Uruguay: living a gaucho dream

The cowboy tips his hat. I nod, as nonchalantly as I can. He grunts. I grunt back. This is how it should be. Amiable laconicism. Men among men. We’re in Uruguayan gaucho country after all.

I feel I have acquitted myself well as he saunters off, horse at the rein. Equals, the two of us. Then I note the sturdy knife wedged into his belt. I reappraise. A foot in length and wide as a scythe, it’s a no-nonsense blade. Useful for skinning rabbits, or for bar-room brawls. The grizzle-jawed cowboy looks as though he would be a dab hand at both. OK, so not perfect parity.

Enrico motions towards the departing figure. “We call him the last gaucho.” I take it as a joke, although the words come flat, deadpan. If the cowboy spoke, I’d bet on his speaking just like that. Enrico is six months into his stint at Finca Piedra. He is the son of a cattle auctioneer, and what he knows about ranching he picked up at agricultural college. I suspect he’s a bit in awe of the veteran hand. That makes two of us.

Gauchos, in my book, are about as cool as it gets. Imagine it: days spent herding cattle, fixing fences, tracking wild boar. Black tobacco by the pouch-load, campfires, pitchforks of barbecued meat. And no salad. Never salad.

So my imagination runs, at least. Uruguay provides my test bed. Are hardened gauchos still to be found roaming this forgotten corner of South America? Not along the coast, for sure. Cowboys don’t do sea and sand. The interiór, the hinterlands, that’s where I’m headed: rolling hills, great big skies, and grasslands rich and green.


Before setting off, I have a place to visit: the Gaucho Museum. It’s housed in a wonderful French-style mansion in downtown Montevideo. I ascend the curved wooden staircase to the exhibition rooms on the top floor. The sounds of the city dilute with every step. Soon it’s just me and the murmur of gauchos past; the clink of their silver spurs, the swish of their ponchos, the whoosh of bolas leaving the braided leather sling. I leave inspired, the image in my head firmly intact.

At Finca Piedra, a few hours’ drive from the capital, Enrico is pointing to the birds that swoop and swirl in the still-blue sky: teros , horneros , lechuza . We’re on horseback, taking an afternoon ride around the 1,000-hectare farm. I note down the names in a jolting hand. Dressed in a red beret and a worn pair of bombacha trousers, Enrico looks the part. Horse and rider one. As I bump clumsily along behind, my nonchalance slips another notch. I give up on note-taking. Enrico is a man of few words anyhow. Instead, I give myself over to the moment. The scenery is lovely, in an understated, undulating kind of way. My eye is drawn to the newborn calves gambolling in the fields. They are cute, their mothers, less so. We – OK, I – trot along at a distance.

As we head back to the ranch, Enrico becomes momentarily effusive. The gaucho life is gradually passing, he tells me. Cash crops such as soya are eating into traditional pasturelands, motorbikes are gradually replacing horses. “And vegetables? Do ranch-hands eat vegetables?” He looks at me in utter shock. Hope remains, I tell myself. There’s life in the old gaucho yet.

At Salamora lodge, an eco-hideaway near the town of Minas, my hopes rise further. The location is spectacular. Perched on a high plateau, this rustic outpost looks out on to three distinct mountain ranges. It’s the kind of place where, when it gets dark, it gets properly dark. Riders and nature-lovers have everything they can wish for: well-marked paths, native woodland, a stable-full of criollo ponies, a rehabilitation programme for endangered birds. And not another soul for miles.

Alicia, the lodge’s owner and host, is an expert in local flora and fauna. We take a lengthy stroll around the property. Curious botanical terms are soon filling pages in my notebook. “Like our people, Uruguay’s plant life isn’t ostentatious,” she remarks at one point. “You’ve got to look closely, at the details, to see the beauty.” I like the idea. And the more we walk, the more I get it. The vegetation is all brusque and wily, with spikes and smells and other trickery to keep predators at bay. La Salamora might have no gauchos, but you can feel their presence everywhere. Earthy, authentic, unadorned, wild.

Across the sierras to the east, I find what I’ve been looking for. Ricardo, manager of Lagunas del Catedral, meets me at the gate, bedecked in full gaucho regalia. The bombachas, the belt, the knife, the neckerchief, the hat, right down to the leather boots. He’s chatty, ebullient. A local history buff, he keeps me entertained over lunch with tales of times gone by. The story I like most is a Butch Cassidy saga about a pair of murderous bandits who holed up in nearby caves. Ricardo delivers details of their dirty deeds with a raconteur’s delight. “They were executed, right here. September 28, 1902,” he says, filling my glass with an excellent cabernet franc from his own winery. “Salud.” Good health.

