Our time in the Province of Jujuy was now ending and we would drive back down past Salta into the small town of Cachi, which everyone had assured us was beautiful and not to be missed. I’ll insert a little map here with the time and distance, but as you’ll see as you read on, this was obviously for optimum weather conditions — we took a little longer!
We set off after breakfast, and as we took the highway back instead of La Caldera, we made good time back down past Salta. After stopping for a couple of empanadas for lunch, we were soon on the road to Cachi. I don’t know why, but for some reason because it was south of Salta, I assumed it wouldn’t be as mountainous as Jujuy. I had envisioned gentle slopes across rolling green meadows — kind of like Julie Andrew in The Sound of Music. Boy, was I wrong.
Again, as in Jujuy, the climb began slowly and the vegetation was lush and thick and dark green, but the road was already winding. It was lovely though, each turn in the road bringing another view, with the sun creating patterns in the green. Eventually, though, the vegetation thinned out and again the mountains were bare rock. And again, they were full of wonderful coloured patterns and jawdropping splendour.
Everybody had told us the road was beautiful, but nobody told us we should get onto it in the early morning because the afternoon weather could be iffy. As we drove ever upwards I noticed clouds on the higher peaks, and I hoped desperately that they wouldn’t come down as far as we were on the road. Unfortunately, they did.
You know when you’re in a plane and you fly through a cloud and you see absolutely nothing but white? Well that’s what we drove through! We couldn’t see anything in front of the car. We had to crawl along (up!) at about 10 miles an hour, and every so often a curved arrow sign would loom out of the whiteness warning us of a curve.
The road was just barely wide enough for two cars, and we did in fact meet traffic coming down — that was hair raising.
At one point we came to a place where they was a small lay-by on the right, which was covered in rubble. In the middle was the road, and on the left was the sheer drop — which we couldn’t see. Cecilia said, “I don’t know which way to go!” I could just barely see the rubble on my side and was able to guide her around the curve while staying on the road, but it was touch and go. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. And it just kept going up — and up — and up!
We had been on the mountain for at least two hours, when quite suddenly we broke through the cloud and onto slightly flatter terrain. Wonder of wonders, after quite a lot more curves, there in front of us was a straight road, no curves, a yellow line painted down the middle and lots of room for two cars passing each other!
This last part was lovely as we could relax a bit — although poor Cecilia was suffering from aching shoulders from urging the stick shift car up the road and fingers almost frozen to the wheel. But now it was meadows on either side of the road – and wildlife! We saw llamas and vicuñas, wild donkeys and goats. Wonderful!
On arrival in Cachi we literally ran into this herd of sheep and goats, which the farmer was trying to get into a field while they obviously preferred to surround our car! That made us laugh and broke any tension remaining from the mountain. We did, however, decide to stay in Cachi for two days instead of moving on to Cafayate, and when Cecilia suggested this I was vastly relieved. Now I could relax and enjoy Cachi.
Well, kind of. I actually didn’t sleep for two nights worrying about going back down the mountain!
I still have quite a bit to write about Cachi, including the most amazing “small world” story I’ve ever experienced. So I’ll finish this in tomorrow’s post. Stay tuned.
