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Our four-day retreat at Flaming Gorge Reservoir (June’s Travel Diary) was exactly what the doctor ordered: white wine, feet in the water, and zero responsibilities. But alas, the road called. We crossed back into Utah, heading for Vernal—a town so clean and flower-filled it felt like a movie set.

Then, Tania spotted it: an “All-Day Breakfast” diner. We’ve wanted to do the “authentic American diner experience” for ages.  We pulled over, ready for movie-style coffee refills. ZAR600 later, we had experienced “biscuit” (which to us, is a scone with an identity crisis), flapjacks, bacon, fried potato and of course, bottomless coffee. It was pricey, but the waiter was a legend—he knew about Cecil the Lion, the 2010 World Cup (which he thought was the best one ever), and our major cities. Wierdly it’s always in the most bizarre places where people are the most clued-in about South Africa.

We ended the day at Dinosaur National Monument, where we gawked at over 400 complete fossils. It’s a literal graveyard of giants. However, our campsite that night was less “majestic” and more “prehistoric oven.” It was dry, dusty, and located in a valley that seemed to trap heat as a hobby 

The following morning, thanks to the heat and the millions of “miggies” (midges), we fled toward Steamboat Springs. We had hoped to stop halfway there but the turnoff to the BLM area we had in mind for camping on looked like a filming location for a gritty meth-lab documentary, so our survival instincts kicked in and we pushed an extra 170km across the scrubland towards town where we camped above it on Buffalo Mountain.

The bugs in Colorado are elite athletes. They literally chased us off Buffalo Mountain so after only one night, we descended back into Steamboat Springs for an “admin day”—the not so glamorous side of overlanding that involves hunting for water and a trash can. Both appear to be treated like rare antiquities in this town and were extremly hard to find.

By July 7th, we were near Frisco, dodging “post-July 4^th weekend” traffic. American drivers are generally great, but some have a terrifying “wait… wait… NOW!” approach to overtaking. One such “delayed” driver narrowly escaped with his life thanks to both the oncoming truck and ourselves slowing down to allow him space to pull-in.   After the head-on collision we experienced a few weeks prior, it was one close call too much and we pulled off very soon afterwards for a collective meltdown.

We ended the day camped in the Rocky Mountains next to an old wooden water tower which used to be on the Denver-Pacific railway line. It was an idyllic spot which come with its own form of excitement: an active shooter alert!  On our 2nd evening there, an alarm sounded on Stuarts phone along with a message that there was an active shooter in the area and to remain indoors.  Fortunately, the warning related to the the residential area in the valley below us and so while a bit nerve wracking we didn’t have much to worry about, apart from perhaps a bear or two lurking in the woods behind us.

Traders Joe’s is very funky, earth friendly supermarket frequented by young professionals who may (or may not) drive Subaru’s (see our last travel diary for an analysis of this creature) or ride bicycles. It might even be possible to determine the political leaning of a state based on the number of Trader Joe’s that state has?  We had been first introduced to the store in Arizona and learnt that in each state they have a unique shopping bag which has artwork depicting that states scenery or culture. Since then Tania had been on a mission to acquire one from each state we visited.  In Colorado, the only store locations are on the east side of the Rocky Mountains, so “as one does” we set off across the continental divide to buy a shopping bag or two.

What should have been a relatively short 3-hour drive, turned into a much longer one when Garmin took a roundabout route via Denver. The long day become longer when our cheap Mexican inverter burnt out. No inverter = no Starlink = no internet = complicated final navigation and store address research. 

The logical route to follow from here would have been south into New Mexico and then across to Phoenix for our flight home.  But with 4 weeks still available, we instead decided to once again cross over the Rocky Mountains in order to explore western Colorado. 

Unfortunately for us (and Mr Jones) he started running a fever. His expansion tank was leaking, and so he struggled to keep his cool on the many ascents the Rockies present. We tried to find a replacement part, but Colorado said “no.” We also tried to pay for water at a public spigot in order to fill up his water tanks, but it was locked. Apparently, Colorado is where equipment and thirst go to be tested 

Upon first appearances the little town of Buena Vista appeared rather bland but once off the main road it turned out to be quite funky and down these side roads we found a cool vintage car show including an old Series Land Rover on display, whose owner quickly lost interest in chatting with us when we told him about Mr Jones…

After a disappointing stop in Aspen (too much “pretentiousness” and traffic, not enough “funky”), we headed for Grand Junction and away from the mountains (or so we thought) to save Mr. Jones’s cooling system and have a stress-free drive. Along the way we officially moved from “Bear Aware” country to “Rattlesnake and Scorpion” country.

Our hopes for stress-free soon evaporated over the next few days when first the “house” electrics load-shed us, thanks to the overworking new fridge that simply could not cope with the heat and then a day later Mr J would not start. No lights, no horn, no engine. Just a silent, heavy Land Rover perched on a precipice above the Gunnison river – a stunning location but a rather remote one to break down at.  

A check of the obvious culprits (battery & fuses) revealed no issues which meant that some online research was required before Stuart began open-heart surgery on the dashboard. He discovered a “white plastic thingy” (technical term) on the ignition switch which was popping out. The solution? Zip ties and a piece of scrap aluminum bashed into shape. It worked! It was not pretty, and the dash didn’t quite fit back together, but Mr. Jones lived to fight another day.

We celebrated our mechanical genius by driving the “Million Dollar Highway” toward Durango and onwards towards New Mexico. It’s claimed to be the most scenic drive in America, but with zero guardrails and 1,000-foot drops, Tania spent most of it trying not to look out the window.

Just as the road fatigue was setting in, we found our “tribe” on some Army Engineer corps land near Santa Fe. While sipping our morning coffee, a Swiss couple—Daniel and Gabriela—cruised past and stopped to say hi. It turned into one of those rare, long conversations of substance that we had found so hard to come by on this leg of the trip.

Santa Fe itself is a stunner, famed for its art and galleries, though it clearly doesn’t want visitors without a US phone number. You can’t “park and pay” on the street without a specific app that requires a US-registered phone! We eventually found a municipal lot and with a thunderstorm brewing we opted for a $60 lunch of delicious margaritas, nachos, and quesadillas.

A couple of days later we reunited with our new Swiss friends for a night at the Tumbleroot Brewery. We were hunting for live music and good beer. We only got the beer (no music on a Wednesday, sadly), but the real “headliner” was the brewery’s policy: they allow overlanders to sleep in the car park. No designated driver? No problem. We swapped stories under the New Mexico sky, secure in the knowledge that our “commute” home was only twenty paces to Mr. Jones’s back door.

The final push to Phoenix was a test of nerves. The interstates are dominated by massive trucks doing in excess of 120km/h while Mr. Jones wheezes along at 85km/h on a good day.  Being tailgated by a semi-truck who only leaves a 3-meter gap is a very effective way to ensure you never need a morning coffee again! 

By the time we reached Sedona, the heat was a staggering 44°C. The red sand in this area is so fine it gets everywhere and it didn’t take long before Stuart had developed a “sweat-induced six-pack”—basically, the sand stuck to his stomach folds, leaving white lines where he sat. Highly recommended for an instant gym body but not much else!

The attraction of airconditioing and a long shower was too great, making it an easy decision to head into Phoenix a few days earlier than originally planned.

It was time for a well-earned rest and to enjoy our “new” home in South Africa, nine months and 20,000km had given us loads of memories but also truly challenged us with maintenance issues. Waiting for us in Phoenix was a new coolant tank and so before tucking Mr. Jones away for his own well-earned rest, we replaced the tank at 5am (because it is the only sensible time to work in summer time temperatures there). 

Mr Jones had the final say on the day we put him into storage – Stuart’s “white plastic thingy” fix—held together by aluminum scraps and zip ties, gave up the ghost literally 50m from his final parking spot, it had lasted over 1,400km.  

Stick around to see if our 2026 return involves a proper repair or just a bigger bag of zip ties!

