August 10, 2010
Cafayate to Tucuman.: The Quilmes, Amaiche and what's so good about porridge anyway?
Tue 10th Aug. Cafayate to Quilmes. 59km. Map 3.
There I was ready to leave. There only remained a few last minute errands that needed doing, namely buy batteries for my head torch and post a postcard. While I like the idea of sending postcards to the more senior members of the family, it is nevertheless time consuming, you have to find the post office in a strange town then queue, then pay allot when an email costs next to nothing and it takes only a fraction of a second to press send.
At this time of the year, as I've said before, the mornings are extremely cold in this region and it's usually eleven before the sun is high enough to warm things up, so it was quite late when I left. The road south of Cafayate passes through a wide valley of vineyards and Bodegas (wineries) which is one of the main tourist draws to the area. Futher south the vineyards peter-out and the landscape reverts to its original state, scrub and cactus. The road too becomes less smooth deteriorating to rough bumpy old ash-felt, though this is suddenly transform when passing out of Salta and entering the province of Tucuman where it's back to good smooth road again.
My goal for the day was the pre-colombian ruins Quilmes which I thought I would've reached earlier but it was quarter to five when I got as far as the five kilometre access road. So it meant I would be wild camping after seeing the ruins somewhere along the access road which was open unfenced wild countryside on either side.
The ruins of the citadel extent over a large area. They are cared for by the descendants of the Diaguita nation. According to historic record the people of Quilmes and other towns in the valley were taken to Buenos Aires after the Spanish conquest. On the way many died and the rest were wiped out by diseases after arriving. It's been a long legal battle with the province of Tucuman and the Argentine state to have their ancestral rights to the area recognizes.
Much of the stone walls have been reconstructed recently but the main structure is well over one thousand year old. There are old grinding stones which were used to grind maize to flour. When I's there, there were many big excursion buses with tour-goers which filled the main area but off a hundred or more metres there was more ruins, stone walls still overgrown with thorns and cactus.
Wed 11th Aug. Quilmes to 26km after Amaiche. 45km.
It was only a short 17km to the village, Amaiche where I's interested in seeing the Pachamama (mother earth) museum and complex of indigenous art. It cost 15 pesos, a little mush since I's only there a half hour, but it's interesting the way different coloured stones have been used to creat patterns on the walls.
It was time for lunch when I'd finished but outside along the road were only shops selling indigenous craft ware. There was a service station but it sold only cold sandwiches and I wanted something more substantial as there was a big climb coming up in the afternoon. There was only one option namely to cycle down into the main village, a little out off my way. There I entered the first cafe which looked good. While sat eating local boys gathered round my bike but having enough space between me and them I felt lucky not to spend lunch time talking about my bike and travels in my bad Spanish.
I finished off lunch and looked at my watch to see that it was already gone quarter to two so I order the bill and was shocked to see the total, 42 pesos which is more than I'd usually pay. Even the best restaurants in Salta do not charge as much for what I had, empanadas and locro.
The whole afternoon was one long climb out off the valley. The first few kilometres after the initial kilometres were quite steep made worst by old rough bumpy ash-felt which rocked the bike and impacted my already tiring body. Though after the first seven Kay up the hillside the gradient became more gradual as the road followed a more terraced route along the hillside looking down upon the valley below.
AS I write, I'm down a track off the road by a grove of trees along a mountain stream which is perfectly drinkable, so a great place to camp. I'm worried though as a strong wind has picked up in the west and the sun is blocked out by a brown haze. Luckily there are no shortage of smooth round river stones to anchor the tent down with.
I had not finished when a big white Mercedes van drove down the track. What can this mean I thought. A woman got out the passenger side and it was clear she was not from Argentina by her pale freckled skin and the van's number plate had a blue rectangle European union flag with the letter D. This could only mean one thing. After a few words in Spanish we realized we both would be better off speaking English. `I'm Andrea` she said, and this is my man Bern, Pointing to the driver who'd parked and was now approaching.
Later they invited me to share a beer sitting in there van which Bern bad fitted out with storage drawers a kitchen and fold down bed. He was busy fixing the heating when I arrived. They are entuiastic walkers and climbers so there were bags of climbing gear on the floor. Now, scaling up a rock-face is an activity which I'd be frighten to even try. Bern showed me a few different what he called jamming devices plucked from a sack while he explain the techniques involved. These jam in the chimney to hold the rope, he explained. `Are you ever afraid of heights` I ask.`Yes I'm always afraid of Heights I never look down only to my partner below` he replied.
Day 6. Thur 12th Aug. 26km after Amaiche to camping in gorge. 68km.
I was nice and snug in my sleeping bag before I got out at eight thirty, then I just got cold and colder. I've got to ask why is the place I camp always the last to be reached by the sun the following morning? And why do I eat porridge for breakfast? Yes I-ve tried porridge in many combinations but not anything I know makes it taste less boring. I know there's many cyclists that attribute mush to the goodness of porridge but I don't see it and it takes for ever to eat.
Andrea and Bern said goodbye. They were off on a hike up the hill across the stream which was frozen solid except for a trickle in the middle. The icy water I'd to use to wash the pan after the boring porridge, a job I saved to last hoping by that time the sun would've reach me as I knew it would be cold. However I's still in the shade, my fingers recoiled with pain and I spend the next minutes warming them between my legs.
Yesterdays climb continued for another six kilometres doing much to warm me up, but once the road crossed the summit at 3045 metres, it got cold and colder as I's hit by an icy cross wind. I arrived below in the scattered village Tafi in time for a good lunch. The problem is turning up in a strange place hungry, it's difficult to judge a place on looks. There's rarely something a little voice to say, this place is good and this place is bad. I should've however read the tell-tale signs in the place I visited. One it was empty at lunchtime. Two the prices were steep. Three the proprietor was unfriendly, not a hello or where you from. When the food came, the hamburger was extremely small and the chips had been reheated evident by not being piping hot the middle cold which said they'd been fried once, cooled then stored in the fridge before reheating. If I had not been hugging my heavy bike trailer combo around I would've left on first seeing the prices.
Day 7. Fri 13th Aug. Camping in gorge to Tucuman. 70km.
Yesterday evening the road plunged down from the bare mountain valley around Tafi to a thickly wooded gorge where I camped by the river. This morning the trailer wheel was flat so I'd to fix the puncher before getting on the road. The tyre is cheap with a brand name Duro which does not live up to its name as it offen goes soft.
The road descended a few kilometres more before joining a major road which luckily had a wide paved shoulder so I's well in out of the way of the passing trucks. There was not much to see just lots of sugarcane and brown tilled fields. I'm now stopped at a comidor (roadside cafe) This, unlike yesterdays lunch stop is proving a good place. There's lots of costumers, the prices aren't too steep, the food has just come and is looking good. Meanwhile outside the sun seems to be making an appearance after a very grey morning.
The sun only made a brief show and it continued an even greyer afternoon on the way into Tucuman. The autopista style road continued so riding into the city was easy. I'm hoping leaving the city in the direction of Santiago del Estero is just as easy in a few days.
Today's ride: 243 km (151 miles)
Total: 436 km (271 miles)
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