
Autumn is in the air

An inquisitive old fart with a camera
General observations, generally during dog walks


Usually I walk the beach too late to the road repairs in action, but with today’s balmy weather I went early, and paused a while to watch the surprisingly quick maneuvering of the huge backhoe. The operator was really efficient. Of course, I also saw two guys sitting nearby, doing absolutely nothing.
I asked one of them what lay at the other end of the big pipes they had installed. Una cámara. An underground storage reservoir. Where did the water come from? I wasn’t too satisfied with the answer, since I still didn’t see how water would get into it.
¿No había nada? I asked, guessing there had been no drainage before, which is why the road kept getting washed out.
Nada, he replied with a smile, as if to say, can you believe this?

Look at the amount of tall grass on the left, then look at the photo from less than three months ago. Note the color of the water then …

… and now. I’m not quite ready to put fish in, but I’m tempted.
But guess what there’s no sign of? There should be lots of frogs, but I didn’t hear a single one—not a single splash.
Well, now, looks like they’re getting serious about fixing the collapsed Rambla. Instead of just dumping dirt in the hole where the road had been, as before, some serious drain work is in progress.
As I walked down to take a look, my unofficial dog Huma (silent H, remember) went tearing ahead, and when I could see over the ledge, I didn’t see her. But not for long: didit, DiDit, DIDIT and she launched out of one of the tubes like a projectile, veered around and went flying into another. I tried to catch her emerging again, but she was too fast: you can see her if you look very closely in front of the nearest tube.
She stayed in “crazed mode” the whole time we were on the beach, running back and forth, in and out of the water at full speed. Something in the air, I guess.
Why?
If you’re really curious, read 1,600+ words on The Alpha Zone.
(Oh, sorry: that explains why they are there, not why I counted them.)

In almost 4-1/2 years here, I’ve seen lots of rain, but never this: the tosca, road-building material made from soft sedimentary rock, has become so saturated in many areas that it acts as mud. Ride into that on a bicycle and you’ll regret it.
After I wrote the above, my wife mentioned that just a couple hours ago she got stuck in exactly this place—in the car. Had to rock back and forth to get free….

The pond has filled to its exit point, also its entrance. I don’t like that design. At some point I’ll get to work making a drain at the far end. But not today: after the temperature plunge of a couple days ago, and the flooding, the temperature has popped back up to 32/90° with oppressive humidity.
Our plan when we made the pond was to introduce plants to clear the water, then fish. That is, if it ever filled with water at all. The floating stuff on the right just appeared one day; turns out our neighbor planted it. Today brought another surprise, one which I don’t think has to do with him (but you never know!).


A substantial portion of the Rambla (beach road) washed away, and as soon as the rain paused, everyone wanted to see it. It’s not the first time, but the worst I’ve seen.

At a parking area now completely unusable, water pouring through and over the boardwalk.

Heading home.

On January 31, I drove out Route 11, which most directly connects Punta del Este, summer glitterati HQ of the southern hemisphere, with Colonia, embarkation point for the quickest ferry to Buenos Aires. It marked the second biweekly turnover of holidaymakers, and the road appeared to be a river of black license plates in both directions.
The ones inbound picked poorly: they have anything but beach weather since. But yesterday it got hot, almost Paraguay-hot with humidity. When I took the top photo it seemed to me the pine tree was sweating as well. And here we are today.
A Uruguayan told me the other day that summer here used to mean temperatures in the 80s Fahrenheit. Not this summer. Not last summer.
Part of me is a little more convinced there is no normal anymore. Cambio climatico, as they say here.