A Hitchhiker's Guide to Fine Food & Wine, Cafayate

Well, here we are. Smack bang in the middle of Argentinian wine country. It's enough to send ones senses into a boorish frenzy, the kind of which that would see my old man flat on his back within a matter of minutes. I must admit, the past week or so has been quite relaxed & uneventful - if you sit it side by side on trial with the rest of my prior shenanigans anyhow; yet I believe this sombre pace, along with the high, dry fresh arid air which does so much to dictate the goings on around these parts, has done my tarnished soul a world of rejuvenation. To look at, I wouldn't exactly appear in tip top condition. My hair has become mattered & wiry with dust, my clothes discoloured & stained from weeks without wash (I can't actually remember the last time...), and I must wreak, since I haven't had the chance to shower in the last four (or more??) hot & sticky sweltering days. Let's just say I'm back on a shoestring; doing the hard yards once again. Every well trodden backpacker has known the feeling at some point. All of a sudden that golden ticket pays you no diffidence - in other words it gets you fuck all...so you spend fuck all; and stare down the barrel of societies long encrusted practicalities & laugh. So be it. I'm feeling swell. I've long ago stopped caring about all such bodiless bullshit. Too many people can be all too serious. Do what'ya gotta do. There is always a way...and I say, if you've got any real balls - reach out and grab it...

Vineyard just outside Cafayate

In saying that, I have forked out for at least one expensive trinket in recent times. This would be my bus ticket out of that godforsaken desert town of San Pedro. To be fair, I kind of liked the place, but I'd been stuck there for the better part of three days trying to sort out my life. It was a strange feeling being on my own again; I can't remember the last time it had been this way, and a whole tangled web of confusion & indecision had hit me all of a sudden like an unwanted rude awakening. To make matters worse, my bank card had finally hit its first major glitch. I couldn't get money out from any of the ATM's in town, and I was strung out with a mere 10,000 pesos (approx. 20 bucks) to my name. This situation sucks. What use is it having money stashed away when you are unable to use it. My lifeline was gone. Over & over I attempted (in vain) various methods in which to withdraw my cash. I must have spent a good hour or so in one single booth alone. I was becoming frantic, and it was doing my head in. Eventually I retreated to the comfort & familiarity of the Internet. Maybe a cry from home would do me some good. As it turned out, I Skyped my family for the first time in nine months, which in itself was a totally surreal experience. I wasn't expecting it to begin with, and completely had no idea what to say. Mix that in part with the fact I was in an Internet cafe to say the least, surrounded by people listening to every heartfelt word I said. It took a while to get used to it. I must say however, it made my day seem much a tad brighter.

The road out of San Pedro

Somehow, I managed to to hit the hot spot on Google. One ATM apparently only accepts international Mastercards, so I pulled out my alternative backup from deep inside my backpack and gave it a wild shot. BINGO!! Back in action. Once again I was invincible. All cashed up and ready to blow. All I had to do know was figure out what I wanted to do next. I had this grand plan that I would be hitching across the border into Argentina. After asking around town for its feasibility (receiving little optimism), and picturing spending 10 hours conversing in dreadful, unintelligible Spanish to some overweight truck driver, I chose to catch the bus. In hindsight, I think you could manage. But that's one hell of a long way between civilisations for me. A whole lott'a heat, & a whole lott'a open sand.

The ride itself was breathtaking. Snow-capped volcanic peaks backed the burnt red seas of saline prone desert. the scaling, & windy road was a treat to venture through. before too long I had reached Argentina, and after three tedious repeats of an atrocious pooch flick, I had arrived in the city of Salta. I'd heard good things, and I needed cheering up. I rose the next day with an air of optimism; I had to get cash to fix up my bills, still I had a whole new city to explore - probably the biggest since La Paz. However, my optimism soon betrayed me. It felt like everything came crashing down upon me in one single swoop. When I checked my bank accounts, something seemed very wrong. Either I'd fucked up somewhere down the line, or someone had seriously fucked me. $600 had disappeared, and I'm still yet to know why. The only explanations could be I'd been ripped off by some card scammer locked into an ATM in Uyuni, or I'd been charged all those times I'd tried to withdraw cash in San Pedro, even though I'd received no money. I emailed my bank. That's all I knew what to do. Still, I couldn't wipe if clear of my mind. To second this, I'd been wind burnt to shit on the salt flats & now had blisters all over my lips. I used to get large cold saws on my face as a kid and I guess have never grown out of my paranoia. All these downers had put me in a right crappy mood. I was now looking upon the city with vulgar eyes, cursing the high prices of this dambed country & dreading being all on my own. It took me the better part of the day to get over it. Salta itself is quite a nice city, I'd just hit it up at the wrong time.

