Exploring Uruguay – A Surprising Country in South America

Warning: This is a long post, heavy on photographs.

Mark, Maya, and I entered Uruguay from Argentina without expectations. We knew the coast drew lots of people, Montevideo was the capital, and Colonia del Sacramento was a highlight and UNESCO World Heritage Site. And that the country was super expensive, aptly called the Switzerland of South America.

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

Dealing with the border formalities was a bit confusing (everyone from either side wanted to inspect our camper) but didn’t take too long. We were a tad nervous regarding the “prohibited items” we brought to sustain ourselves and our dog (check the blue sign and guess what we carried), but Maya’s paperwork was in order, which proved important – and distracting – enough.

Salto Grande Dam

Right across the border, on the outskirts of Salto, we stopped by the Salto Grande dam, operated by both countries. There, Mark and I partook in a free tour, conducted in Spanish.

Afterwards, mid-afternoon, we decided to put some miles behind our wheels, since we hoped to cross the entire country and reach the coast within a few days. In Uruguay, we planned our route and stops more carefully, due to the costs. When gasoline has a price tag of $7 a gallon (about $2 per liter), you think twice about detours and their “worth.”

We stopped at a small clearing in the bushes, out of view, for that first night. The next three days, we leisurely traversed the hinterland of Uruguay, gazing at the well-kept homes and fields and feeling happy for the livestock – mostly horses, cows, and sheep – with all that juicy, bright-green grass everywhere!

We also came across a dinosaur display, with preserved footprints and information signs.

The people we met along the way were friendly, we enjoyed this peek into lesser-known territory, and we happily noticed the lack of garbage everywhere, but we were surprised at the state of the throughways.

Thinking that Uruguay was a relatively developed nation with a relatively western mentality, we had counted on beautifully paved main roads everywhere. Not in the back country. For at least 100 of the 400 miles across, we dealt with broken pavement, potholes, road work, or dirt tracks going east-west. The north-south equivalents seemed in better shape.

La Coronilla

The Atlantic coast brought pleasant surprises. First, we arrived at La Coronilla at the exact same time a familiar-looking kombi VW bus did. Mark recognized them as the Kombi Chronicles, a British couple with two cats, who had been exploring Latin America overland for a few years. We knew Willow and Lee through Facebook, WhatsApp groups, and mutual friends. It was great to finally meet! (They have a popular YouTube channel and Facebook page as well.)

After an introductory chat, they decided to stay another day, a Sunday, on which we hung out all afternoon and evening, chatting, exchanging stories, and sharing popcorn and wine. It’s always nice to meet like-minded folks and we hope to run into them again soon, on the way to – or in – Patagonia.

Our boondocking spot offered an “exotic” setting under palm trees, long walks on the beach, a decent view, and the sound of waves when falling asleep. It was quiet at night, so all three of us could rest up.

Punta del Diablo

After a couple of days, we moved to Punta del Diablo, which came recommended by fellow overlanders and in our iOverlander app. Before settling there, however, we visited an incredibly well-preserved and maintained fortress, Fortaleza Santa Teresa.

At the edge of town, we picked a beautiful wild camp spot on top of a bluff, at the end of a narrow, potholed, dirt road, overlooking the sea. We immediately fell in love with the view and the atmosphere of the laid-back town, where we’d filled up with free drinking water and spotted several authentic and funky dwellings. Apart from the main road, all the streets were hard-packed sand.

In the afternoon, we walked down the dunes and into Punta del Diablo along the beach. We were seriously overdressed as the clouds suddenly gave way to bright sunshine. Ascending the dunes through soft sand caused quite a sweat. At happy hour (tea and a snack), on our perch and staring out over the ocean, we could see ourselves staying a while.

And then, Maya being Maya – meaning eating “everything” – put a stop to that revelation. To our horror, she ate and swallowed a foxtail. Yes, she enjoys eating grass, but one would think she’d know the difference between juicy grass and dangerous foxtails. She immediately developed issues swallowing and soon, saliva uncontrollably left her mouth. Now what? It was 6:30pm and almost dark…

Mark researched online what we could do. Initially, this situation called for “an emergency vet visit,” which is all well and easy if you can jump in a car and drive to your trusted vet clinic. Our belongings were scattered, the truck balanced on blocks, the road was narrow and treacherous, and the only vet in the village was praised for its merchandise. Maya was drooling profusely but in no pain or panic.

We learned that chunks of bread with peanut butter, when swallowed, might grab the errant foxtail with its barbs and send it to her stomach, where it would then be digested without further trauma. Of course, on this particular evening, we didn’t have any bread in the cupboard. Yet, that would be easier to find than peanut butter.

