Cabo Polonio was one of those places that makes you feel as though you have arrived at the ends of the earth. It´s a fishing village inhabited by 500 locals and a couple of handfuls of tourists. Jutting out on a peninsula it can only be reached by sea or by four wheel drive truck. Our landlady Corina sorted us out with directions otherwise I don´t think we would have got there. We caught a local bus to the town of Pan de Azucar and then had to double back on foot as we had expected to pull into what transpired to be a non existent bus station hence we missed our stop and found ourselves plonked on the edge of town. The next drama was locating a place to buy our tickets for the coach but,eventually we got ourselves sorted and climbed on the coach that would take us to the drop off point for Cabo Polonio. We watched Uruguay´s eastern scenery whiz past from our cramped vantage points with the boys on our laps (kids are free on the buses so long as they sit on your knee). Gentle undulating hills of soft green gave way to fields of waving grass and yellow wild flowers. In the late afternoon sun it glowed. Eventually the bus pulled over to the side of the road and the driver shouted "Cabo Polonio". There the adventure really began with a bright yellow open backed dune truck waiting to take us to the village. Futile negotiations in English and Spanish were entered into for a ticket until an American girl intervened and wrangled us a return passage. Eventually the truck the boys christened the banana truck rattled and shook and took off over the sand dunes. The boys didn´t stop laughing from the moment we were off and every bump that tossed us around saw them giggling hysterically. Once we reached the beach I saw in the distance what I thought was a ship wreck but as the truck edged closer I saw that it was a mammal, a sea elephant to be precise and I can honestly say I have never seen anything so big (sorry Paul). The village sitting out on its vantage point was a sight to behold and I couldn´t wait to get there. When we did were dropped off in a sandy square and left to our own devices. A fishing village come hippy colony would best describe the place and the smell of horsepoo mingled with cannabis wafted through the air. There was a small and colourful market whose keepers were seemingly uncaring as to whether they made a sale or not as they laughed and joked in the sun. After asking directions to the hostel we headed up a dusty road that ended with a pink hotel literally on the sea. We could step off the veranda and paddle in rock pools while the Atlantic crashed in a few metres away. Once again our lack of Spanish was a problem but I challenge anyone to take me and Paul on at a game of charades at the end of this trip! Eventually we wound up with a lovely room, complete with shuttered windows opening out to the sea sadly it only had one bed but we weren´t spoilt for choice and besides our hostess had mimed back at us that she would give us a mattress to lay on the floor. Bedding sorted we went exploring and got our bearings. To say it was fabulous is an understatement - it was like nowhere we have ever been before. Women were doing their washing by hand over stone basins outside tiny rickety cottages, a quarter of which have no electricity. Horses and hens roamed free range and colourful fishing vessels dotted the shoreline. Behind the lighthouse were mounds of rocks, home to the local sea lion colony and the boys had a great time making huts out of the crevices in the rocks while we watched the sea lions via for top dog. The locals had knocked up a brightly painted pirate ship complete with fish netting and a plank and the boys whiled away hours fighting over who was actually captain of the ship. Actually seems to be the current catchphrase and it made us smile hearing Dan say "Josh actually I am the captain and its my boat". We ate on the hostels veranda with the sea washing in and out beside us. We found our tiny restaurant that served the best and cheapest pizza we have eaten on this entire trip. That night Paul and sat outside our window with a bottle of wine and marvelled at the billions of stars in the sky then crashed out (albeit fitfully due to our cramped sleeping arrangements)listening to the waves wash in and out. For those who have ever travelled on the New Zealand dollar you will no this would normally be an unaffordable luxury but the room and breakfast cost us US$35.00. Though its inaccessability is its appeal I have to say getting back to Piriapoulis was a mission. The dune truck was crowded to maximum capacity and when the bus came through on the main road at break neck speed we were taken in the opposite direction of where we were headed to the next town so as to purchase our tickets. In the end we were glad of the diversion because we were allocated seats whereas passengers climbing aboard later on were out of luck as it was standing room only. It took forever as the bus stopped and started,weaving in and out of every small town it could find on the way. We were hustled off at one of these towns and barked instructions at about getting another bus to Pan de Azucar from here. By this time we were hungry, tired and cranky and very pleased when the bus showed up within a few minutes. From Pan de Azucar, as seems to happen in South America, the bus back to Piriapoulis magically pulled up within fifteen minutes and by 8.20pm we were back at the bungalow. Today is a do nothing beach day! xox