Argentina has been captivating us for almost two months now. The landscapes, towns and people are all so different across the country. And just when we thought we’d seen most of Argentina’s highlights, we discovered the Northwest. We’re going to spend 10 days driving in two large loops starting from Salta city. Our first loop is a four-day trip exploring Jujuy, Argentina’s northernmost province. This region really is a hidden gem, and the drive! The drive deserves to be on any list of top ten drives around the world. It’s spectacular.

Exploring Jujuy

Two weeks ago we had no idea this province in the far northern reaches of Argentina even existed, let alone how to pronounce it. ‘Whoo-whoo-ee’. With the advice of a blogger from Buenos Aires (thank you Sol Salute) and a vague idea of a plan for a 10 day road trip, we’ve hired a car and are heading through the outskirts of Salta city and north to the province of Jujuy for the next four days or so:

Exploring Jujuy: From Salta to Tilcara

The city of Salta is our starting point, a small city surrounded by green hills. We’re going to save our explorations of the city until the end of our trip. As we drive out of the city we realise these green hills are not forest, but dense jungle similar to Colombia. We’re getting closer to the southern reaches of the Amazon basin.

After about an hour of driving through the dense jungle along crazy winding roads that, despite sometimes having a painted line down the middle, really aren’t wide enough for two cars, we emerge out into farmland. We’re in a valley with high green mountains on either side. As we drive further north we suddenly start to see huge cacti and the green slopes are punctuated by rocky cliffs of red and cream. About 50km further and the mountains are all rock, and the only green is the fertile valley floor with small farms that line the winding river.

At one point Michelle insists we stop so we can see the view. Beside the road there’s a pale cream sandstone cliff face about 100m high, covered in huge cacti. There’s no pull off spot to admire the view, and cars and trucks are just whizzing by. Apparently this view is just another cliff face in the constant wonder that is Jujuy. Just you wait, it seems to be saying. You ain’t seen nothing yet. Just before our final destination for the night, we stop by a small mirador to see ‘the Painter’s Palette’, a multi coloured rock face that sits as a backdrop to the tiny town of Maimará. This is our first taste of the landscape that makes this area famous.

We’ve come just 180km north of Salta city but it feels like a world away. The warm, sultry air of Salta has been replaced by the dry, hot days and cool nights of the desert. Jujuy borders Bolivia to the north and Chile to the west. The people look more like those from Bolivia or Peru, and the distinctive folk music with pan pipes filters out of cafe and restaurants. There are women dressed in brightly coloured skirts with tights underneath and large hats walking small herds of goats along the road, and people in the fields tending the crops by hand.

The town of Tilcara where we’re staying has 4 paved roads and single story adobe houses. Simple buildings line the dirt streets, and in stalls on the plaza women sell brightly coloured rugs and thick woolen clothing. As we pull into our hotel we both realise we’re suffering a bit of a headache from the altitude. We’ve come up 1,500m today and are now at 2,400m above sea level. We’re officially on the Puna de Atacama (Atacama Plateau), a huge area of NW Argentina that averages 4,500m above sea level.

We’re very happy to discover the hotel has supplied some coca leaves for tea, the region’s best remedy to help reduce the symptoms from ‘La Altura’.

Dog Parties

We’ve splashed out a little and are staying at a boutique hotel-cum-mini resort on the outskirts of town. The place is beautiful and the in-house restaurant is run by a lovely Argentinian couple who met backpacking for 6 months in South and Central America.

As we arrive we meet Viamonte the dog, who raises his head only slightly out of his slumber to say hello. We find out later that the reason he’s so sleepy is that most of the night he’s up partying with the other 30 or so dogs in the neighbourhood. They quieten down sometime before dawn, just in time for the roosters to take up the mantle. Not exactly the peaceful spot on the edge of town we had imagined, but we do feel like we’re experiencing a little of life in the region.

Exploring Jujuy: La Quebrada de Humahuaca

Yesterday we’d driven part of the way up into the Quebrada de Humahuaca, a wide, deep valley with red rocky mountains on either side and a fertile, green valley in the centre. Today we’re heading further north again up the valley to the town of Humahuaca and out to a high(er) point in the mountains, the Serrania de Hornocal.

Quebrada has various translations in English. It comes from the work ‘break’ and can mean gorge, ravine or gully. None of these really seem adequate for the spectacular landscape of the area.

Entering the Tropics

As we drive we have to resist the temptation to stop every few minutes to take photos. It seems like every turn is more spectacular. We do stop for a small celebration to mark that we’re crossing the Tropic of Capricorn.

