Switchbacks, Salinas, and sad sad sad San Antonio
Trip Start
Oct 16, 2008
1
13
35
Trip End
Apr 16, 2009
Salta,
Northern Argentina,
Argentina
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
We drove out of Purmamarca and started climbing immediately. It was a dream road, brand new, very wide and beautifully paved, Blair and I were both having visions of cycle-touring. It was up up up, sharp switchbacks all the way to the top, where they say you are so high you feel as though you could touch the clouds. At the pass there was simply a sign stating our height above sea level (4107m) and a woman scratching out an existence (literally) carving traditional artwork into pieces of slate. Just her and her wares, no car, no moped, no donkey, no hut to take shelter. Where on earth does she live and how does she get to work? I can't believe I didn't buy anything from her, but again, impractical souvenir for a backpacker, slate ain't light.
As we descended on the other side we could see the salinas (salt flats) on the altiplano not far below. The sky was enormous and the clouds were like cotton balls and seemed so close, we were so high. The road continued to be excellent until we reached the edge of the salinas and had to turn left. Then it deteriorated rapidly. I thought myself a bit of a rally driver at first, but as the holes got deeper and the sand patches larger, I started to chicken out and was dreading getting bogged in the sand. So Blair took over the reins and likened driving in sand to driving in snow: just don't stop. He found that the washboard effect was diminished if he drove 70km/h rather than 50km/h, but then the holes came at us a little quicker, it was a fine line to tread. It seemed to take forever to cross the altiplano, and I give credit to our little buzzbox (it was a two-door Chevy Corsa) for making the journey, but I would have much rathered be in a Subaru!
We made it to the little town of San Antonio de los Cobres, where the tourist train's arrival is probably the highlight of the day. We hadn't even stepped out of the car before women started dangling little woven llama key chains at us and showing us what few crafts they could carry with them as they chased the day's influx of tourists in the hope of a few pesos for their "llamitas". They looked absolutely awful, the harsh sun at high altitude had wreaked havoc on their skin, poor nutrition and lifetime of chewing coca leaves had left their heads devoid of teeth. I felt sick, but looked very conspicuously healthy. When we couldn't find anywhere to buy a take-away sandwich, we drove on to another part of town and found where the western tourists hang out, an overpriced restaurant with very little on the menu. We sat down for a few minutes before deciding to abandon the idea of eating altogether (Blair with his dodgy stomach, Patrick and I just grumpy and light-headed from the altitude). Outside we gave what fruit we had in the car to some scruffy little kids and drove away.
Back up to another pass and down the other side, we would descend almost 3000m in altitude to Salta. This stretch of the journey partly follows the railway that charges US$150 per person for a daytrip. We saw some of the tunnels and viaducts that make it a famous railway line, but once we entered the Quebrada del Toro, we weren't looking for the train anymore. Another magnificent canyon with colours and rock formations beyond imagination, mountainsides littered with cactus and a dusty dry riverbed below. The dangerously windy and narrow dirt road curved around the mountains and zig-zagged back and forth across the river, where they were building rockwalls by the banks, presumably to prevent the flooding of the road when the rains come. It was the perfect ending to four days of spectacular scenery and diverse landscapes. Thanks for the tip Andy.
We got into Salta around dinner and collapsed. This town is hot. Really hot. We dropped off some laundry, ate at the hostel, and crashed very quickly thereafter, exhausted from the sights and bumps of the Salta Eight.
