Cabo Polônio
Cabo Polônio is not accessible by private vehicle. At the kilometer 264 marker on Route 10, a parking area and official terminal mark the point where you leave the car and board one of the specially outfitted 4x4 trucks — open-top, double-decked affairs — that cross the dunes to the cape. The crossing takes around 30 minutes each way and covers roughly 8 kilometers through shifting sand, coastal scrub, and open dune fields that tumble down toward the Atlantic. It's a deliberate piece of friction built into any visit, and it works: by the time the village appears at the end of the ride, it feels genuinely remote.
Cabo Polônio takes its name from the Spanish vessel El Polonio, which sank on the rocks here in 1735. Sailors feared the cape for centuries before the lighthouse was built in 1881 to warn ships away from the submerged hazards. The Islas de Torres, three rocky islets just offshore, host the largest sea lion colony in Uruguay — both South American sea lions and the smaller South American fur seal coexist on the rocks directly below the lighthouse. The lighthouse itself, a 27-meter tower with 132 steps, is open to visitors and offers the clearest view of the whole improbable scene: the dune system, the Atlantic beaches on either side of the peninsula, the island colonies. The village below has around a hundred permanent residents, no public electricity grid, no running water, and no paved streets — just sandy footpaths between low-slung cabins, most of them built by hand. This isn't branding; it's how people actually live here, and have since the sea lion hunters first settled alongside the lighthouse keeper's family in the late 1800s. Three hours is enough to climb the lighthouse, walk to the sea lion rocks, eat something at one of the small restaurants in the village, and take the return truck back to the highway.