Road to Salta & Quebrada de Humahuacha

Given our slow progress the previous two days, we still had a lot of driving to do and only one day left to do it in. Of course there would be more stupidly beautiful places so we tried to make a rule that we would only stop to take photo's of the most spectacular places.

Five kilometres later we spotted our first Llama sign!

Should we have hired a car to drive around Salta? Absolutely. Should we have learnt the road rules? Probably. But, seeing as few Argentines followed them, if they even knew them, we were just like the rest of the rabble on the road. Driving down this road, we wondered if the speed limit could really be 60 and sometimes down to 40 kilometres per hour. Figuring it must be in miles per hour even though that didn't make a lot of sense either, we drove at 100 and we were still overtaken.

Next came the hairpins on a dirt road wide enough for 1.5 cars. There were very few places to stop as we descended through the clouds.

Cafayate is south of Salta and the next place we wanted to head to was north. Unfortunately there seemed no obvious way to avoid the city and we found ourselves in the very centre battling the traffic. Despite no lane markings, no use of indicators, cars moving fluidly around each other and right of way rules at intersections that seemed based on a battle of wits we made it through thanks to Jeff's skilful driving. He blended in so well with the manic drivers that no one even honked!

On the other side of town, the road narrowed to 1.5 car width and wound through leafy forest that was a total contrast to the desert landscapes of that morning. But past Jujuy, the next provincial capital north of Salta, we were back into the colourful, barren canyon.

It was already getting late and our destination, Humahuaca was a fair drive away, so we made few stops and for the first time in the last few days we weren't blown away by the view.

Other than the colourful walls and pavement made out of local stone, the town of Humahuaca was a disappointment. Around the main square, make shift stalls were full of souvenirs, their vendors hassling tourists who walked past. And there, amongst the native people we stood out, but we didn't feel very welcome. On top of that the streets were littered with rubbish.

In contrast Tilcara back along the route to Salta was a lot friendlier and prettier. From the top of the hill where we ate burgers in the company of a stray dog, we watched the sun set over the coloured peaks nearby.

Quilmes & the road to Cachi

We'd nearly given up on finding the ruins of Quilmes. Bumping down the rough bitumen road surrounded by cacti, we felt like we were in the middle of nowhere, except for the tiny villages the popped up every now and again.

When we finally reached the turnoff Jeff commented that the next five kilometres of badly corrugated road would be a very long trip. Nearing the hillside the ruins seemed to materialise in front of us. Camouflaged perfectly against the hillside were lines of stone walls climbing up into a valley.

There was a very brief tour, but it was only in Spanish so we were free to explore and guess the purpose of all the different shaped spaces. We wandered amongst the waist high walls and cacti until we found a path leading up the side of the hill to what appeared to be a lookout post. The city was a defensive one after all, the Quilmes Indians having survived contact with the Inca's but not the Spanish.

Up at the lookout the view to the obviously sprawling city was excellent. On the hill above, more lookout posts had now become apparent. So we kept going up and at each spot we realised there was even more and we could climb higher. But from back on the ground, the lookout posts were almost invisible.

 If the 5 kilometres to Quilmes had been bad, then the road between Cafayate and Cachi was excruciating. We travelled one hundred and fifty three teeth rattling kilometres until Jeff's hands felt like they were crawling on the inside. But my god was it worth it!