Beach Morning

Rusty got up at 6:30 so I went to open the side door for him. Then, instead of wandering off and sniffing he stood at the door staring up at me grinning and wagging his tail. 

I admit I was grumbling as I looked for my Crocs and my glasses and my vest and my camera and my keys all while glancing at my scrunched up spot in the bed. But that’s been my life with Rusty, he keeps telling me to do things I don’t want to,  and in disagreeing he proves me wrong. 

Had I stayed in bed I’d have missed this, and you would have too. And he knows he’s right; so annoying. 

Off we went first around the lagoon.

There was no traffic all night. It’s quieter here than you might imagine. 

Summer time fun learning to Kite Surf. I can only imagine how crowded this place would be in December and January and February.  

Salt air rust:

The bridge is the local government boundary line with Maldonado Department. The Rocha Department is well known around Uruguay as the place to go for the beaches. “You’ll feel good here,” is the slogan. 

El Caracol is the fishing village, but I don’t know how good they feel. I thought they might just be fishing huts but I saw laundry drying on the line so I think at least some must be permanent homes. 

What a glorious day it was. Not quite 70 degrees, sunny with a slight cool breeze. 

No Oil For Me

 

I disgraced myself Tuesday morning by letting Rusty out at six at his request and then popping back into bed for a quick nap and only waking up at ten am. My perfect dog was sitting outside watching the world go by while patiently waiting for me to get in gear, but eventually he got his reward.

We did get going eventually and drove half an hour inland to get on the freeway westbound to Montevideo with no plans to drive that far. The goal was an oil change place I’d spotted on Google Maps and though I couldn’t tell from the street view I hoped it might work but I wasn’t confident. The problem getting a 9400 pound van with a height of 8 feet six inches in a mechanics shop is not to be underestimated.  The problem is lots of shops use lifts suitable for sedans but often not large enough for a van, or they put the lift under a roof not tall enough. All of which means I like to check iOverlander for suggestions. With none forthcoming  I tried three different shops and got nowhere. The shop on the freeway suggested a place in the town of Rocha nearby and it looked promising. 

They were closed for lunch so Rusty took me round the block a bit as we waited. 

No go. They were fully booked till Friday. Bugger, this isn’t like Mexico where they just make room for you. Such precision, so first world. Grr.

The highway towards Punta Del Este and Montevideo is an easy drive and was almost empty so I didn’t mind the four dollar toll, which amounted to a quick pass with my tag on the windshield. 

They warn of native animals crossing the road but I saw nothing, except for the signs. 

iOverlander had a wild camp marked next to a rather peculiar looking bridge. Onward! Off the freeway to the coast. 

The rural farming countryside gave way to…

…beachfront wilderness, pine trees and sand reminded me of the gulf coast of the Florida panhandle, Highway 90 for instance.

And then we came to the bridge. It’s so weird I had to drive across it first. A fishing village called El Caracol, the Snail, near the bridge on the lagoon. 

And here’s the weird bridge. 

It’s a circle and I have no idea why. 

Some architect went to town.

And it’s illuminated at night. 

We parked by the water alongside the bridge, a classic Florida highway fishing spot no doubt.

Another free spot in Uruguay, nothing special especially on a gray overcast day but it’s been a relaxing two weeks doing nothing special all round Uruguay. I had fun with young Rusty. He cleaned his bowl at dinner so he had a good busy day. 

Leave only footprints: 

 

It was cold, 51 degrees with a light breeze but he didn’t care. Tough dog, and I had the gasoline heater blasting. 

Tomorrow one last chance to find an oil change before Layne returns Thursday.