Along cañóns and quebradas

Argentina | Anno 2015

 

Monday, July 13 | Salta

Tuesday, July 14 | Salta – Cafayate

Wednesday, July 15 | Cafayate – Salta

 

 

Monday, July 13 | Salta

A bumpy descent through turbulent air brings us a little before three to the Aeropuerto Internacional de Salta Martín Miguel de Güemes, a windy airport nestled between high mountains just south of Salta, in the northwest corner of Argentina.

It takes a moment to find our guide. Then someone named Gonzalo shows up. Proudly, he greets us in his best Dutch: Goede morgen, lekker ding, meaning Good morning, gorgeous. It’s easy to guess where he picked that up. A few other fun phrases come to mind, and we look forward to expanding his knowledge of the Dutch language in the coming days.

His heritage is Italian; his family emigrated after the First World War. His friends call him Turco. We’re also welcome to call him that if Gonzalo is too difficult. He has brought along a driver, Marcos, and a relatively new Mercedes Benz Sprinter van – with barely 10 000 kilometres on the odometer.

The wind that nearly blows you off your feet here is called the viento norte

Salta is situated at an altitude of 1 187 meters and has a population of 530 000, Gonzalo begins as Marcos heads toward the Cerro San Bernardo, a mountain that rises over 200 meters above the city. The wind that nearly blows you off your feet here is the viento norte, a warm, dry wind from the north. It’s so strong today that even the cable car, the Teleferico San Bernardo, has had to halt its operations.

The exact date and founder of the city are unusually well-documented. It happened on April 16, 1582, by conquistador Hernando de Lerma. It was intended as a stopover on the 4 000 km route from Lima, Peru, to Buenos Aires, Argentina, cutting across South America. The founder is commemorated with a statue on the Plaza 9 de Julio, and the valley is also named after him.

One of the first buildings erected on the edge of the square was the white Cabildo, the town hall. The current version of the imposing Catedral Basilica de Salta only appeared between 1858 and 1888 on the opposite side of the square, designed in the then-popular Italian neoclassical style – although the architects were from Barcelona.

Buildings here are limited to a maximum of six stories because earthquakes are a daily occurrence. Most of them are barely noticeable, according to Gonzalo.

Without any hesitation, the Salta city council formally declared these events miraculous

The earthquake of September 13, 1692, was different. It had a magnitude of 7,0 on the Richter scale, with the epicentre directly beneath Salta. The city was heavily damaged. But something very special happened in the cathedral. The statue of the Virgin Mary fell from a three-meter-high pedestal but remained completely intact, lying on the ground before the image of the crucified Christ – as if she were pleading with Him to protect the city. What’s more, when the statues were carried outside on September 15 to prevent further damage, the tremors stopped.

 

Salta – Señor del Milagro

Virgen del Milagro

Without any hesitation, the Salta city council formally declared these events miraculous. From then on, the statues would be known as Señor y Virgen del Milagro – the Lord and the Virgin of the Miracle. Every year on September 15th, a procession with the two statues still takes place. During these festivities, Salta's population temporarily swells to 800 000.

A fantastic region this is, says Gonzalo. The dry, subtropical climate creates a unique environment, with volcanic lakes, salt flats, and active volcanoes. At 6 793 meters, Llullaillaco is even one of the highest volcanoes in the world. Gold, silver, lithium, and many other resources are practically there for the taking. They grow paprika here, as well as tobacco, soybeans, sugarcane, and even produce wine. It’s no wonder the city has the nickname Salta la Linda – Salta the Beautiful.

 

Salta – Teleferico San Bernardo

Meanwhile, we’ve reached the top of San Bernardo, the mountain overlooking the city. It’s busy, with cars parked bumper to bumper along the narrow road. This is the peak season for local tourism. With some effort, the sun breaks through the clouds, and the white city with its rectangular street pattern lies at our feet.

It has not escaped our notice that the Teleferico San Bernardo cable car is operating smoothly again. Apparently, the viento norte has lost its strength. We glide down the mountainside in the cable car, heading back to the white city and Marcos’ bus.