San Francisco Church in Salta

On leaving the city, each day only got better & better. The spice of life soon returned & I did my best to forget most of my financial woes. I was bound for Cachi, a small town in the back end of nowhere. The journey yet again proved magnificent; dramatic natural features dominated the scenery. On the bus I even got the chance to practise my Spanish with the locals, and surprisingly discovered it isn't so bad after all. Cachi was great, if not hot as all hell. The toilets even had sputnik hose squirters. Stoked. I sprayed myself in the face on first fascination trial. I had time by the end of the day to circle the town, grab a cheap lunch & to walk up to the hill top cemetery for a look on down the valley. I fell asleep that night between the trees, to the tranquil sounds of insects chirping & dogs howling into the moon.

Church in Cachi

Now comes the clincher. There was no way possible to get from there in Cachi to anywhere further south along the famous Ruta 40, using public transportation. It was time to jump back on that long lost horse I'd left behind all those years ago. Yet I have to say, to begin with, it was a bit of an anti-climax. Hitching from Cachi to Cafayate sure ain't as easy as I'd hoped, and I think I waited a good two and a half hours before I eventually snagged a ride (the longest I believe I've ever had to wait). But sure enough, in good time, patience prevails. I was back on the road, picked up by three European travellers who had hired a car for a few days back in Salta. I adore the luck of the hitch. Spontaneity & randomness always manages to prevail.. What a joy it is to be alive. One moment I was scraping & sucking apricots out of a can, the next I am sipping & sampling wine in one of Argentina's most famous wineries with a supposedly avid French wine connoisseur. When in Rome. I couldn't resist. The lads had offered to drop me in town of Molinos, where I could have journeyed on, but I instead chose to join them on their wine tasting endeavours, whether they liked it or not. What a treat it was. The Colomé vineyards were astounding. Fine wines were swished, smelt & swigged. By me, all too rapidly as it seemed. I know no finery. The French guy was babbling on for hours about the different scents & flavours, and how it stuck to the side of the glass, all the better! Oh man, I wish my dad was here. At least I could have confined in him...yet I'm sceptical how much he actually knows about the finety of the drink itself.

Colomé Wines

On the drive between the winery & Cafayate, we were chanced my the most remarkable sunset. As we paved through the stunning Calchaquíes Canyon our eyes were drawn to the ochre coloured mountains in the distance & the split of sunlight beading between  the hills & the clouds. The rays of light shot off into the heavens. It was quite a sight to behold. By the time we reached Cafayate it was just about dark, however this was perfect, as the town had once again come alive after the regions obligatory daily siesta. It's a strict business in these parts. EVERYTHING shuts between 1 - 5 in the afternoon during the heat of the day. I never know what to do!! That night I enjoyed my first taste of whisky since leaving home. I'd become so accustomed to the ol' rum that it hit me like a sweet summers Sunday BBQ. I spent the night chatting away to a few American chicks, some Aussie guys who had traversed the Western Arthur's back home in Taz, and one of the guys girlfriends who kept playing 'limp limb' & reminded me a truck load of Lil. 