For More Insights and a look behind the scenes, follow the below links:

We started May in the desert outside Moab, where the Bureau of Land Management land (BLM) surrounding Arches & Canyonland National Park is beautiful, but the dust is relentless. At this stage we were a little undecided on which direction to take – should we head a little east and into Colorado or should we continue northwards within the state of Utah?  The deciding factor turned out to be “where can we find the most affordable hotel room for a night?” which turned out to be near Salt Lake City, Utah.

 But first, we had to survive Walmart. If you want to test the strength of a marriage, try paying for a T-Mobile data package in the little town of Price, Utah, at Walmart using an international credit card. We have been using a prepaid contract for our cellphone from T-Mobile and last month had quite easily paid the monthly amount at a Walmart, this time around it was the opposite. We walked out $84 lighter thanks to a helpful but not too clued up clerk who issued a “redeem voucher” for Metro by T-Mobile—which, as it turns out, is a completely different company that doesn’t do refunds.

Having paid some expensive school fees, we headed north for a date with a Days Inn (similar to a South African Road Lodge but at that point in time it felt like the Ritz). We weren’t there for the sights; we were there for the plumbing. We even brought Mr. J’s carpet mat into the shower with us. After both taking two “very, very long” showers in which we spent as much time scrubbing ourselves as the floor mat, we’re surprised the hotel didn’t charge us for a plumbing overhaul. 

In Salt Lake City we went in search of its famous Mormon Church but unfortunately the church is undergoing a major renovation and is largely covered in scaffolding so we drove on past.   In our research into the Salt Lake city attractions we did learn a little bit about the Mormon religion (the Church of the Latter Day Saints) and it answered a curiosity question we have had from our travels – all through Africa, South America and Central America we have often observed young men walking around in the poorer neighbourhoods dressed in black pants, white shirts with a tie and sporting a black name badge.  They stood out as missionaries but we never knew for which religion.  It turns out they are Mormon and as part of their entry into adulthood, they go out into all corners of the world and spread the good word.

The Snake River bisects the mid-section of Idaho and one of the waterfalls on it (the Shoshone Falls) claims to be the “Niagara of Idaho”.  As we approached it, we could see that the water flow was so minimal it looked more like a leaky faucet from the viewpoint, so we saved the entrance fee and kept rolling.  We are not sure if the water flow is influenced by dams and the release of water from those or if it is a seasonal thing.

Our overnight spot that evening was at a boat dock on the Snake River. We shared the lot with a classic American van lifer (single male/female, in this case male living in their van, usually with a dog for companionship), who come over to greet us and spent 20 minutes rambling about his travels around the country before making a hasty exit, without once asking where we were from or what our story was. It’s a strange American contradiction: incredibly sweet and friendly, but possessing the conversational curiosity of a goldfish.

While the boat dock parking/camping area was nothing spectacular and the neighbour didn’t offer much in terms of conversation it did have a few things going for it; the view across the river was decent, there was cellphone signal, it wasn’t dusty and it had a clean pit toilet.  With “all” this in mind, that evening we discussed staying for a couple of days but those plans quickly changed when some locals pulled in very late and proceeded to party until the early hours of the morning.  Given that it was heading into the weekend, we feared a repeat and over coffee the following morning looked on iOverlander for our next spot.

The research revealed that a little further north in the Sawtooth mountains are a number of natural hot springs along with many scenic roads to explore within the National Forest and of course loads of free camping opportunities.  With not too much distance to cover we decided on a following the back roads and meandered through pretty farmlands and small towns.  In one of these, Hagerman, Stuart spotted a sign for men’s haircuts at a reasonable price.   The door was locked but there was a sign requesting prospective clients to phone, which he did and 5 min later was seated and being asked how short he would like the cut?  He asked for it short and the lady did not disappoint!

Unfortunately for us, we hadn’t factored in that spring snowmelt increases the rivers water level and so the hot spring we had hoped to visit was in fact bubbling up underneath a cold and fast flowing river.  Nonetheless we did find a pretty campsite alongside the river and even got to have a couple of down days, once again without contact to the outside world.

We were camped in the Sun Valley and it was spring but the reality was it was still pretty chilly, so after a couple of days we set off on the backcountry forest roads in search of a warmer area and hopefully some cell signal. It wasn’t long before we encountered our first snow drifts across the road and with over 600m of climbing still ahead we knew it could only get worse and headed back down the valley and out to the main roads via the very pretty and fancy ski town of Ketchum.

Our plan was to find a sunny cove on the Anderson reservoir were we could soak up some rays and at the sometime connect to the outside world. Sadly we failed on both fronts but at least the spot we finally settled on was both pretty and peaceful and after taking a walk in the afternoon we found signal a kilometre or so up the road.   When we were bound to the corporate wheel, we were only too happy to go places that allowed us to digitally disconnect but these days the digital world is our way to stay connected and have interactions beyond just the two of us.

We were fairly certain that this lack of connectivity would only get worse as we headed north and into even less populated parts of the country and so made the decision to purchase a Starlink and “succumb to the dishy tribe”.  Now, we had the challenge of mounting a satellite dish to the roof of Mr. J without it looking like a science fair project.

After purchasing the Starlink at a Home Depot in Boise (pronounced Boy-See), we once again found ourselves camped on the Snake river, this time below the pretty Swan Falls Dam.  With once again no cell signal, it helped to ensure that we had no buyer’s remorse.

A few days on the river gave Stuart time to plan the mounting of the satellite dish, and so we packed up to head back into Boise and the Home Depot before heading out in the opposite direction past a couple of spectacular dams and reservoirs (remember the English lesson from the previous travel diary) for a couple of leisurely days camping on the Arrowrock reservoir where Stuart set about fabricating a mount that could lay flat when travelling but be tilted when stationary.

Once again we were in the Sawtooth mountains and hadn’t given up our hot spring dreams, so once the mount was made we headed off to checkout some options we had discovered by perusing google maps. The Loftus Hot springs looked like they were slightly above a river and so we hoped they would thus not be flooded. This took us via Twin Springs, population of 4 –  a true remote outpost!

This part of Idaho is just one giant backcountry playground made up of various national forests (Boise, Payette & Salmon-Challis) covering over 9 million acres. For two travellers looking to explore and take their time this means lots of dirt roads, spectacular scenery and semi 4×4 tracks to follow.  In early spring this also means not all routes may be open, which we discovered the one day when after 3 hours driving deep into the wilderness we found our path blocked by snow and ice necessitating a multi-point turn on steep mountain pass while being directed by the member of Mr. J crew that is petrified of heights.  That day after 5 hours driving we ended up only 5km from where we had started.

Realising that we were too early in the season for full access to the backcountry and that the route north would most likely be blocked by snow, we headed out of the wilderness area and joined the tar road going north via McCall.  Sadly this would be a day we would rather forget and will probably haunt us for many kilometres to come. A pickup truck tried to overtake us on a solid white line and hit an oncoming sedan head-on right next to Mr. J! It was horrific, not only for everybody involved but also for the 911 operator who answered Tania call and had to deal with a hyperventilating South African accent. 

Even though we had shrapnel flying over and into the windscreen, miraculously, Mr. J only sustained minor damage with a single piece of metal embedded in his rear left fender. While the occupants of the other cars involved were not so lucky and taken to the hospital, we were left shaken, realizing how quickly a “scenic drive” can turn into a tragedy.  Once Highway Patrol had taken our statements and opened the road, our only thought was to get off the roads and find a camp spot as soon as possible, which we found 20 minutes up the road in Riggins. We spent the next 5 days decompressing by the river, chatting with locals like Larry and Mike who were there to fish for Salmon over the Memorial Day weekend. Larry even gifted us a couple of Salmon fillets from his catch.

Over the next couple of weeks we wandered our way from one National forest camp spot to another in the Idaho panhandle until we reached the Canadian border and could go no further.

In early June, we hit the big leagues: Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks. Glacier was… well, “underwhelming” compared to the secret backroads we’d found earlier. It turns out that when people rave about “magnificence,” they often forget to mention the traffic jams.