 

Statue of Martín Miguel de Güemes

Gonzalo immediately takes us to the statue of Martín Miguel de Güemes, a key figure in the uprising against the Spaniards. What José de San Martín was to Buenos Aires, Martín Miguel de Güemes was to Salta. However, his statue isn’t in the city centre but rather in a remote corner at the foot of San Bernardo, Gonzalo notes with some indignation. He attributes this to the city’s elites, who didn’t want anything to do with this gaucho. His army consisted of poor gauchos or cattle herders, and he didn’t hesitate to force the wealthy landowners to contribute to the war effort.

The city’s elites didn’t want anything to do with this gaucho

Just eight kilometres from here lies San Lorenzo, at the foot of mountains that rise 900 to 1 500 meters above the village. Moist air pushed up against those mountain walls cools down, forming clouds. This creates a humid subtropical microclimate. It rains more there than elsewhere, and sometimes it even snows. Gonzalo enthusiastically insists that we must see the lush green vegetation that results from this.

So, we head to the green gorge, even though it’s almost completely dark by now. We can barely make out the dark silhouettes of sumptuous residences, apparently owned by wealthy individuals who have made their homes here. We see little more than dark shadows of the lush vegetation. A few souvenir shops still have their lights on.

 

Catedral Basilica de Salta

Marcos turns back without accomplishing anything, but Gonzalo’s enthusiasm remains undiminished. It’s 7:40 p.m. when we reach the Catedral Basilica de Salta. Under the arcades and between the trees on the square, there’s a lively bustle. People are lining up in long queues at the ATMs – it looks like Greece here.

 

Catedral Basilica de Salta

The church is packed. The mass is just ending, but not all the worshippers immediately shuffle outside. In the chapels on either side of the main altar, they can bring their concerns to Señor del Milagro and Virgen del Milagro. They wait in a long line for their turn to have a brief, personal moment with the crucified Christ. At His feet, they murmur their prayers. In a side aisle, a priest hears confessions.

 

Señor del Milagro

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Tuesday, July 14 | Salta – Cafayate

A short trip to Cafayate – about 190 km south of Salta – is on the agenda for today and tomorrow. Via the Quebrada de las Conchas we will travel to Cafayate today, and tomorrow we will return to Salta via Molinos, Cachi and Cuesta del Obispo.

El Capitan Miguel, as Gonzalo calls him, takes over from driver Marcos. The flashy van from yesterday stays in the garage; instead, we have an older Sprinter with over 147 000 km on the odometer. That’s not surprising, considering we’ll be dealing with unpaved roads over the next few days, and it’s better not to use your best vehicle for that. The temperature isn’t looking promising either – Gonzalo predicts a midday temperature of 11° C (52 °F), and it reportedly snowed in Cachi yesterday.

At 7:45 a.m., Miguel starts driving in the pitch dark. As if they’ve been camped out all night, people are still lined up in queues dozens of meters long at the ATMs.

 

Coca leaves ‘San Silvestre’

Through the Lerma Valley we head south along the Ruta Nacional 68. But first, we need to stock up on supplies. Gonzalo needs fresh yerba mate leaves for his daily tea and fresh coca leaves in anticipation of the high passes we’ll cross. San Silvestre is the perfect place to get these supplies. However, the scene is chaotic – a half dozen tourist buses have stopped with the same intentions. So, we continue without success.

 

Ruta Nacional 68

The eastern Precordillera, as they call the eastern foothills of the Andes here, are older than the Andes themselves but are the result of the same subduction process, says Gonzalo, although there’s no scientific consensus on that.

Subduction occurs as the oceanic Nazca Plate slides about six centimetres per year beneath the South American continental plate, causing it to rise. Erosion processes have sculpted the fascinating shapes and colours in these old mountains that we’ll observe in the coming days. We’ll also see beautiful cacti, many species of birds, and many types of spiders – including the tarantula, the black widow, and the tiger spider. But the wind coming down from the mountains will be very cold, he adds.

As dawn breaks outside, Gonzalo displays the accessories needed to prepare a portion of mate: a thermos of hot water, a cuia or calabash-shaped drinking cup, a silver bombilla or straw, a supply of dried yerba mate leaves, and a shoulder bag to store it all. The straw has a small filter to prevent the finely ground leaves from being sucked up.

