Yarema's Latin American Journey: desert

It began in the Avenue of Volcanoes in Ecuador. I met a lad named Tom at a mountaineering base camp near Volcán Cotopaxi who sought the same types of adventures as I. I easily convinced him to join me in my search for a cargo ship headed deep into the Amazon Basin, and that is when the dream of a road trip to Patagonia was born.

We were sitting in a bus terminal in Quito looking at a map of South America. The lack of ground I had covered in South America over six weeks, coupled with dwindling funds, had crushed my plan to explore Patagonia. But that didn't stop me from dreaming about it. We were discussing theoretical routes that we could take to Patagonia when it suddenly became a real possibility - if Tom decided to bail on his plans of travelling to the Gallapagos Islands and Rapa Nui, and I would commit to splitting fuel costs, buying a vehicle for a road trip to Patagonia would be feasible.

Less than two weeks later we were surfing the web in Starbucks in Lima, Peru researching how, if possible, a foreigner can buy a vehicle to drive to Patagonia. After verifying that it was possible, we hired a guy to drive us around the city and help us out with the logistics, Eddie. Not only did he help us with finding the right vehicle and dealing with the legal stuff, he invited us to stay with him and his family for a couple of nights. This road trip would not have been possible without him.

Car purchase dilemmas in Lima, Peru

Outfitting the '84 Toyota Landcruiser for a Patagonia road trip

We settled on a 1984 Toyota Landcruiser. It was a beauty, equipped with a gasoline and propane powered carbureted engine, manual transmission, four wheel drive, and bench seats but no airbags. It had its quirks that we would learn along the road, but we thought it'd be sufficient to deal with whatever we encountered on our journey to Patagonia.

Below are excerpts from my journal during the road trip to Patagonia:

Day 1

"After a long week in Lima, Tom and I have finally hit the road and are headed Sur. Can't express how stoked I am to be actually driving to Patagonia. I've dreamt of exploring these desolate and extreme landscapes for as long as I can remember..."

Panamerican highway, Peru

Day 2

"Breathtaking views cruising along the Panamerican Highway on Peru's Southern Pacific Coast. We're averaging 50 km/h in our thirty year old Landcruiser, but happy to be moving forward..."

Pepé and I

"First mechanical problem with the truck today. The carbureted engine cannot adjust for the thinner air at higher elevations as we climb to Arequipa. We give her some TLC and keep trudging along in a lower gear at higher RPMs."

She definitely doesn't like high altitude

"We were worried about armed, highway-side robberies driving at night, but turns out protests and riots are more concerning. Crowds of people in the small pueblos are blocking the streets, blocking traffic. Rumours hold that they've been throwing Molotov Cocktails at tourist buses, lighting cars on fire and spreading innards of dogs at the entrances to towns. Riot police are at standby."

Protests in Peru

Riot police on standby

"No better way to learn than by trial under fire. After dropping off a couple of hitch-hikers in Arequipa, it was my first shift driving the Landcruiser. But I had limited experience with a manual transmission in the best of conditions... Now it was dark, I would have to negotiate numerous switchbacks climbing and descending the mountains, and would have to watch for attempts at highway-side robberies. My last piece of advice driving stick in the mountains before Tom went to sleep was, 'If there's an unofficial road-block, throw it into second and let them think you're coming to a stop, then, at the last minute, line-up the headlight with the tire of the car in your way and give 'er.'"

Day 3

"Driving through the driest desert in the world, the Atacama desert in Northern Chile... Running out of both GLP [propane] and gasoline. Questionable whether we're going to make it to the next gas station."

The driest desert in the world, the Atacama desert in Chile

"Just made it to the closest pueblo and filled both the tank and one extra fuel can. With gas costing about $2 US a litre, we're thanking the lord we picked up a couple hitch-hikers at the border of Chile."

Strapping a couple of extra fuel cans to the roof

"Starting to realize that we grossly underestimated this road trip. Bought a Landcruiser because it was really fucking cool, and now we're paying the price. It maxes out at 90 km/hour, so we'll be trudging along slowly. It also consumes so much fuel - it is so inefficient - that a full tank of gas won't take us to the next gas station in this desert. Consequently, it is going to take longer to get to Patagonia, and it is going to cost a fortune, more than I can likely afford... But that's the price of a once in a life-time experience, and I wouldn't want to do it any other way."

Day 4

"We've been travelling for nearly forty hours straight. Tom and I are making a push for Mendoza, Argentina after dropping off our hitch-hikers in Santiago. It looks like I'll have the night shift again tonight. Looking forward to the peacefulness and solidarity on the Panamamericana, which has surprisingly little traffic even during the day. Just me and the road..."

Stars above the Panamerican Highway in the Andes at the Chilean - Argentinian border

La Guajira has a reputation akin to that of the Wild West of the United States. It was earned by the Wayuu who were unique among the indigenous groups of Colombia for having used horses and firearms to ward off the Spaniards in the 1700s. The northernmost point of South America, La Guajira Peninsula has for one reason or another remained off the well-beaten gringo trail. All I knew was that it was remote, the land arid and the views breathtaking. And with that, I was determined to see it for myself.

La Guajira is outlined in pink. The journey from Santa Marta (A), through Riohacha (B) and Uribia (C), to the fishing town of Cabo de la Vela (D).

On January 31^stI set out for Cabo de la Vela on the western coast of La Guajira Peninsula. Its 'Wild West'-like nature began to present itself during the bus ride from Santa Marta to Riohacha, the capital of La Guajira. As we approached Riohacha, cactus-studded plains replaced the jungle-covered mountains of the Sierra Nevada; tanks and soldiers were stationed along the road more and more frequently; and smuggled Venezuelan gas was sold for cheap all along the roadside. From Riohacha I had to take a colectivo to Uribia as no public buses ran further north. There I was immediately swarmed by what must have been half a dozen locals who were grabbing me by the arms and backpack, each hoping that he would have the opportunity to overcharge me for a ride to Cabo - i.e. to reap the benefits of the gringo tax. After fighting off the locals, relieved to find my wallet and camera still in my pockets, I chose a truck and waited as it was loaded up with supplies and people. And that is when the real adventure began.

Wayuu woman with her child

We drove down a bumpy and dusty road, past remnants of de-railed trains, before we pulled off into the desert. We stopped periodically to pick-up both cargo that flew off the truck and people who stood under the scorching sun waiting for a lift. Once we ran out of space within the bed of the pick-up truck, no problem, there was always space on the roof for more! As people were dropped off at their small huts in the middle of the desert, I found myself wondering how the hell these people entertained themselves.

The answer came four hours later, when I had my first glimpse of Cabo de la Vela. It was a fishing village just metres from the turquoise sea where the Wayuu welcomed tourists into their homes. If hungry I would ask one of the families what they had for dinner, which was invariably fresh seafood. While one can stay with a local family in one of their hammocks, I opted to pay a modest 5000 pesos ($2.50 US) per night to camp on the beach. Here I had a front row seat to watch the major pass-time of the village, kite-surfing.

Strong off-shore winds almost everyday of the year, coupled with the protection of the bay, make Cabo a kite-surfing mecca. The local kids were unbelievable at kiting and tried to convince me to try. Worried about getting blown out to sea, they attempted to reassure me by telling me that they could tie me to a rope with which they could pull me back to shore if anything went wrong. As tempted as I was, I decided to hold-off.

Since I didn't kite-surf, the only thing left for me to do was to explore the desert. And so, I put on my headphones, blasted some Eddie Vedder and walked 'into the wild'.