Cafayate, deserts and dehydration

from 10-12 Oct 06

It felt a bit sad to leave Tafi. The road to Cafayate, a wine growing town in the middle of the desert was beautiful. Going up to 3,050m ASL then down to 1600m thru gazzilions of huge cactus trees. For a reason we couldnt figure, there was a police check point in the middle of nowhere, where sniffer dogs checked the bags and we got our passports checked. Only Sara and I got checked though, obviously looking dodgy.

The bus conductor also wore a gun. But not in a holster like so many other uniforms you see in this country. It was simply stuffed into his belt, in the back of his belt to be precise. It looked all a bit gangsterish really...

Cafayte is small, and calm. It didnt seem too impressive, except for the bloody stifling heat.

The next day we (ie Sara) decided to visit the local multi coloured rock formations in the desert. The sensible way to do this would be on a tour, but instead we hired mountain bikes and took them on the local bus out to the rocks. (This costing the same as a tour would have..) This was piss poor planning at best... The rocks were 46km out of town, it was stupidly hot, we had all of 1l of water, a tin of tuna, and had eaten one piece of toast for breakfast...

It was about now my recent observations of how different Argentina is compared to other cheap countries I have visited were confirmed. I have climbed live volcanoes in Indonesia, just to find some 10 year old kid selling cans of coke at the top. Yet out here in the desert, where every single tourist in town was going to visit, there was only a few simple craft stalls, and not a cracker of food or weater to be purchased.

The rocks were cool. The sun was not. After about 15km we found a gypsie lady who could sell us some water. I can only but guess what she was thinking about lunatic tourists cycling out there with no water- She didnt look impressed. Thank God, by 35km we found another gyspie selling goat cheese(?). By the time we got back to town I was damn near ready to die. Or eat a whole cow. Or both.

By next morning i was OK again though, and we hit a couple of wineries. Torentes being the local winner. A white variety between a sav and a chardonnay, not overly nice.

As if to make our ¨wine discovery of SA¨even less impressive, some local madman has ccreated wine ice cream. Seriously. I tried another Torontess, in extra cold form. And you know what? It too tastes like shit... Yet the Lonelyplanet & rough guide reckons they are great.

It was time to get out. and off to salta we went, in the back of a transit van driven by a goose who didnt quite understand changing gears or entering corners smoothly.