This spurs a conversation about what exactly are the tropic lines, who determined where they are and why they’re called Capricorn and Cancer. With very little phone coverage in these parts, old fashioned guessing had to suffice until we could get an answer from the oracle. Google’s response was less than satisfying but you might be interested.

We don’t know who decided to allocate this line but it was in the last century BC. Apparently it was decided to mark a line below the equator at the last point on the earth’s surface at which the sun is directly overhead at the December solstice. We guess this pre-dates lines of latitude so it must have been a rough gauge for agriculture, being the line between the tropics and the more temperate south.

In this case the line was determined at a time when the sun was in the constellation Capricornius at the December solstice. Another interesting thing we learn is that in fact the Tropic lines are constantly moving towards the equator at 15m per year. We didn’t break this news to the locals who had built a very cool sundial and little statue at the site.

Exploring Jujuy: Serranía de Hornocal

Back in the car, we head on to our goal for the day, a mirador high in the mountains to see the Serranía de Hornocal (‘the mountain of 14 Colours’). As we turn off the highway into the town of Humahuaca, a guy (literally) leaps in front of the car and ushers us off the road. He proceeds to tell us that there is no way our car is going to be able to make it up the winding, unpaved roads that lead to the mirador. It’s way too dangerous. If we don’t run ourselves off the road then our car just isn’t designed for the high altitude and won’t make it.

Sceptical, we check with the women in the information office who suggests we should get one of these guys to drive us but then admits that if we’ve driven on unsealed roads before we should be fine.

We are fine. As are four or five others who’d also driven up in rental cars. The road wasn’t as bad as we’d imagined. It’s a reasonable unsealed track with some turns, but nothing like a serious mountain road.

On the way up we meet a small group of vicuñas, including two very curious young ones who come leaping up the hill to greet us only to get shy and retreat to their mother’s side.

While the car arrives at the top just fine, our own engines aren’t doing so well. When we get out of the car at the mirador we’re at 4,300m above sea level. We’ve come up almost 2,000m in just two hours. Despite following instructions to drink lots of water, about 600m before the summit we both have low grade headaches and Al’s feeling pretty dizzy. If he wants to take a sip of water he has to stop walking as he can’t breathe, walk and drink at the same time. It’s a reality check on the rapid effects of being at high altitude.

But none of that matters as we look out over the Serrania de Hornocal. The main mirador is spectacular, but then as we walk down to the second spot we can see deeper into the valley and even more colours appear.

A Short Geology Lesson

After our trip to Gros Morne in Canada last year we‘ve become quite fascinated by geology and as we look at these pyramids of colours we can’t help but wonder how they formed. This whole quebrada is in fact part of an area that extends all the way to Peru and shows up here in spectacular form. The colours of different sediments are layered with multiple mineral deposits. It looks like it’s been folded as a result of the formation of the mountain, but actually the pyramids are formed by differential erosion.

Altura Effects

Walking the 600m back up from the viewpoint to the car park is tough. The last 300m is steep and takes us a full 12 minutes, stopping every 20 steps or so to catch our breath and stop the rapid heart rate. We probably could storm up the hill but most likely would either pass out or have a splitting headache. Neither is very appealing.

The other striking effect is the sun. At this altitude the sun is so strong you feel like you could reach up and touch it. In fact you’d like to reach up and turn it down a little.

Driving back the way we came, we meet a couple of guys stopped by their VW combi. The lack of oxygen at this altitude means the old bus’ carbureted engine has hit its limit. We get behind and give them a push but to no avail. The older guy pulls out the air filter and a piece of chopped onion falls out. (This is a thing?? Whatever he thought it might do, it did not). He does away with the air filter altogether to give it maximum air intake. Another push up the hill but it stops in exactly he same spot. They’re accepting of the situation – driving a Veedub across the country has been a dream of theirs, and this is just part of the journey. We wave goodbye as the older guy still seems determined he’ll find a way. We have no other vegetables to offer so we leave them to it.

Exploring Jujuy: Wine and the Mystical

‘Continue along the road until it indicates to cross the river, which is low today,’ the message from the winery had said. Seemed easy enough. Until we take the turn and realise the river we’re crossing is the Rio Grande and the riverbed is 70m wide.

It doesn’t rain here on the Puna very often, but when it does it must create absolute havoc. Luckily the weather’s clear and we figure it won’t rain in the next few hours, so we navigate the mud and rock and a short stretch of actual water flow to reach the entrance to the winery on the far side. High altitude wine tasting is more adventurous than we realised.

