Recently I published a review of our visit to Buenos Aires (taken in November 2007) and here comes a multi-part report about the second half of our trip - a visit to the beautiful Argentinean Northwest. (repeated disclaimer: yes, I know, I am writing this with a long 15-month delay - but as I said earlier - better late than never!).
Argentina is a BIG country. And having only 2 weeks to explore it, once we planned our Buenos Aires stay, the biggest question was "where else do we go?" Patagonia, Mendoza, Bariochi (heck - maybe even a side trip to Anarctica!) are all great choices, and frankly, it took us forever to make up our mind. We chose Northwest for several reasons. It is somewhat off a beaten path, close to Bolivia and Chile border (which influence the roots of the state's Andean culture!), is warmer, and has many elevations, sub-climates, and wonders of nature.
SALTA CITY
Salta greeted us with hot and humid air, which later that night was followed by a downpour. This mid-sized city is the capital of Salta Province, and is a base point for many tourists who come to see the nearby towns and villages. Salta sits in a valley, surrounded by some hills and consists of a grid of small streets with lots of car smog. This colonial city is not overly picturesque, but its visual highlights are its plazas and churches.
We checked into our quiet and comfy hotel, Posada del Marques, and went for a long walk. The famous red and yellow San Francisco Iglesia, which I have seen numerous times in photos, is even more beautiful in person, and very well lit at night. To me, it has always been a trademark of Salta. The 19th Century Cathedral, painted pink and yellow, is another stunning building. The Plaza 9 de Julio is cozy and green, surrounded by outdoor cafes, and full of kids in school uniforms, and young lovers cuddling on benches.
But we came here for the mountains, and the next day we were up at 7 am, ready to go down for some trekking in Quebrada de Cafayate.
TREKKING IN QUEBRADA DE CAFAYATE
We were greeted by our guide of the day – Christian, a 25 yr old Salteno who drives like a maniac, smokes a pack of a locally grown tobacco a day, and lives on a coco leaf diet.
It was a nasty morning in Salta, with the dark skies and heavy rainfall. We didn't know it yet, but late spring and the entire summer is a rainy season in the Salta valley. That's why it pays to do your regional weather research before you travel, instead of thinking that summer = warm and sunny days! We started wondering if our trekking would be affected by rain, even though we were told that the Quebrada is always sunny. We were riding south of the city on Route 54 and as we got away from Salta, the rural scenes were a visual delight. We were passing gauchos on horses, sheep and cow herders, and farmers working in the tobacco plantations, all unaffected by heavy rain. Tobacco, by the way, is the main industry of Salta, with most of leaves picked and exported and some processed and sold locally. We stopped in a little touristy farm for some coffee where I saw my first big, lazy, hairy lama.
Continuing down Route 68 we made it thought the first chain of mountains and all of a sudden the weather, and the surroundings, made a 180 change! We were now higher then Salta’s Lerma Valley, and turns out the rainfalls usually don’t make it here. The skies opened up, greeting us with sunshine, and some beautiful red rock formations started to appear. The road to began to follow an eroded riverbed-turned-canyon, called Quebrada de Cafayate.
Garganta de Diablo (The Devil’s Throat) is the impressive landform, with rocks eroded in a cave-like, but circular formation. We parked and hiked this mini-canyon and more and more unique shapes opened up to us the deeper in we went. Then we visited Anfiteatro (The Amphitheater), another eroded “cave” which resembles its namesake.
Further down, we stopped in a tiny shack inhabited by happy and friendly husband and wife (Christian's friends) who sell pottery and own 2 lamas. The husband came along for a ride with us and we left the car with him in the beginning of our hiking path.
The hike, which was a couple of hours long, brought us through some of the most surreal landscapes I have ever seen. Many of these rock layers have eroded to such strange formations, that at times it felt like we were on a different planet. It is also a very quiet day, with no wind, no sound, and no other beings disturbing the peace. Different elements in the rocks colored them dark orange or turquoise, turning distant mountains into visions of red and green. It is one thing to experience these views from the road, but getting up close and personal opened up a new wonderland of surroundings. Sadly, the photos I am posting to go along with this paragraph do not do a justice, at all, of the actual greatness of the landscapes we saw today. We wished we could spend a month here, exploring.