Mate is traditionally drunk in a social setting

Mate is traditionally drunk in a social setting. The gourd with the straw is passed around, and everyone gets a taste. It has a rather bitter flavour that doesn’t immediately appeal to us. Outside, dense grey clouds hang low over the valley.

A Maxi Kiosco in a quiet village along the road solves our supply problem. For 40 pesos – three euros – Gonzalo buys a pack of Coca Seleccionada y Comun, imported from Bolivia. In Argentina, the use of coca leaves is legal, but cultivation is not. In Bolivia, you pay 350 pesos for 1 kg; here, it’s 700 pesos.

Chewing coca leaves works excellently as a preventive measure against altitude sickness, Gonzalo explains. With a bit of luck, you might even see pink elephants or donkeys flying through the air. You chew the leaves for about an hour, then spit them out. Combine the coca leaves with whisky, and you have the equivalent of Viagra. We’re tempted to try it – though for now, without whisky. But no pink elephants or flying donkeys appear.

 

Quebrada de las Conchas

Around half past nine, the sun has finally secured a spot in the partially blue sky. Yet, it is still only 7° C (45 °F). The police checkpoint in Talapampa doesn't hinder us in the slightest. Further ahead, the Parador Posta de las Cabras appears. Here, they sell quesos artisanales, artisanally produced goat cheeses. For Miguel, it's the perfect place to take a short break.

 

A gorge is a gorge, but here they have cañóns and quebradas

Upstream along the Río de las Conchas, we continue our journey. The modest village of Alemanía has no more than a handful of houses. It owes its name to the fact that the first inhabitants came from Germany.

 

Quebrada de las Conchas

One bend further, we enter the 75 km long Quebrada de las Conchas. A gorge is a gorge, but here they have cañóns and quebradas. Both have steep rock walls, but the difference lies in the width – a cañón is very narrow, while a quebrada is somewhat wider.

 

Quebrada de las Conchas

The rocks we now observe in the Quebrada de las Conchas were formed 90 to 60 million years ago during the Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras. Their ochre-red colour is due to an excess of iron oxide. Geologically speaking, the gorge itself is relatively recent. It’s only in the past two million years that tectonic movements have caused the fault.

 

Quebrada de las Conchas

Miguel drops us off in a wide bend amidst the impressive rock formations. The sun is shining, the blue sky is almost cloudless, but the thermometer keeps showing 10 °C (50 °F). The cold north wind makes it feel even colder.

 

Quebrada de las Conchas

Since 1995, this quebrada has been a protected nature reserve. It owes its name to the fossilized shells found here. But also, footprints of dinosaurs have been discovered in the marine and continental limestone layers, and even fossilized stromatolites. One day, the area will be recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage site. At least, that’s Gonzalo’s belief.

 

La Garganta del Diablo

El Anfiteatro

In those rock formations, wind and water have carved out remarkable structures. One of them is La Garganta del Diablo, the Devil’s Throat, a gigantic chimney eroded into the rock wall. Further along, we encounter El Anfiteatro, a cylindrical chamber with striking acoustics. High up on the rock wall, traces of a dry waterfall are visible. It’s bustling with activity – if you're not careful, you might end up with a selfie stick in your nostril.

If you're not careful, you might end up with a selfie stick in your nostril

A short climb takes us to the impressive viewpoint Mirador Tres Cruces. The sun gently casts its rays over the wide valley, where the Río de las Conchas quietly meanders between pale green sandbanks, surrounded on all sides by ochre-red mountains.

 

Mirador Tres Cruces

After all that beauty, El Sapo, a grotesque conglomerate in the shape of a frog, can hardly captivate us anymore.

However, we're more than willing to step out of our bus for La Yesera. Even more surprising and bizarre are the jagged shapes and varied colours of the eroded ridges, folded rock layers, peaks, and cliffs here. This is an important site for fossil fish, suggesting that around 15 million years ago, the last passage from the sea to the mainland might have been located here.

