I am in the backseat of a pickup truck that is driving down the Atlantic coast of Patagonia. The dry, grassy terrain of Argentina’s Chubut province doesn’t seem to change, except for the occasional herds of sheep and roaming gangs of wild horses, guanacos and pumas.
“See the valley we are approaching,” says my friend Martin. He has taken the same 150km route from the city of Trelew to Cabo Raso more than 100 times. “Once we reach it, we will lose mobile phone signal for the next few days.”
As we veer off the smooth motorway on to the gravel Route 1, I scramble to set up an out-of-office message via my phone: “Hola! I’m lost somewhere in Patagonia, away from civilisation, stuffing my face with meat and without access to internet. I’ll be back to the real world on Thursday.”
Cabo Raso is a coastal village that has become a refuge for fisherman, algae collectors, drifters, and travellers looking to escape the city and connect with nature. The water, renowned for its purity, is the source of a quality sea salt, Sal de Aquí, and the strong waves attract surfers from around the world.
Abandoned for many years, Cabo Raso was rebuilt in 2007 by Eduardo González, who is known as El Gitano (the Gypsy), and his partner Eliane Fernández. I heard about this mysterious ghost town from locals during Morfilandia, a food festival in the nearby town of Rawson – and a few hours later, they convinced me to take the detour to go and see it.
“This is where we come to relax,” Martin says as we approach El Cabo, a structure decorated with a hand-painted map of the coastline made of adobe, stones, and metal scraps. It is the only inhabited town within 100km; I see blue sky and a lot of desolate, empty space. This is the retreat I need, to completely disconnect, escape the stress of chaotic Buenos Aires and experience tranquillity. On a lawn lie two rusting decades-old buses, two smaller stone houses, and one swing, all less than 20 metres from the shore. We are greeted by barking dogs, a briny ocean breeze, and Eliane and El Gitano in the main house’s kitchen with yerba mate tea and a homemade fruit crumble fresh from the stove.
In the mid-20th century, Cabo Raso was home to more than 300 people – families of fishermen, farmers and wool traders. It had a boarding school, a post office, a convenience store, a cemetery, and a hotel – and was a summer holiday destination. But Argentina modernised and the town declined: residents moved away, and buildings began to crumble.
In 1987, Mercedes Finat, the last resident, died and the village lay deserted until Eliane and El Gitano arrived 20 years later. The pair revived the natural wonderland – and brought the population up to two. They had decided to swap city life for the countryside, and came across the vacant 120-hectare oceanside village. Over the next year, they cleared rubbish, planted trees, pruned the farmland, and reconstructed the ruins into eco-friendly lodgings.
Before I can even unload my bags from the truck, Eliane gives me a tour of the town. “A lot of the houses were ruined, without a roof, just disintegrating,” she says. “We honour the town. We don’t build anything new; we only refurbish what is already here.”
They use water from a well, and generate power from the sun and wind. “We live simply and sustainably.” She takes me into a common area with two long tables and a deep brick fireplace, “This is where we eat our meals together and barbecue all the meat.”
The grounds are dotted with lodging options: inside the main house are several dormitories (private and shared) with a communal bathroom, while outside are two more dorms – inside those weathered buses. The private houses have one double and four single beds, a kitchen, bathroom with hot water, a wood-burner, and electricity. Most of the surfers and fisherman bring sleeping bags for a more rustic (and affordable) stay inside the ranch. The camping site, about a kilometre away, uses an ex-military bunker as its base camp.
“There is always something to do,” El Gitano says as he takes us on a tour of the land. He brings us to a bay with dozens of elephant seals and sea wolves basking in the sun on top of hot stones. This is a prime spot for surfing, but today the waves are tame. While there are numerous activities at El Cabo, such as kayaking, fishing, biking and trekking, I decide to explore the town, which takes about 45 minutes on foot. A non-functional lighthouse, shipwrecked fishing boat, and the bunker (a site built to test-launch missiles during the Cold War’s Operation Condor), are the main landmark attractions.
