I eventually bid farewell to Buenos Aires last Wednesday afternoon aboard a none-too-flamboyant ´Brown´ coach. I opted for this company to bring me to Salta, not because I understood the words´ meaning, but because they had the shortest queue at the bus station. I queried the decision at the time but when I actually got to the bus and found my seat, I cursed it. Of all the seats on the coach, mine was the one directly beneath a constantly rattling panel and this melodic nightmare was to follow me through each of the twenty hours that finally landed me here in this city, albeit with a slightly wired mind. Not everything was a dark shade of brown however. Lighter tones were found in the form of free meals and regular snacks.
Looking to save costs, I set about finding my hostel on foot but my efforts were thwarted by my inept map reading skills which led me ten blocks in the wrong direction. I had a brief regroup though with some agua to help soothe the pain and within another half hour, I was at last in sight of Backpackers´ Home.
I´d heard good things about the city of Salta but despite a vigorous walk around the centre, that also included a museum visit, I was left unconvinced. It´s farely pretty as far as Argentine cities go but I wouldn´t like to add much more.
For (free) supper, I shared empanadas with a group of guys of which one was a geologist and who had an interesting plan up his sleeve. It was no less than aiming to scale a nearby volcano. The greatest alarm came at hearing it is still regularly active and its peak is around six thousand metres up in the sky. It´s fair to say, I´m still weighing this up as I speak.
Yesterday, having at last received my deposit from my flat on Darlington Road, I chose to splash the cash and spend a day seeing the nearby rock formations while tasting the local wines.
The 7.30AM start seemed a little brutal but I was in good shape and the mini-bus journey throughout the day was a breeze. In the morning we travelled some two hundred kilometres taking in the incredible Quebrada de Cafayate, a mountainous gorge that runs parrallel with the Andes. This range is noted for it´s bright red rock and unearthly formations which me and fourteen others were duly treated to. Prior to encountering such wonders, we saw the dramatic change in landscape as in a matter of minutes it went from lush, rainy, tree-covered mountains, to a dry, sun-soaked and barron plateau, high up in the clouds.
Our first port of call was the Garganta del Diablo (The Devil´s Throat), a deep canyon which was once a waterfall but is now an earie hole where us travellers revel in photographic bliss.
Along the next stretch of tarmac, we were lucky enough to survey some condors as they circled above the landscape, before meeting some llamas and then catching a glimpse of a rock known as ´The Titanic.´
By early afternoon we were in the scenic town of Cafayate where we visited a couple of wineries, had a steak dinner, tried red wine ice cream and played table football with locals in the town square. After some ´free time´ we stopped off at a castle formation and a natural amphitheatre, where hippies played folk music for us in what was similar to the Albert Hall but much taller and with far less seats.
By 7PM we were back in Salta, where I had a nap on my bunk ahead of free pizza for dinner.
Today I´ve been preparing for my next phase of the trip which involves a brief passing through Chile tomorrow (and maybe THAT volcano) and then across the Atacama Desert and salt falts into Bolivia and the town of Uyuni. This evening myself and a Dane called Christian hope to take a cable-car up above the city to get some nice panoramic views then it´s one final asado steak dinner back at the hostel to draw things to a close. I have a ten hour bus trip to look forward to tomorrow which takes me to San Pedro de Atacama which I hope is more pink than brown.
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