat and when we get back to SA for a holiday we think we could dine out a fair amount on the incredible life stories of these campsite owners.

We had got spoilt meandering along the coast with availability of spots to camp at and the fact that we could move 15 km’s and experience a new environment, so heading into the mountains was a big wake up call. Although the distances are not massive the time that is required to traverse them is disproportionate in the hours vs km’s, in addition add the scarce availability of accommodation and then what was available was either very sub-par or was closed,  meant that we had to, on some days push further then we intended.  Tiredness and mountain passes are not good travel companions!

Our first mountain stop was Mindo and a number of people including Samuel had said you have to visit it and that it was definitely on the top 10 list of places to visit in Ecuador.  After all these years of travel we should have learnt to ask the relevant question and that is what is it about the aforementioned place that makes the person recommended it and not the guide book version of why they think we should go there.

We arrived to the ultimate of tourist towns with heaps of accommodation on offer/restaurants/ bars / funky coffee shops and tour companies and all at the “cheap” price beyond the wallet of long term travelers. That been said on arrival we found the local version of the woman’s league, they had a great local dish of spit roasted whole pig accompanied by local corn /potatoes and salad been sold outside the church to raise funds. After our impromptu early dinner we took a walk around the small town, got to watch a local live band performing in the plaza and then took ourselves on a self-guided walk into the forest to see the hummingbirds and butterflies that the area is known for. 

The next day we went on a walk around town exploring the various tourist shops offering the wares of the local artists but due to the fact that as much as we would like to at times buy some of these, Mr Jones doesn’t have space and as we don’t have a house we have no idea if when we do have a physical home again if there would even be space for our trinkets. So to make Tania feel better about not been able to indulge in any art buying we hit up the local artisanal ice cream shop. Stu decided he would go with the offerings of the area and as this is a very big coffee and cacao growing area, he had coffee/cacao and honey ice cream whereas Tania decided to be adventurous and had a passion fruit with basil and chili sorbet topped with tamarillo sorbet.

Thereafter we ventured into one of the chocolate shops that offered a chocolate making experience:  in theory from start to finish so you would get to roast the cacao bean and eventually produce your own chocolate bar – we opted out of that but we did get to taste a number of flavours of chocolate and its percentages of cacao. So, despite the feeling of dread when we drove in thinking that this wasn’t really going to be something we enjoyed, we had a good time plus we had some amazing sightings of hummingbirds close-up but sadly the little buggers move way too fast for any identification or even to get a decent photo.

Leaving Mindo we had found this back road to take, along which we hoped to find some wild orchids. Initially the road was amazing but sadly lacking in orchids!  Then google maps decided that were not on a road and gave up directing us and seeing as Garmin doesn’t have coverage of Ecuador we could not rely on the sat nav.  Thankfully Stuart has a really good sense of direction and can read contour maps because if it was left to Tania we would still be wandering aimlessly around the mountains.  The bonus of the journey of discovery that we found ourselves on, was we got to really look at things while orientating ourselves instead of the sometimes being in the switched off state we find ourselves in when driving.

The intended overnight stop was at Termas de Nangulvi and when we drove into the parking lot and looked around we initially thought our choice of back roads and destination was the wrong one, but like many things in life first impressions can be wrong and sometimes you just have to sit back and observe for a while before committing to not liking..

We were shown to a big patch of grass right next to a rapidly flowing river that drowned out any noise from the road, not that there was much of that, as while a tar road ran past the termas it ended only a few kilometres down the road at the “back roads” we had followed in.  

The pools were quite busy but after setting up camp we decided to brave them seeing as that was why we had come this way and enjoyed a pleasant soak while moving between the different temp pools before heading back to Mr. Jones to make supper.  The pool complex closed at 9pm so we intended to come back for a final soak before bed and as we were already above 1500m and so knew the evening would be fairly chilly and given the location, expected the pools to be quite empty. Boy did we get a surprise when in fact they were even busier.  In the course of conversation while been crammed into hot pools with other tourists and locals, led us to finding out that Ecuador has the largest Quaker movement in the world beating out the USA rather substantially – pretty sure this will be a useful tidbit of knowledge in a game of trivial pursuit one day.

