WAIT, Iberá — We Can’t get Stuck!

If Rental Car Companies Only Knew What Their Cars Endure.

Surely rental car companies have some idea, but would a young family with a one-year-old in the backseat really raise any red flags? Surely, we’re not the only ones renting a budget-friendly sedan and teaching it how to handle rough roads. It’s become something of a tradition for us—like the time we took a BMW up to the Iron Range in Australia or the time we drove a tiny, low-clearance sedan up the mountain at Kang Kachan. (If you click the Thailand link, that post was from 2015 and this blog has come a long way since then!)

When we planned this trip, we rented a small SUV. However, there was a mix-up at the Buenos Aires airport, and our only options were a tiny Toyota Corolla or a Toyota Hilux, one of the most capable 4×4 vehicles around. (Please click that link and watch the video at the end of the post where Ross drives down a crazy African road in our Toyota Hilux! I think it proves a Hilux can handle just about anything…)

While the Hilux’s high clearance and off-road abilities were tempting, we decided to prioritize fuel efficiency for the long drives ahead. The Corolla would stretch our fuel much farther, and at the time, we figured, “We can make this work.” So, we chose the sedan. Again, we are no strangers to teaching a small car a few tricks.

The cost of fuel wasn’t really a concern thanks to heavy government subsidies. It was just 340 pesos per liter, roughly $0.44 per liter or $1 per gallon. (Let me say that again — $1 per gallon. Absolutely crazy!) So even though the Corolla got us great fuel mileage, the Hilux wouldn’t have broken the bank.

For the first two weeks of our trip, the Corolla —complete with its laughably nonexistent clearance—handled everything just fine. Even on roads where 4×4 or high clearance was “recommended,” Ross buzzed through with no issues. Never underestimate what a tiny car and a little willpower can accomplish on a birding trip! (It probably doesn’t hurt to have experience driving some of the most gnarly roads in the world either.)

However, our luck ran thin when we headed toward Iberá and encountered the infamous deeply rutted roads, known for transforming into a treacherous, muddy slip-and-slide with even a hint of rain.

Iberá

The Iberá Wetlands or Esteros del Iberá, are a mix of swamps, bogs, lagoons and other courses of water home to hundreds of species. In fact, Iberá is one of the most important freshwater reservoirs in South America and the second-largest wetland in the world after the Pantanal in Brazil. (Source: Wikipedia.)

Dry roads were manageable—even for a Corolla—but once water entered the equation, it didn’t matter whether you had 4×4 or not. Nobody was going anywhere. These roads became slick as butter and treacherously rutted.

Our friend Josh Beck had warned us about these conditions. He once got stuck here for two full days, waiting for the road to dry out before he could move. Living out of a van, he could afford to wait, but we didn’t have that luxury. With a one-year-old in tow, getting stuck, whether it be for 2 hours or 2 days, was simply not an option.

As we approached the area from the north, the road was mercifully dry, thanks to several consecutive warm days. We managed to stay atop the deep ruts without too much trouble. But we couldn’t help noticing the massive storm system looming on the horizon.

The skies darkened to an ominous gray, blocking out the sunlight and signaling the arrival of thunderstorms we’d heard were forecast for the area. Racing against the impending weather, we pressed on, hoping to make it through before the rain turned the road into an impassable quagmire. After all, there wasn’t really anywhere to stop. We were a few hours from anything that resembled a town.

We spent the morning in in the western section of Ibera around Portal Cambryreta, watching as Spotted Nothuras and Capaybara crossed the road and countless marsh species speckled our view (Southern Screamer, Brazilian Teal, Pantanal Snipe, Maguari Stork, Roseate Spoonbill, and on and on), stopping periodically to search for our targets. One of the highlights, Crested Doradito, was surprisingly easy to locate, and Unicolred Blackbird, and Yellow-rumped Marshbird didn’t give us much trouble either.

Eventually, we made our way to Don Luis Preserve, where we were granted access to the trails. (This area is private and you must ask for permission, with most people opting to stay at the homestead, but due to time (and costs) we weren’t able to.) Most of the area is only accessible by 4wd (or at least high clearance) so we bummed a ride from one of the local workers to take us on a quick drive around to look for our main target, the Ibera Seedeater.

Luckily this vast preserve was primarily made up of expansive grasslands, where we were treated to incredible close views of a cooperative male undescribed Ibera Seedeater, our main target for the morning, and several Strange-tailed Tyrants. Those tail feathers are rather impractical, especially on a windy day such as this, but watching them flit between perches was such a treat. Birding in these open fields was so enjoyable, we could have easily spent the whole day exploring.

However, our plans took a bit of a turn. While we probably should have left our birding destination sooner (we got distracted watching the White Monjitas as Roger had a snack), we thought we would still have enough time to get to our next destination with plenty of time to spare. But what really threw a wrench into things was the fact that the gas station we stopped at along the way didn’t have fuel. This led to an unexpected detour into Ituzaingo, a town Ross has officially dubbed his least favorite in all of Argentina. And, of course, that gas station was also out of fuel!

Knowing we were about to venture down a remote track with no gas stations for miles, finding fuel was non-negotiable. The solution? Adding a full hour to our commute to reach a station that actually had fuel. But there was a line of cars around the block just to get in. (I wish I had taken a photo but sadly I did not.)
I opted to hop out of the car and take Roger on a stroll around town while Ross waited in line. Altogether, the fuel fiasco cost us over two hours.

Now, we found ourselves driving on a dry but deeply rutted road, with a massive storm looming ominously on the horizon. We knew the moment the rain hit, the road would turn treacherous. The Corolla, with its comically low clearance, was at serious risk of bottoming out on the ridges, leaving our tires dangling uselessly in the air.

As much as we would have loved to stop at the spectacular marshes lining either side of the road, time was not on our side. We pressed on, racing against the storm, and managed to reach the town of Colonia Carlos Pellegrini not a minute too soon (it actually started to rain about 15 minutes before we got to town, but luckily the roads weren’t wet enough to cause issues).

Unfortunately, our relief was short-lived. We hadn’t booked a hotel, so Ross darted into over five different lodgings in the pouring rain, only to hear the same response: completo. Everything was fully booked.

By now, the torrential rains had arrived. The sky was pitch-black, and to top it off, the entire town had lost electricity.

To make matters worse Ross had an important phone call with his boss and time was ticking. We didn’t have a hotel, we didn’t have Wi-Fi and it didn’t look like the internet was going to be coming back anytime soon. And for some reason Ross’s phone would not connect to signal either. So he had no way to message his boss to let him know he would not be able to make the call. Oops.

This might sound bad, but we had made it to town and eventually found a place with a room available. We weren’t spending the night camping on the side of the road outside of a random farm so instead of focusing on the bad, we decided to count our blessings.