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Published: December 24th 2013
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Our tranquil stay in Mina Clavero was brought to a very abrupt end when we had to drag ourselves out of bed and pack up our things to catch a bus at 5:30am. It seems that bus timetables are not designed for ambling backpackers but rather for those that work... how inconsiderate! However, the bus ride through the open countryside as the sun was rising more than made up for the early start.
We had decided to hop off the bus at a small town called Villa De Soto where we arrived at about 8:30am. We had no idea what we would find here as it was not mentioned in any guide books nor was there a lot of information on the internet regarding the town, it just made a convenient stop for us for our onward travel. After much delibertion and dodging of flying ants, we decided we should give the place a chance and, rightly or wrongly, spend the night. We eventually found a hotel after passing a few that looked like prisons and asked the owner, who was definitely more than a little surprised to see two foreign tourists at the door let alone at 9am, if
we could see the room. We were shown to what would be best described as a concrete shed with a bed and a half hearted bathroom. Our inner voices immediately screamed NO! But of course being British we both smiled politely and said great we will take it. Oh well its only for one night, perhaps the local sights will make up for it...
We did just about find enough to do for the day in Soto, even if that did mostly involve having a few cups of coffee, watching the locals go about their business and having a very long chat with the friendly lady at the tourist information office (we were pretty sure she hadn't had any customers for quite some time!). We even had a reasonable night's sleep in the "shed" once we had squashed all the mosquitos we could find.
Feeling fairly refreshed but pleased to be moving on, we boarded another bus in the morning heading to yet another small crossroads town called Patquia in the middle of the semi arid desert. Having realised that we were without doubt very much in a tourism black hole, we were slightly apprehensive about this decision.
Upon arriving at Patquia we took one look at the place and within 10 minutes we were on the next bus out of town (no more need be said). Fortunately this bus was heading in the right direction for us and we arrived in the slightly more substantial town of La Rioja in the early evening.
We spent one night in La Rioja and headed slightly north west the next day to a town that we had heard was worth a visit called Chilecito. Chilecito lived up to its recomendations fully, nestled between two mountain ranges, the Sierra Velasco to the East and the Sierra de Famatina to the West, it has a rich history of mining precious metals from the mountains, including gold and copper. In the late 1800s a cable car was constructed up into the mountains to bring the precious ore down to the town for processing. The cable car stretched about 35 kilometres up to an incredible height of about 4000 meters and was still in use up to the 1970s . The town no longer has a mining industry but now has a thriving wine and olive growing industry. Naturally it was deemed only
right that we give both a thorough tasting.
We had been told that the road (a part of Route 40) between Chilecito and our next destination Villa Union over the mountains was a scenic route, so we cheerfully purchased our bus tickets making sure that we were at the bus depot early to secure front seats. When the bus turned up it looked as if it had more than a few miles on the clock. The air conditioning did not work, but not to worry because the door did not close either so there was a good through draught in our front seats. The driver seemed to be a very cheerful chap as he chuckled when checking the destination on our tickets. The bus ambled through many small villages picking up and dropping off its passengers (including a cheerful Oreo eating nun), with the driver tooting and waving to almost everyone we passed. It was turning out to be a very pleasant journey. The road started to climb up the mountainside which gave us some great views, then the tarmac stopped, which is not totally unusual in this country we have found. However, this road started to become somewhat
rougher than usual and then we noticed a lot of construction equipment at the side of the road and it became obvious that this section had not actually been built yet. Now we realised why the bus driver had been chuckling away to himself. The scenery as we wound our way up the steep stony and very narrow road/track with hair pin bends was spectacular, but it was a serious white knuckle ride in a fairly clapped out old service bus with the door flapping open in the wind, especially when we met oncoming vehicules. Some holding of the breath was required as we seemed to teeter on the edge of sheer drops and inch our way past. Liz definitely let out a squeek on one particularly sharp bend, when we could no longer see any road in front of the bus. On reaching Villa Union, probably a little pale faced, the driver asked with a grin if we had enjoyed the ride. We most certainly had, but in the future we might just check that the road exists before hopping on a bus over the mountains.
Villa Union proved to be the ideal base for visits to some
national parks that we really wanted to see. A quick chat with an agency in the town and a few hundred pesos had us hopping into a Toyota pickup truck at 8 am the next morning with our driver and guide for the day to visit Laguna Brava, a salt lake situated 4500 metres up in the Andean mountains not very far from the Chilean border. The trip took all day and was breath taking (quite literally). The following day we visited the canyon at Talampaya national park which was equally as stunning but without the altitude.
We travelled through San Juan to the small town of Barreal, where we visited an observatory in the mountains during the evening, hoping to view the Southern hemisphere stars through a telescope. But, unfortunately the clouds conspired against us that evening so no star gazing for us. The next day we pooled resources with a Belgium couple heading in the same direction and hired a 4x4 and driver to traverse the rough but much shorter route to Uspallata, a small town famous for being where much of Seven Years in Tibet was filmed. From Uspallata we were able to catch a local
bus for a day trip to the foot of Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the world outside of the Himalayas. Ross was well up for the 6,962 metre climb to the summit until Liz reminded him that he did not bring his jumper.
We have now arrived in Mendoza City, which is conveniently located in the centre of Argentina's wine region, where for obvious reasons we plan to spend Christmas and New Year.
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