Yellowstone was even more of a “Disneyland trail”. We spent 20 minutes in a traffic jam just to get into a parking lot, walk 200m to snap a photo of a waterfall, and leave. But the wildlife delivered and the geysers were spectacular.  We saw lots of Bison, a two-year-old Black Bear, and eventually, a mama bear with her cub.  At this stage we had decided the national parks are “spectacular but not special”.

As always we camped outside the parks on BLM land each night and then slipped into the parks during the day. On the east side of Yellowstone , we climbed high into the hills above Cooke City (another backcountry one horse town) were one of us (Tania) didn’t sleep a wink as a bear spent the night foraging around Mr. J and ripping apart a fallen down tree trunk in his search for grubs. 

In between our visits to Glacier and Yellowstone we had a couple of fun evenings and found pockets of wonderful community:

• The South African Connection: At a dam near Toston, we met Andrew, a seasonal farmworker from back home. Upon his invite, we ended up at a local bar playing pool with a group of SA farm boys—a much-needed dose of home. 
• The Tesla Truckers: In remote Polebridge, we spent hours chatting with an IT couple from India who were exploring Glacier NP in their “sci-fi” Tesla truck. 
• The Old Saloon: We traded the quiet of the forest for live country music and a night of partying in Emigrant. 

And in Bozeman, Mr. Jones once again stole the show when we went in search of a mechanic or lube shop that could do an oil change. After a frustrating morning stopping at many places and being turned away because he “is not on the computer” we eventually landed up at a very fancy Subaru dealership were the service manager was willing to go “old school” and just take our advice on what quantity oil and filter was required.   While they went off to purchase the filter, Mr. J sat in the service bay and drew the attention of every customer who had come to collect their car.   As a bonus Tania got to wander around the showroom floor and admire “Maverick”, the Subaru Crosstrek model she had fallen in love with during our wanderings – they are very common in this part of the world.  Sadly for her she possibly doesn’t qualify to own one, as urban legend and our own observations are that they are generally driven by single women who may have a preference for other women.

Montana & Wyoming are most definitely cowboy country. In Cody we camped at the Walmart so we could spend the night in town and go to the rodeo, definitely a sporting event different to anything else we have ever experienced. 

South of Yellowstone NP lies the Grand Teton mountain range and the Jackson Hole valley which includes the super chic town of, Jackson. It is a spectacular part of the world in summer but more famous for its location as an isolated wildlife and winter sports destination – 97% of the land is protected and only 3% available for private ownership.  

In recent times it has gained notoriety as the USA’s most wealthy county per capita and is now a “billionaire wilderness destination” with most real estate prices having risen above anything that can be afforded by a normal local and even making it extremely difficult for hospitality workers to find affordable accommodation.  A catch 22, that they have yet to figure out the solution too.  We parked Mr. Jones down a side street and wandered around town but as you can imagine didn’t pause for a bite to eat or to buy anything.

Despite it being the summer solstice, we were still experiencing cold temperatures and cold fronts, so when the temperatures dropped to 9DegC during the day we fled south across a Karoo like landscape to the Flaming Gorge reservoir on the border of Colorado.   Here we found a lovely private little cove to camp on along with some warmer weather.  It totally had a “white wine in the sun, with feet in the water vibe”; the perfect way to spend the last week of June.

For more insights into the months travels please follow the links below:

Desert Winds & Warm Welcomes: Our USA South West Sojourn

March 2024 was a month of unexpected turns, literal and figurative. We crossed into the USA on the 4th after a short, easy cruise to the border from our overnight stop in Santa Ana. The Nogales border post is a very busy crossing, given its close proximity to Tucson and the fact that many Mexicans cross the border daily to work and shop in the USA, so we were mentally prepared for a slow and possibly painful crossing.   In fact the opposite was true, on the Mexican side the road naturally channels into lanes divided by concrete barriers with nowhere to stop, which much to our trepidation means we never got stamped out of Mexico.  A number of travellers have subsequently told us, this is perfectly normal, so we trust and hope that we don’t encounter issues when we next return to Mexico.   The concrete lanes lead straight up to the USA controls where we were directed to join the X-ray lane so that Mr. Jones could be presumably scanned for hidden illicit items.  After that a friendly official showed us where to park for a physical inspection and the confiscation of a few food items we weren’t allowed to bring across the border, before guiding us into a building for passport control. 

 All in, the crossing probably took less than 30minutes and throughout the process we were met with nothing but friendliness.

Our first stop was to be the delightful Cactus Cottage, the home of our virtual friends, Brett & Yvonne.  They have also driven a Land Rover from South Africa through South America and have settled (for now) in Tucson.   18 months prior, in the South of Peru we had passed each in opposite directions on the main highway, spotted the ZA number plates and through some virtual sleuthing looked each other up. 

It felt like Christmas morning when we arrived; Yvonne had been kindly hoarding a mountain of Land Rover parts from the UK along with various Amazon orders for us, including our brand-new fridge. Later in the week the gathering got even more festive when more South African virtual friends, Graeme and Luisa Bell, joined the mix. The daylight hours were spent tackling much-needed repairs on the Landies, the evenings were a blur of laughter and swapping travel stories and enjoying a glass or two of “Franzia” around the fire.

After a fun and productive week, we were back on the road. Instead of the logical northern route, we doubled back south to the Mexico border to explore the Buenos Aires Wildlife Refuge. It felt incredible to be back in the “bush,” surrounded by golden grasslands and mountain vistas.

Graeme and Luisa had raved about this little reserve and it did not disappoint, with multiple free camping opportunities, some wildlife viewing and the possibility to drive right up the Mexico border and see for ourselves the very large and imposing border wall that was being built.  At the wall we had a long chat with two agents who were guarding a section not yet completed and before leaving they gifted us a “corporate” memento – a badge in a clear plastic sleeve.  To whom these get handed too and why, we did not establish.

The cruise along the border and wall brought us out at the frontier town of Sasabe, population of 9!  Unfortunately it wasn’t a Saturday otherwise we are sure we could have had  a very interesting afternoon in the bar.

As our journey took us through the Coronado National Forest, the dry grasslands gave way to wooded hills and deep valleys. We took it slow, covering less than 100km in a day, just to soak in the side tracks and wonderful vistas..

When heavy rain and freezing temperatures hit a few days later, we played tourist in the historic mining town of Bisbee, warming up with burgers and Mac n’ Cheese. We ended that day at a wild camp on the west side of Coronado, tucked off  Hunter Canyon road.

After a freezing night in the mountains where we saw a light dusting of snow and even ice rain, a tip from our friends (the Bells), led us to Hot Wells near Safford – the idea of hot pools in the middle of the desert was irresistible. We did get a bit lost in the final few kilometres and had some adventure on the way which meant Mr. Jones found himself on some 4WD tracks he wasn’t expecting, but he took it all in his stride. 

It had become apparent to us that we would most likely be doing lots of wild camping while in the USA, which meant we would be needing to use our shower setup.  The hot water geyser was a victim of the storage in Cancun which we had yet to replace, so after making another Amazon purchase for delivery to Brett & Yvonne we looped back to Tucson to install it along with a clutch master cylinder for Mr. Jones. They had new traveller friends visiting so this time around we shared the driveway camping space with a German couple. 

Once Mr. Jones was officially back in peak form, we hit the road and headed toward Saguaro National Park where we cruised up and over Gates Pass in order to check out the cacti that can live up to 150 years!  Saguaro NP doesn’t have any camping but just outside is a BLM area called IronWood Forest where we spent a couple of days soaking up the desert silence with only the occasional interruption, for the call of a coyote or the sound of an ATV passing in the distance.

One of the best parts of traveling through Arizona is the access to BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land. It allows for “free use” camping, which has led to some interesting encounters.  One truly memorable one, being one evening when a truly local yocal pulled up next to us in his lifted and pimped pickup (after nearly rolling it in the wash next to which we were camped), to warn us about border crossings, illegal immigrants and to advise us to keep our guns “locked and loaded”.