 

La Yesera

La Yesera

La Yesera

La Yesera

La Yesera

 

Where the gorge opens into the wide Calchaquí Valley, a rock rises in the distance, resembling the bow of the sinking Titanic. A solitary tree, little more than a shrub with bare, greenish-yellow branches, feels at home here. It’s a brea, a tree that needs little water and easily colonizes arid areas. This place is named after it – La Brea. It's a windy spot – we’d better be careful that our pants don't blow off. The dense cloud of dust in the distance is Cafayate, our destination, a town with about 20 000 inhabitants.

 

Brea

Cactus

The strong wind drives streaks of sand across the straight road. Horses stand with their backs to the wind as sand grains whip against their bodies. Dust clouds obscure the flat landscape.

Yet, in this harsh setting, it's the vineyards that dominate. Here, no less than 1 800 meters above sea level, wine is produced, Gonzalo beams. This is the famous vino de altura, the high-altitude wine – white wine made from the local Torrontés grape, and red wine made from Malbec. No fewer than 36 winemakers are active here.

Horses stand with their backs to the wind as sand grains whip against their bodies

It's a quarter past one when we settle down for lunch at La Carreta de Don Olegario on Plaza 20 de Febrero. An hour later, we drive through the vineyards and enter the estate of Finca Quara. We're eager to get acquainted with these famous wines. But luck isn't on our side. Two large groups have preceded us, and there are only two guides available.

 

Cafayate – Wine estate Finca Quara

Gonzalo improvises a mini-tour. At the end of the 19th century, José Fortunato Lavaque, an immigrant from Lebanon, settled in this region and began his own wine production – around 1 500 hectolitres per year. More than a century later, they are now in the fifth generation of winemakers, producing wine on an industrial scale.

The terroirs of the Calchaquí Valley are considered some of the highest in the world – grapes are cultivated here at altitudes between 1 600 and 3 100 meters above sea level. Although the growing season is very short, the dry and sunny climate more than compensates for it. It’s so dry that irrigation is necessary. Cold and hail can also be a problem. However, the feared phylloxera, the vine louse that devastates vineyards, does not penetrate these heights. Visitors are therefore not allowed among the vines to prevent contamination.

The terroirs of the Calchaquí Valley are considered some of the highest in the world

The white Torrontés is a grape native to this area – a mix of the Muscat grape and the local Criolla Chica. The dark Malbec, on the other hand, originates from southwestern France. The harvest takes place once a year, usually between December and March. The tall vines are hand-picked, but increasingly, people are switching to low vines that can be picked by machine.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating. Curiously, we head to the tasting room and sample a sweet but flavourful Torrontés and a commendable Gran Malbec, aged for a year in oak.

To find traces of the original inhabitants of the Calchaquí Valley, we need to travel another fifty kilometres further south. There, at the foot of the 2 300-meter-high Alto del Rey, lie the ruins of Quilmes, a fortress of the Diaguita people.

A grey blanket of clouds has since taken over the sky. Dense dust clouds are whipped up by the wind, obscuring the horizon. We're grateful that we had such beautiful, clear weather in the quebradas this morning.

Two spurs of the mountain embrace the village on either side, like a loving father protecting his child

Quilmes

At a quarter past four, we reach the site and stroll towards the square in the lowest part of the city. This is a sacred city for the local population, according to Gonzalo. Nowadays, people live down in the valley among the fertile lands, but back then, they settled here on the mountainside, with the Alto del Rey as their natural shield. Two spurs of the mountain embrace the village on either side – like a loving father protecting his child, Gonzalo explains. We can also make out the remnants of watchtowers overlooking the plain.

 

Quilmes

All that remains of the houses are knee-high walls, but that's enough to give us a sense of the site's scale. It was a complex settlement, covering about 30 hectares (74 acres) and likely housing around 5 000 people. It must have been founded around the year 1000 and clearly had a defensive purpose, given the thick walls.

Around 1480, warlike Incas with sinister intentions appeared

And defence indeed proved to be necessary, as around 1480, warlike Incas with sinister intentions appeared. But they failed to subdue the Diaguita. The Spanish also took more than a century to conquer them. It wasn't until 1652 that the Diaguita finally laid down their arms after the Spanish cut off their supply of food and water. As punishment, the Spanish deported the remaining population to Buenos Aires, more than 1 300 km away. From that displaced group, the modern city of Quilmes was born.

