When I was in the desert I would have traded places to be anywhere but the furnace of Catamarca so one would have thought that I would be quite relieved to be in the province of Tucuman. Wrong, I hate jungle and Tucuman has lots of it. No sooner had I started my 1500m vertical ascent up to Tafi del Valle and I wished to be out of there. I had the same feeling when I rode through the rain-forests of New Zealand, there is something strangely uncomfortable about the humidity and the heat. It's a very alien atmosphere riding through jungle cloud and I just had that horrible feeling you get when your feet are too hot even though you have peeled both your socks and shoes off. It's an awfully uncomfortable itch that you will do anything to make go away. However, climbing and a loaded touring bike don't quite make for a quick get-away and so I had to be patient.
el Indio in jungle mistIt wasn't just the climate that had changed, the people were different too. I was riding into gaucho country and their complexion was very much Indian. This was a little surprising as the Inca empire stretched as far south as Mendoza. I'm not sure why it would be 1500kms further north in Tucuman before I would finally come across evidence of Indian civilisation and culture. Seeing them got me excited about the day that I will ride into Cuzco to visit Machu Picchu but I have an awful lot of empire to cross before then. Seeing the Indians was a throw-back to my childhood having played cowboys and Indians as a kid - often using the 80's board-game of Crossfire as the battle-pitch for the toy miniatures. Of course, that was more the North American Indian from the westerns than the Andean kind but still, it's always nice to get blasts from the past. For some reason I found it strange to see Indians on horseback; I always thought of the white cowboys as the ones with the horses but naturally the North American Indians had horses too. It shouldn't have seemed odd but it did.
It pretty much takes the guts of an hour to ride 500 metres vertical on a touring bike so it was a slog of a day to the tourist town of Tafi del Valle 93kms and 1550ms up from Concepcion. The problem with such a big ascent was that I did not know how high the summit would be. Thus, I just had to keep riding skywards to the Gods and hope that the top would be around the next bend. It eventually was and I descended slightly into the valley having cycled through lots of little Indian stalls along the way. This was an artisans' route so I'm guessing it was a major trading route at some point for the Incas. The town of Tafi del Valle itself was something that I had been looking forward to as it marked the first proper tourist town for those people heading north through the Andes to Bolivia. I would likely stumble into European travellers and the town would have a bit more tourist infrastructure in terms of hostels and restaurants. A variation from the ham and cheese rolls for lunch is always welcome. It turned out to be a pretty place but not all that special for a European who has cycled through plenty of valleys and around lots of lakes in his time. Most importantly it was above the tree-line and so my brief incursion through jungle turned out to be not so uncomfortable after all. I decided not to hang around and rode onto Amaiche del Valle the next day once I had visited the Jesuit museum. Having benefited from a very liberal Jesuit education I made the effort to see their little chapel. They had tried to settle the area but were eventually banished.
I knew I had more climbing ahead of me to get out of the valley but I was not aware that I had another 1050ms vertical. I wasn't feeling so strong having had a bloody difficult week of riding in the legs. Between the long-distance trucking through the heat of the desert, the clambering over of the Quebrada de Aconquija on ripio and then the huge ascent to 3050ms via jungle I was pretty beat up to say the least. I was overjoyed to get to the top and meet the local llamas. I could pretty much put my feet up on the bars now and roll down the mountain to the camp-site in Amaiche del Valle. This was a pretty little town with an interesting museum on the Indian theme. It is situated very close to the Indian ruins of Quilmes; another indication of what is to come in Peru. To this point Quilmes was a bad Argentinian beer but now I would cycle through the region from which it hails. I just needed one more day until I could pull up in the white-wine town of Cafayate. I was totally dead on the ride into Cafayate. It didn't help that I hiked up a mountain in the morning just to get the birds-eye photo that best showcases the Ruinas de Quilmes. Crossing the border into the province of Salta brought more change of scenery. I left the cacti behind for vines as I rode through bodegas with beautiful mountain-ranges as a back-drop. The vineyards marked my first introduction to the province of Salta. It will be the capital of the same name that will mark the first proper way-point of my Andean adventure. A chance to pull-over for a while and recharge.
Chat soon
Marco
gauchos and their lasoos ... not nice to see a helpless calf being tripped and crashing to the ground
at 3050ms of altitude there is no longer cattle but llamas instead
Museo Pachamama 
bar in Amaiche del Valle
Ruinas de Quilmes
Bodega country
I met Mike again. The dish is locro which in this case is a meat and bean stew ... a brew and stew for two please!