As we worked our way toward Phoenix, we took care of some “housekeeping” for Mr. Jones—new “takkies” (tyres) were ordered for fitment in town and  Stuart rebuilt Mr. Jones snorkel head which had thanks to rust fallen off on one of the rough desert tracks.

In Phoenix we met up with Tania niece and enjoyed some family time.

We ended the month on a stunning clifftop in Tonto National Forest. However, with a forecast of sub-zero temperatures at the Grand Canyon which is the direction we were trying to head in, we decided to backtrack south once more to the Hot Wells hot springs. We’d much rather have hot pools than cold feet!.

The beginning of April saw us crossing state lines and shifting landscapes at a dizzying pace. We found a stunning little camp area in the mountains outside Safford at the Gila Box River. From there, the drive through the Gila National Forest on the scenic 78 and 180 was breath-taking, including a stop at Catwalk Canyon, where the boardwalk engineering through the canyon walls is truly something to behold.

However, the road has its way of humbling you. By the time we reached Petrified Forest National Park, the lush juniper forests of New Mexico had given way to dry, flat grass plains. While the park was interesting, we found ourselves missing the inspiration of lesser-known places like Tonto Basin. We spent the night just outside the park, dwarfed by a sea of oversized RVs, a stark reminder of our more modest, agile setup.

Leaving the Petrified National Forest, we embraced the kitsch of Route 66, stopping at a few small towns along the way to wander around before taking the obligatory photo  “Standing on the Corner” in Winslow, Arizona—yes, just like the Eagles song. But the high was short-lived.

The drive along Interstate 40 to Flagstaff was tedious, and upon arrival, we spent the afternoon on a frustrating hunt for a tyre shop that could perform a wheel alignment on Mr. J. It turns out most modern computer systems don’t even recognize him as a vehicle option! We eventually got it done the next morning for a “flippin’ expensive” $115 at a shop that specialises in extreme suspension lifts for the oversized US pickups. So with the wheels straight, we were finally ready for the big one: the Grand Canyon. 

The South Rim of Grand Canyon is, as promised, awe-inspiring, but the sheer volume of people can be draining. After stopping at a number of viewpoints, we skipped the sunset shuttles to a “must see & photograph” viewpoint in favour of finding a quiet spot outside the park boundary to camp and enjoy a beer along with some peace.

That peace is often hard-won. We’ve learned that “pretty & free spots” often come with a catch—usually a lack of cell signal. After a “meltdown” over lost connectivity in the Kaibab National Forest (Grand Canyon BLM) and a beautiful but signal-free night in a canyon near Big Wash (BLM mid-way to Vegas), we realized just how much we rely on being “plugged in,” even when we’re trying to escape

At this point we were well and truly on the tourist route with Las Vegas up next but first we camped for a couple of nights on the shores of Lake Mead before joining the crowds marvelling at the engineering feat of Hoover Dam.  Americans are not usually well known for grammatically correct English but in this case they score 50%, by correctly calling the wall holding back the water a Dam but incorrectly calling the water body a lake instead of a reservoir.  South Africans on the otherhand probably score 0% for the distinction as we call both the wall and water behind it:  a dam.   An interesting piece of useless trivia, which we were forced to acquire after being confused over why the dam and lake had two different names.

Arriving in Las Vegas felt strangely significant. Mr. Jones has crossed the equator five times, been shipped twice across oceans and traversed multiple continents, yet driving down the Las Vegas Strip brought home exactly how far we’ve come from South Africa and so we couldn’t help ourselves but take a cruise down “The Strip” with Tania hopping out each time we got stopped at a traffic light to take a picture with Mr. Jones in the foreground of an iconic hotel or feature.  We traded the dust for a hotel room, enjoyed the luxury of an en-suite bathroom, sipped cocktails, and soaked up some live music. 

It was a necessary recharge before the “real” desert reclaimed us when another cold front with relentless wind and dust arrived. The reality of  free camping and “Van Life” in this environment is: 

• The Dust: Mr. J is constantly coated in a permanent indoor layer of it.
• The Hygiene: When it’s freezing and windy, outdoor showers are a non-starter or if taken are very brief. At one point, Tania went 10 days without being able to wash her hair.
• The Isolation: We spend days tucked into narrow, sandy tracks where only a 4×4 like ours could go—great for peace, but tough when you have zero cell signal.

Leaving Vegas and entering Utah brought a new set of challenges and wonders. We navigated the “State Liquor Store” laws to secure our wine and dodged 11-inch snowfalls in the higher elevations by hunkering down in the Beaver Dam Wash.

The National Parks here—Zion and Bryce Canyon—are spectacular, though Zion’s crowds made it difficult to truly soak up the grandeur unless we were deep on a trail. Bryce, however, stole our hearts; it felt even more special than the Grand Canyon.  As with all the previous national parks we camped (for free) within a few kilometres of the park boundary, this time on National Forest land, but here at least we could gather wood for fires and enjoy the silence without being buffeted by wind.

Southern Utah is packed with 5 National Parks, all renowned for their stunning and unique landscapes ranging from massive sandstone arches and deep canyons to colourful hoodoos but one thing they all seem to have in common is various tinges of red rocks, sometimes interspersed with some white.

Leaving Bryce Canyon we took the back roads to Escalante and past the Capitol Reef National park before heading in a North Westerly direction to Moab, which is bordered by the Arches and Canyonlands national parks.  

Moab is world renowned for its off-roading with many trails traversing through both the national park and the surrounding BLM land, probably nowhere else in the world will you find so many Polaris ATV and pickups with heavily modified and lifted suspension systems. Mr. Jones is a very capable off-road vehicle but as he is also our home we have no desire to do heavy off-roading with him but we did spend a very nice day exploring some trails bordering Canyonlands and navigating the switchbacks of Mineral Bottom road—similar to Sani Pass but a bit gentler.   The fun day on the trail ended even better when we found a “gem” of a campsite on smooth rock overlooking a small canyon. This meant no dust, clean feet, and because the wind wasn’t blowing we even opened the awning – heaven!

Our little rock campsite turned out to be an even bigger blessing when it rained overnight and turned much of the surrounding red dust into red mud. Stepping out of Mr. Jones in the morning into that would have tested our sense of humour!

To highlight the popularity of these National Parks, Arches has a timed entry system which means that you have to book in advance an hourly slot of when you will enter the park.  You then arrive at the gates just before your allocated entry time and join a queue of vehicles, 100+ long.  On the hour every hour they let this batch in and at the sometime hope a similar amount leave.  As with all the other parks, the scenery is spectacular (in this case various forms of sandstone arches) but the crowds are equally “spectacular” but despite this Arches will remain in our memories for years to come, thanks to two experiences.  Firstly, we met a young couple in the parking area of one of the main arches and spent a long time chatting, at the end of the conversation she gifted us two items: a yellow rubber duck (it’s a Jeep thing) and a guide book to all the off-road trails in the Moab region. The duck now adorns Mr. Jones dashboard which is appropriate seeing as in South Africa the registration papers classify him as a “jeep” and the book adorns a coffee table at home in South Africa.    The second experience that fondly resides in our memories is, stopping at a less famous arch area and taking a walk into a slot type canyon where there were a number of smaller arches, for once there weren’t many people and we could soak up the atmosphere and play with taking arty pictures without having to grab a gap when someone moved away after taking a selfie in front of whatever feature was behind them.

And that wraps up the two months we spent in the Southwest, it is beautiful, brutal, and breathtakingly big. 

For more insights into the months travels please follow the links below:

In South Africa, the period either side of New Years day is not really a considered a good time to be on the roads and while we couldn’t be sure the same applies in Mexico, we preferred to err on the side of caution and so after our peaceful New Years eve spent in a gas station/truck stop we hit the road for a short 2 hour hop up the coast to a formal campsite.  The drive was super easy and all on a very well-maintained dual carriage way which was a pleasant surprise especially seeing as there were no toll fees involved. Sadly, the campsite turned out to be a little rough around the edges and the beach environment also, with lots of cars and buggies streaming up and down it, partying and enjoying the start of the New Year. So, while we had hoped to stay a few days, we decided that evening to move, especially seeing as further up the coast was the promise of some nice surf and beaches.

