I arrived there in sufficiently bad mood due to what happened previously in Salta (canceled tours etc.) The bus trip was spectacular but not especially comfortable. On the bright side, I was sitting on top of the double-decker bus, and right in front at the panorama window. On the negative side, I was pushed into the corner. On the way there, I had seat 3, on the way back seat 4, but my local neighbor always decided that I belong into the corner and she deserves the wider aisle seat. But I still had the wide-angle view of the rock formations….
It was a different bus company than before, and I read somewhere (probably on the Thorn Tree) that it sucks – I can’t vote on that, it got me there on time – but it definitely stinks. There was an undefined mixture of smells all the way, gasoline, toilet, body odor etc.
The bus station of Cafayate was very small, and there were no taxis, but I managed to find the hostel on foot, it wasn’t far. It’s a small town after all.
The hostel was charmingly friendly, a young guy helped me to drag the luggage upstairs and was surprised that I’m alone for the big room. It was advertised as double room, and true, it was a big room with a really big bed (maybe queen or king size) and two nightstands with lights. There was a small chair (as if from a kindergarten) at the entrance, holding a fallen curtain. I removed the latter and used the chair to its original purpose. Curiously, there was a playpen (travel cot for a baby) in one corner. And nothing else. Not even a nail in the wall, to hang up a towel. Never mind a jacket. Thus I stored my things in the crib, hanging the towels on the side. To work on the computer, I sat on the toddler chair and used the bed as a desk, or vice versa.
The young guy proved to be the guide of the hikes. However, he didn’t foresee any for the next day. I walked out to the tourist office that provided me with a city map, and pointed out two tour agencies across each other on the main square. One didn’t have any guaranteed departures, and the other one was closed. I was starving and went to eat (pasta for a change), and as I walked home, I noticed that the second agency has opened. And they had a tour for the next afternoon, to the Quebrada de las Conchas (Gorge of Shells – supposedly it was a sea once and shells can be found, but I didn’t see any). It’s a deep rocky valley with erosion-induced rock formations similar to Monument Valley in Colorado, albeit a lot more colorful. I immediately signed up and paid. “Come back in the morning,” he said, “we might have a tour to Quilmes.” That’s an area with pre-Inca ruins.
Day 2
It wasn’t quite easy to go back. Around the hostel, there were English and Spanish signs all over the walls, saying “Breakfast 8:30 to 10:30, no exception.” The Quilmes tour, if any, was supposed to start at 9:30, thus I showed up for breakfast at 8:35. Fellow backpackers pointed out an empty crock that might’ve contained flavored yogurt based on the pink droplets at the bottom; some frosted corn flakes, but no coffee and no bread. It is genuinely infuriating if those who make the rule are the first ones to violate it. Fellow backpackers were similarly mad/hungry/caffeine-deficient.
I managed to acquire some hot water and made coffee with my own supplies. By 9 am the bread (in the form of little round pastilles) also showed up, I pocketed a few and I managed to make it to the tour agency by 9:30. It was in the process of opening – but they had the tour. Thus it was worth the rush. Incredibly, little Cafayate proved to be more organized and reliable than big famous Salta.
The ruins were about an hour by bus (actually a minivan), and we had over an hour free time there. It was quite a large area – but not much left from the structures. The Quilmes resisted the Spanish longer than the Incas. The local guide pointed out places where they were grinding the seeds – otherwise only low walls are left. With more time a long hike would’ve been possible, along the ridge of the mountain that surrounds the area. This way I hiked up as far as I could in the given timeframe. The view was great, and the distance gave a better idea about the size of the settlement. There were more ruins, probably guard points, along the ridge that couldn’t be seen from the bottom.
We got back to the village just half an hour before the next tour. The driver recommended a restaurant and I pressured them to prepare lunch for me fast. It was the crepe type cannelloni, one of the best dishes I ate along the trip. I also rushed, skipped the coffee (save the disappointment) and made it to the tour’s starting point exactly by two. To no avail: the driver (not the same as in the morning) didn’t show up until 2:10, and by the time we left, it was close to 2:20.
But this trip was worth all the trouble. We stopped at all famous rock formations (e. g. the Locomotive, Turtle, Obelisk, Amphitheater, The Devil’s Throat), plus drove deeper into the valley on dirt roads and walked loops to viewpoints. The layered, eroded rocks were incredibly colorful: red, purple, green, gray, depending on the minerals present. The Devil’s Throat required a bit of scrambling, everybody helping me, the old one… For a while I was glad to stay behind, as I had to pee, desperately.
We saw not only nature’s wonders, but nature’s power as well. There was a long section where a rough dirt road replaced the otherwise good paved road. The driver showed us why. He continued on the paved road, and suddenly there was none. Just the river, a steep few meters below. He said that after the summer rains (I was there at Fall, late May, although it was still quite warm and sunny during the day) the river changed its course, and took the road with it.
It was dark by the time we arrived back to the hostel. There were no hikes for the last day, and I decided to visit the Bodegas (wineries) after breakfast. This is the highest altitude wine-growing region on Earth. We already saw a few wineries from the bus; they were just as elegant as in California or maybe even more. I was curious what they might be like in the inside. In California (in my limited experience) the winery is about wine tasting and wine buying. Plus there is usually a deli store, where you can buy stuff for picnic, to be eaten on the manicured grounds or taken further on the trip. The first winery I visited, Bodega Nanni, was different. Of course, you could buy wine. But there was no deli store. The visit started inside, where my guide (in that group I was alone) explained the wine making process and machinery (I learned that the white wine ages in steel containers, the red wine in oak barrels, and contains the skin of the grape in the first step). We visited the cellars too. In the end I could taste 5 wines for 5 pesos. They were all very good wines. I didn’t feel tipsy, although drinking after breakfast isn’t my regular habit, and there were no after-effects either. The guide pointed out few other wineries, and the fields where the grapes are grown. I found only one of the wineries, and that one was only a “technical” visit without tasting. When walking back from the fields, I visited the Wine Museum, although the guidebook labeled it as “small and insignificant.” It was neither. It was quite big, on the grounds of a former winery, and it explained all aspects of wine-making (incl. the effect of the climate and the soil; the warm sunny days and cool nights of the area are especially advantageous for the grapes, by locking-in the nutrients), the history of wine in the area, the types of grapes etc. – while Carmina Burana softly played in the background. The only drawback: it was expensive, about 7.50$.
In the afternoon I tried to climb to a viewpoint (Mirador Cerro Santa TERESITA) that looked promising from a distance – it was promising up close too, but there was a fence in my way, and the locals said that it was private property that couldn’t be visited. There were holes in the fence, but I didn’t have the courage to take advantage of them.
There was a big local soccer game in a sports complex along the way, and I saw a sad horse among the parked cars.
In the evening I bought “grape honey” – I guess it was concentrated grape sugar; it tasted like wine, but it didn’t cure my cold as they promised. In Tilcara I had to give it away, as no food product could be taken to Chile and it was too much to be eaten on the spot.