Finally a Bed
Trip Start
Oct 14, 2005
1
66
71
Trip End
??? ??, 2006
Salta,
Argentina
Wednesday, May 3, 2006
Unfortunately my chances of sleeping (admittedly at 7am straight after the bus) were hampered by a gentleman deciding to play Argentine radio in the dorm room. Tiredness eventually won a fairly one sided battle, but my Swedish friends were less than happy with this behaviour, I was just glad to not be in motion. It later transpired that the guy in our dorm was seeking solace in the radio as he had been kicked out of his home by his girlfriend/wife and was residing in a hostel and drowning his sorrows most nights.
Salta is a highly recommended place on the backpacker trail, good for trekking and horse riding and other such activities, surrounded by the majestic Andes. Unfortunately this backdrop to the city was permanently obscured by the mist that had descended around the city.
We occupied ourselves on the first day with a fruitless search for a Tourist Information office the biggest one on the map, no longer existed, although we did get to see some cool football related murals, including one of Maradona, and possible Pierre Luigi Collina, but it didnīt make much sense for it to be Collina. We searching for the Tourist office for 2 reasons, one to find out about trekking in the area without paying a lot of money for it (the man at the hostel said it was, "impossible to go trekking without a guide, here is a leaflet for my īreasonably pricedī trekking company"), and also about the "Tren de los nubes" train of the clouds. When we eventually found a Tourist information place we discovered the reason that the big was closed. The big T.I. was at the train station for the "Tren de los nubes", which was broken and had been for a few years, curse you Lonely Planet. The extremely helpful lady at the T.I. place did tell us about how to go trekking without a guide, and gave us some wonderful advice on places to stop on our journey to Bolivia. It is in no small part thanks to her that we ended up spending my birthday in the incredible surroundings of Humahuaca, but that is another story.
After working out our plan of action for the next days trekking we had a stroll up the hill near Saltaīs city for a grandstand view of the mist, as darkness descended while we had our milk shakes we watched the mist finally clear and the city light up below, we also discovered a little Jesus watching over the city, nothing like the scale of Ríoīs JC or many of the other effigies of Christ that adorn hilltops around the cities of South America, but it was the first one I had seen, along with the Virgin Mary that watches over Santiago.
After our exertions, it was time for a beer or 2, donīt drink the Salta Negra (black beer) itīs a very poor mans Guinness, and bed.
Our day of trekking started very early, I was beginning to think I had mss heard my travelling companions, and that they had said they were sadists not Swedish. A short bus ride out into the country side and, unable to find a map or any sort of indication of what kind of trail we were following. Martin and Freddie arguing over whether it was a round trip, or one way path, meant for horses to complete in a day, or for people to cover in 3-4 days. I was having flash backs to my time lost in the Blue Mountains, which had clearly defined pathways and lots of other tourists if you got lost out here you were in trouble, the path ways were sometimes obscure, and the number of tourists was minimal, in fact we did not see another soul the whole 8 hours we were trekking, and with mist deepening at times we were struggling to see each other.
In the end the most sensible decision was to the follow the path that ran alongside and continuously crossed the small river that led up into the mountains, safe in the knowledge that all we had to was find the river and follow it down stream to safety. After a good 4 hours maybe 5 we had ascended high into the clouds, and at a summit which afforded a spectacular view of white nothingness, it seemed sensible to me and Freddie, turn back and return the way we came. Alas Martin, still full of energy, had different ideas and proceeded to set off on his own, saying he would turn around in an hour and catch us up on the descent, and while me and Freddie were catching our breath he was gone, disappearing into the mist, never to be seen again...
Actually he did return, but not until after he had got lost, been surrounded by mist so that he could barely see his hand in front of his face, encountered wild horses, tried the emergency call number 112 (it didnīt work), ran for about an hour to eventually re trace his steps, and find the path down. Meanwhile me and Freddie were having our own adventures with the mist, and Cows that made noises that made them sound possessed, complete with horns that would easily kill a man and refused to move from our path until we had taken their picture. Also trapped in the ever thickening mist Freddie, being the happy go lucky light hearted kinda chap he was, mused on how he would actually tell his and Martinīs parents if we never saw him again.
Fortunately we did, as we were following the river back to the start point, we hear something thundering along behind us, fearing the demonic cows we were relieved to see Martin bounding along, dripping with sweat after running to catch us up.
Alls well that ends well, but it is never a good idea to go trekking off on your own, especially on the less trodden paths, in a country like Argentina. (It feels like one of those episodes of He-Man with a moral at the ending that helped mold me into the man I am today.)