The next morning, we headed up and out the valley, climbing over some very steep roads as we ascended up and through the “cloud forest” (a forest which is almost constantly sitting in the clouds and therefore very wet with a large variety of plant and bird diversity) and onwards to the crater lake known as Laguna Cuicocha, a 3km wide caldera and crater lake.  Ecuador has no shortage of volcanoes, in fact it has 98 and Laguna Cuicocha is the result of its second highest (Cotapaxi) having an explosion many thousands of years ago.   Cotapaxi itself was hidden in clouds so instead we admired the lake scenery and watched some navy divers practising in the lake with our take away being that the lake is freezing cold and very deep. 

In the past it has been very popular for overlanders to “free” camp near the crater rim but iOverlander had a new warning for the location from a couple that had experienced a very scary armed robbery there a few weeks prior so we decided to rather head straight to Otavalo and a formal campsite.

We had not realised that it was the Inti Raymi celebration when we headed to Otavalo. This is a traditional Inca Festival that celebrates the Sun God Inti, with lots of festivity’s, including music, dancing and fireworks that culminates on the Winter Solstice on the 24th June. The campsite is owned by a couple of Inca heritage so we got to see the woman dressed in traditional wear for the week of celebration.

For most overlanders Otavalo is either the first or last town they stay at when either heading north to Colombia or coming south from it, in our case it was to be our northernmost point in Ecuador as we would now turn south.   Visiting Colombia is definitely on the cards but first we want to explore the Brazilian amazon and Brazil’s north atlantic coastline which means heading south for now, so that we can enter Brazil in a month or two.

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

Our last travel diary ended with us spending the weekend at the surf spot, Punta Rocas, just south of Lima.  We had quite a long To-Do list for Lima which included getting Mr Jones serviced.  In Peru there are very few Land Rovers and thus very few independent Land Rover mechanics but we had found one via iOverlander in Lima, so early on the Monday morning we left Punta Rocas for the roughly one hour drive into Lima, to discover when we pulled up outside the garage that everything was shut.

The last check-in on iOverlander was a few years old and so we feared that perhaps they had not survived the pandemic.  After a bit of searching Stuart found a telephone number for the mechanic and fired off a WhatsApp message, too which he got a quick reply that they were closed for the holiday but would be happy to receive us tomorrow.   At this point the penny dropped as we realised it was May 1 and Workers Day, which also explained why there had been so many Lima surfers at Punta Rocas when we were preparing to leave and why the roads had been relatively quiet.  Being retired has many advantages but one downside is that you don’t know or generally care what day of the month or week it is.

Also, on the to-do list was sourcing a new mattress and finding replacements for our camping chairs.   On the mattress front we had the address for a foam factory, which it was now obvious would be closed, and for the chairs we had the address of an off-road equipment store and had seen online that they stocked the kind of chair we desired.   In South Africa, such stores are generally open on public holidays so we headed off across the city in the direction of Miraflores but as we quickly discovered this is not the case in Peru.  We commented in our previous blog about the generally disgusting “litter” state of Peru except for in key tourist areas, Miraflores confirmed this observation further as it was generally spotless, modern and trendy whereas the rest of Lima is not.  

Finding suitable camping in or near big cities is usually a challenge but Lima does have one option, unfortunately when we had contacted them the previous week they had told us the camping was full however they could offer a Airbnb setup instead for the first night and thereafter we could camp.  Unfortunately, though that was not going to be available until early evening so with time to kill we headed down to Lima relatively famed beachfront, thinking that perhaps Stuart could grab a surf and we could just have a relaxed afternoon.  We were clearly not the only ones with such an idea on a public holiday, although having driven up and down the stretch a few times we failed to see the attraction and instead opted to find a parking spot and just pass away the time on social media and reading.