We’re on the outskirts of the tiny town of Maimará in Jujuy, visiting Bodega Fernando DuPont. At an elevation of 2,400m it easily meets the definition of high altitude wines (We’ll talk about that more in our next post, when we visit some of the highest vineyards in the world).

As Alejandro gives us a tour of the small vineyard and winery, his affection for the area of Jujuy is obvious. He moved here from Buenos Aires a number of years ago and has been enchanted by the people and their unique ceremonies and beliefs ever since.

We remark that keeping the giant cactus in the middle of the vineyard is fun for visitors but must be a real pain (literally!) for the workers. He explains that the cardon caucus that we see all over this area is sacred to the local people and also protected by law.

Alejandro talks about how the people in this region are quite different in their beliefs from other areas in Argentina, partly because the beliefs and practices of the indigenous people have been melded with the catholic faith of the Spanish conquistadors. The wine we’re tasting is called Punta Corral, named after an annual 23km pilgrimage from Tilcara up into the mountains to Abra de Punta to visit the Virgin of Punta Corral. Mountains are thought to be gods by the local indigenous people who believe they protect the nearby communities so shrines and sanctuaries were in the mountain for years before the Spanish arrived. Nowadays, every year before Easter tens of thousands of people descend on the town to make a pilgrimage to the mountaintop where a sanctuary houses a statue of the Virgin Mary.

Carnivale here apparently is a wonderful spectacle as well. In this small region around these two towns, the religious festival of Carnivale is melded with the local beliefs of Mother Earth. Carnivale starts by calling the devil down from the mountains to bring rain and fertilise the earth. Everyone wears devils masks and costumes so no one call tell who is the devil. It sounds like an amazing party.

Alejandro also describes one of his favourite hikes in the area, which leads from the arid landscape of this valley, up over the mountain behind us and into dense jungle on the other side. Looking out at this landscape of red rock and cacti it’s hard to believe a dense jungle with toucans and other wild animals lies less than 30km away. The image of coming up over the mountain to look down at the tops of the clouds and the jungle below sounds incredible. Added to the list for next time!

We wave goodbye to Alejandro and head back over the riverbed to see if any devils are lingering in town.

Exploring Jujuy: Las Senoritas

Legend has it that a group of senoritas (young women) from Peru were fleeing from the Spanish in the 16th century, taking with them precious gold. When they reached this part of Jujuy the Spanish caught up to them so they fled into the mountains and hid in the caves. Rather than be caught by the Spanish, they took their own lives. As a representation of these pure young women, an outcropping of white rock formations stand out from the surrounding red rock at the end of a deep canyon in the hills behind the tiny town of Uquia.

As with any good legend, some also believe the gold is sill buried somewhere in hills. It’s easy to see how people could hide themselves, and treasures, in these winding passages between the eroded rock walls. It would be easy to get lost in here, intentionally or not.

Just 30 minutes north of our home base of Tilcara, the tiny town of Uquia sits on the western side of the Quebrada, where the red rock contrasts with the bright blue sky. You half expect to see the road runner coming blasting through, or a Wild West shoot out.

On our second day in the Quebrada we’ve chosen to do the longer hike in the area which requires a guide and takes us past Las Senoritas and deep into the canyon. We walk along the valley floor, stopping to hear about local plants and the history of the area. Suddenly Las Senoritas appear and we are led up behind them to a bowl of soft, rocky spires.

In addition to all the different coloured sandstone and the red clay, there’s black volcanic rock that looks like it’s spilled down the mountains only recently. Further up the canyon the colours change again and this time we head up into a tiny cave that you can imagine might be where las senoritas hid.

The photos look almost filtered but in fact the sky is actually that blue.

Exploring the caves and fissures. Didn’t find the gold (or the señoritas…)

The shorter hike in the same area takes us up a narrow, winding canyon that ends dramatically in two consecutive amphitheatres of rock. At the top of the final one, about 100m up, we can see a hole where water obviously flows down and then makes its way the length of the canyon, carving out 13 curves as it goes. Apparently it continues back a further 700m beyond where we can see.

The Incas

As well as spectacular scenery, the province of Jujuy has a long history. Given the fertile land it’s not surprising that people have lived here for thousands of years. Later, the area was part of the Inca Empire and you can still see ruins of Inca settlements throughout the area. A little like visiting Egypt, these ruins are scattered all around. On one guided walk we stop at a small outcropping seemingly in the middle of nowhere and learn how this was a burial site of the Incas. Much later, the area would then play host to important battle for independence against the Spanish.