Back then, quinoa or goosefoot was one of the main food sources. The old city was surrounded by vast fields. Among the ruins, you can still find bowls and grinding stones used to process the seeds. Livestock farming was also important. Llamas were not only used as pack animals but were also valued for their wool, meat, and even their manure.

 

Intriguing little wells with a ceremonial function

We follow the path to the northern watchtower. A large, flat stone with about ten deep, cylindrical holes catches our attention. The Diaguita filled these with water, Gonzalo explains, to observe the stars, the sun, and the moon. We don't believe that for a second. We find at least eight more such artefacts scattered around. It seems more plausible that they had a ceremonial function – especially since we read that on a plaque.

If all goes well, these cacti can live for up to two centuries

Trichocereus saguaro

More than from below, the view from the watchtower reveals how giant cacti dominate the site and the valley. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. Gonzalo identifies them as trichocereus saguaro. These cacti grow five to six centimetres per year, but after 27 to 30 years, when they finally bloom, they enter turbo mode – growing 10 to 12 centimetres annually. If all goes well, they can live for up to two centuries.

 

Quilmes – House

At our feet, the geometric shapes of the low walls stretch across the slope. It looks like a rough sketch, ready for construction to begin. Most are large or small rectangles, often interrupted by a circular structure. It’s difficult to distinguish any street pattern.

In the valley, a huge cloud of wind-driven sand hangs in the air. That sand causes us problems as soon as we set off. A sandstorm briefly swirls over the road, making it almost impossible to see anything.

 

Small sandstorm

Nevertheless, just before half-past six, we reach Wine Resort Viñas de Cafayate, nestled among the vineyards at the foot of the mountains. It’s a gem of a hotel, built in colonial style with warm, spacious rooms, wooden ceilings, reddish-brown glazed floor tiles, and traditional furniture. Our delight culminates in an excellent three-course dinner, which we fittingly accompany with a Torrontés Piatelli and a Malbec.

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Wednesday, July 15 | Cafayate – Salta

Outside, the thermometer reads 1 °C (34 °F). At the agreed-upon time, there’s no sign of Miguel or Gonzalo. They’re half an hour late due to problems with fuel supply and the long lines at the gas stations.

 

Cafayate – Morning mists

To reach Cachi, we’ll follow Ruta Nacional 40, a national road that has the status of a national monument. Ruta 40 crosses Argentina from the far north to the deep south. At 5 191 km, it’s the longest road in the country. Its highest point is 5 000 meters above sea level – only surpassed by roads in the Himalayas. La Cuarenta, as it's called, holds a similar status in Argentina as Route 66 does in the United States, with the notable difference that Route 66 is fully paved.

 

La Cuarenta holds a similar status in Argentina as Route 66 does in the United States, with the notable difference that Route 66 is fully paved

La Cuarenta

Neither clouds nor sandstorms hinder our journey. The sun gradually takes its place in a steel-blue sky. But that can change quickly, Gonzalo warns. Even snow isn’t entirely out of the question along this route.

Even snow isn’t entirely out of the question along this route

Soon, the Río Calchaquí appears on our right. It will accompany us all the way to Cachi. In the west, the mountains bask in the reddish glow of the rising sun. The shadows cast by its rays highlight the pockmarked terrain of the mountain slopes. Mountains make Gonzalo think of coca. He generously offers his supply, but there are few takers.

 

Quebrada de las Flechas

San Carlos de Borromeo has only 2 000 inhabitants and is a very quiet village, originally founded as a Jesuit mission. However, it can boast the largest village square in the province of Salta. Gonzalo also points out something curious about the doors of some houses. Instead of being in the facade, they are located in one of the corners, consisting of two wooden panels set at a right angle – one for each corner wall.

Meanwhile, the paved road has given way to a gravel track. The main activities in this area revolve around sheep, goats, and vineyards. However, Gonzalo downplays the local wine, describing it as a sweet wine primarily intended for family use.

Sharp, ochre-red rocks jut into the sky like giant spearheads. This phenomenon is called Quebrada de las Flechas, located about 70 km north of Cafayate. It’s a unique landscape that forms part of the Monumento Natural Angastaco.