On arrival at the Airbnb more surprises awaited us when we discovered that in fact we would be sharing the apartment with another couple and that the “well stocked” kitchen in fact only had a few plates and cups but no cooking utensils (despite having a stove), and no fridge.  John (the host) had recommended Plaza Norte for food so off we trekked in the growing darkness to find something suitable.  In any country shopping malls can get busy on holidays as families come out to idly window shop and perhaps catch a movie or a bite to eat but never have we experienced the kind of crowds that greeted us on that evening, the only way to describe it would be to imagine a South African mall on Christmas Eve with all its last minute shoppers and multiply that by a factor of 20!   It felt like the whole of Lima had descended on the mall but thankfully most of them weren’t there to eat and so we could get a table at a Chifa restaurant very easily.   John had told us that Chifa was a blend of Peruvian and Chinese food, we had two very nice dishes but would consider them to be simply Chinese with Peruvian names.

On our second day in Lima we got to discover how quiet the roads had been on the public holiday as we first visited the mechanic and then in the late afternoon drove back into Miraflores to purchase our chairs.  Stuart likened it to the madness of Lagos, Nigeria where there is just one constant traffic jam interspersed with lots of hooting and the norm is to make a 3-lane road into 5, thankfully despite no one wanting to give an inch there is no real aggression and so Mr Jones with his big bulbar and loud hooter coped really well.  A short video showing some of the traffic and filth

At the end of a long day we got back to John’s hoping to setup Mr Jones in his camping and be able to cook for ourselves and have a quite night, unfortunately his camping setup was in fact the ground floor enclosed garage which had a maximum height of 3m and when we open Mr Jones roof he extends closer to 4m.  That left us with no option but to go back into the room of the shared Airbnb complete with, as we had discovered the previous night, a bathroom door that does not close properly.  To say we weren’t happy campers would be a very big understatement but fortunately the young Bulgarian couple we were sharing with, were good company.

The foam factory where we hoped to get a new mattress for Mr Jones cut to size was on the northern side of Lima which considering the Airbnb setup suited us quite nicely as we would then be able to leave town after stopping there.  Lima though had other plans for us, as the mattress would take two days before it was ready but this did not deter us in our plans to “get out of dodge”.  We decided we would rather stay out of town and drive back in than return to the Airbnb.

A task that we had not managed to tick off while in Lima was the sourcing of a new deep cycle gel battery for our solar/fridge system as John had sent us on a bit off a wild goose chase in the downtown traffic of Lima, so the rest day at Sunset lodge in Chancay was spent trying to source a new battery, both at the shops in the little town and online.    Online come out the winner but delivery to Chancay was going to be a problem so we steeled ourselves for fighting the Lima traffic again in order to collect it when we went back to fetch the mattress.   That day we spent roughly 7 hours in Mr Jones to make a round trip of 160km, of which at least 80km was on free-flowing motorway once you had cleared Lima’s outer limits, i.e. we did a lot of crawling and fighting to keep our spot in the lane…

A rest day was called for after our exhausting Lima excursion and thankfully Sunset Lodge was exactly the right spot to do it, so after installing the new battery first thing in the morning we took the rest of the day really easy and then in the evening got to enjoy a small saxophone concert which the lodge put on for its guests given that it was a Saturday.  Chancay must be one of the few towns in South America that doesn’t have a loud discotheque into the early hours of Sunday morning, in fact they are quite the opposite and limit noise after 10pm. We had first got a feel for it when after our first night there, the owner had profusely apologised for some noise coming from a nearby party and told us she had in fact called the cops when it didn’t stop soon after 10. We of course had just spent two exhausting days in Lima traffic and so hadn’t heard a thing.  On this Saturday evening as well, the mini concert ended promptly at 10pm.

We really enjoyed the 4 nights spent in Chancay but with all jobs done and not much else to do in town we hit the road north the next morning hoping to spend a day or two at a surf point some surfers had told us about when we were camped at Punta Rocas.  Stuart had also read that it was a relatively friendly but remote left point break so we figured Bermojo would definitely be worth a stop, our only concern was that we couldn’t see any camping on our go-to app iOverlander. Stuart had however seen on google maps a spot labelled “B Garage” which clearly had campers and even surf board racks on the walls so we hoped to stay there.   At this point in Peru the coastline was still very much desert and often there are just small tracks heading off the PanAm highway down to the coast, which was the case when we drew near to Bermojo, and so we followed a series of little tracks down towards the headland that is Bermojo.  