On the way back to Salta, we stopped at the Lago Embalse Cabra Corral, the 2nd largest lake in the state. It is a rather quiet, blue body of water, surrounded by mega vacation properties (hugely unproportional to the nearby shacks of tobacco farmers). Going home, we got into a conversation with Christian about local life, as he was chewing his coca leaves.
COCA LEAVES
So what’s the deal with Coca leaves here, you ask? In the northern part of Andean Argentina (just like in Bolivia and Peru) they are as common as empanadas. Yes, these are the same leaves that are used to produce cocaine, but, unlike cocaine, they are legally sold at local corner stores. Also, very common here is Coca leaf tea.
While massive quantities of leaves are required to produce even the tiniest amount of cocaine, raw leaves are chewed here to fight hunger, drowsiness, and elevation sickness. They are actually good for you (or at least that’s what every single Salteno says). They are still illegal, though, to take out of Argentina, so we didn’t try.
The shops here advertise them as “Coca y Bica”. Coca, of course, refers to the leaf, and Bica is the bicarbonate of soda, which, when chewed along with the leaf (as common among the Andean people), releases their mild stimulant effect and helps fight fatigue and hunger. I am not too crazy about the Coca y Bica taste, but when in Rome… Oh, and a note to those interested in trying them: Coca doesn't really work without Bica (unless you simply want to chew leaves and don't want to fight your fatigue and hunger!).
NORTH SALTA PROVINCE
The following day, we left Salta early for a 2-day tour of some northern sights, located in the province of Jujuy. Our new guide was David – a calm and cautious driver, and on all other personality levels, complete opposite of Christian.
Jujuy is one of the smallest and poorest provinces of Argentina, but it is very rich in archeology and culture. It is located in the extreme northwest and borders Bolivia, Chile and Salta Province. The Andean steppe (antiplano) covers most of the province, with elevation of 3,500 meters or higher.
We took a narrow and winding Route 9, on to the village of Purmamarca, past San Savador de Jujuy (capital of the province). Just like out guides’ personalities, the north and south areas of Salta City are opposite worlds. Here, in the lowlands of North Salta, the climate and landscape are subtropical. The surroundings are lush and green, with rolling hills, prospering farms, and expensive vacation properties. Cows are roaming free and eating whatever grass they want, often ending up on the road and stopping traffic. Not that there is any traffic to speak of – Route 9, although well paved, is very narrow, curvy, and empty. The portion before Jujuy is a touristy scenic route, with occasional cars passing. At the end of each day, gauchos would gather their roaming happy cows and bring them back to the farms.
WHAT THE HAIL... HAIL CANNONS
In the lush farmlands of South Jujuy, we passed several weird canon-like devices sitting in some backyards and covered by burlap. David explained that they are hail cannons. Hail is very damaging to fragile tobacco plants, and hail cannons generate shock waves which, when shot up in the air, pass through the clouds and disrupt the growth phase of hailstorms – so instead of golf ball-sized hail, mush would fall from the sky. Most of the Argentinean hail cannons are manufactured in Russia (go, comrades!). Hail cannons are used more in Jujuy then in Salta because they can also disrupt the radar systems of the planes. Jujuy "International" Airport has only one flight per day, while Salta Airport has about ten.
RIO GRANDE
Most rivers in Salta and Jujuy Provinces look like this – just empty riverbeds, with hardly any water. Water in rivers gathers towards the end of the rainy season only – usually in January and February. This one is Rio Grande, the largest river of Jujuy that cuts through the Quebrada de Humahuaca (Humahuaca Canyon).
ENETRING THE JUJUY PROVINCE
North of Jujuy city, elevation started to increase and the landscape changed from subtropical to rocky. More and more cordones (tall candelabra cactuses, predominant in this area) appeared on both sides of the road. The views around offered a stunning contrast, with green chunks of trees and farms in the inhabited areas, cordones a little higher, and nothing but bare mountains just meters above, where the elevation is to high for any vegetation to grow.
Many poplar trees surrounded farms and houses. Poplar trees do not grow here naturally, but are planted everywhere by locals because they are good at blocking wind.
