Despite its lush green setting, just a few miles from Salta the road winds up into the high Andes once more. This part of the country is near the borders of both Chile and Bolivia and it feels less European, more South American - not least because there are many ethnic indians, whereas elsewhere the local population is predominantly European.
A two day trip from Salta allows us to explore a fair part of this landscape, starting with a Safari to the Clouds. The clouds in question could well have been formed by the dust thrown up by the dirt roads, but we were following the route of the 4th highest railway in the world. The train used to be a vital link with Chile, but runs only for tourists now, but only during the Argentine winter and then only twice a week, and if conditions are right. Our 4x4 tour proved far more reliable criss crossing the rail tracks on a road that rose far more quickly into the mountains. Whoever built the railway decided it was too expensive to use the third rail needed for steep inclines, but I can’t see how the extra miles of track needed to keep to the prescribed gradient, not to mention the hours it added to the journey, were ever cost effective. It crosses 29 bridges, 12 viaducts and goes 21 tunnels as well as two switchbacks designed to reduce the gradient. And there’s the added hazard of regular rock falls onto the track. I’m sure trainspotters of the world love it.
Our road journey takes us to the highest point of our trip, way over 4000m and most of the first day is above 3500m. This time we take precautions and do what the locals do - drink plenty of coca mate (tea) before setting out and buy a bag of coca leaves to chew on the journey. This seems to work as we don’t experience any shortness of breath – though it may be because the air is more humid than in Mendoza’s mountains and there is no wind.
After crossing the first high pass the landscape changes again as we enter the Altiplano – mile upon mile of dry, almost desert plain well over 3500m above sea level surrounded by distant snow-capped peaks. Life up here is harsh, but we pass small settlements of families farming crops and llamas. We stop for lunch at the most godforsaken place we have encountered – San Antonio de los Cobres. There are no farms here, the two main employers are the army and the borax mining company. There is also a station on the train to the clouds route, but I’m sure it can’t be the final stop. If it was, the little old ladies selling knitted llamas would have a field day. I don’t need a llama, but I buy four to give them some pesos. That’s how bad it is here.
We continue crossing the Altiplano on a dirt road in parts washed out by summer rains passing a small herd of shy vicuna, to reach to Grandes Salines, which shimmer in the distance like a far-off sea. They may be Argentina’s largest salt flats, but this is tiny in comparison with those in Bolivia, which may well be the size of Wales. Nonetheless the reflection from the expanse of white is intense and despite slathering on the factor 50, my shoulders burn in 15 minutes. But it is fun walking on the white crust and seeing the blue water channels where the salt has been commercially excavated. Some of it may even end up in my grinder at home.
The Andes run down the spine of South America, so it should be no surprise that its composition changes from time to time. But here it seems to change from minute to minute as we drive by hard rocky outcrops, soft sandstone carved into Tolkienesque elvin armies by the wind, and hills of multiple colours created by the rich mineral deposits.
We stop overnight in Purmamarca, a typical Andean village of low-rise adobe buildings spreading out from the town square, overlooked by a white-washed church. From 8am to 8pm the town square is a riot of colour with stall after stall selling ponchos, shawls, jumpers and hats – or the chance to have your photograph taken with a very cute llama. But we are here to see colours of a different kind – the seven-coloured mountain that stands behind the town. Our hotel is at the base of the hill and the rooms, a delightful series of terracotta adobe hobbit houses, blends into the terracotta slopes. The colourful mountain is at its best under the morning sun. After feasting on llama and enjoying another evening of Pena music, we are up early to view the mountain. It is an amazing site, with stripes of blue, green, ochre, red, pink, purple and tan signalling the mineral rich earth here.
Purmamarca sits at one end of the Quebrado de Humahuaca, an outstandingly beautiful gorge that is now a world heritage site. We continue our journey along the valley floor, stopping at several towns along the gorge. Tilcara, with views along the valley for miles in both directions, has been a key stronghold since pre-Incan times and played an important role during the revolutionary battles against Spain, when the Argentinean forces combined the fighting skills they had learned from the Spanish with their knowledge of the mountain terrain to form an effective guerrilla force.
The excavations of the pre-Incan village at Tilcara give a fascinating glimpse of life over 800 years ago. The houses, used mainly for sleeping, were built of dry-walled stone with the roof supported by cactus trunks – which are surprisingly similar to wood. The buildings had no windows as the gaps between the stone provided ventilation in summer. In winter the walls were hung with leather to keep the cold winds out, and in the depths of winter, young llamas acted as hot water bottles. Not so much a three dog night as a three llama night. Llamas were vital to these communities, providing meat, leather, wool as well as being family pets. And very delicious they are too.
Continuing along the valley, we cross the Tropic of Capricorn - apparently this means it is very hot here - but that was pretty obvious.
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At the end of the valley Humahuaca is a larger version of Purmamarca. The town square here boasts a colonial church and town hall – the latter containing a life-size clockwork priest who appears at midday to bless the assembled throng. Sadly we don’t arrive until 3 so miss the performance, but he will no doubt be working overtime next month when the town celebrates Carnival – a 9-day bacchanal, followed by a population explosion 9 months later.
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