The surf location was easy to identify as it has a large pinnacle rock just offshore of it, as when we got down to the beach there was nothing else apart from a few fisherman and the previously identified “B Garage”.   In fact, B Garage was just a 4 metre high walled yard with nothing to identify it except that it was the only structure in the area and in one corner had a water tank on a platform.  The large iron gate was padlocked and it certainly didn’t look to be in operation as a campsite (we learnt from other surfers a few days later that it belongs to a surf club that come there sometimes on weekends and use it as a secure place to camp).    In theory we could have wild camped on the beach but with old reports in iOverlander of an armed robbery in the area we decided against that and so after having some lunch we pushed on for another few hours and ended at another remote fishing cove which had an eco-lodge at the one end.  At least this area had no robbery reports but instead had check-ins of recent camping by overlanders on iOverlander, but the lodge seemed empty and it was very remote, however with no other viable options nearby we stopped and hoped for a safe night.    Just before sunset two small fishing boats arrived and proceeded to unload their cargo but it didn’t look like fish as it consisted of very large and heavy sacks which the guys struggled to carry ashore, suspecting that this may be some kind of illegal activity we did our best to not watch but it certainly didn’t help us to feel any easier about the location.

Incredibly we both fell asleep that night, quite easily and slept really deeply, that is until 3am when a car drove down the little track and parked a hundred metres from us, which had both of us acting like meerkats as we sat and peered out the tent window into the darkness trying to figure out what was going on and if we were about to be robbed.  After 30 minutes of hearing voices but not being approached, we lay down and went back to sleep only to be awoken a little later by a very loud moto-taxi with blue under glow lights which parked next to the other car.  Once again, we began our meerkat impression but this time for a slightly shorter duration before going back to sleep.  The car and moto-taxi where still there in the morning and we can only assume it was fisherman getting an early start on the day.

Over breakfast we decided that firstly this section of desert coastline was very unappealing and secondly had nowhere we would feel safe camping at, and therefore would just put our heads down until we could get somewhere nicer.  This meant another long day as we drove northwards to the little fishing & surfing town of Huanchaco where there was a tiny but very welcoming little spot to camp.   As it turned out the spot was just across the road from the ocean and had a decent surf break, which meant we ended up staying 5 days.

Only 50km north of Huanchaco is the famed surf spot called Chacama which claims to have the longest left-hand point break in the world.  If the wave is firing (which it actually rarely does) then the claims are that your ride can be as long as 4 minutes and so naturally it draws surfers from all around the world hoping for that perfect day.  The pictures on the internet certainly do look mouthwatering with lines of waves gently rolling across the large bay.   We had struggled to identify any camping opportunities in the town apart from one hostel where some people said they had been allowed to camp in the parking lot at the back and so hoping that this would be suitable for us we headed that way after Huanchaco.

It is strange how some places just don’t grab you and Puerto Malabrigo (the village in which Chicama is located) was exactly one of those, as we drove in it just felt cold and lifeless despite it being an immensely popular tourist destination.   The village has gone to great lengths to create a pedestrian malecon (boardwalk) along almost it’s entire length and on to which most establishments front but as this malecon was once a road it makes navigating to your chosen establishment quite tricky.  After driving around a bit and eventually getting to the end of the village without finding the hostel we backtracked and parked in a side street so that Stuart could go off on foot in search of the hostel we hoped to camp at. Only to report back a little later that he didn’t think we would enjoy staying there as it was quite upmarket and he felt we would feel horribly out of place camping in Mr Jones out back.  All was not lost though as while walking to the hostel he had an opportunity to check out the sea and the supposedly nirvana wave which on that day was most definitely not firing and overall the sea did not look that appealing so we decided to move on and check out the next “wave” going north which is called Pacasmayo.

