When you wake up in Cabo Polonio you follow a pair of footprints made in the sand by the bare feet of a pretty girl you met the previous night to a lighthouse where some horses are grazing on dry grass.

Below you is the wind-swept village you have come so far to see, less than a mile wide and separated into three distinct leagues of homes.

To your left, southward, are the privately-owned, upscale houses, built illegally during the housing boom of the 1990s and later purchased outright from their land owners at astronmical prices through a deal made with the government.

Locals say that rich families of government ministers in Montevideo and Buenos Aires own most of these houses, which are always empty all winter.

The middle third is comprised of slightly less upscale houses. These have been claimed by the state because they sit inside the federally protected sea lion sanctuary.

And in the final third you find the disputed area of the town, the area which also contains the historical town center. It is here that Uruguayan fisherman arrived almost 100 years ago to build their houses out of scrapwood and beams pulled from sunken ships on the coast, one resident told me.

Together the privately-owned and state-owned lands comprise around two hundred houses, said Ruben “Popeye” Marcotte, a 22-year resident of Cabo Polonio, who is surprisingly anti-conformist for a national park guard. Around 97 homes lie in the disputed territory.

Beginning in the 1960s, word of Cabo Polonio’s mystical fame spread across South America. Each year about 20 vacation homes were built, most of them illegally, until in 2000 members of the village’s Commission of Advisors asked the government to come in and stop the growth.

Each summer between 1,500 and 2,000 tourists arrive daily in Cabo Polonio to enjoy its warm beaches, spectacular skies and the unique culture of its inhabitants. In Winter, the village becomes a ghost town and the majority of the homes are empty.

It didn’t used to be this way, said Marcotte.

“It was different. Not like it is now,” he said. “Back then I worked with lots of people and we had work year-round. There were a lot more people who worked in construction and fishing.”

Memories of rustic realism

One old-timer named Johnny, who owns his property outright, described to me the fishing on the peninsula before the land became protected by the government. He explained how the fishermen would set the angle of their gill nets against the natural form of the shoals so that the fish could not escape.

He showed me a thin cut of shark meat that he had salted, slipping it out of his cupboard like a book.

In the winters, his family used to cook dulce de leche on a wood stove range, placing marbles in the pot with the sugar and milk so that they would know when the pot was starting to boil, or maybe it was so they wouldn’t have to get up to stir it.

With only seasonal work in tourism and a moratorium on building, most of the original families have moved away. Many of the pillars of the community have died.

Shifting dunes, shifting society

The government has twice razed homes in the disputed third of Cabo Polonio, targeting houses it says encroach on the natural movement of the sand dunes, and alter the natural ecosystem.

Lucio Cavalieri Suanes came to Cabo Polonio searching for an alternative lifestyle, away from the big city in the late 1990s, purchasing his home in what is now the disputed territory. The house is one of those on trial.

Something as simple – and critical – as repairing a roof on a home in Cabo Polonio takes months, he said, because the regulations have made it impossible to obtain a permit from the Rocha State government.

Suanes said that the government will not issue permits to the disputed third, because it wants to demolish as many houses owned by low income residents at it can.

Unable to repair his home, Saunes lives with his girlfriend Aida in a cramped basement of a different home.

“The nature is very alive, with strong winds – your house deteriorates quickly,” Suanes said. “They will not give you permission to repair your house because they want it to fall on your head.”

Costly regulations have forced many residents of Cabo Polonio to move away, and the popoulation is slowly changing from the poor fishing commune into a village used only by rich businessmen and politicians for their week-long vacations from the big city,  Suanes said.

The government is ruining the culture of the city, which is its true and only attraction, Suanes said.

“Without people this would be just two beaches, rocks, a lighthouse, and sea lions, no great attraction,” Suanes said. “What makes (Cabo Polonio) special thing is the community that has formed.”

More reading on Cabo Polonio:

VIDEO: In defense of squatters; Cabo Polonio – Part 1

A lesson from the children – Cabo Polonio – Part 3 (of 3)