If you look at a map of Mexico we were at the “narrow neck” between the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico, roughly only 200km separates the two oceans and in fact over the years a number of proposals have been touted to create an alternative logistics option to the Panama Canal by linking each side with large ports and railway.  Aside from an interesting bit of trivia, what this means is that at certain times of the year, the winds in this area can be quite strong and strong winds are generally not conducive to beach time or surfing.  We confirmed the wind issue when we moved on the following day and stopped at what would be an idyllic spot if it didn’t feel like Mr Jones was either going to be blown over or have his tent fabric ripped apart.  Under normal circumstances we would park Mr Jones facing into the wind so that when the roof is lifted it acts like a deflector but because the spot we stopped at had no electricity we needed to park in the direction that gave us maximum solar and that meant having our back to the wind which then presents a 4m high obstacle for the wind.  A restful night we did not have and naturally were on the move again the following morning.  

Third time is the charm, it seems, as after a 3-hour drive and for our 3rd night in Mexico since entering from Guatemala we found a nice spot in the little village of San Agustin.  It was super busy with many small tents crammed into and under a very large Palapa but the Dutch owners moved their vehicle out from its normal parking spot to make space for us.  As a bonus this was under a very high thatch roof giving us shade and keeping Mr Jones cool which was much appreciated, as Tania had picked up the cold/sore throat Stuart had had a few days prior and was looking like she may appreciate a few days in bed.

Over the next four days, we chilled, swam in the beautiful bay out front, did odd jobs on Mr J and recuperated.  Apart from recuperation, our 4 days in San Agustin allowed the New Year holiday period to finish which meant when we got back on the road we had relatively quiet roads for the 90-minute hop to Mazunte. Mazunte is very touristy little village which overall looked quite nice and reminded us a lot of Pipa in Brazil and after a bit of searching we did find a camping option but it didn’t have the nicest feel (interestingly similar to the place we stayed in at Pipa) and the surfing beach looked very mediocre and quite a substantial walk from the campsite. The campsite owner wasn’t around when we arrived and then took ages to respond to our WhatsApp messages, so not “feeling it”,  we decided to head further up the coast to a campsite called Casa Colibri which had plenty of positive reviews on iOverlander.

Stuart had been noticing a slight vibration in the brake pedal when slowing for Topes (speed bumps) over the last couple of driving days, it didn’t consistently happen but was enough to have him think that perhaps some grit had got stuck between the pads and discs when camped on the beach and in the wind, so while at Casa Colibri he removed the  wheels to inspect. Only to discover on the passenger front wheel a completely disintegrated brake pad!  Normally brake pads wear down at a steady rate but in this case the only thing left was the steel backing plate! 

What was very strange with this incident is you would expect for a terrible squealing noise to have been made when metal on metal contact was made by using the brakes or sharp veer to the one side as the metal “grabbed” the disc but the only warning sign we had had was a minor vibration in the brake pedal.  In the spares box was an old set of brake pads which we had previously removed before they had reached their end of life so replacing pads wasn’t such an issue but unfortunately because of the metal on metal contact the brake disc had been gouged quite badly and Stuart was concerned that, that roughness would rapidly destroy any replacement pads as well.

This dilemma and the solutions we tried to find and solve it, sent us down a rabbit hole that we hope never to go down again.  Our detailed frustrations can be read about in the Captains Log entries for 10 through 31 January 2025.  

In summary;

• We tried to find a place that could skim the damaged disc (and failed)
• ordered replacement brakes and a whole new hub/disc assembly from the UK and after 2,5 very frustrating weeks weren’t able to get them through Mexican customs
• Informed Mexican customs that we reject the delivery and requested that they return the goods to the UK, 
• received new brake pads from fellow South Africans (we have been virtua friends for years but yet to physically meet) who live in Mexico.  They kindly couriered them to us and refused payment for them, we definitely owe them a few bottles of wine when (and if) we ever meet physically.

So, after an extremely frustrating 3 weeks we got back on the road with the intention of being “light” on the brakes for the approximate 3000km it would take us to get to the USA where we knew it would be easier to import the parts.  Anybody who has ever driven in rural Mexico will know that being “light” on the brakes is an extremely difficult task considering all the unmarked topes (speed bumps) that dot the roads and can easily catch you unawares.

After only 2 days on the road we encountered our next mechanical challenge, the house battery “load shed” us while we were showering in the dark which confirmed what we had been fearing for a little while – the battery was kaput!  Its demise had most likely been hastened by our “Mexican/boer maak a plan” repairs to the fridge a few months prior.  

Fortunately, we were just south of Acapulco which apart from being famous for its fearless cliff divers is also a large city and meant we should hopefully be able to source a new Deep or High Cycle battery.  Unfortunately for us our arrival in town coincided with a public holiday and then when everything reopened nobody had stock of the type of battery we required meaning one would have to be ordered from the factory on the other side of Mexico.

With 4 days to kill we put the time to good use trying to hunt down a place to refill our cooking gas bottle and exploring the roads hugging the seaside cliffs that parts of Acapulco cling to and from which the famous divers jump.

As if we had not had enough challenges to deal with over the last weeks, when the battery arrived, it had different size terminals to our current one which meant Stuart had to spend sometime outside the battery shop enlarging the holes on some of Mr J wiring lugs and redoing some of the wiring.  At this point we didn’t even get frustrated but in hindsight it is amazing both of us kept it together and stayed calm.

Tania got to “enjoy” her birthday with a 4 hour drive as we left Acapulco and headed north but it was well worth it as we stopped at a very very nice RV park called Casa Rayo de Sol (House of Sun Rays).   It was largely occupied by Quebecan’s who come down to Mexico with their large RV’s to escape the long and cold Canadian winters and had a stunning deck and facilities overlooking a big beach which even appeared to have some surfing potential.  Stuart did get his boards out and try but wasn’t really successful so instead over the course of the next week we enjoyed a number of nice walks on the beach, chilling and reading in the shaded deck area and even had a meal out at local restaurant to celebrate another year around the sun for Tania.

At the end of each driving day Stuart would remove the front wheel and inspect the brake pads which so far hadn’t shown any signs of significant wear.  We had done over 700km since discovering the issue and were starting to feel confident that we wouldn’t have any major problems.  We might even be able to start braking harder for topes instead of coasting up to them. 

Only an hour north of Casa Rayo de Sol was a fairly well-known surf spot called Punta Saladita, it is very much a soft longboard wave but in many ways was perfect for getting back on the board after a relatively long absence.   The campsite was also the total opposite to what we had just been in with very basic facilities and a totally different crowd as it was filled with foreign backpackers looking to live the surfer bum lifestyle, but in many ways as equally nice and we really enjoyed our stay there.  If it hadn’t been for the fact they were going to hold a trance party, we may have stayed a few more than the four we did spend there. 

All was not lost though (from a surfing perspective) as the next section of the coastline had a number of possible destinations for us to visit and next up was Rio Nexpa, a supposedly world-class lefthand river mouth break.  If we had thought the campsite at Punta Saladita was a bit scruffy then Rio Nexpa took it to a whole new level: very beaten up RVs, vans and tents whose North American occupants looked they had taken up long term squatting rights.  Add to that, was the “bathrooms” which consisted of two toilets sharing the same cubicle without a door meant we very quickly decided it was to be a one nighter stop only.  In the morning Stuart grabbed a quick surf before we hit the road for a very scenic drive along the sea cliffs that line much of this coast to another renowned spot call La Ticla.