Desert scenery

I woke the next day to a bunch of black parrots chattering away in the tree tops above, and water splashing over rocks, cascading along a purpose built gutter system through the hostels back yard. I love waking up outside. It's a great way to welcome in the morning. I was camped right by a grove of reeds, and animals of all sizes seemed to share in my accommodation. What caught my attention the most were the frogs (or maybe they were toads??), they looked ghastly similar to the dreaded cane toads from back home on the mainland. I think I actually recall hearing they were originally from around this area. After some corn flakes for breaky, and a quick search across town for a second hand bicycle, I chose to spend the day hiking up into the Rio Colorado Canyon. I'd had a bit of a tip of from the Aussie guys the night before, and it sounded like a great little escapee. The track starts about 5km's out of town, near a campsite just past the Finca Las Nubes. The guys had told me just to follow the power lines (which lead to a small community), cross the rugged football field, swap banks via the bridge & just keep on heading up hill beside the river when ever you can. These pointers proved helpful; there were a few times when many different trails branched off in all sorts of directions. Generally speaking, you just climb up higher when ever there is the option. If this fails, you most likely just have to cross the river back over to the other side. The narrow canyon itself was a gaping chasm of proportion. The walls were tinted a strong red, and huge cactus grew out of all unimaginable places. It was like setting out into natures own obstacle course. I was buzzing.

Cactus in the Canyon

After an hour or so, I come across a large hill on my left which looked climbable. To my surprise there were goats scaling its slopes. They would jump from rock to rock with incredible ease, and looked upon me with suspicion. It seemed I was faced with no other option than to join these rock hopping goats, as my trail soon simply petered out into the river. Up I went. It was ridiculously hot by this point; it must have been well past mid-day. At the top I was afforded a grand stand view into two different sections of the river valley, separated by a long curve in its flow which wrapped around this very hill that I was now aloft. It was what I imagine much of outback Australia must be like. Untamed wilderness. Beautiful by way of barrenness. The colours and terrain reminded me slightly of the Grampians, only here there was cactus & much more water than I remember. I kept expecting a flash flood to rip through the canyon with torrential force, taking everything that lay in its path along for the wild ride. It would have quite a sight from here up above.

Rio Colorado

I'm glad however nothing of the kind occurred when I lumbered on back down. I chose one of the paths that steeply descended the slopes, eventually returning me to the river banks & not too far from some sensational swimming holes. I cooled off a tad in one, before venturing back up my hill. I still had yet to reach the main waterfall, which I'd seen pictures of the night before; so there had to be another way around to keep on following the water-course. After a bit of a dodgy shimmy around some cliffs, I stumbled back upon a proper path which led me down the other side. I laughed at my own stupidity when I looked back at what I'd just done. I always manage to put my self in the most adrenaline charged situations when ever there is a most obvious & easier way. A few more minutes of walking led me to the grand-slam itself. I couldn't imagine a cascade in a more picturesque setting. This had been one of the best day hikes I'd done for a long time, and it had been totally free (bar some small indigenous community donation; which confused me, as I don't see them doing much else apart from putting out their hands) & completely independent. On my way out I noticed some police scanning the surrounding scrub. It gave me an eerie feeling like I was in the middle of some kind of horror movie skitz. My suspicions were only raised higher when a cop car went flying around a corner, skidding with sirens blaring in that same direction earlier on this morning. I sure hope no serious shit has gone down.

Waterfall on the Rio

Now as for me, right now I'm feeling all too sensational yet again. The empty air of the road has done me at least some good, despite the fact I've been living off practically nothing but banana or tuna sandwiches & canned fruit for the past week. I tried for hours this morning to hitch my way to Tafi del Valle, about 125km's further south, but to no avail. It sure is hard picking up rides in this part of the country. For now I guess I'm back on the bus. I'd really love to pick up a bike. That would be ideal. A couple passed me on the highway earlier on, racks loaded up with all their gear, and only the sun & a dry breeze lapping across their faces. It almost seems fantastical.

So in saying that my friends, I'm off yet again. Ciao, ciao for now!! I'm sure we'll chat again all too soon. I apologise if this entry makes little sense, as the spice of this back country has seemed to have got the better of me & I ended up writing a majority of this post half pissed on cheap Cafayaten vino tinto. 

These things happen...
Adios amigos!! Much lovin' 

Nickoooo xxx