Day 31
Salta was just too busy to be enjoyed and the continuing bank holiday closures were trying our patience so we decided to skip town and head to Cachi. Cachi lies in the Valles Calchaquies, one of Argentina´s most seductive off-the-beaten track zones, with rugged mountenous landscapes and a noticeably more indigenous population. In these valleys, the locals put up some of the stiffest resistance to Spanish rule and the bus journey there proved what a difficult place this could be to attack. The journey indeed was an attraction in itself as we lurched at breathtaking speed along narrow mountain paths, hairpin turns and forded numerous rivers that flowed straight across the roads. The views were utterly breath-taking and as we rapidly gained altitude the cacti began to multiply and the vista ever more approximated the Wild West.
The village of Cachi lies 2.5 km up in the mountains surrounded by snowy peaks and gorgeous scenary. The cobblestones, adobe houses and tranquil plaza made this village the most ´authentic´ we had stayed in yet and the perfect sunny weather made our stay utterly idyllic.
Two kilometers outside the village the locals had constructed replica buildings from several phases of the valley´s history.
The rest of the afternoon was passed in a fantastic swimming pool and sunbathing. Alas the new proximity to the sun meant that my factor 15 sun cream was woefully inadequate and I got burnt to a crisp.
To cheer myself up that evening I went to a rather posh restaurant for desert. I ordered a capia-pepper muffin with a topping of sugarcane honey meringue and a drizzle of a rich liquorice caramel. The cake was made from corn flower and its boozy flavour cut beautifully through the creamy meringue, thoroughly justifying the expense of each bite.
More swimming and sunbathing was grudgingly followed by the bus back to Salta. The journey back brought us back below the level of the clouds and it turned out the world below had been subject to 24 hours of rain. Our schadenfreude soon turned to fear though as we realised the rain had made the already dangerous mountain roads even more lethal and all around we could see the evidence of landslides and skid marks.
A particularly fine sweet empanada (sweet pastry filled with jam covered in icing sugar) helped dampen the nerves.
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