A Night in the Chaco

© Alisa Clickenger / RumBum.com

Camping in the Chaco Plain.

“That's very dangerous” said the border official. “Why?” I asked. “”Tigers” was his reply. “Tigers?” I asked, incredulously. “Yes, Tigers”, he answered. “Tigers. TIGERS?” I repeated. “Actually maybe they are called jaguars,” he said. “But they are there, and they are very dangerous. You are a very lucky woman. You should not have camped alone last night without a fire.”

After seven months of traveling solo in Latin America, I am used to people telling me what I am doing is dangerous. In fact, I now ask people why things are dangerous – dangerous because I am a woman traveling alone? Dangerous because the road is bad? Dangerous because there are robbers along the way? Sometimes I get a good answer and sometimes I don't. In this case it did not matter because the deed was done.

The previous day I left Camiri in the rain. I rode about 100 miles in the mud and slick on dirt roads, and then another 60 miles or so of  pavement. I really wanted to make it to the Paraguay border, and the road I could see on the map was nowhere to be found. I asked at the gas station, and they told me it was ahead. I asked at the toll station, and they told me it was ahead, and that I would see the sign.

When I had ridden what felt like was too far (but felt good because it was paved and not that treacherous wet sand-and-mud combination), I turned around. On the map it looked like it was only 20 km or so after the last intersection. But there was no one to ask, and no way I could be sure. I circled back around again...what was the worst that could happen? I was enjoying the pavement and this road HAD to go somewhere... Soon I was able to flag down the sole passing car and they told me the crossing to Paraguay was up ahead still. Good news, but it still did not jive with the map.

© Alisa ClickengerStuck in the dirt.I eventually turned east off the highway and traveled through another 40 miles of dirt, sand, and gravel. At one point the sand was so deep my rear wheel got stuck and the bike went over on its side. But I was lucky. The hole was so deep that the bike hadn't fallen over to the point where I couldn't pick it back up by myself. A good thing because I was now in the heart of the Chaco Plain – the dry, desert-forest region sandwiched between Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina – and there was no one else around to help.

After another 20 miles of wrestling the rough terrain, I was stopped short by a military checkpoint. These guys took themselves very seriously. They asked me how much gas I had, and where I was planning to spend the night. I had enough gas to make another 200 km, but lodging was the problem. This was a military post. There were no hotels or hospedajes, and I had an hour until dark. I knew this road would be impossible to traverse without light.

Immigration was 200 meters up the road. I was finally about to “exit” Bolivia. I inquired again about lodging for the night, and their answer was to go back 60 miles to Villamontes. But, because I had already officially "checked out" of Bolivia at the military checkpoint, I felt I had no choice but to go forward.

I rode as hard and as fast as I could for the next half hour. I passed a few pigs grazing next to the dirt track I was riding, so there must have been homesteads, even in the dead center of the Chaco. I was racing against the sunset. I had one eye on the road and on the vegetation next to the track.

When I spotted what I was looking for – a not-too-sandy escape off the dirt track with enough foliage too hide the bike – I pulled in. This was the first time I had been forced to camp during the entire trip, and I was darned glad I had carried camping equipment with me the last 20,000 miles. Curled up in the hammock next to the bike, I was a little scared as twilight turned to dark, but I was also very tired from a hard day of riding.

I fell asleep listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the vast wilderness that encircled me. It's probably a good thing I didn't know anything about the “tigers,” or I probably wouldn't have rested at all.