Once again camping options were limited to sleeping in the parking lots of hostels and after a brief drive through town without spotting anything too appealing we decided to rather head just a little further up the road to a little farmstay, which from the pictures seemed to offer green grass to park on – something we have been missing for many thousands of kilometres through the desert. As nice as it was to have grass underfoot, there wasn’t much else to do in the area and so after only one night we once again pushed on further to the town of Puira and for the first time since coming out of the mountains, 18 days prior, we got to drive through some grasslands and savanah like scenery.  The appropriately named Ponta Verde (lush green lawn and lots of trees) allowed Stuart to get some much-needed jobs done on Mr Jones in a relaxed setting all while taking occasional dips in their pool to cool off.  Over the course of 4 days he rotated all the tyres on Mr Jones and changed all his brake pads.  In addition, a new water tank for the front bumper was built.   The one he originally built and then later rebuilt in Brazil had served us very well and become what we consider to be an essential upgrade but it had some design flaws which had caused it too leak, so with the benefit of experience, a new one was made.  We are hoping there are no more versions after number 3!

North of Puira we had been told the beaches improve and it becomes more tropical which was music to our ears as it is only 300Km from the Ecuador border and hopefully meant we could do multiple stops and really slow our journey down.   First stop was in the village of Lobitos which Stuart had read is popular as a surf destination for Brazilians.   On our first evening while still orientating ourselves we wandered down to the one point called Piscinas and got to confirm that it is in fact popular with Brazilians.  In the water and on the land was small group of them and their infectious joy and energy had us immediately missing Brazil.    

Lobitos is very much a “boom & bust” town.  In its heyday it was full of expatriate oil magnates and the local corporation was even listed on the London stock exchange, then come a military coup and subsequent “bust”. Many years later, while it still has oil extraction activities, it is trying to re-invent itself as a surf tourism destination. The surf is good, but after 3 months of no-surfing, one member of HippySquared was not able to fully appreciate it 😭

A combination of the terrible Lima traffic and the lack of a decent pillow at the Airbnb meant that Stuart had been nursing a very sore and stiff shoulder even since, something which is not conducive to paddling a surfboard in strong currents.  The wave at Piscinas is quite large and pushes very hard past the point (it was not uncommon to see a surfer swept 30m back while duck diving) and certainly not conducive to paddling out with a sore shoulder. After 4 very unsuccessful & frustrating sessions over the course of a few days we packed up and moved just a little further north to Mancora.

We had eyed out a spot in Mancora that from photos looked like our favourite campsite in Mozambique (Fatimas in Tofo) and upon arrival at Misfits we weren’t disappointed.   The place itself is a little scruffy and you camp in the sand (just like Fatimas) but the owner, Jaime, made us feel so welcome from the moment he opened the gate and as with Fatimas it had direct access onto a white sandy beach.   In addition, Mancora has a popular surf break which is way more friendly for somebody with a sore shoulder, so Stuart would often take the long walk down the beach to it both in the morning and evening.  In between we would alternate the rest of our time in the day between either lounging on the beach or in a hammock under one of the shady “carpa” areas in camp.  Life was very good and before we knew it eight days had passed.  As an added bonus the exercise ultimately freed up the stiff shoulder.

Our departure from Misfits felt a bit like a family farewell before departing on a long trip, as Jaime, his staff and the few guests all come by to say goodbye and give hugs while wishing us a good journey further.

One further stop remained for us in Peru and again it was a relatively short hop north to Zorritos and the campsite called Swiss Wazi.  On iOverlander it has rave reviews and we certainly discovered these were true and would consider it probably one of the only spots we have stayed at so far in the entire South America that is as well-equipped or run as your average South African campsite.   This however was not the reason we come to Swiss Wazi, we were there to collect a package left a month earlier by South African friends.  Long term readers will recall the many mechanical issues and even the small fire we had in Mr Jones during our last month in Brazil (Brazil Travel diary: September 2022) which amongst other things resulted in us losing the sensors for an aftermarket engine temperature monitoring system we have.  This system provides far more accurate and reliable feedback than the standard temp gauge, so when we knew that Vivian and Hanlie were coming out to rejoin their Landy in Peru,  Stuart took the opportunity to ask if they would mind bring out a replacement.  We hadn’t been able to cross paths physically as they immediately headed north to Ecuador upon arrival and so had left the sensor at Swiss Wazi where their vehicle had been stored.

And that rounds out 2 months in Peru, a month shorter than we originally thought we would spend here.  The reason is two-fold, firstly we never expected such a barren and desolate coastline as we found, with therefore not too many appealing places to stop and pause and secondly, we are keeping one month in reserve (of the 90 days you usually get granted on a tourist visa) so that we can drive back across the country in order to get into Brazil later this year.  The Amazon rain forest makes crossing from the west to the east of the continent very difficult and the only feasible point in which you can cut through it is much further South in Peru but only in the dry season – which is later in the year.

