After we drove past Purmamarca noting a pretty little village however not equipped with a necessary gas station, we pressed on to the junction with Highway 9.
Highway 9 is the main road from Bolivia 150 miles to the north and Salta the biggest Argentine city in the area three hours south and also home to another Bolivian Consulate where we want to get a visa.
But first we had a multicolored mountain to visit about 90 minutes north of Purmamarca. And on the way there is an expensive YPF gas station in Tilcara.
Traffic was light on the highway as we rolled north through a whole bunch of little villages along the road.
It’s clear this isn’t the wealthy part of Argentina, there are lots more buses and fewer private cars on the roads and housing is much more basic than we have seen in the south. It reminds us of Perú.
The road was a mixture of fields and desert with the mountains for backdrop.
It was a pleasant Sunday evening drive with the highway mostly to ourselves.
I confess that in my previous life I never really spent much time wondering what northern Argentina looked like. I never figured it would be so mountainous and arid.
We filled up with gas and expensive it was too, around five bucks a gallon and we needed twenty gallons since filling up in equally expensive San Pedro de Atacama in Chile.
We caught glimpses down the side streets at village life, unlike anything we had seen in Argentina. It looked more like Mexico or somewhere much poorer than we’ve seen in southern Argentina.
Eventually we turned off the highway on the dirt road that led 15 miles up the mountains to the rainbow mountain. We had no idea how steep it would get at 14,000 feet.
Arizona strikes again.
iOverlander showed places to wild camp along the road but none were appealing to us with difficult berm filled entrances for our low slung van and lots of soft sand and loose gravel. When they grade these roads they push the loose stuff to the side which makes it difficult to get off the road in our low slung delivery van. You can see the berm I’m talking about below:
Finally, about six miles in we found a spot used by a van like ours in an iOverlander report, and we stopped for the night. GANNET2 is not intended as an off road vehicle but she does make a very comfortable wilderness home for us old farts.
We had some neighbors but they stayed pretty quiet all night. We too decided not to party and buttoned up our home before dark with window shades as it gets cool rapidly after the sun goes down around 8 pm.
Rusty ordering dinner al fresco.
Dinner with a view.
We left the camp around 9:30 Monday morning with nine miles to drive and the view point scheduled to open at ten. The road up the hillside was rough with washboard and a stony surface with lots of loose rock and gravel. After we passed the village of Pumará there was not much to see except curiously some power lines going god knows where.
A guanaco family out for a Monday picnic.
I stopped and took this photo on the way back. It was a long uphill slog. Off to the right you can see the road cutting through the brush towards Highway 9. Argentina is a vast wilderness up here. A total surprise to me.
The climb up was rather fraught as we lost a lot of power at 14,000 feet and I hadn’t bothered to air down the tires so it took concentration and both hands on the wheel to get up the hairpins.
We were crawling at barely 8 mph on some uphill sections and I had to take care not to lose too much speed on the corners.
After about an hour of crawling up the side of the mountain at eight miles an hour on some steep stretches we reached the indigenous ticket booth. The multi colored mountains lie within an Aymara community land holding and they charge a buck apiece to visit.
And here it is.
You are at 14,272 feet and you need to walk slowly, mind your breathing and don’t dump trash. And no camping (in red) though what lunatic would want to camp up here in the freezing nighttime cold when there is a perfectly good cemetery 2500 feet down the hill…
We skipped the walk and also avoided the temptation of throwing things in the canyon. Rusty was doing fine running around sniffing.
The thing about these places is I’m not sure what to do after I’ve looked and made a few photographs.
It’s a bit like going to see the heads in South Dakota. We went early in the morning and admired the Presidents staring out across the hillside and then…I’m not sure what I was supposed to do. You check Mount Rushmore off the list of places you’ve visited.
Less historical than Mount Rushmore but mighty beautiful I’m glad we came, but then what? I sat and stared and watched Rusty being excessively energetic at that altitude.
And then, Philistine that I am I wanted breakfast. And another cup of black tea, my Yorkshire Gold. I’ve been doing pretty well at altitude even without coca tea and Tylenol.
“Winding steep downhill road next five miles.” Like we hadn’t just driven up it. Now I had to stick GANNET2 in first gear and try to go easy on the brakes…
It felt a lot longer than five miles.
They like us paused to enjoy the view.
We are always the slowest on the road.
Summer is over and we are moving into Fall so the souvenir shops are closed except on weekends. We stopped at an intriguing sign offering craft beer but there was no one home except a family of dogs who were not match for Rusty in a feisty mood.
Back to the main road and the rather impoverished communities alongside it.
We did not get a great hit off these places. They drove aggressively cutting me off more than once as we lumbered through their streets. One guy yelled at me as I made a left turn with proper gringo turn signals as though it was my fault he was passing illegally and impatiently. I laughed at him and that didn’t help.
Another guy rushing in a pick up got mad when I drive the left hand side of a long gravel straightaway trying to avoid a rough patch. He blew on by staffing in his horn. I waved cheerfully and would have pointed out I learned from them to drive oddly. One got the feeling there is not much live lost for tourists around here. After two decades in Key West I don’t blame them.
We’re lucky not to have to live here. Poverty does not ennoble.
Some people benefit from the tourist trade.
Police checkpoint not in use. Slow down to walking speed in the cones. We have had our license and insurance checked. It’s no big deal.
Layne saw a sign for a vineyard.
Nothing daunted we took a rough dirt track…
…to this rather delightful spot.
This was no Napa Valley glamor but she knew her stuff.
The label free bottle is a new rose wine they had produced and we got one along with a bottle of red. Organic they were with Napa Valley prices: $48 for both. And so back across the organic bridge:
Driving south to Purmamarca still half an hour away.
We deviated into a town to look for a fruit stand.
No luck but we got to look around.
There is a railroad track with proper stations but we never saw a train. Maybe it’s a summer tourist thing.
Souvenir pottery shop, not fit for van life.
Convenience store:
Purmamarca home to narrow alleys.
Our home till Wednesday when we leave to visit the Bolivian Consulate in the city of Salta, three hours south of here.
$16 a night with lovely hot showers, electrical plug in (220 volts) if we want and a dump station for our toilet.