 

Quebrada de las Flechas

Corte el Ventisquero

According to Gonzalo, the formation of these structures is due to sediment carried by the east wind 15 to 20 million years ago, which couldn’t pass over the Andes. Layer after layer, the sediment settled at the foot of this natural barrier, while the Andes continued to rise due to subduction. Thirty thousand years ago, a large lake formed, allowing water erosion to play its part. Temperature fluctuations and wind erosion also contributed. The narrow passage through the rocks is aptly named Corte el Ventisquero because of the constantly shifting winds.

 

Quebrada de las Flechas

The sun shines brightly in a clear blue sky, inviting us to explore on foot. The thermometer reads 8 °C (46 °F), but it feels more like 15 °C (59 °F). We stroll about two kilometres along the gravel road, enjoying the surprising and ever-changing views of the rugged formations. A path leads us to the top of one of the cliffs for a spectacular view of the surroundings. It’s a narrow path – a sign warns of the risks, Maximo 5 personas – but the view is well worth it.

 

Corte el Cañón

A little later, we encounter Corte el Cañón, the last pass before Ruta 40 reconnects with the Calchaquí River Valley. The river winds gently between the razor-sharp cliffs, and soon, the Río Angastaco will join it. In the distance, the eternal snow of the 6 380-meter-high Nevado de Cachi stands out against the blue sky.

 

Río Calchaquí Valley, Nevado de Cachi

According to Gonzalo, an ancient lake shaped this landscape. Despite its serene appearance, this area is home to pumas, small foxes, tarantulas, and black widows – Gonzalo seems particularly fascinated by spiders. Pumas can weigh between 60 and 70 kg, he adds.

Only the snowy albatross does better in terms of wingspan

With some luck, you might also spot an Andean condor here. This vulture primarily feeds on the carcasses of large mammals. With a wingspan of 2,7 to 3,2 meters, it's larger than the American condor; only the snowy albatross surpasses it. Young condors are uniformly brown, while adults are black with a fluffy white collar. As they age, the black feathers turn grey. A condor can live for 16 to 18 years if conditions are favourable. Males can be identified by their large red crest and brown eyes, while females have red eyes but lack a crest.

Gonzalo doesn't miss the chance to wrap up his zoological discourse with some observations about camelids. These animals first appeared in North America about 45 million years ago. It was only 2 to 3 million years ago that they began to migrate – some to Asia, where they evolved into camels and dromedaries, and others to South America, where we now know them as llamas, alpacas, guanacos, and vicuñas. Alpacas, however, are not found in Argentina. The fine wool of the vicuña is highly prized and thus very expensive – up to $ 1 000 per kilogram. Making ponchos from vicuña wool is a local specialty, with prices ranging from two to three thousand dollars.

Making ponchos from vicuña wool is a local specialty, with prices ranging from two to three thousand dollars

We cross the wide bed of the Río Las Rosas, which has been reduced to a narrow stream. Gonzalo shows us a video on his smartphone, demonstrating how wildly the waters here churn during the rainy season.

 

Burrowing parrots

A colony of noisy burrowing parrots inhabits the bare branches of a tree. With their stocky heads, the olive-green birds, featuring beautiful reddish-brown underbellies, keep a close watch on us. High in the sky, a Andean condor is on the lookout for carrion.

 

Burrowing parrots

Further along in a meadow, dozens of guayatas, or Andean geese, are gathered. You will rarely see these heavy-set white birds with black tails swimming; they prefer solid ground under their red feet and primarily feed on grass.

 

Andean geese

Shortly after noon, we arrive in the sleepy town of Molinos, which has a population of 920 to 935, as Gonzalo precisely notes. In the past, the Jesuits established numerous wind and water mills here, which is how the town got its name. Today, the village seems completely deserted, and we literally don’t see a soul on the streets.

 

Molinos – Hacienda Isasmendi

Among the more illustrious residents of the village was the Isasmendi family, a wealthy family of Basque origin. Its most famous member was Don Nicolas Severo de Isasmendi y Echalar, the last Spanish governor of the province of Salta – born, raised, and died in Molinos, as proudly noted by the glazed tiles.