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

First days in a new country can often be long and tedious affairs and our first day in Peru was no exception.   Firstly, our timing for the border crossing wasn’t great as it was just before the Easter weekend which meant a high volume of people transiting between Chile & Peru in both directions and because the border took “one-stop” to a new level (no matter your direction, everyone used the same counters & officials), it took us a solid 2,5 hours to cross.  

Once free of the border the first priorities were obtaining vehicle insurance, hunting down an ATM and obtaining a local SIM card so we headed for the closest town of Tacna, roughly  60km away.  It had quite a pretty town square and after circling it a few times in a futile attempt to find a parking spot we navigated the narrow streets leading off it and parked a couple of blocks away.   In towns we are always wary of leaving Mr Jones unattended on the street, so Tania stayed in him while Stuart went off hunting.  A few hours later we had money, data on our phone and were on our way back out of town heading towards the coast and hopefully somewhere to pass away the time over Easter.  We had decided that we didn’t want to be on the roads over the Easter weekend when perhaps there would be even more crazy drivers than normal on the roads.  

Arena Blanca just south of the town of ILO had exactly what we were looking for, a large beach on which you could park for free and a couple of restaurants behind the beach where for a “Nuevo Peru Sole” or two you could use the bathroom and take a shower.  During the day the beach was busy and one or two families did camp for a night or two but incredibly not once did we get subjected to what is usually the norm at such locations in South America: competing boom boxes coming from cars late into the night.  Curiosity did get the better of one or two Peruvians over the course of the weekend and they would come over for a chat with us and Mr Jones but in general our first impressions were that they are much more reserved than Argentinians (who are more reserved than Uruguayan’s and of course nobody can be as outgoing as Brazilians).

After 3 nights on the beach we decided to move a little further north to the town of Mollendo, in anticipation of Easter coming to an end, and another free beach camp where you just paid for the use of ablutions but first we stopped in ILO for lunch and our first taste of ceviche. Ceviche is fresh raw white fish which is pickled in lime juice and spiced with chilli, it is served with lots of onion and cilantro.  It has very fresh taste and was quite delicious.

In the meantime, we had learned that Easter does not extend to Monday in Peru and so after a night on the beach in Mollendo we turned Mr Jones nose east and headed inland to the historical town of Arequipa.    Arequipa sits at a relatively high altitude of 2400m and so the road from the coast through the desert is naturally a twisty-turny, slow affair and it was along this that we got to have our first experience of the largely kamikaze nature of Peruvian drivers – they may be reticent when face to face but they certainly aren’t when behind the wheel of a motorised contraption.

Arequipa is an ancient colonial city dating back to the 16th century and the name is derived from the indigenous Quechua language to mean “Let’s stop here”.  Little did we know how much that would apply to us.  

As we had yet to do a proper grocery shop since arriving in Peru our first port of call was a very modern and sophisticated mall with secure parking for Mr Jones but before we got to start the hunt for groceries we got distracted by a “sunglass hut”.  Living the lifestyle we do, good quality sunglasses are essential but they also take quite a beating and ours where definitely needing to be retired so we popped in to see what the pricing was like.  As luck would have it they had a special running, provided you bought two pairs of glasses (which we intended to do), so shortly thereafter we emerged with some nice new glasses. 

The supermarket was massive and of course it takes ages to figure out the layout, plus convert pricing, and so it took us a couple of hours to get through.  On the positive side the variety of fruit and veg was huge and reasonably priced but sadly any savings there are going to be more than offset by the cost of wine and red meat.  You know you are in trouble if the red meat has a security tag on it!   By the time we had scoured all the aisles it was approaching 2pm and we were both a little hungry so Stuart suggested grabbing a bite to eat in the cafeteria style food area inside the supermarket, it was busy with people and appeared well priced so seemed like a good choice.   