PURMAMARCA
We finally came to the tiny scenic village of Purmamarca, our home for the night. Purmamarca is full of orange adobe houses, and its main attractions consist of the 17th-century Iglesia Santa Rosa de Lima, and a stunning backdrop of Cerro de los Siete Colores (the Seven-Colored Hill). The red, green, pink, yellow, white, grey and violet shades of this hill are created by iron, copper, dolomite, sulfur, lime, lead, and hematite, respectively. Many developers have realized the beauty of Purmamarca, and numerous B&Bs and hotels are being built all around this small village. Sadly, I doubt that a sizeable portion of these private profits is invested back into Purmamarca itself.
The Seven-Colored Hill and the mountains behind it offer another world of hiking beauty, with more Martian-like rock formations and stunning landscapes.
After exploring the hills, we checked into our hotel (appropriately named Los Cordones), and went for lunch in a nearby restaurant. This was the day I fell in love with two local dishes - locro (a hearty corn stew) and empanadas (pastries stuffed with meat, or cheese). We were eating well, getting ready to drive up to Salt Flats, having a casual conversation with David over a couple of bottles of local red wine. Then David reminds us that we should probably pace ourselves because we were about to get up to 4,170 meters. 4,170 meters didn’t sound like much, until David got his phone calculator out and converted the number to feet. We were about to get up to 13,677 feet. Suddenly, Kurt stated to regret all the wine he so eagerly drank. But it was too late.
ROAD TO THE SALINAS
We headed north of Purmamarca on Route 52 and the surroundings started to change again. As we went further, the landscapes got barer. There was no more green vegetation, red rock, or poplar trees, only thousands of cordones and impressive views of grey mountains and grey canyon. The road curved around these mountains, and brought us higher and higher. This is a major commercial route for transport to and from Bolivia, or Chile. Huge trucks, loaded with goods, have to drive reeeeeally slowly, to avoid rolling off the cliff if a wrong turn is made. David was driving very slowly too, because neither Kurt or I were adjusting well to the elevation. But, like a trooper, every few minutes I would still get out of the car to take photos…and then come back dizzy and out of breath.
David gave us some coca leaves, which helped the elevation sickness tremendously (see, I told you they are good for you!). We eventually made it to the highest (and the hardest) point of the road, marked by a sign that read 4170 meters. From then on, we descended down to 3800 meters and finally reached the Salinas Grandes.
That's it for the first part of our Salta adventures story. Continue reading Part 2 here.
Salta greeted us with hot and humid air, which later that night was followed by a downpour. This mid-sized city is the capital of Salta Province, and is a base point for many tourists who come to see the nearby towns and villages. Salta sits in a valley, surrounded by some hills and consists of a grid of small streets with lots of car smog. This colonial city is not overly picturesque, but its visual highlights are its plazas and churches.
We checked into our quiet and comfy hotel, Posada del Marques, and went for a long walk. The famous red and yellow San Francisco Iglesia, which I have seen numerous times in photos, is even more beautiful in person, and very well lit at night. To me, it has always been a trademark of Salta. The 19th Century Cathedral, painted pink and yellow, is another stunning building. The Plaza 9 de Julio is cozy and green, surrounded by outdoor cafes, and full of kids in school uniforms, and young lovers cuddling on benches.
But we came here for the mountains, and the next day we were up at 7 am, ready to go down for some trekking in Quebrada de Cafayate.
TREKKING IN QUEBRADA DE CAFAYATE
We were greeted by our guide of the day – Christian, a 25 yr old Salteno who drives like a maniac, smokes a pack of a locally grown tobacco a day, and lives on a coco leaf diet.
It was a nasty morning in Salta, with the dark skies and heavy rainfall. We didn't know it yet, but late spring and the entire summer is a rainy season in the Salta valley. That's why it pays to do your regional weather research before you travel, instead of thinking that summer = warm and sunny days! We started wondering if our trekking would be affected by rain, even though we were told that the Quebrada is always sunny. We were riding south of the city on Route 54 and as we got away from Salta, the rural scenes were a visual delight. We were passing gauchos on horses, sheep and cow herders, and farmers working in the tobacco plantations, all unaffected by heavy rain. Tobacco, by the way, is the main industry of Salta, with most of leaves picked and exported and some processed and sold locally. We stopped in a little touristy farm for some coffee where I saw my first big, lazy, hairy lama.