La Ticla is truly a one-horse town and the surfers probably outnumber the local population but in contrast to Rio Nexpa, it had (for us) a far nicer vibe.  Once again it was full of mostly North Americans who come down to escape their winter and many will spend a whole 6 months camped under a palapa, surfing and eating tacos.   The main road that leads down the hill through town pretty much leads you straight into one of the two camping options and that is where we stopped.   The camping spot was called Camping Rio (River camping) as it borders on the estuary that passes by.  For a little while, after driving in we stood around like proverbial lost f@$rts as there didn’t appear to be anybody to help, until some surfers emerged from their hammocks (it was afternoon and they had been surfing all morning), they found us a spot to park and told us the owner would be around most likely that evening – we spent 8 nights there and when we left, we had yet to meet the owner and so left camping fees with one of the long term surfer residents to pass along when the owner did come around eventually.  Such was the relaxed nature of the campsite and town.   

The surfing was pretty good, even if a bit daunting as it breaks over a large pebble/rock bed which made getting in and out of the water quite a challenge as the waves would roll up the beach and set all the stones off like marbles so it was inevitable that every now and then you would get an ankle or foot bruising if you didn’t get your timing right.

Our 8 days at La Ticla passed by pretty quickly with a simple rhythm of; Stuart surfing early, then chilling in our hammocks and chatting with fellow campers before making the short 100m walk to the beach in the afternoon to watch surfers and enjoy sundown drinks.  Supper would be had at home or at one of the family run sidewalk style eateries that were dotted around town and provided a variety of cheap but tasty Mexican food to the surfers.  The food was so good and such good value that most of the campers didn’t ever cook for themselves.

We still had a long way to go (2000+km) before reaching the USA but from what we could determine, apart from a few soulless tourist towns (filled with condominiums) there wasn’t much to stop for, especially seeing as much of the route passed through some parts of the country that don’t have the best reputation for safety and so our last 5 days in Mexico were largely long driving days as we headed north.

Despite it being a very trying period in terms of challenges with MR Jones, overall we enjoyed our time in Mexico but were equally looking forward to exploring the USA, especially seeing as for the first time in 3 years of travelling we would be in an English speaking country.

For more insights into the months travels please follow the links below:

While we had enjoyed our brief foray across Belize and were looking forward to Guatemala, the exit from Belize and entry into Guatemala was a day best forgotten. The first surprise was a fairly hefty “exit tax” from Belize which supposedly goes towards their conservation efforts but it did leave us feeling a little bit taken advantage of.  The Guatemala side of the border was really tiny for vehicle traffic (we think most people cross it on foot) and while reversing backwards, in the chaos, Stuart bumped into a rather solid pole! Initially he thought there was no major damage (but unbeknown to him and which Tania decided to keep quiet about in order to not raise stress levels further, the gas bottle had taken the brunt of the pole and pushed in Mr. Jones aluminium panel behind it.  Stuart only noticed this a few days later and fortunately while it is not ideal to have curved piece of “wall” behind the bottle it is not the end of the world and more importantly the actual gas bottle did not get damaged.

In general, since leaving Africa, border crossings have been quite easy and in reality the entry into Guatemala was also, although it did have one annoying requirement – you needed to provide photocopies of vehicle papers and passports with the entry stamp in them before the Aduana (customs) would process the vehicle and to do this you had to go outside to a specific store and pay for them there.  On its own this would be annoying but not that annoying however the fact that there was brand new machine in the Aduana office, directly behind the official responsible, which wasn’t being used did make it so…

About 90 minutes from the border is the world-famous Mayan pyramids called Tikal.  We had seen other similar pyramids already in Mexico but Tikal is special in that you can camp inside the park with a good chance of seeing Howler monkeys and other jungle wildlife. Additionaly being inside the park allows for witnessing mystical sunrises over the jungle from atop the pyramids befire the general tourists arrive.   Sadly, for us, we discovered upon arrival at the gates that despite it being a major tourist attraction, they do not accept credit cards at the entry gate and as we had not been be able to draw any Guatemalan Quetzels at the ATM’s in the border town we had to turn around and give that tourist attraction a miss.   At the time it seemed bizarre to us that they had no credit card facilities. And was obviously very frustrating, but in hindsight most visitors will arrive on organised tours where the tour company has already bought tickets/has a concession etc.

Sixty minutes from Tikal is the lakeside town of Flores, which we arrived at in the late afternoon with just enough time to source a local SIM card for our hotspot phone and to take a meander around the pretty island of Flores.  Camp for the night was in the parking lot of the local police station, perhaps not so glamorous or pretty but nice and secure.

The next tourist attraction we hoped to visit was Semuc Champey which on paper was only 300km from Flores but as we quickly discovered would be a long journey of over 8 hours (broken over 2 days) thanks to the very slow roads through the mountains made worse by the multitude of tumelo (vicious speed bumps) each village has. The attraction of Semuc Champey is this picturesque turquoise river that flows over multiple limestone rock cascades and pools.  After the journey there, we were quite tired and so instead of rushing off and trying to photograph the spectacle that afternoon, we settled into the only camp option available (the back of the local kiosk/shebeen).  This would prove to be a mistake for two reasons, firstly some local tour guides where clearly feeling well off from the days earnings and spent the better part of the afternoon drinking, puking and repeating only 20m from where we were camped and then secondly bad weather rolled in, it rained all evening and misty conditions greeted us the following morning meaning no sunshine to create the spectacular turquoise effect.   With the prospect of slippery paths to access the pools and no real picture postcard opportunities we cut our losses, packed up and started the long haul out of the valley.

So far Guatemala and its tourist attractions had done little to impress us but we had high hopes for the town of Antigua where we headed next. Antigua is renowned for having retained its colonial architecture and feel but for us it also offered the opportunity to visit a Landy mechanic, who has a very good reputation amongst PanAm travellers.  As we had no contact details for him other than an iOverlander pin location, our first stop on arrival in town was to visit his premises in the hope that we would be able to secure an appointment within the next few days.  To our disappointment he told us he would only be able to help us in a week’s time as he was very busy preparing his regular customers vehicles for the Land Rover show Antigua was hosting that coming weekend and to which he invited us as well.

As mentioned already, Antigua has done a great job of retaining its colonial charm and architecture with two of probably the most classic examples being the McDonalds and Starbucks outlets.  In almost anywhere else in the world, these would be housed in modern fast food buildings with big logos to identify them whereas in Antigua they are quietly located behind an old traditional facade and if you did not know about them you would easily walk right past. We are not fans of either outlet but Tania had read about how beautiful each one was and so naturally we went in search of them – they certainly did not disappoint in appearance or atmosphere inside.

Initially we had chosen a campsite on the side of town closer to the market area and main square but after a couple of days we decided to move to another that looked like it was further from the main part of town but warm showers versus warm ones and free wifi available convinced us to move.  Also, we had already walked and seen most of the main parts of town so weren’t concerned about being a little further away while we passed away the time until our mechanic appointment.  This decision turned out to be one of our best in a long time, as at the new campsite, over the course of the next few days we got to meet a fantastic bunch of other overlanders (something that we hadn’t had for ages).  

When we had first set out on this journey we had had the idea that we would often be meeting overlanders and making lots of new friends, the reality has mostly been quite different in that you don’t meet as many travellers as one might imagine and then as in normal life, not everybody “is your cup of tea”.  So, while over the years we have made a few good friends, it has been a lot less than we imagined.  In the camp was Christian from Switzerland (travelling solo in a Land Rover and who had been “stuck” in Belize/Guatemala for a while), Debbie & Miguel from the USA (just starting out on their PanAm adventure) and Linda & Christof (winding up their one and bit year trip through North America and Mexico).  Many an afternoon and evening, was spent laughing and sharing meals as we all got to know each other.

On the weekend, ourselves and Christian rolled along in a huge convoy through town to the Land Rover show where a special section had been setup for the international guests.  Also there was Brazilian lady travelling solo in her Land Rover, who after her husband had passed away just before their trip was due to start and despite zero mechanical knowledge, decided to continue their dream on her own.