Unfortunately that decision was to backfire on us in a big way a few hours later as we both got a severe case of food poisoning and spent the next two days being close friends with the toilet.   Luck was however on our side, as for the first time in 10 days we were camped in a formal campsite with easy access to ablutions.   It would have been a nightmare if we had been camped “wild”, as we had been doing prior to our arrival in Arequipa.

After our 3rd night we finally started to feel vaguely normal again and so headed out for an afternoon exploring the Plaza de Armas (said to be one of South Americas grandest) and the Monasterio de Santa Catalina, a convent which housed approximately 90 secluded nuns and 200 servants from the late 16th century until it opened its doors to the public in 1970.  It has a huge complex of living areas (some of the flats even had private courtyards), areas for worship and prayer plus all the other aspects required in a closed off town, like bathing and cooking facilities.  Novice nuns would enter the convent at the age of 12 (families paying up the equivalent of USD50k for them) and spend the first two years in practical isolation before becoming a nun and being able to mix and socialise with the other nuns.  The only contact the nuns had with the outside world and their families was by speaking to them through a lattice type grill in the speaking rooms.  These grills made it impossible for each party to see the other and all conversations were monitored by an independent nun to ensure they were appropriate.  A very harsh existence in some ways but as we took the guided tour and afterwards wandered the narrow streets ourselves, we could also appreciate how tranquil and spiritual a life it must have been for the nuns.

After a couple more nights, we eventually felt it was safe enough to leave the safety of a campsite and its convenient ablutions, our intention was to slowly wander through the mountains all the while working our way towards Cusco.  After a long climb out of Arequipa in which Mr Jones reached a new altitude record of nearly 4900m asl and then a slightly lesser descent we found ourselves above Colca canyon.  This canyon is reputed to be one of the deepest in the world and at the point we camped was over 1200m deep!  It was truly a spectacular sight which was enhanced even further by the many pretty alpine flowers all around the campsite.

Leaving Colca canyon we opted to take the back roads in the direction of Cusco which meant a day of high altitude driving as we spent most of the day above 4300m as we worked our way up and down valleys to finally arrive at the spectacular Tres Canones (a point where 3 canyons come together).   Along the way we theoretically crossed over one of the most distant source rivers (Rio Hornillos) for the Amazon, which if true will be really cool as in roughly 6 months time we hope to be catching a vehicle barge down the Amazon when we visit the northern part of Brazil and so will “meet” this water again.

The driving through this part of Peru with all the valleys is spectacular but slow going and so with an average speed of only 30km/h we inched our way slowly to Cusco over the course of a few days.

Stuart had been to Cusco in the early 2000’s and remembered it as a rather attractive old Spanish colonial influenced town, so it was a bit of a shock to the system when we were initially faced with a large sprawling urban and industrial zone.  Of course, back then he flew in and would have basically only seen the airport followed by a brief commute to the touristy historical area which he did have a very distinct memory of being full of touts trying to lure you into their restaurant.

That memory also included a bout of food poisoning just as we had had a week prior in Arequipa – in South America Peru is known for its variety of food and flavours but amongst travelers it is also known for sometimes the less than desirable after effects.

Perched high above the historical part of town in Cusco is a well-known overlanders campsite called Quinta Lala.  Perhaps knowing that Stuart’s recollections of Cusco were its large colonial square, the GPS opted to take us right into the square and then via some very narrow, cobblestone alleys in order to get there.  It was definitely not the easiest route and we were most grateful that Mr Jones is not any bigger than he is.

In the campsite was a wide range of overlanders from Chile, Germany, France and the USA and for the first time we started to meet people who were going in the general opposite direction to us, i.e. they were coming down from the North American continent.  Many hours were spent chatting and exchanging information and experiences.  In between we explored Cusco’s historical area, helped out a fellow landy owner with replacing his clutch slave cylinder and purchased tickets for Machu Pichu.

There are three possible ways to visit Machu Picchu:  the first and definitely most common (plus most expensive) is to take a package from Cusco which will most likely include a night in the little town of Agua Calientes below the citadel.  The second and definitely cheapest way is to park your vehicle at a small village called Hidroelectica which is roughly 10km downstream of Agua Calientes and to then walk along the train tracks to Agua Calientes.  You can then either catch the shuttle bus up the mountain to Machu Picchu or if you are really wanting to do the experience as cheap as possible, you can hike up to the top.  While this is an appealing option as it will save you well over USD250 per person, it was not an option we considered as the tendon issues in Tania feet prevent lengthy hikes/walks. 