Since Mark was cooking, I headed back into town – a strenuous 30-minute walk each way – to buy bread. The first store I reached was closed, so I returned to the one we’d visited earlier. I walked fast, fighting the approaching darkness and a dog in distress. Once I found bread, I rushed back home, uphill through the dunes, soft sand, and darkness until I collapsed, drenched in sweat, once I reached Bella. A massive migraine followed, but we had bread and peanut butter!

As quickly as possible, we fed Maya chunks of soft baguette with peanut butter (her favorite treat) and watched her intensely. Did her drooling improve? Did she swallow normally? We gave her water and repeated the process, after seemingly no results. Did this trick eventually work? We thought so…

We finished our dinner and kept a close eye on her throughout the night. The puddles of saliva lessened, but her panting continued until morning. Otherwise, she seemed fine. We watched her closely for the next few days as well, hoping the intruder made its way safely through her body without latching on anywhere else. Maya kept her appetite and usual behavior; disaster averted.

This dog of ours is trouble and one of these days, I’ll elaborate on that. While we love her dearly – of course – she has a way of making our life more difficult than necessary and keeping us awake at night.

After our initial relief at the returned health of our foxtail-free dog, we enjoyed Punta del Diablo and made sure to not repeat the grazing incident. The three of us went for long beach walks, reveled in the scenery, spotted a sealion, revisited town, strolled to the point of the windy peninsula, and splurged on a rare dinner out. We even relaxed on the sand one afternoon; something we never do.

La Paloma

And then, it was time to move on. We followed the pretty coast around Uruguay’s perimeter, stopping only for one night at a time, to soak up our surroundings. La Paloma offered a lighthouse, scenic but rocky shores, and amazing sunsets. Strange to think that we could see the sun go down while being on the Eastern side of the country. This happens when you’re sitting on a peninsula. Or along a wide river.

San José del Faro

San José del Faro presented a nicer lighthouse – it would have to be as a part of the town’s name – and a super windy night. Here, you can climb to the top of the faro for an incredible view. Cost: less than a dollar! Some things in Uruguay are affordable. 😊

Punta del Este

We never planned to stay in ritzy Punta del Este – the playground of Montevideo’s beachgoers – but were still impressed by the fancy, modern approach. Who would have guessed we’d see high-rise scenes like these in Spanish-speaking South America? Were we transported to Florida? San Diego, California? The Med?

The main reason for a quick stop in this resort town is the sculpture “La Mano.” Some of you might remember La Mano del Desierto from Northern Chile, which was sculpted by the same artist, Chilean Mario Irarrázabal. The statue in Uruguay is smaller and depicts five fingers rising from the sand – or a hand sinking into it. The story behind this work of art is quite interesting.

Here, we rounded “the corner” of the country, leaving the ocean and following the massive bay or estuary of the Rio de la Plata. We had planned to spend the night by a lagoon, in peace, but that spot didn’t work out. Luckily, there was an alternative close by, above the sands of Playa Solanas.

Castillo de Piria

Before arriving at Uruguay’s largest city, we made a quick detour to Piriapolis, to check out the free Piria Castle.

Montevideo

Next, we ventured into the capital city of Montevideo on a sunny, super windy afternoon. Our safe camping spot was located four miles from the center; a bit too far to walk in both directions. It had been a long day and, once settled at 2pm, we decided to postpone our city tour to the following morning. Instead, we watched a motorcycle police squad practice next to our camper.

Stormy weather with 20 to 30-mile winds was predicted the following days and they would switch from an eastern direction to a western one, meaning headwinds for the next leg of our drive. With fuel costing $7 a gallon, we didn’t want to risk lowering our fuel economy even more and our current site was too exposed and unattractive to sit out the bad weather. We had one option: visit Montevideo in the grey morning and get the hell out of there in the afternoon.

So, that’s what we did. We had an early start, moved our camper one mile closer to the capital, walked along the waterfront to the “historic center,” and explored the city within a couple of hours. The old market building wasn’t open yet. We’d arrived too early!

We passed by some remarkable buildings and two squares, skipping the Andes 1972 museum ($7/person), which documents and has exhibits about that terrible plane crash made famous by the movie “Alive.”

Plaza de Independencia offered an array of stately buildings, with the Teatro Solis being the most attractive. All that said, Mark and I weren’t impressed by this city. The overcast weather didn’t help.

We finished our ‘city tour” at a mirador (overlook) on the top of an administrative building. The area was nicely done with benches, manicured gardens, and signs that roughly pointed in the direction of the referred buildings. Dogs weren’t allowed, so Mark and I took turns in the glass elevator to the 22^nd floor.

