I rose instinctly a few minutes before my alarm this day, Friday, because I knew I had to get to the bus terminal for my bus to Cabo Polonio. And for this I was excited. I had heard much about this cape... no electricity, no street lights, just 80 residents (about 50 this time of year), rocks teaming with sea lions, animals roaming free... I could not wait.
People also said that it could suck you in, day by day making you wanting to stay, and for this reason I didn't know if I was packing light or packing heavy. In the end, I took a few things out I didn't think I would need, and STILL my backpack was full... but at least I could throw it onto my back without stressing my vertebrae.
At the bus station in Montevideo, I got talking to a Swedish girl who turned out was traveling alone. So we ended up seating ourselves together and chatting during the 5-hour ride... she seemed young but informed, and had a good grasp of Spanish (as well as English of course) because she had just spent a while studying it in Peru. Wish I had the cash to do that!!
Waiting for the next step in our journey to Cabo Polonio - a monster 4x4 that careers across 15km of sand to the lonely cape - we struck up a conversation with the only other person waiting for the pick-up, an American guy also traveling solo. We all got on from the instant we started talking and as we clambered atop this monster truck and headed for the dunes, I knew it was the beginning of a good crew.
Let me explain a little what this part of the journey was like... we are sitting on top - I mean on the TOP - of the frame of this truck, not knowing what lay ahead of us, as the shrubs turned from plentiful to sparse and the land opened up to an empty beach and gentle waves lapping the shore. The sun was on its way down by this stage, having done a full day of travel, and we looked in wonderment at the scene unfolding before us.
On the beach lay 1, 2, possibly 3 pequins - dead, unfortunately - and scattered along the coastline little shacks mostly boarded up since the end of summer. Ahead of us, Cabo Polonio sat in its windy corner with a smattering of quasi-Greek style stucco villas (though a kinda hippy version) and rasta-themed one-bedders, and of course the lighthouse keeping watch at the edge of the outcrop. Below, the sea lions played mischievously on the rocks... it was a beautiful scene.
In "town" - a circular turning point for the only vehicles that regularly passed through (the monster trucks), and home to a few touristy shops, also mostly closed after summer - we met R's Brazilian friend F, who had been waiting a while for the Swede after she failed to get on the right bus the day before. He had rented a house for them both but said it was too small for us extra 2, and so we got talking to the guy who had arrived from a hostel and headed that way instead.
"Hostel" in Cabo Polonio means a slightly larger shack painted different colours to attract tourists (like honey to a bee), and look "hippy"... but if you didn't see the HOSTEL sign, you'd be hard-pressed to know that was actually what it was. Luckily, we were given the grand view room, with 4 beds but only 2 of us occupying it. The hostel was right on the beach, the view couldn't be better and the kitchen was big enuf for the group of 4, so we opted for a cheaper, supermarket-bought meal and got cookin'.
R being virtually vegan, we sacrificed meat for the night (but just a night) and cooked up a feast of pasta and salsa which turned out surprisingly good. Cracked open several bottles of wine and enjoyed the beachside view with some happy tobacky. God, life can be good sometimes.
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