the salta road trip - pt.2

27th April 2012

Salta, Argentina

                  After retreating back down from the cactus graveyard in Tumbaya we once again piled into our small silver Volkswagen hatchback and tore off down the motorway, plunging further and further into the cactus strewn badlands. The cactus communities and vast rock pillars continued to provide an entrancing backdrop to our journey and as the midday sun toppled from it´s zenith to begin it´s afternoon descent we arrived at the town of Purmamarca which rests 65km North of San Salvador de Jujuy and has to be one of the most captivating towns  in the Humahuaca ravine due to it´s striking appearance. The small town, whose name translates  from Quechua as "The Lion´s Village", was populated by rows of blazing red adobe buildings that nestle between a landscape of craggy rocks and cactus studded hills and the town fits into the scenery so discreetly that the result is an organic settlement where nature and man-made architecture live together as one close-knit homogeneous entity. Purmamarca was actually one of the few places we had planned to visit before setting off in the morning as we had read about the impressive "Cerro de los Siete Colores" or "Hill of Seven Colours" which absolutely dominates the area and the multicoloured rock - caused by layers of sea, lake and river sediments building up over the course of 600 million years - is dazzling and captivating in equal measures. We spent about an hour wandering through the dusty lanes that connect the small town together; resting awhile in the shady gardens of the whitewashed Iglesia de Santa Rosa de Lima which stands elegantly above the low-rise adobe buildings surrounding it. After climbing up a lesser hill that stood in the great shadow of it´s elder brother, I turned my attention towards the peak of the seven coloured hill and I could just about make out a small cross which had assumed a guardian role over the town, watching over the 500 souls that live at it´s feet. Here are some photographs of Purmamarca:

Entering the town of Purmamarca.

Small archways and adobe (mud-brick) buildings form this quaint little town.

Strolling along the lanes which are all watched over by the seven-coloured hill.

Purmamaca life.

Cerro de los Siete Colores.

 Returning back to the car we all had a look at the map and tried to decide where we wanted to head next and after a few minutes consulting our map a choice emerged between the town of Tilcara to the North or the accessible salt flats of Salar de Cauchari which rested on the other side of a range of mountains to our West. A diplomatic vote was conducted and the general consensus was to go and check out the salts flats at Cauchari. With the decision made and some water purchased for the journey, we set off along route 52; a glistening tarmac road which snaked its way up the desert landscape and took us up to a height of 4000m. At this dramatic altitude the views stretched on for miles and looking into the distance it was clear to see the dominance that the Andes had stamped upon the land as piercing peaks and crashing clifftops fused together. Rising in elevation also brought us closer to the sun which was still scorching the barren terrain despite the fact that late afternoon was easing itself into the horizon. Looking back down at the valley we had just ascended, I could see the winding road that slashed the landscape with grey scars that defaced the vast rolling peaks which rested upon the land. Once at the top, we started to slowly descend until in the distance we could see a shimmering white horizon which indicated that the salt flats were about to start. After fifteen minutes the road levelled out and became dead straight all the way towards the vibrant salt flats which glistened in the finals rays of a dying sun. Approaching the first section of the flats, the road divided the landscape: to our left a perfect crystal clear lake spread out across the salt pans; a mere few inches in depth and to our right a fine mud flat stretched into the distance. Getting out of the car we all strolled through the fierce winds that lashed the exposed flats and came across a small group of men who were huddled behind stone walls wearing balaclavas and carving small statues out of the salt gained from the surrouding area. 

And then I lost my shoes.

Getting a little too excited about the alien looking mud flats and believing that they were the actual salt flats - which I later learnt started a little further up the highway - I rushed down the steep bank at the side of the road and as soon as my right foot reached some unstable mud I sunk like an absolute stone down to my knee. The momentum then proceeded to swallow up my left foot as I swayed for stability to the point where I had both legs fully submerged in the mud and every jerk of my body only aggravated the mud into swallowing me up further. Seeing my distress, the others came over and after taking a few minutes to laugh at my stupidity and helplessness, grabbed my arms and hauled me out of my predicament minus a pair of shoes and socks which unfortunately could not be saved from their muddy graves. With no other shoes or socks, the only option was to tackle the rest of the day barefoot and after getting back into the car we drove on a little further to where the actual salt flats began. Turning off a side road through gigantic mounds of harvested salt, the wheels of our car crunched over the solid salt tarmac and after a brief drive towards the centre of the flats we all got out and spent half an hour taking in this bizarre and surreal landscape which looked more like the moon than planet earth. For those unfamiliar with what salt flats actually are and how they are formed you may find the following interesting. What we came across that day was a salt pan and there are many of these pans, or lakes, in this area of the world; the most famous being the Salar de Uyuni which sits expansively in the South-West of Bolivia and is a very popular excursion for most travellers. The white, snow-like vista is, as the name suggests, formed by layers of salt and other minerals which have built up on areas which once used to be water pools. The density of the rock beneath the surface combined with a natural occurence where the rate of evaporation does not exceed the rate of rainfall means that when rain falls, the water cannot drain away and so is left on the surface until the sun evaporates it. Once all the excess water has evaporated, all that is left behind is the raw minerals which cover the surface and over thousands of years and under the glare of the sun the area turns into the iconic white flats. The contrast between the desert landscape we had just travelled from and this new alien world could not have been greater and I was blown away by the variety of scenery that nature had thrown across our path during the course of the day. Getting out of the car completely barefoot, the soles of my feet scraped against the rough surface of salt and I plodded around getting some nice photographs and soaking it all in. By this time 6pm had started to roll around and having travelled a great distance already since Salta we decided it would be best to start heading back and it´s a good thing we did as it took nearly four hours to return to the hostel - despite the Italian side of Roberto coming out with his hectic driving to give Damien a rest from the wheel - and we finally rolled back into Salta under cover of darkness, overwhelmed and exhausted by a hugely eventful 200th day.

Next?

Bolivia....See you soon.

x

The mighty rock pinnacles of the Jujuy province.

Climbing the mountain to the salt flats.

The road snaked its way through a barren landscape whose only inhabitants were the occasional cacti.

Reaching the salt flats. This was on the left side of the road and a shallow lake covered the white salt flats beneath.

Salt flats.

The salt flat lake.

The salt lake to the left and the mud flat to the right where my shoes decided to leave me.

Moments before getting swallowed by the mud.

Turning off the main highway we crunched along the salt flats that stretched endlessly into the distance.

Piles of salt which had been harvested dotted the area.

No shoes! Trousers covered in mud.

A truck hauling a new batch of salt back to the refinery.

Steph had been travelling for awhile and was taking small videos of her dancing with her hoola hoop in loads of different locations as a way of documenting her trip.

Me in the salt flats.

DAY 200. Epic.