Within 24 hours of arriving in the capital of Uruguay, we departed, trying to beat the storm. On the three-hour drive to Colonia del Sacramento we encountered massive rains, thunder, and lightning. Poor Mark. We also had to pass through two more tollbooths, which presented their own challenges.

Every country has something that causes extra hassle: in Peru it was the awful drivers and lack of traffic rules, in Bolivia it was the difficulty to get fuel as a foreigner and the road blocks, in Argentina it’s the unfathomable inflation, ever-changing rates, and need for crisp dollar bills to exchange, and in Uruguay it was the payless toll booths. I elaborated on that in my most recent expense report.

Colonia del Sacramento

Because the weather in Colonia remained crappy for two days, we spent that time indoors, working, researching, writing, and planning. We were parked at a decent gravel lot with access to bathrooms and running water, in walking distance of the colonial center. Regrettably, on our second night, a Thursday, the nearby disco opened and the music thumped. That, we could deal with. The youth buzzing around on their nasty motorcycles with screeching engines and exploding mufflers ALL NIGHT LONG was hell!

That Thursday night, it quietened down at 4am, but at 5:30am, a fish truck pulled alongside to sell its wares to customers arriving from 6am onwards. On Friday night, the disco ran until 6am and the unbearable motorcycles kept going throughout the night. We had to move.

Apart from the noise and sleepless nights, colonial Colonia was incredible. The historic center is a photographer’s dream, with crumbling buildings overflowing with flowers and ivy. The blue sky only enhanced the picture. We walked through town twice, enjoying it immensely, without spending a dime.

For our fourth night, we moved to a different urban camping area, where all seemed fine and quiet. Until, at 11:30pm, three guys pulled up next to us, opened a shack, grabbed some drums to pounce on, and started a fire to burn trash. It was an assault on our hearing and our nostrils. We moved 100ft back, where the noise from the street was worse. The following day, we left.

Parque Municipal Ismael Cortinas

Our next destination, Parque Municipal Ismael Cortinas was an exquisite city park that we’d been looking forward to staying at ever since our Italian friends Valeria and David recommended it months ago. The park is well maintained, beautiful, peaceful, and comfortable, with shady and sunny spots. We need an open sky above us for our solar panels, Starlink antenna, and Maya, who can’t handle particles from trees falling on the roof.

This is one of those places where, even if you stay a while, it holds you in its grip. You don’t want to leave. What’s not to like about a free, developed campground with drinking water spigots, a bathroom with toilets (that have seats, flushes, toilet paper, and a locking door), a hot shower, pretty views over a pond, a super-friendly puppy called Chique, and herds of horses trampling through?

Fray Bentos

The last destination on our itinerary was the Museum of the Industrial Revolution in Fray Bentos, near the border of Argentina. Like Colonia, it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and came highly recommended by fellow travelers. By then, on Halloween (we’d been in Uruguay for three weeks), it had gotten quite hot. Mark and I preferred to camp in the shade, but that causes our three-fold “tree problem.” So, we parked out of the sun during the day and in an open field at night. Again, we were accompanied by horses.

Entrance to the museum costs about $1.50, but if you book a tour ($4/person), the displays are included. Maya (who has separation anxiety) can be left alone for about three hours, so Mark and I took that into account when we walked to the museum by opening time (9:30am) the following morning. We decided to browse the exhibits before our tour at 10am, to be back home before the heat of the day. Luckily, it was cloudy and breezy.

Some of you might remember Fray Bentos products, like Oxo cubes or tinned spam. I didn’t grow up with these in Belgium, but the museum displays and relics from the 1800s and early 1900s were fascinating nevertheless.

A young UNESCO volunteer from Germany was our English-speaking guide for the tour of the grounds and parts of the factory – the machine/generator room, the labelling area, the canning space, and the slaughterhouse – and back at the offices in the museum.

This tour usually lasts about an hour, but due to delays, questions, and the passion of our guide, we walked around for an hour and a half, followed by chats with fellow overlanders and the guides. Soon enough, it was 12:30pm and I felt the rush to get home. Maya was anxious, but okay. She’d only knocked over a glass of water when climbing on our dinette table to stare out the window.

I had a job scheduled and hoped to start that afternoon. Since the instructions weren’t clear and we didn’t want to just sit around – the urge to head south (Patagonia) started building – we decided to leave the country. This meant a border crossing mid-afternoon, more driving, running errands (we urgently needed less expensive fuel and food), and hopefully getting settled by five o’clock back in Argentina. Off we went!

Next up: Heading to Patagonia and chasing wildlife along the Argentinian coast

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: