The Gran Chaco

“Very dusty,” was the comment the young man at the rental car counter said when we told him we were driving to Chaco. 

The Gran Chaco is a sparsely populated and unique area in Paraguay across the Paraguay River to the north and west of Asuncion.   Twice the size of California, the Gran Chaco lies mainly in Argentina but also encompasses great territory in Paraguay and Bolivia and a small area in Brazil.   It once was South America’s second largest forest, behind only the Amazon rainforest.  Today its natural thorn forests and cactus groves are being squeezed out by agricultural development and cattle ranches.

Known for its two unique ecoregions: the lower region, or Humid Chaco, and Dry Chaco or the lower region, Gran Chaco has some of the highest temperatures on the continent. Yet it also has high biodiversity, containing around 3,400 plant species, 500 birds, 150 mammals, and 220 reptiles and amphibians.   

We had to go there.  We did not feel we had completely seen Paraguay until we investigated this strange and remote area.  We set our sights on Filadelfia, one of the largest towns in the Chaco, founded in the early 1900s primarily by immigrant Mennonites from Germany, the USSR, and Canada seeking a better life and peace. 

The first part of our 6-hour journey toward Filadelfia took us through rich green, wet lowland areas of Humid Chaco.  En route, we saw hawks, storks, egrets, vultures, and lots of smaller birds.  Though we saw roadside signs cautioning drivers to be on the lookout for anteaters, foxes, deer, jaguars, and cows crossing the road, the only live mammals we saw were cows, sheep, and goats. 

A toll road, the Trans Chaco or Route 9 took us there.  This modern highway that costs a toll fee of 15,000 Guaranies (about $2) both ways, provides a link between Argentina and Bolivia through Paraguay giving powerful mobility to the Indigenous peoples of the Chaco and more importantly, market access for new farmers and ranchers 

The drive was completely engaging.  We passed through minuscule communities with housing describable only as a basic roof and shelter from the elements.  Here and there, locals set up rustic stores selling untaxed 2- and 3-litre jugs of gasoline and cooking oil on the black market.  They also sold baked goods and handmade crafts. 

As we entered Dry Chaco, the surroundings became much more arid.  Streams and many ponds were dry.  We began seeing windmills pumping water to add to ponds and livestock watering holes from underground sources below. We drove in awe at the vast landscape as clouds of dust filled the air. 

Reaching Filadelfia was like entering an oasis.  While the town was dusty and dry, it looked like any prosperous farm town found in the USA.  It had several newer looking fine brick shopping centers with clothing stores, a few eateries, and a big super-duper food store modeled after Super Walmart.  To combat theft, a plague that has in recent times forced the closure of popular stores like Walmart and Target in prime locations in the US, these people combat theft by requiring shoppers to lock purses, jackets, and bags of any type in a locker before entering the store.  No purses inside. 

We were surprised to see that in small-town Filadelfia, there is a tourist information office and several nearby small museums housed in painted-frame buildings. 

The paved highway into and through Filadelfia is the town’s main street.  All adjacent streets and roads are hard-packed dirt, so hard that people drive 60 miles an hour down them creating a cloud of dust a mile long and 30-feet high.  Our hotel, the one on the cattle ranch, was nine miles from Filadelfia via one of these roads.   

The reviews said staying at the ranch/hotel allowed them to get to know the Chaco territory and learn more about the Mennonite communities there. They also wrote that the accommodations are basic but serviceable.  This once was a “dude-type” ranch on which hundreds of head of cattle were raised free range and a place where visitors could stay in comfort, take a hike, go horseback riding, picnic on a pond, see farm animals, take a swim in the pool, and get to know the rancher family.  It operated that way until mom and dad, the old folks, got too old to carry on.  The younger generation, a couple about our age, admitted waning interest in keeping the operation going as both a ranch and a hotel.  The cattle operation is still strong but the hospitality side . . . not so much. 

Despite our impression of the place, the hosts were fantastic and a pleasure to get to know.  They were as nice and welcoming as they could be.  The husband originally from an area near what now is the Ukraine, spoke very little English and very little Spanish but somehow we managed to communicate while his wife was out of town the first night of our stay. 

The facility . . . oh, the facility, was sad.  All the outdoor public areas were covered in layers of gritty dirt and littered with leaves and other debris.  Patios, bikes, hammocks, seats, and swings had not been swept or moved in a long, long time.  Our room was clean, but very basic indeed.  We had great WIFI and air-conditioning (an absolute necessity as the temps hovered around 103 the whole time we were there), but the furniture, linens, and other furnishings appeared to have been gathered from a discard bin.  Stan and I are not booshie in the least, but . . . it’s just weird to sleep on a full-size bed with a thin fitted sheet whose elasticized corners had long dried out and were no longer able to cling to the mattress; it just laid on top of the bed.  There was no top sheet.  We found two well-worn twin-size sheets and a thin blanket in a drawer and made do just fine.  We slept like tired babies. 

We loved seeing the farm animals there, the chickens, the ducks, and the cows.  Just outside our door, I snapped a photo of a cute little rodent, a Southern Mountain Cavy, native to South America living at the ranch under the bougainvillea bushes. 

We also delighted walking through the kitchen garden of corn, onions, carrots, beets, herbs, and more.  I do love a garden!!! We learned later that the garden was put in by a guest from Germany who stayed at the ranch for three months.  He told the owners, all they had to do was keep it watered.  They did and it looked great.  But some items were ready to be harvested . . . I just knew we’d see some of those garden delights at dinner that night or at breakfast the next morning.  Sorry, no.   But when the wife and her friend arrived on day two, we did enjoy fresh stuff from the garden.  Although Stan was not overly impressed with the garden things, our breakfast table was laid with plates of sliced tomatoes, lettuces, herbs, beet juice, and crunchy raw beets along with items typically included in a Paraguayan breakfast . . .  breads, butter, sweet cake, homemade preserves, cheese, and sliced processed meat. 

We had hoped to do a daytime safari drive to see birds our first full day there but the owner, the husband whose name I never caught, indicated that the daytime drive was not a good idea. Since the air was so smokey and dry, we wouldn’t see anything worth the long drive.  Besides, his wife was not at home and she’s a better guide for us since she speaks English. 

We headed to town on our own.  After stopping at the Tourist Information Center, we struck out on our own, driving 100km to the nature reserve at Campo Maria on Laguna Capitan.   We always say in times like this, “What else you gotta do?” 

The drive gave us plenty to see.  We passed miles and miles of cattle, horse, and sheep ranches.  The pastures and fields must have been filled with plentiful mice and small animals because we saw dozens of hawks and falcons patiently standing watch.  We saw what we thought were emu, but no, they were wild rhea birds, native to this land. The flora was interesting too.  Besides unexpectedly seeing several fields of cotton ready for picking and for the first time, fields of sesame, we also sporadically saw native cacti standing tall and bushy as some trees. Other interesting trees called Samuhu trees dotted the fence rows. When these strange “cotton trees” lose their leaves, their fist-size seed pods mature and pop open showing a big puff of white fuzz like an oversized boll of Southern cotton.   

Green parakeets live not only in the city but in Chaco as well.  Trees, windmills, and utility poles support the great twiggy nests made by green Monk parakeets.  Some nests we saw were 3-5 feet tall, like a treetop condominium for a colony of the colorful chirpers.  With a life span of 20-30 years, these guys are here to stay not only in Paraguay but also in many other countries around the world.  Although most people think Monk parakeets are pretty, they can be a noisy nuisance.  They don’t harm crops, however, and we were told that once they build their nest, especially on a utility pole, they are protected by law from being destroyed.  

After a couple of hours of dusty but worthwhile driving with hit-and-miss navigation, we found the salt flats of the Laguna Capitan at Campo Maria.  The place was peaceful and pretty!  We have seen flats like this in many countries, but they never fail to be fascinating.  Finding flat saltwater lakes with their banks/beaches of white, crunchy salt sediment in the middle of a continent always seems like another one of the great mysteries of our earth.  Near the lake’s edge, flocks of pink Chilean Flamingoes waded around fishing for food while other waterfowl examined its muddy shores.  As we sat quietly on a tall lookout, two friendly Many Coloured Chaco-Finches came to say hello. 

That evening, the wife and her friend had returned from a trip and were ready to conduct an exciting nighttime game drive for us.  The hostess served as our guide while her friend did the nighttime driving.  We all climbed in the back of a pickup truck and sat on secured straight-back chairs. We each had a spotlight.  We drove around the 600-hectare ranch spotlighting animals.  Their eerie glow-in-the-dark eyes showed us a ground owl, a white lizard, a dead cow, and a bunch of live cattle looking at us with great curiosity. The only large wild animal we saw was a tapir as big as a boar hog, and able to run faster than we ever imagined, hiding from our lights.  

It was an exciting time and a perfectly lovely night.  The month’s supermoon attempted to light our way but the dusty and smokey air obscured its rare orange glow.   

I talked to Cody during our return drive to the city the next day.  When she asked about our trip, “I’m so glad that we went into the Chaco,” I said. “Although parts of it reminded me of Texas, it was like no other place we have ever been.  But I am never, ever going back!   I have dust in my eyes, hair, nose, and every wrinkle on my skin and I don’t want anymore!”  Check!  Done! 

I should say, I am not a stranger to dusty roads.  I have roots. As a kid on a farm in Marianna, Arkansas, when the cultivated Mississippi Delta soil became dry in the hot summer it was so soft, powdery, and deep, that cousins and I could scoot our feet in it and create a dust cloud like a car coming down a road.  And when a rain shower came along, the moistened dirt was just right for packing on the tops of our bare feet to make perfect little frog houses.  Sometimes we made so many cave-like houses, a frog city was created.