 

Abrahan Cornejo – House with typical corner door

It is not the church but the Isasmendi hacienda around which the village developed. There is no central plaza here. The beautiful white courtyard of the hacienda is dominated by a rose pepper tree, essentially a gigantic shrub with coral-red berries that have nothing to do with peppers.

 

Iglesia San Pedro Nolasca de los Molinos

Opposite the hacienda, on the edge of the village, stands the austere, understated Iglesia San Pedro Nolasca de los Molinos, built in 1692. The sturdy cream-colored walls are made of adobe and coated with lime. Notably, there are fourteen beautiful panels of the Stations of the Cross; the images are woven from cloth, and the undecorated frames are made from cactus wood.

 

In the beautiful Stations of the Cross the images are woven from cloth, and the undecorated frames are made from cactus wood

We take a moment to explore the Abrahan Cornejo, with its white houses and bare pollard willows. The wide street, paved with cobblestones and natural stones, appears deserted. At the street corners, the houses have green corner doors, as we learned to recognize in San Carlos. A sign on the Casa de Indalecio Gómez states that a former resident of this house served as Argentina's Minister of the Interior and introduced universal, compulsory, and anonymous suffrage, laying the foundation for Argentine democracy.

Another nice and unpretentious village is Seclantás. However, it was here that in 1816 La Junta Fascista met to discuss impending independence – in an era when the words junta and fascista had no negative connotation. Gonzalo notes that these are modest villages, but apparently they played a significant role in Argentina's history.

Donkeys scare off the pumas that prey on sheep and goats

Farmers have released donkeys into the wild, known to cause considerable damage to nature. They uproot grass entirely, unlike llamas, which graze more civilly. However, the donkeys scare off the pumas that prey on sheep and goats.

Tenaciously the road clings to the mountainside, winding its way along, as the precious fertile land below in the valley is reserved for agriculture.

 

Cachi – Iglesia San José

Just before two o'clock, we arrive in Cachi, a small town with 5 500 inhabitants, situated 2 530 meters above sea level. The sunny plaza, shaded by leafy trees, is bustling with activity. At the restored Casa Tedin on the corner of the square, the restaurant La Esquina has been established. Where a double corner door once stood, a beautiful bay window has been built. Quite quickly they serve us empanadas – baked pastries filled with meat, vegetables, or cheese – quinoa, stewed goat meat, and baked apples.

 

Cachi

After lunch, we head to the Iglesia San José de Cachi and the Museo Arqueológico Pio Pablo Diaz. The museum presents a limited number of local archaeological finds in an attractive manner, including an anthropomorphic menhir, about twenty ceramic urns, and various artefacts made of stone, bone, wood, and metal. Gonzalo provides some commentary since the explanations are only available in Spanish.

 

Cachi – Museo Archeologico Pio Pablo Diaz

Ceramics market

At Payogasta, we leave the Calchaquí River and La Cuarenta behind, heading into the mountains via the paved Provincial Route 33. Here, chili peppers and bell peppers are important crops. They are typically harvested and then dried in the sun during the autumn and winter months.

 

Parque Nacional Los Cardones

Just after four, we reach Parque Nacional Los Cardones, a national park covering nearly 650 square kilometres at an elevation of 3 000 meters. A twelve-kilometre-long, perfectly straight road crosses the area. Even the Incas had discovered this route, as the remnants of the ancient Inca trail, which once stretched over 5 000 kilometres from Quito in Ecuador to Mendoza in Argentina, lie right next to the modern road. To the west, the colourful Tin Tin mountains define the boundaries of this high plain.

Even the Incas had discovered this route, as the remnants of the ancient Inca trail lie right next to the modern road

Cardόn cacti

Giant cacti are the main attraction here, but you can also find scorpions and black widows – yes, Gonzalo will never forget to mention the spiders. A cactus is a cactus, you might say, but this trichocereus pasacana should not be confused with the trichocereus saguaro we saw in Quilmes. Commonly, it’s known as the cardón de la puna or simply the cardón cactus.