After the weekend we spent a day with Will the mechanic, flushing the power steering system and replacing a few items (heater matrix/radiator and suspension bushes) which we had brought back to Mr Jones when we flew from the UK a month prior.  After hanging around in Antigua we would have typically moved on but thanks to the initiative of Linda & Christof they had convinced us all to join them on a “slack pack” tour up a Volcano to witness the regular eruptions of its neighbour “Fuego”.  Fuego (fire) is one of the worlds most active volcanoes with 3 – 4  eruptions occuring per hour. 

Typically, most peoples trip to view Fuego involves a 2 day hike up (and down) Volcano Acatenango to a base camp which consists of a few A Frame huts perched on the side facing Fuego, then for the really energetic they set off in the evening for a few extra hours of walking to get closer to the action on Fuego.  Naturally the second stage is not recommended due to the enhanced danger but this doesn’t seem to deter many.   Linda and Christof had found a tour company that cut out the hike up and down the volcano by providing a lift in a 4×4 for what was really not a significantly higher price.  This 4×4 ride got you to within a few kilometres walk of the A-frame base camp shelters with a perfect (and safe) view across to Fuego.  In theory it is possible to buy a permit and take your own 4×4 up to the trailhead which might for a brief moment have been appealing to the two Landy drivers in the group but that appeal disappeared within minutes of being on the trail when we got to experience the sheer steepness and slipperiness of the terrain.  The ride up the volcano took around 45 minutes and was as wild as any rollercoaster ride.

The basecamps are literally cut into the side of the volcano and with steep slopes and drop offs all around was definitely not Tania’s idea of a great overnight spot but her fears vanished quite quickly once she had a comfy seat and lots of blankets for the magnificent display that took place just a little way away, each time Fuego erupted.

After a simple but tasty supper prepared by the guides, all 7 of us retired to an A-Frame for a surprisingly cosy and good sleep with no snoring to disturb it.  Of course, the lack of audible snoring could just have been due everyone having their heads under the blankets to keep warm.

Christmas was approaching and because all of us had the intention of visiting Lago Atitlan, after our volcano adventure we collaboratly picked a spot on the lake that sounded quite nice and in probably what was a first for all of us contacted the owner, in advance, to find out if he had space for our group which he did have.  Although we were all going to the same location, it wasn’t to be a convoy journey (which suited us just fine) but thankfully the two vans did decide to travel in convoy as Miguel & Debbie had a rather scary experience on the final descents to the lake.   The roads for this section are very very steep for quite long periods and after our “brake failure” incidents in Ecuador, Stuart decided when faced with them to descend in low range despite it all being on tar.  Miguel in his van did not have this option and at one point lost all braking and ended up running off into a ditch!  Thankfully Christof and Linda were right behind him and could assist with both getting out of the ditch and attaching a tow strap between their vans to provide braking assistance for the remainder of the trip down to the lake – with adrenaline pumping through the veins they both eventually arrived at camp.  That night was a slightly rowdier than normal affair as the relief of having survived a potentially life ending scenario was released, much to the chagrin of some young pretentious yoga bunnies staying in a chalet nearby, even though it was only 21:30. It should be noted that we all dispersed and were in bed very quickly after that but matters were made worse when an email was sent to the owner stating that we had partied until midnight and left refuse everywhere.  (It is rather judgemental of us to make such a statement but it is rather amusing (for us) how sometimes those that walk around appearing to be totally at peace with the universe are the least at peace or tolerant of others or influences that might invade, and thus takeaway, from their peaceful state). Sadly, this incident left a rather bitter taste in everyone’s mouths and a desire to leave immediately but with the state of Miguel’s brakes this wasn’t feasible which actually turned into a blessing as 2 days later the yoga bunnies left and we got to spend a fantastic 11 days on the lake.

There are many touristy villages scattered around the lake, most of which are accessed via water taxis but first priority was to find a solution for the Miguels brakes.  Fortunately for Miguel & Debbie, this incident had happened while travelling with two Land Rover owners which meant there was some very well stocked toolkits on hand and a reasonable amount of experience to lean on for help and advice.  On the first day Miguel & Debbie caught a water taxi to a slightly bigger town nearby in order to buy brake fluid as Stuart was convinced (based on our Ecuador experience) that the fluid had boiled and that a full flush would probably resolve the problem. On the second day, the boys set about flushing the system but very quickly a new challenge appeared – while attempting to open the one calliper bleed nipple, Miguel snapped the bolt.  After removing the whole calliper, Stuart and Miguel set off (by land this time) to find a mechanic who might be able to remove the snapped one.  A trip across 3 villages, a number of mountain passes and only 20km involved 7 different tuktuk rides, a lift on the back of a collectivo pickup and finally a brief but scary ride in a chicken bus before they were back in camp. 

Once the brakes were fixed, the group fell into Christian’s hands who (from previous trips) had already spent quite sometime in the area, to act as our guide. Over the course of couple of days we visited the colourful towns of San Juan and San Pedro.  Each time this involved flagging down a water taxi from the dock below camp as they passed by and then when leaving the opposite village hopping on a water taxi that plied the section of the lake our camp was on.  In the mornings the lake is quite calm but in the afternoon the winds pick up and along with that the waves, which can make for a very bumpy ride back home, especially if you get a water taxi driver who is a bit cavalier about the waves and his speed, as we did on the one trip – so much so that Christof noticed a crack developing in the hull under his foot during that crossing.

Christmas Eve and day were low key affairs with us getting together as a group to enjoy a sampling of food from each others fridge, while in between catching up with family from around the world. 

On Boxing Day, everyone set off to continue their journeys, for Christof & Linda that meant making a quick run to Veracruz (Mexico) as their 18 month trip had come to an end and they had a shipping date for their van, Christian would be heading to the Caribbean side of Guatemala to continue a volunteer work project and Miguel & Debbie would be venturing south with the whole of the “PanAm highway” to explore.  We headed to the Pacific coast for what Stuart was hoping would be a fun week or so of surfing.

Unlike it’s southern neighbour (El Salvador), Guatemala is not really known as a surfing destination but it does have one beach break where surfing takes place called El Paredon and so that is where we headed.

Camping options were almost non-existent in town but we did find one low key spot that allowed camping in it’s parking area but unfortunately could only stay 3 days as they had been fully booked out for the New Year period.   We weren’t entirely unhappy about this, as they were located only 50m from a huge stage that was busy being assembled for the New Year’s party.   Also, as it turned out, the surfing wasn’t spectacular and so a few sessions were enough to satisfy Stuart at this surf break.

In our minds we felt that it would be better to cross into Mexico after the New Year holiday period and so on leaving El Paredon we initially went to the next village about 50km up the coast as Stuart had read that some people had surfed there too. However, upon arrival we did not like the feel of the place and once we saw how dirty and unkempt the only possible camping spot was, we made a quick decision to rather just turn north and head closer to the border.  If we got close enough then we felt we would be able to cross relatively early on the 31st.

The problem with plans is they often they go awry!  In our case this was when we tried to pack up on the morning of the 31st only to discover that we had “lost” all of Mr Jones house electrics, which we might have been able to ignore if not for the fact that we needed power in order to lower the linear actuators that raise Mr Jones roof.  Two hours of problem solving later and we were headed for the border.

The exit from Guatemala was painless and quick but the entry into Mexico was not so.   During the course of 2024, we entered Mexico 3 times (twice by air and this time via land) and each time we have had the rather uneasy feeling that we may get denied entry or have hassles.  In all cases there has been uncertainty by the customs official whether we require a visa or not (we don’t as we have an American visa which Mexico considers satisfactory) and in the case of this crossing they were uncertain if Mr Jones was allowed to enter (despite him having been allowed entry when we shipped him from Colombia).  In the end and after a fairly lengthy process, we were let in as was Mr Jones.  Border areas and towns are usually quite chaotic and perhaps a bit sketchy so we try and not stay around them, this one in particular has bad reputation as it on the main illegal migrant route from central to North America and so despite it having been a relatively long day we put our heads down for another 2 hours of driving. 