Continuing down Route 68 we made it thought the first chain of mountains and all of a sudden the weather, and the surroundings, made a 180 change! We were now higher then Salta’s Lerma Valley, and turns out the rainfalls usually don’t make it here. The skies opened up, greeting us with sunshine, and some beautiful red rock formations started to appear. The road to began to follow an eroded riverbed-turned-canyon, called Quebrada de Cafayate.
Garganta de Diablo (The Devil’s Throat) is the impressive landform, with rocks eroded in a cave-like, but circular formation. We parked and hiked this mini-canyon and more and more unique shapes opened up to us the deeper in we went. Then we visited Anfiteatro (The Amphitheater), another eroded “cave” which resembles its namesake.
Further down, we stopped in a tiny shack inhabited by happy and friendly husband and wife (Christian's friends) who sell pottery and own 2 lamas. The husband came along for a ride with us and we left the car with him in the beginning of our hiking path.
The hike, which was a couple of hours long, brought us through some of the most surreal landscapes I have ever seen. Many of these rock layers have eroded to such strange formations, that at times it felt like we were on a different planet. It is also a very quiet day, with no wind, no sound, and no other beings disturbing the peace. Different elements in the rocks colored them dark orange or turquoise, turning distant mountains into visions of red and green. It is one thing to experience these views from the road, but getting up close and personal opened up a new wonderland of surroundings. Sadly, the photos I am posting to go along with this paragraph do not do a justice, at all, of the actual greatness of the landscapes we saw today. We wished we could spend a month here, exploring.
On the way back to Salta, we stopped at the Lago Embalse Cabra Corral, the 2nd largest lake in the state. It is a rather quiet, blue body of water, surrounded by mega vacation properties (hugely unproportional to the nearby shacks of tobacco farmers). Going home, we got into a conversation with Christian about local life, as he was chewing his coca leaves.
COCA LEAVES
So what’s the deal with Coca leaves here, you ask? In the northern part of Andean Argentina (just like in Bolivia and Peru) they are as common as empanadas. Yes, these are the same leaves that are used to produce cocaine, but, unlike cocaine, they are legally sold at local corner stores. Also, very common here is Coca leaf tea.
While massive quantities of leaves are required to produce even the tiniest amount of cocaine, raw leaves are chewed here to fight hunger, drowsiness, and elevation sickness. They are actually good for you (or at least that’s what every single Salteno says). They are still illegal, though, to take out of Argentina, so we didn’t try.
The shops here advertise them as “Coca y Bica”. Coca, of course, refers to the leaf, and Bica is the bicarbonate of soda, which, when chewed along with the leaf (as common among the Andean people), releases their mild stimulant effect and helps fight fatigue and hunger. I am not too crazy about the Coca y Bica taste, but when in Rome… Oh, and a note to those interested in trying them: Coca doesn't really work without Bica (unless you simply want to chew leaves and don't want to fight your fatigue and hunger!).
NORTH SALTA PROVINCE
The following day, we left Salta early for a 2-day tour of some northern sights, located in the province of Jujuy. Our new guide was David – a calm and cautious driver, and on all other personality levels, complete opposite of Christian.
Jujuy is one of the smallest and poorest provinces of Argentina, but it is very rich in archeology and culture. It is located in the extreme northwest and borders Bolivia, Chile and Salta Province. The Andean steppe (antiplano) covers most of the province, with elevation of 3,500 meters or higher.
We took a narrow and winding Route 9, on to the village of Purmamarca, past San Savador de Jujuy (capital of the province). Just like out guides’ personalities, the north and south areas of Salta City are opposite worlds. Here, in the lowlands of North Salta, the climate and landscape are subtropical. The surroundings are lush and green, with rolling hills, prospering farms, and expensive vacation properties. Cows are roaming free and eating whatever grass they want, often ending up on the road and stopping traffic. Not that there is any traffic to speak of – Route 9, although well paved, is very narrow, curvy, and empty. The portion before Jujuy is a touristy scenic route, with occasional cars passing. At the end of each day, gauchos would gather their roaming happy cows and bring them back to the farms.