I return just before dark. About 20 people – Eliane and El Gitano’s children, friends, guests and workers – gather around the wooden table in the living room. We are strangers, yet there is a strong sense of community. Wine is plentiful and I am mesmerised by the massive pork leg roasting in the fireplace. An intense game of truco (cards) is taking place, and in the next room there is a spirited metegol (table football) tournament. Then there is calm; I can just hear the wind, the waves, and a lot of laughter. The only light outside comes from the moon and stars.
“We have a peaceful home: the ocean, delicious food, and nothing else,” Eliane says with a smile. “A burning fire and good company – that’s all we need now.”
El Cabo is on Route 1 (at KM294 in Chubut). It is only accessible by car. Transportation can be arranged with El Cabo, from Puerto Madryn, for about £172 return. Accommodation costs from £7 a night for basic lodgings and £96 a night for private houses, +54 280 15 4 70 9080, caboraso.com.ar
MORE REMOTE GETAWAYS TO EXPLORE
‘Accursed Mountains’, Albania
They may be known to locals as “accursed” but the Albanian Alps are an untouched corner of Europe, made up of pine forests, limestone gorges and small mountain villages. The mountains can be reached by crossing Lake Koman by ferry – an adventure in its own right. From there go to Valbona (there are a handful of guesthouses to stay in), which is the perfect base for hiking in the surrounding hills.
• journeytovalbona.com
Iya Valley, Tokushima Prefecture, Japan
In contrast to the towering, illuminated skyscrapers and hi-tech infrastructure of Japan’s major cities, the Iya Valley is perhaps one of the most isolated regions of the country. On the southern island of Shikoku (the smallest and least-visited of the main four), the valley is laced with vine bridges and dotted with small villages and hot springs. It’s so remote that it has a history as a hideout for defeated warriors during the 12th century. A range of budget accommodation and campsites around the valley, such as the basic, vegetarian eco-guesthouse Ku Nel Asob or Iyakei Camp Village, make a good base to explore the mountain trails.
• jnto.go.jp
Supai, Arizona, US
It may be the capital of the Havasupai Indian Reservation but the remote desert hamlet of Supai has a population of just 208. You understand quite how detached it is when you learn that Supai is the only place in the US where mail is still delivered by mule train. And mule makes up one of the three ways you can reach it: the other two being via an eight-mile hike from the nearest road, or by helicopter. From here you can explore the stunning wild west geographical features of Havasu Creek, which is dotted with dramatic waterfalls. Tourism provides an important means of income for the Havasupai tribe, which owns and manages the 24-room Havasupai Lodge - the only lodging for 75 miles – and provides guides and mule packing services.
• havasupai-nsn.gov
Lofoten Islands, Norway
The capital of Norway’s Nordland region, Bodø feels pretty remote as it is. From here, the Lofoten Islands – a jagged archipelago within the Arctic Circle – appear as a faint bumpy line on the horizon. From Reine, the main village, you can hike up to epic viewpoint Reinebringen, or take ferries to explore other, smaller islands. To tune into the beat of the waves, pay a visit to Unstad Arctic Surf School – the world’s most northerly surf school.
• lofoten.info
Kalap, Uttarakhand, India
Uttarakhand is a tranquil state in northern India and lies in the foothills of the western Himalayas. It’s a far cry from the raucous urban areas most people arrive to and is home to the “yoga capital”, Rishikesh, as well as countless ashrams. For those seeking further solitude, a trip to Kalap, dubbed “the most remote village in India” is in order. The nearest train station is Dehradun; from there it’s a 10-hour bus ride to the town of Netwar, then a six-hour trek through pine forests to reach the village. Kalap is a spiritual place for the small community that lives there, but tourism is being managed responsibly via the Kalap Trust, a non-profit that has been working with the people of village.
• kalap.in