Our first night in Mexico and New Years Eve 2024 was spent in a random gas station/truck stop – just as we had done for NYE 2022 while in the Patagonian Steppes of Argentina.

For more insights into the months travels please follow the links below:

Our last travel diary ended with us parking Mr Jones just outside Cancun so that we could take a holiday from travelling and return home to South Africa.  Our plan for that holiday was to catchup with family and friends in Johannesburg and Durban before taking a leisurely drive, over a couple of months, down the east coast to Cape Town. Along the way we planned to start checking out possible lifestyle villages in the various towns along the way and therefore identifying possible places we might like to eventually purchase a retirement home.

That plan didn’t last very long, firstly family circumstances resulted in us staying stationary longer than we thought we would and then when we did take an AirBnB in Tania’s old home town we stumbled across a lifestyle village that really piqued our interest and in a pretty spontaneous decision landed up buying a home there.   Thus, the last 6 weeks of our holiday become a rather hectic (but fun) rush of moving into our new home, decorating it, rapidly integrating into the community, entertaining and accommodating friends and family before locking everything up and starting the trip back to Mr Jones.

When we had taken the decision to fly home for a holiday back in June 2024, we had always had a timeline on that holiday as we wanted to be able to spend our sons 30th birthday with him somewhere in either Europe or the UK where he lives.  So, the middle of October saw us flying to the UK for a wonderful 2 weeks celebrating the umfaan’s birthday. We hadn’t physically spent time together for nearly 3 years so those 2 weeks with him and his girlfriend flew by and before we knew it, it was time to board our flights to Mexico.

Arriving in a hot and humid Cancun from a chilly UK was a serious shock to the system and right from the moment we opened Mr Jones doors it got off to a rocky start!  While we had been away the Caribbean region had experienced an above-average Hurricane season (including Beryl which rolled right over Mr Jones parking place), which meant even higher than the already high humidity levels and we were greeted with mould all over the interior of Mr Jones.  We had left multiple moisture absorber containers in him and they were all full with absorbed water but clearly, they had stood no real chance of winning the battle.

In addition, the heat & humidity while we were away had done a real number on so many items, the actual list is rather long but some of the lowlights are (some we discovered immediately and some over the course of the next week):

• a clutch pedal that refuses to spring back
• A fridge and freezer that is not cooling 
• A hole in our exhaust
• Rust in more places than we care to think about
• Car radio not switching on
• Reverse camera not switching on
• Our 12v to 220v inverter not working
• Newly purchased shower hose leaking like a sieve
• Fans above bed not switching on (an essential device when it is so hot and humid)
• Interior of roof box and everything in it very very damp
• Air compressor hose perished in places and thus leaking
• Secondary solar panel regulator not accepting charge from the panel
• Multiple leaks in our internal “house” water system
• Loose hose clamps on pipes leading to diesel filter
• Power steering system felt very clunky

However, on our first day back, the most critical item was a very flat starter battery that needed replacing.  The storage place owner had informed us of this, just before our departure from South Africa, and we had sent him money to source a new one but through a comedy of errors on his side this had not happened and so on our first morning back, he and Stuart headed off into Cancun to purchase one.

Where we had stored Mr Jones, while being a “formal” overland vehicle storage place was in reality nothing more than a clearing in the jungle where the Canadian owner “squatted” and therefore not somewhere we really wanted to hang around at, but thanks to the starter battery issue we were forced to spend an extra night there.  It was on this second night, after spending a hot and sweaty day shopping and then swapping out batteries that Stuart when attempting to take a shower (in our shower cubicle) discovered that the shower hose we had purchased only a few months prior had perished to such an extent that it had more holes than a pin cushion.  It is highly likely that if he could have climbed on a plane right there and then he would have returned to South Africa.

While a functioning starter battery is critical, the other item which we might consider even more critical (cold beer, wine and nice food are essential) is our fridge/freezer and so with the battery replaced we headed into Cancun the following morning hoping to find a fridge repair technician or shop (google had given us some ideas) but at this stage we were not feeling too optimistic.  The reason for our lack of optimism being that this kind of fridge/freezer is quite specialised for the application and not commonly seen in these parts of the world so while there are most definitely people around who repair fridges we were not sure if they would know how to handle one that operates off 12v.  After a couple of stops at shops that supply parts we had a number to call but as luck would have it this person was away on holiday so instead we turned our attention to getting the exhaust repaired and finding somewhere to camp.

Tania did a great job of finding a campsite which had a pool and more importantly a super helpful owner.  Upon hearing of our fridge issues, he took it upon himself to source somebody who not only could be trusted but would also come out to the campsite and assess the work required.  We were all hoping that it would only need a re-gassing of the system.

A fantastic campsite to hang out in while attemting to repair the fridge

It took a few days for Alfredo to source a fridge technician and then they had to come to come out to Mr Jones a further 4 times over the course of a week until we all decided no more fixes could be made.   In the process of this week, Stuart learnt a lot about how these fridges work and thanks to the persistence of the technician we ended up with a fridge that “kind of” works.  For a full breakdown of everything that was ripped out and replaced refer to the Captains log entries for 12 – 18 November.    The total cost for all this effort, only ZAR2k. “Kind of worked” meant that the one compartment cools to around 4DegC and the other to just below 20DegC but in order to do this the motor runs almost 24/7, which is not ideal for living off grid when dependent on solar but in our eyes is better than attempting to keep food cold and fresh via bags of ice which would need to be replaced every couple of days, if one could even source them. It does, however, mean our travel style would need to change until we are able to source a replacement unit which would most likely only be when we get to the USA.

When we encounter issues and delays, Tania is often quick to point out that “everything happens for a reason” and in this case it meant we did not get caught in the path of Tropical Storm Sara which had swept across Belize and the border region with Mexico and brought with it strong winds and excessive rainfall.  Fourteen days after landing in Cancun we finally hit the road towards Belize.    We had traveled this route fairly quickly in June when we had, had to go to the Belize border in order to cancel Mr Jones Mexico TIP before flying home, so for variety, this time we decided to try and visit some spots along the coast however as we quickly discovered, Sara had left a lot of debris on the beaches and the water was an unattractive brown instead of the postcard worthy aquamarine that is typically found along the Caribbean so we didn’t linger long before crossing over into Belize.

We had no idea what to expect in Belize other than it is one of only 2 English speaking countries in the entire Latin America but our first impressions were very good; firstly it was great to be able to speak English (even if the English is more Caribbean creole sounding and therefore not so easy to understand at times) and thus have proper interactions with people, the people also came across as very friendly and welcoming, although that may simply be helped, by being able to speak the some common language.  The country itself appears very rustic and has a bit of a Caribbean island feel with simple houses (mostly on stilts), painted in a variety of colourful colours, surrounded by large lawns and big trees.

Most tourists to Belize go there for its Caribbean islands and the diving and fishing associated with that, as visiting these islands was not on our agenda or within our budget our general plan was to do a circumnavigation around the country before moving on to Guatemala.  In reality and because it only has one vehicle border post with Guatemala this would mean, rather a trip along the coast before backtracking a bit and cutting across the centre of the country to this border post.

This planned route might sound quite grand and long but as the country is rather small we actually only spent 8 days there in total.  If we had a properly functioning fridge it may have been a little longer as there appeared to be some nice national forest areas with undeveloped camping options that we could have also visited but for now that is not viable.  

After that week we couldn’t help but draw comparisons to another small country we quite enjoyed and are fond of, Uruguay.  Apart from the different climate and vegetation, the similarities were remarkable: super friendly people, very expensive shops (and not really well stocked), most people appear quite poor and live in basic housing apart from in the popular expat areas where you could be mistaken for thinking you were in Florida.  As with Uruguay while everything is often old and quite simple it always appears well organised and very clean.

And that wraps up our first month back on the road, for more insights please follow the links below:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr Jones home for the next 4,5 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Camplife @ La Calera, Bogota

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasta Luego South America.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jose & his family plus tooth extraction time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Muito Obrigado Brazil.

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