WHAT THE HAIL... HAIL CANNONS
In the lush farmlands of South Jujuy, we passed several weird canon-like devices sitting in some backyards and covered by burlap. David explained that they are hail cannons. Hail is very damaging to fragile tobacco plants, and hail cannons generate shock waves which, when shot up in the air, pass through the clouds and disrupt the growth phase of hailstorms – so instead of golf ball-sized hail, mush would fall from the sky. Most of the Argentinean hail cannons are manufactured in Russia (go, comrades!). Hail cannons are used more in Jujuy then in Salta because they can also disrupt the radar systems of the planes. Jujuy "International" Airport has only one flight per day, while Salta Airport has about ten.
RIO GRANDE
Most rivers in Salta and Jujuy Provinces look like this – just empty riverbeds, with hardly any water. Water in rivers gathers towards the end of the rainy season only – usually in January and February. This one is Rio Grande, the largest river of Jujuy that cuts through the Quebrada de Humahuaca (Humahuaca Canyon).
ENETRING THE JUJUY PROVINCE
North of Jujuy city, elevation started to increase and the landscape changed from subtropical to rocky. More and more cordones (tall candelabra cactuses, predominant in this area) appeared on both sides of the road. The views around offered a stunning contrast, with green chunks of trees and farms in the inhabited areas, cordones a little higher, and nothing but bare mountains just meters above, where the elevation is to high for any vegetation to grow.
Many poplar trees surrounded farms and houses. Poplar trees do not grow here naturally, but are planted everywhere by locals because they are good at blocking wind.
PURMAMARCA
We finally came to the tiny scenic village of Purmamarca, our home for the night. Purmamarca is full of orange adobe houses, and its main attractions consist of the 17th-century Iglesia Santa Rosa de Lima, and a stunning backdrop of Cerro de los Siete Colores (the Seven-Colored Hill). The red, green, pink, yellow, white, grey and violet shades of this hill are created by iron, copper, dolomite, sulfur, lime, lead, and hematite, respectively. Many developers have realized the beauty of Purmamarca, and numerous B&Bs and hotels are being built all around this small village. Sadly, I doubt that a sizeable portion of these private profits is invested back into Purmamarca itself.
The Seven-Colored Hill and the mountains behind it offer another world of hiking beauty, with more Martian-like rock formations and stunning landscapes.
After exploring the hills, we checked into our hotel (appropriately named Los Cordones), and went for lunch in a nearby restaurant. This was the day I fell in love with two local dishes - locro (a hearty corn stew) and empanadas (pastries stuffed with meat, or cheese). We were eating well, getting ready to drive up to Salt Flats, having a casual conversation with David over a couple of bottles of local red wine. Then David reminds us that we should probably pace ourselves because we were about to get up to 4,170 meters. 4,170 meters didn’t sound like much, until David got his phone calculator out and converted the number to feet. We were about to get up to 13,677 feet. Suddenly, Kurt stated to regret all the wine he so eagerly drank. But it was too late.
ROAD TO THE SALINAS
We headed north of Purmamarca on Route 52 and the surroundings started to change again. As we went further, the landscapes got barer. There was no more green vegetation, red rock, or poplar trees, only thousands of cordones and impressive views of grey mountains and grey canyon. The road curved around these mountains, and brought us higher and higher. This is a major commercial route for transport to and from Bolivia, or Chile. Huge trucks, loaded with goods, have to drive reeeeeally slowly, to avoid rolling off the cliff if a wrong turn is made. David was driving very slowly too, because neither Kurt or I were adjusting well to the elevation. But, like a trooper, every few minutes I would still get out of the car to take photos…and then come back dizzy and out of breath.
David gave us some coca leaves, which helped the elevation sickness tremendously (see, I told you they are good for you!). We eventually made it to the highest (and the hardest) point of the road, marked by a sign that read 4170 meters. From then on, we descended down to 3800 meters and finally reached the Salinas Grandes.
That's it for the first part of our Salta adventures story. Continue reading Part 2 here.
