Salta Province: The Glory Days

By now I was a long away from the cool Patagonian coast I had dipped my feet in a month ago. I had arrived in the very green, very old colonial city of Salta, the capital of the Salta Province in Argentina’s far north. If you cared, Salta was an important stop in colonial days on the trade route from Peru all the way down to Buenos Aires. It’s also in the news because of a dangerous Dengue Fever outbreak that is currently in progress. In fact, until I saw pictures of Salta midway through my trip, I had absolutely no intention of going here. Dengue Fever, an untreatable illness spread by a daytime-biting mosquito, won’t kill you the first time. But it certainly can the second time. With a presence everywhere from Rio to Australia, it’s not a disease you want if you’re travelling around. I received differing Dengue news by word of mouth, but the truth that the government won't tell you is that the outbreak is occurring in the rural, poorer area considerably east of Salta. For those people, there’s no certainty of when it’s going to end.
Salta was also at the southern reaches of the Incan Empire; for my first taste of the mighty civilization I investigated the MAAM, an archaelogical museum in Salta. There I learned that the Incas never performed violent sacrifice. Instead, they sacrificed royal children to the gods every so often by sending them up to the highest peaks in the area and leaving them there. About ten years ago, archaeologists stumbled across such a site at the top of Volcan Llullaillaco, finding three royal children that, at over 6000 m elevation, were perfectly preserved. The toys that were found next to these kids looked new enough that they could have been stolen from a local market. But nothing compared to the girl. A frozen display case under constant guard held a little Incan teenie-bopper who looks like she died yesterday. I stared mesmerized at the big, dark, unblinking eyes, as if they might flash to life at any time. Her clothes, skin, teeth, dating back 500 years, were as real as they were the day she died, cold and scared, locked in a cave somewhere at the roof of the world.

Scary mummies aside, the landscape of northern Argentina is legendary and the best way to see it is by driving. That is how I ended up behind the wheel of a shiny VW Gol, on a winding road to Cachi that made an elevation change of 1152 m to 2280 m. In the car was Sagi, the shrewd money-conscious Israeli; Axel, the chain-smoking French guy; and Ard, the hilarious lumbering Dutch who has never had a driver’s licence in his life. All stereotypes, all bang on. Our route was ambitious: over 1000 km in 4 days, criss-crossing the dramatic, rocky gorges of the central Andes.

We were now entering Argentina’s share of the altiplano or high plane, a flat region of the Andes situated at an average 3300 m above sea level, similar to the Tibetan plateau. To give you an idea of that immensity, the highest road in Canada (Highwood Pass in Alberta) is at an elevation of 2350 m. At any given time out here I might be almost four kilometers further to the moon than you are. It’s a hard, desolate land since there is little vegetation that grows in the harsh soil. The sun beats strong on you but the air is cool. You have a constant sense of being out of breathe and the slightest activity can leave you light-headed and heavily panting. And oh my God the headaches on days of substantial elevation change are astounding. For now until I return home to the Ontario lowlands, elevation will be a factor.

Every day of the ride was memorable but there are moments that stick out: a hilltop cemetery at Cachi, a flock of parakeets bathed in golden light at the Quebrada de los Fleches (Gorge of the Arrows), a natural ampitheatre towering 100 m above us, a night drive along a perilous mountain forest road to Jujuy. We went on another great wine tour (the area of Cafayate is the second most popular wine producing region in Argentina) at the massive Bodega Etchardt. We dined on quinoa and steak. As the sun was setting on another day, we arrived at a massive sundial marking the Tropic of Capricorn.

The Salta Province is one of the most beautiful in the country. For a place I hadn't even considered stopping at while planning the trip in Canada, I was glad to have a flexible enough schedule to make the journey. But the real moral of this story is to rent a car: it’s the perfect way to see the world for cheap, with friends, and at your own pace.