Lads on tour(s) - part II

SAN SALVADOR DE JUJUY, ARGENTINA - 25th March 2010

(...continued from Part I...)

The tour up to Humahuaca left, as with the previous day's Cachi trip, at the ungodly hour of 6.15am; it was thus little surprise that both myself and, to a more impressive extent Tom, were both very much asleep for a more than insignificant period as our journey began.

However, the inane chat from our Argentine tour guide soon had us wide awake and in tip top form for some culture and nature (in no small part thanks to her being rather hot), and things came thick and fast as we followed the Río Grande north through the 96-mile Quebrada de Humahuaca valley.  A UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2003, Quebrada de Humahuaca is best known its spectacular landscape - erosion and tectonic activity have combined to expose an array of colourful mineral rocks, creating a canyon filled with incredible formations complete with evocative titles - "The Painter's Palette", "The Skirt of the Colla" and, first on our itinerary, the striking "Hill of Seven Colours".

Overlooking the tiny little village of Purmamarca, the Hill boasts the full set of mineral colours across its distinct sedimentary layers: light orange (a blend of clay, mud and sand); white (lime rock); yellow (sulphur); purple (manganese); red (iron); green (copper oxide); brown (lead/general rock) :

While the Hill and its sedimentary layers are undoubtedly the main attraction that pulls in the tourists, locals in this part of the world scarcely miss an opportunity to flog local produce to cash-happy tourists, and Purmamarca's central square features market stalls on every face (one seen above), offering array of local crafts and textiles, with llama wool (right) being the star attraction.  

Half an hour or so is more than enough time to decide you don't have the space or patience to buy anything, but still take plenty of overly arty photographs; soon enough we were back in the minibus and cruising ever closer to Bolivia up Route 9.  Hot tour guide took the opportunity to fill us in on some useful regional history - the valley-come-ravine-come-canyon that is Quebrada de Humahuaca has been inhabited for something to the tune of 10,000 years; acted as the main caravan route for the Incas through the region in the mid twentieth century; and was the scene of several significant battles as Argentina fought for its independence in 1812.  Most famous of these saw cavalier firebrand Manuel Belgrano ignore orders from Buenos Aires to retreat, and instead pulled off a deuced unlikely victory against the Royalist Spaniards despite being outnumbered two-to-one.  200 or so years later, and every town in Argentina has an Av. Belgrano, so it's fair to say his insolence has been largely overlooked.

It was slightly older history that was of greatest interest, however, and particularly given our next stop on the tour.  The Incas, when travelling up through the canyon, would eat the flower/fruit of the cactus that grew wild along the Río Grande valley (see right).  This particular flower, independence of nutritional value, contained a seed that was extremely fibrous and, thus, passed straight through the Incan digestive system and, so to speak, out the other side.

The Incas traversing northward up the river are likely to have halted in the farming village of Tilcara, where a large Incan pucará (ruined fortification) stood and, from existing remains, has been rebuilt.   Occupied by Incan farmers between 500 and as long as 1000 years ago, the Pucará de Tilcara provides a source of mild intrigue today as fully grown cacti grow from what would have been the middle of the settlement's houses.  The conclusion: the farmers who ate the cactus fruit ended up excreting it somewhere in their house, and at the painfully slow initial growth rate of 5mm/year, a young cactus began to develop.  A few hundred years later, the Incas have been ousted, the pucará is deserted, and the cacti have been free to crank up their growth rate as they mature, resulting in a scene such as that below:

With the pucará hilltop successfully conquered, we were back on the road to Humahuaca, although not before making a brief but significant stop to snap the phenomenal colours of the Skirt of the Colla. 

The Skirt, named for its shape and the lively colours worn by the native Colla tribe before they were ousted by the Incas, boasts an array of colours that are almost certainly unparalleled anywhere else in the world - colour upon mineral-induced colour pile up one on top of another on what could be seen as the geological equivalent of a good English trifle. 

So from here it was full steam ahead to the town of Humahuaca itself - briefly interrupted for lunch on the outskirts of the village.  Ever the cavalier when it comes to sampling new food, I naturally opted for the llama steak and llama empanadas, both of which were suitable excellent if a little on the sharp side of the taste spectrum.  From here, we got a tour of the town, with particular emphasis on the colossal Monument of Independence that dominates the central area and gives the village an import sense of history (see below).

Cultured up and having, in my case at least, acquired a cheeky new "Humahuaca" branded vest, we headed back onto Route 9, though now southbound.  To go with "the skirt" and all the rest, we made a brief stop at the village of Maimará to appreciate one final offering from this incredible quebrada: "The Painter's Palette" (see below).  Although maybe not quite as colourfully explosive as the skirt or the seven coloured hill, the palette image offered something visually special - the small ramshackle buildings rolling over the small hills in the foreground of the palette provided a sight that combined nature's beauty and its best with the beauty that is somewhat inherent in the more simple human existence. 

That pretty much concluded things, bar the less visually impressive but equally important stop-off at the notional line that marks the Tropic of Capricorn at 23.5°S.  Naturally we took the opportunity to grab some classic photos - a cheeky Back the Bid snap snuck in there too - before we continued on our way to Jujuy where Tom and I were going to hop out.  How we got there and what happened on the way is anyone's guess - with fatigue catching up on me like a Michael Schumacher on speed, the first thing I knew was the two of us being unceremoniously woken up and dumped out onto the streets of San Salvador de Jujuy, and some dazed and largely aimless walking around as we tried to find somewhere to stay.  Thanks to the trusty LPG, and with no thanks to our combined ability to read a map, we found our way to the excellent Casa de Barro where, after checking out the various demonstrations and parades that were thumping their way around the city and grabbing an excellent spicy pancho (hot dog) where they all culminated in Plaza General Belgrano, we crashed out in quite spectacular fashion.  18 hours later, we remain in a state of innate lethargy, but with Anna on board a 21-hour bus from Buenos Aires to here as I type, her arrival this evening is likely to kick any lethargy off the square.