Later in the day we go in search of some of this history on a hike called the Inca Cueva (Inca Cave). About 1.5km in we meet a couple who tell us that access to the cave is closing in 10 minutes and we’re still about 7km away. Weirdly, as the hike is only supposed to be 3km. Ah well, at least we got to see this cute family of llamas who walked right past us twice on the trail. There may have been some karma at play since Al had eaten llama steak for lunch. (Sorry guys).

Como se llama? 

This sign seems legit, right?

Exploring Jujuy: Seven Skirts

Jujuy has such a different feel that, at as we prepare to leave after just a few nights in the region, it feels strange that by the end of today we’ll be back in the city of Salta. Luckily, before we do we’ve got a great day ahead of us, heading across the mountains west to the next valley and into the high desert.

Our first stop today is just 30 minutes south at Purmamarca, a small town sitting at the base of Cerro de los Siete Colores (Mountain of seven colours – we’re starting to see a theme here). These are similar colours as at the Hornocal but they are spread out. Some say it looks like the colourful skirts worn by the local women. The viewing platform has a handy chart that explains how the different layers were formed over the last 600 million years or so.

Mirador of Miradors

We leave Pumacara and head west.. The road winds beside the river pleasantly enough and then starts to gradually climb. At a certain point we realise two things: One, this drive is quite spectacular and Two, we’re about to drive up a huge set of switchbacks that appear to have been built a little too close to a huge gash in the mountainside.

Those horizontal lines on the left are the start of the switchbacks… right next to that giant gash of a ravine…

Up, up, up we go. Gradually at first and then very quickly. There’s very few places to stop and take photos so we just have to gape out the window / watch the twists and turns in the road. To be fair it’s hard to pick the best view point when everywhere is a Mirador.

It’s hard to believe we’ve never heard of this drive. It’s right up there with a drive through the Rocky Mountains of Canada or the Great Ocean Road in Australia. Finally there’s a spot to pull over and we can see all the way down the valley we’ve just driven up. The green mountains rise up all around us to over 3,000m and at the centre the river has formed a deep, steep walled canyon in the valley floor.

There’s a few more switchbacks until we reach the mountain pass at 4,170m.

On the other side of the pass the valley is much more wide open, with long sweeping switchbacks of road that wind though rolling mountains of rose and cream. It’s not until we’re looking back at these photos from this point that we realise we could see our destination in the distance: the white plains of the Salinas Grandes.

Exploring Jujuy: Salinas Grandes

As Al steers the car down the ramp and we hit the sheer white surface, we both have the same uneasy feeling. We don’t have snow tires, we’re going to spin out. But we don’t, and the car skims along the vast whiteness like it’s a paved road.

We’re following our guide Jilda who’s on a tiny motorbike leading us out into the Salinas Grandes, the salt flats of Jujuy. At 212 square km they’re not as large as the famous salt flats of Bolivia, but there’s still white for almost as far as the eye can see, until on the horizon blue mountains rise up at 5,000m. JIlda even points out a volcano.

Jilda is covered in head to toe and as soon as we get out of the car it’s obvious why. The light is blinding as it reflects off the white almost as far as the eye can see. Add that to the fact we’re 3,400m above sea level where the sun is very intense, and you want to – nay, need to – cover up. The people who work here guiding and mining salt must cover up to prevent white blindness.

The remains of an ancient lake, the salt is about a metre deep here, but it does continue to grow a little each year during the wet season in January and February when this desert and the surrounding mountains receives its small allotment of water. The water drains down to this low point from the mountains, bringing with it salts of several kinds. The briny water forms a shallow lake across the vast flats. With nowhere to drain, and 10 months of hot dry weather, the water evaporates and leaves an extra layer of salt.

Where we stop there are a set of 30 or 40 long rectangles cut out of the salt and filled with a brilliant blue solution. Julia explains these pools are cut out to hasten the evaporation of the highly concentrated brine solution to produce high grade table salt.

In the distance we can see piles of the white salts of magnesium, lithium and other salts being mined for a range of uses such as making paper, PVC and plastics. From where we’re standing it looks as if they’re floating on a thin sheet of water. This is one of the illusions of being on a sheer white surface for miles. We have some fun with Jilda’s help taking photos that play with the perception.