If it's lucky, exactly one of these eighty thousand seeds will germinate

Young cardόn cactus under creosote bush

Cardόn cacti

Being real giants, they can grow up to 10 meters tall. Their white spines are also impressive – up to 14 cm long. Remarkably, the birth of a new plant is a slow process. A mature cactus produces eighty thousand seeds, and if it's lucky, exactly one of them will germinate. This only happens if the seed falls in the shade of a host plant – often a creosote bush – that offers enough protection against the heat and night frost. Only when they reach five centimetres in height after eight to ten years can they survive on their own.

 

Cardόn cacti

This means, among other things, that they start developing spines. These not only serve to deter hungry animals but also minimize moisture loss through evaporation due to their small surface area. Morning dew that condenses on the spines easily drips onto the ground, where it’s absorbed by surface roots. A second set of roots goes deeper in search of groundwater. The thick green bark of the stem also helps minimize moisture loss, while a waxy outer layer prevents evaporation.

Anyone who thinks this is all the result of natural evolution is mistaken

By the way, anyone who thinks this is all the result of natural evolution is mistaken. The trichocereus pasacana was born from a forbidden love. Kehuaillu and Pasacana are the Romeo and Juliet of this true story. The beautiful Pasacana was in love with Kehuaillu, much to the dismay of her father, an Inca chieftain. Heartbroken, the couple fled, closely pursued by an enraged father with sword in hand. Desperate, they called upon Pachamama, Mother Earth, for help. Pachamama hid them in a fold of her earthly garment.

But the father didn’t give up and kept hanging around, waiting to strike the lovers down as soon as they appeared. So Pachamama threw a large green poncho over Kehuaillu’s shoulders, allowing him to embrace his beloved endlessly. From the outside, the grumpy father only saw a giant cactus, while inside, the lovebirds cooed.

But one cannot live on love alone. Sometimes, Pasacana wanted to admire the beautiful surroundings and the colourful mountains. Then she would transform into a beautiful white flower on the outside of the cactus, enjoying all the beauty without arousing her father’s suspicion.

Both Catholic candles and pagan coca leaves are offered in the chapel

In the high plain of Cachipampa, we spot our first guanacos. At 3 457 meters, Piedra del Molino is the undisputed highlight of the day – literally. The pass is named after the granite found here, from which many of the valley’s millstones were carved. A Capilla San Rafael stands here, where both Catholic candles and pagan coca leaves are offered.

The dark mountain across the valley is aptly named Cerro Negro. On the pale green slopes, we think we see camelids, but it turns out to be horses feeding on the dry grass.

 

Piedra del Molino – Capilla San Rafael

Valle Encantado

At our feet, Ruta 33 now unfolds like a white ribbon, winding down in many hairpin bends along the Cuesta del Obispo. The name refers to a bishop who travelled this route in 1622 to go from Salta to Cachi – at a time when traveling along the Inca Trail was a bit less comfortable. Clouds of dust and white-yellow headlights mark the positions of cars on the unpaved road. Later on, we ourselves too will disappear into the dense cloud cover that we see hanging above Salta in the distance.

 

Cuesta del Obispo

It’s half past five when we begin the steep, 21-kilometre descent. Where the sun hasn't managed to cast its rays, thin streaks of snow can be seen. The rock layers of Valle Encantado are so tightly folded that they seem to rise almost vertically from the ground.

 

El Torrial

El Torrial rises imposingly above the Río De Escoipe, its profile somewhat reminiscent of the Grand Canyon. But the Incas didn’t know that when they used that height to survey the distant surroundings.

What inevitably leads to problems nine months later, concludes Gonzalo

Particularly unique is the way in which young people in this region seek contact with each other during Carnival. First they get very drunk, then they use a small mirror to reflect a beam of sunlight onto the face of the person they fancy – which, in a drunken state, is surely not an easy task. If the target also has a mirror and manages to respond in the same way, there is mutual agreement. What inevitably leads to problems nine months later, concludes Gonzalo.

 

 

A half-hour descent brings us to Hostelleria El Maray, 1 200 meters lower. The road has become paved again by this point. Aside from a modest water channel, the Escoipe River is mostly dry. This is convenient, as it allows traffic to be diverted through the riverbed during roadwork.

Just before seven, we reach the plains, but it takes us another half hour to traverse the busy city of Salta. Starting tomorrow, we’ll head north in three stages toward the border with Bolivia and then onward to Potosí.

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Jaak Palmans
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