A Whirlwind Drive through Argentina 

In the middle of September, Mark, Maya, and I returned to Paraguay without a deadline. We would use this landlocked country as a base during the spring until it turned unbearably hot or until we found a buyer for our camper. Neither had happened when we decided to leave.

Yes, two days each week were miserably hot, but it was still manageable. No buyer had appeared, but we felt Chile would be a better location for any prospective buyer to start their journey on this continent. The other reason we changed countries has to do with a concept that’s been emerging over the last few months. I can’t elaborate on that (yet) since all our attempts to reach this goal have been failing so far. But, if you’ve read our previous expense report “between the lines,” you might have gotten a hint about this idea.

Once we decided to head back to Chile — on the opposite side of the continent — we felt an urge to do this as quickly as possible. Like I mentioned in a previous blog: first, we wanted to eat sushi one more time. Over dinner, skipping an alcoholic drink, we decided to cross the border into Argentina that very same evening. We knew of a good camp spot in Posadas on the other side and hoped for a quick and easy crossing that late in the day. It was the middle of October.

(As always, click on or hover over photos in galleries to read their captions.)

Border officials were friendly, passports were checked, our Paraguayan TIP (temporary import permit) for the truck was returned and an Argentinian one obtained, and we had to back out of a narrow lane, because no height limit was indicated for a low arch up ahead…

Then, just when we thought all was fine and nobody had asked about Maya, we were told to exit the car and our camper was scanned by a massive machine! It was loud and intimidating.

Afterwards, the official stepped out of the giant scanner with our paperwork with only one question: “Do you have a dog?” Our “yes” was answered with only a nod. There’s no hiding from this futuristic machine! Luckily, people had told us earlier that nobody checks dog paperwork at this particular post.

After one short night in Posadas, we hit the road in an attempt to spend as little time as possible in Argentina. There are a few reasons why we don’t like this country, but I won’t get into that now. Our first day was productive, despite the rain and the mix of road conditions with smooth pavement in the morning and uneven patches, dips, grooves, and bumps in the afternoon. We ended up at a familiar camp spot but had to navigate slippery mud to get there.

On day two, a Saturday, we were met with multiple slowdowns because of the weekend. First, there was a religious procession with hundreds of walkers on a pilgrimage. Then, there was a traffic jam due to an accident near the tunnel under the Paraná River. Slow progress followed through the big city of Santa Fe. A detour was needed to fill up with gas again, and in the afternoon, we managed to make better progress until sundown.

By Sunday, we had written our friends in Mendoza, telling them we’d be at their property by happy hour. We had to make this deadline since only the weekend would allow a quality visit, as they both work.

After another long day on the road, Richie and Abigail — and daughter Zoe — welcomed us with open arms and a culinary feast! It turned out to be a lovely, social evening.

Two more days in Mendoza followed because we had to deal with extra paperwork for Maya to cross into Chile. We usually opt for the three-day process by the agricultural department, Senasa, because that is by far the cheapest route, but the vet we hired to fill out Maya’s health permit, needed by Senasa (which is only open until 1pm on weekdays), messed up the form.

This meant we had to return to the vet twice and to Senasa three times before the ordeal was over, in addition to wasting time, sweaty energy, and money.

So when we left Mendoza to reach a favorite camp spot closer to the border, we weren’t in the greatest moods. Add to that the fact that a professional propane store couldn’t fill our tank up after wasting an hour and a discounted product we wanted was not on sale anymore by the time we reached the congested store, and you can imagine our crankiness.

As we reached the Andes Mountains and their pretty views, Mark passed a slow truck over a solid yellow line (common practice in South America) in a safe manner, but we were awaited by the police, resulting in a ridiculous fine, which I wrote about in my previous expense blog.

When we finally arrived in Uspallata, a town we love, we were drained and ready for bed! This was also the time we had interested buyers for our camper, but not until a year from now. Oh well. And, because this unlucky day wasn’t finished yet, our flaxseed grinder broke (irreplaceable here), the ice cream shop’s credit card machine wasn’t working (our last cash had been spent as we would leave the country the next day), we ran out of tinfoil to grill dinner, Mark hit his head on a sharp cabinet door, which made it bleed, and even hard-boiling our eggs in order to bring them into Chile failed. Time to escape Argentina!

We had an early start for the two-hour drive, to reach the border by opening time (8am).

The border crossing into Chile proceeded as expected. Like last time, it took an hour and a half, and we were treated as if we were the first overlanders to ever pass through this frontier — the busiest and most popular between the two countries. Everything was checked and approved: paperwork and interiors.

The last three-hour stretch of this drive was bouncy and curvy, but very pretty. From the moment we reached the capital, Santiago, we sprang into action: we bought the high-quality caulk we couldn’t find in Argentina; we resealed our back window, and we continued chats about that “little project” I mentioned before, but now in person. We had covered 1,400 miles (2,100km) – and the width of the South American continent – in one week!

The following day, we aimed for the Chilean coast to pursue what we hoped would lead to the next chapter of our lives. Unfortunately, we were met with disappointment. More about that later…

Curious about a previous ten-year chapter in our nomadic lives, which includes eight years aboard a 35-foot sailboat in the tropics with dogs? Check out my compelling, inspiring, and refreshingly honest travel memoir: