Purmamarca's Seven Colours and Off-Roading a Rental Fiat
We had highlighted several points of interest in the region around Salta to explore, but quite a few were located a considerable distance away. We decided to space out these longer day trips with shorter, more local outings.
Despite the weather forecast threatening clouds and rain, we were greeted with another glorious morning. We headed back towards San Lorenzo and enjoyed a picnic by the river at Quebrada de San Lorenzo. We had planned to hike there as well, but a large sign announced that the area was private property and that visitors were required to enter with a local guide. Plenty of people seemed to be ignoring the sign, but we decided to head around to the opposite side of the valley instead to tackle some of the public trails.
We had previously created a loop by linking several trails together, but there was one remaining circular route we hadn't yet attempted. This time, our plan was to ascend via the blue trail and return along the yellow route. The yellow route is the longest and offers an optional detour right up to the summit of Cerro El Elefante (Elephant Hill).
We had been advised against descending via the blue trail, and as soon as we began climbing it, we could see why: it was a steep, loose gravel path that would be exceptionally easy to slip on coming downhill. At least going up, gravity works in your favour, and this time my parents were equipped with trekking poles to prevent any repeat accidents — on our last hike here, everyone except Lee had fallen over!
The blue route proved to be the most challenging section, climbing steeply before levelling out briefly—or even dropping slightly—before the next incline began. Having a bit of mountain cardio under our belts by now, we all made it up a little more easily this time. Despite being right next to the trail we had already completed, the perspectives were slightly different and still spectacular. We paused to catch our breath, admire the views, and watch plush-crested jays hopping through the surrounding canopy.
The narrow path continued to climb sharply, winding along the hillside beneath trees laden with air plants and bromeliads. As it began to twist around the shoulder of the hill—once we had cleared the initial steep gradient—we picked up the yellow path to complete our descent.
Since this hike was only an afternoon outing, the following day was earmarked for another full-day road trip to see something completely different: Purmamarca.
We were up early and on the road by 9:00 am, with the fridge packed for another lunch on the go. Google estimated a three-hour drive, whereas Maps.me reckoned it would take only two. The small village we were heading for sits north of Salta; we passed through San Salvador de Jujuy before the road began climbing steadily into the mountains. By the time we arrived, we were right on the 2.5-hour mark.
Purmamarca is a popular tourist destination, famed primarily for the Cerro de los Siete Colores (Hill of Seven Colours) that dominates its backdrop. A queue of cars was waiting to enter the village, and we drove around for a bit before finding a parking spot along the street. We paid for three hours of parking and carried our packed lunch to the plaza a block away to eat on the benches. This didn't seem to be a common sight among tourists, and we received plenty of curious looks from locals, many of whom politely offered a friendly "¡Provecho!" as they walked past.
After finishing lunch, we headed for the main attraction. There is a large car park on the outskirts of town filled with campervans—we made a firm mental note of it for future reference. From there, you can walk the Paseo de los Colorados. Visitors sometimes have to pay a small entry fee for the trail, but as we passed by, the ticket kiosk was shut, so we continued down the gravel track for free. The wind had picked up as it usually does in the afternoon, but it provided a refreshing breeze between the towering rock formations, whose deep red hue gave the impression that the air was even hotter than it was.
The colors were breathtaking under the brilliant sun: individual hills displayed vibrant shades of red standing in striking contrast against bands of slate-grey, green, and blue. The short trail winds up between the rock walls before passing through a narrow natural cleft, rewarding walkers with sweeping views back down to the village nestled below.
We ambled along the path, enjoying the vivid palette and marvelling at the rock formations. I’m not particularly knowledgeable about geology, but when it’s displayed as dramatically as this, you can’t help but take notice.
Back in the village, we treated ourselves to ice creams and wandered among the hundreds of artisan stalls lining the streets around the plaza. I was delighted to see all the colourful woven textiles and knitwear that I always associate with northern Argentina. It’s probably a good thing I live in a tiny campervan with zero spare storage space, otherwise my buying would have been completely out of control!
With our three hours of parking up, we returned to the car and headed back towards the main highway. We pulled over at a small roadside stall to pick up some local cheese and honey before continuing our journey towards Salta.
Instead of taking the main highway all the way back, we branched off just after Jujuy onto a scenic mountain road (Ruta 9). A narrow, single-track route, it was frequented by enough erratic local drivers that we were very glad we hadn't attempted to drive the campervan down it! It was a lovely drive through dense cloud forest, eventually bringing us out just north of Salta.
For reasons known only to itself, the satnav instructed us to cross a bridge at this point and follow a rough dirt track alongside the river. The main paved road ran parallel to us on the opposite bank, and at first, we didn't think much of it. I assume the track was technically a few metres shorter in pure distance, because there was no logical reason to direct us down it otherwise. As we pressed on, the gravel gave way to stones, and the stones grew progressively larger. Then we encountered several small river crossings. In Ruby, we wouldn't have batted an eye — but in a low-clearance hire car? That was a different story entirely.
The engine guard repeatedly scraped against rocks and grounded out as Lee merrily bumped along. The rest of us winced every time metal crunched against stone, with my mum in particular looking thoroughly stressed. While I wasn't overly concerned about the cosmetic state of a rental car, I certainly didn't want a punctured oil sump leaving us stranded in the middle of a random family's ranch in an ever-expanding puddle of oil. Having come so far, turning around felt worse than pushing ahead.
We eventually reached an unlocked gate and drove right up what genuinely felt like someone's private driveway. We skirted the side of their house, drove through their garden, and kept going. Several more gates appeared; thankfully, while some had padlocks attached, they hung open and unused. Finally, we emerged into a wide, dry riverbed and spotted other vehicles, and, even more encouragingly, other low-clearance cars! It meant an exit was actually possible, relieving my dread of reaching an impassable obstacle and having to turn back the way we'd come.
Sure enough, the track led us back onto tarmac, rejoining the main road we should never have left in the first place. Thanks to the satnav, we'd added a completely pointless half-hour of off-roading, but we were now only minutes from home. The car seemed entirely fine, and the collective stress levels inside the cabin fell away as we pulled onto the driveway in one piece.
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