The third option and the one we opted for, is to drive roughly 2 hours from Cusco over into the Sacred Valley to the village of Ollaytantambo where you can then catch the train to Agua Calientes and as we discovered on our arrival, Ollaytantambo is a very pretty little village with its own set of quite spectacular Inca ruins. 

As a bonus, we could “camp” in a secure parking area with nice clean toilet and shower which was just a few minutes’ walk from the station. This was was something we really appreciated when we hopped off the train at 6pm and others still had a 2hour bus ride back to Cusco.  The risk of “iconic” tourist destinations is that they don’t live up to the hype, thankfully Machu Picchu did not disappoint and we had a great day out:   The train ride there offered constantly changing views, the bus ride up the mountain was as steep as Stuart remembered and the citadel itself was spectacular.   

By the end of the day we were quite tired and feeling our age, when it looked like the carriage we would be in for the train ride back to Ollytantambo was going to be filled with many noisy late-teen backpackers so were pleasantly surprised and most grateful when the conductor offered us an upgrade to the “vista” carriage.  Along with slightly more spacious seating, it come with a free drink and some live entertainment which consisted of a “scary” ghoul and a fashion show by the staff of some very nice-looking alpaca garments.  If the conductor had thought when giving us the upgrade we looked like a couple that would purchase a garment or two, he had misjudged our “look” as sadly apart from being impractical for travel we just don’t have space in Mr Jones for a cardigan you would wear in the city or to work.

After Machu Pichu we had decided it was time to head back towards the coast and hopefully some surfing but in order to do that we had to cross a few mountain ranges and in this part of the world that means a lot of ascending and descending.   Over the course of two & half days and 600km, our ascending and descending statistics were as follows:  ascend to 3600m – descend to 2000m; ascend to 4000m – descend to 1800m; ascend to 4500m – descend to 2800m; ascend to 3800m and finally descend to 600m above sea level.   Naturally all of this means there were hardly any straight sections of road which is tiring for the driver but for a passenger that doesn’t like sheer drop-offs along the road it was even more tiring, not to mention nerve wracking!  What is incredible to consider is that we had read that the Inca Postal runners used to deliver fresh fish, over these very some mountains, from the Pacific Ocean to their emperors who were based inland at places like Cusco and Machu Picchu.

The final descent from the altiplano delivers you once again back into the desert and in our case into the town and region of Nazca.  This region is famous for its wide variety of stone geoglyphs covering the desert floor, many of which can only be viewed by taking a private airplane flight above them.  Fortunately though, there are some on hillsides which are easily viewed and a couple of others can be viewed from a high-rise platform just next to the main road.   Exactly how the intricate shapes were made (considering for most you need to be many hundreds of metres above them, to actually see the shape) and their meaning is cause for much speculation.

The lack of vegetation and dryness of the desert has been great for preserving archaeological treasures such as the Nazca lines for more than 2000 years but what it is also sadly very good at doing is exposing a scourge of modern society.  In all our years of travel we have always come to observe how often dry and barren landscapes appear to have more litter and have concluded that part of the reason for this is that it “stands out” so much more in such a landscape but our experience in Peru is the worse we have ever seen.  From our observations this is not just because the litter has nowhere to “hide” but because apart from regularly seeing items thrown from moving cars, whole bags of rubbish and waste are dumped on the side of the road in these desert areas.  Peru can be proud of its ancient heritage and the efforts they make to preserve that but certainly not of its modern “litter culture”.

Heading north from Nazca, the PanAm drops the last few hundred metres down to the coast near the town of Pisco and never wanders too far from it for the next 250km on the way into Lima.   Along the way we made a couple of stops at the surf spots of Cerro Azul and Punta Rocas.   At Cerro Azul Stuart quickly discovered how easy it was too lose fitness over a 2,5month period and so when faced with a very long paddle and fairly large waves at Punta Rocas he chose to be an observer rather than a participant.      

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