Ricardo suggests a post-lunch walk. The farm covers 300 hectares, almost all of it untamed country. I spy a lechuza. Small beer, I know, but it wins me an admiring glance. We walk on. Ricardo points out the snuffle marks of wild pigs, discusses the medicinal uses of indigenous plants, and swears that the erratic behaviour of a line of ants portends rain. I’m bought. It doesn’t even bother me when he later reveals that he’s a townie by birth. I feel my gaucho quest is complete. Yes, the cowboys of today might have college diplomas and ecologist tastes, but so what? They are keeping the dream alive.

My faithful steed and I take our leave, 90 horsepower of budget rental car roaring under the bonnet. As we pass through the farm gate, the heavens open. The ants were right. Heed the gaucho.

When to go

Uruguay’s rural lodges are open whatever the season, but the best time to visit weather-wise is between November and April. Gaucho fans might want to check out the Fiesta de la Patria Grande, a Wild West-fest held in the city of Tacuarembó in mid-March.

Flying time and time difference

Montevideo is 17 hours from London. GMT minus two hours.

Getting there

 Mention gauchos and estancias, and most think of the vast expanses of the Argentine pampas. What Uruguay has over its neighbour is size. Uruguay is small, which means far less time getting from A to B.

There are no direct flights from Europe to Uruguay. Most flights are routed through Buenos Aires to Montevideo, though from June this year Air Europa (aireuropa.com) will fly three times a week from London Gatwick via Madrid.

Uruguay is a ferry ride from the Argentine capital of Buenos Aires. Buquebus (0054 11 4316 6500; buquebus.com) runs daily services to Colonia del Sacramento (1hr) and Montevideo (3hrs).

Getting around

Car is the best way to the hidden corners of the Uruguayan countryside. Avis (00598 2903 0303; avis.com.uy), Europcar (2401 0616; europcar.com) and Thrifty (2481 8170; thrifty.com.uy) have a comprehensive network of rental outlets.

Buses run irregularly in the countryside, although most lodges will arrange a pickup from the nearest town’s bus stations. For an additional fee, of course.

Packages

Audley Travel (audleytravel.com) and Infinity Tours (infinity-tours.com) both offer holidays to Uruguay. The country’s ecotourism market remains a pretty independent affair, though, so direct bookings are commonplace.

Where to stay

Lagunas del Catedral ££

Delightfully restored farmhouse in Maldonado state; 300 hectares, including native woodland, caves and waterfall; astronomical observatory; riding and mountain-biking (94 410408; lagunasdelcatedral.com, from $130/£80 per person).

Finca Piedra ££

A modern-style ranch near San José; French-owned winery and vineyards on site; swimming pool, children’s play area, golf driving-range, mountain bikes; large, functional rooms (4340 3118; fincapiedra.com, from $150/£95 per person).

La Salamora

£ Fabulous setting in the Sierras de Minas; superb horse-riding country; guided walks; lectures on ornithology, astronomy and medicinal plants on request; whale-watching (August-October); five simple, comfortable rooms (99 923997; lasalamora.com, from $150/£95 per person).

La Vigna

Stylishly redecorated 1880s farmhouse, close to Colonia del Sacramento; recycled-chic; art studio; organic garden; five uniquely designed bedrooms (4558 9234; lavigna.com.uy, $1,000/£634 per week, for full house rent).

Where to eat and drink

Given their out-of-the-way location, lodges generally include meals (but not drinks) in the overall price. Gauchos are straightforward eaters and most menus keep things basic. Meat, as you’d expect, features heavily.

El Palenque

Located in the Mercado del Puerto, El Palenque (Pérez Castellano; 2917 0190) is a regular haunt for committed carnivores; huge grill, friendly staff, open-air tables.

Inside track

Uruguayans drink yerba mate by the gourdful. A tea-like infusion, it’s an acquired taste with a pleasant kick. If nothing else, tracking down your own maté (cup) and bombilla (straw) is a good excuse to wander the streets of Montevideo’s Old Town.

Currency

£1 = 33 Uruguayan pesos. US dollars are widely accepted.