We make our way back to the parking area, a stop on the road that cuts right through the salt flats joining the Quebrada where we’ve been with the Atacama region of Chile. There’s a small group of stalls set up selling empanadas and stuffed tortillas as well as handmade souvenirs. Looking more closely we realise that all of the buildings and structures are built from salt bricks.

Exploring Jujuy: Welcome to Ruta 40

Most people drive back to Purmamarca from here, but we’re taking the road less travelled, south down the ‘old Ruta 40’. We’d first met Ruta 40 on our travels in Patagonia, 5,000 km south of here. It’s a famous, or perhaps infamous, national highway that runs down the spine of Argentina. It even gets its own website. 

The section we’re on is called ‘old’ Ruta 40 for a reason. It’s been replaced by a newer highway on the other side of the salt flats, and as we leave the salt flats and make the turn onto it we quickly realise why. ‘Ripio’ means gravel road in Spanish, but the term doesn’t do a good job of differentiating between ‘good’ gravel roads and ‘bad’ gravel roads.

Do you know when you’re driving on a gravel road and you think, ‘Wow, I can’t believe how smooth this road is. There are no pointy rocks here at all.’ Well, that’s because they’ve collected all of the pointy rocks from that road and shipped them here, to this road, where they have removed all round rocks and left only big, pointy rocks to serve as the ‘road’. Although we have a spare tire, we only have one spare tire, and we’re wondering if it’s going to be enough.

It feels like outback Argentina. Small ramshackle houses appear every 10km or so, no trees and just rocks as far as the eye can see. After about 20 km we’re thankful to see another car and then a few more. We’re not the only crazy people out here.

They’ve got a few spare rocks here in case it starts getting too smooth.

After 80km and an hour and a half of spine jangling ride, we arrive thankfully in the mining town of San Antonia de Los Cobres, which is… a little bleak. We’re back on paved road at least, which will take us over the mountains and back to Salta. This road is quite spectacular once again. It starts out somewhat like the hills of southern California, brown and covered in low dusty green scrub. Then all traces of green disappear and we’re winding our way though steep yellow rocky mountains covered in giant cacti before it opens out to yet another valley of rainbow coloured rock.

An hour after leaving the mining town we’re back ‘down’ at 2,500m on the green valley floor. Green trees and shrubs have replaced the cactus, there’s water in the river bed and small farms dot the landscape wherever there’s a small space for a field.

We’re in Salta for one night before we head out again on a southern loop of wine tasting and more views. Stay tuned!

Rental Car Agent: Would you like insurance?
Jerry: Yeah, you better give me the insurance. Because I’m gonna beat the hell out of this car

Exploring Jujuy: In a Nutshell

Car Rentals:

• We looked at a bunch of different car rental companies and ended up using Localiza Argentina, the same company we used in Colombia. We had a 10 day rental which was $600CAD (with the full insurance). Before you take the car, make sure they’ve provided a spare tire and a jack. We didn’t have a jack and were nervous about it the whole way.
• We drove about 1600km total over the ten days (including Jujuy and Cafayate). Gasoline is always Full Serve, and (we believe) cash only.
• You don’t have to take the route through the jungle to get to Jujuy, but it’s interesting to see the rapid change in landscape. It took us 5 hours for the 176km trip to Tilcara via Ruta 9.

Serrania de Los 14 Colores:

• The road from Humahuaca to the Mirador at Serrania de Los 14 Colores is 25km and took us about 45 minutes. As we mentioned the road is fine for a regular car. But if you’re nervous you can jump in a 4X4 with a guide at the info centre by the bridge on the edge of town. There are also buses.
• About 2km before you reach the Mirador there’s a gate where you’ll need to pay 100 pesos per person.
• The last 600m we both got low grade headaches. Drink plenty of water and keep your eyes open for vendors selling coca candies and / or coca leaves.
• It’s well worth it to go to the lower mirador to get a closer view of the mountains.

Humahuaca is a nice little tourist town. Larger than Tilcara.

Las Senoritas: There are two hikes here, and for the longer hike you must have a guide. For that reason, you have to register as you enter the area and wait to be assigned a guide. Ours only spoke Spanish, we smiled and nodded a lot.

Purmamarca: The one marked mirador on the road from Purmamarca to the Salt Flats is called Cuesta de Lipan. It’s about two switchbacks from the top and well worth stopping at. There’s one on the curve before as well.

Salinas Grandes: You must have a guide to go out on the flats. The guides are 1,500 per car and they take you for 45 minutes on a long drive out to the pools where you have lots of time to take photos.