Returning to Civilisation
Now that our Puna adventure was over, we had a few days to get to Salta in time for my parents' imminent arrival. We toyed with the idea of heading down Ruta 40 first and then coming back up to Salta via Cafayate — an incredible drive over a mountain pass followed by the wine region below — but decided we didn’t really have the time. Instead, we followed the main road down the mountain and spent a few days camping by a reservoir in Campo Quijano.
While we appeared to have made it out of the desert unscathed, we did lose a bolt from one of the rear shocks. I wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but as I sat by the water with the camper parked on the hill behind us, I noticed it hanging out underneath. We took it out and hammered back into shape the housing where it had smashed the metal. It was annoying, as the air shocks were brand new, but it shouldn’t affect overall functionality. We’d driven on our previous set — which had suffered the exact same fate — for years afterwards.
After a solid week of driving between three and seven hours a day, it was certainly nice to relax for a bit. The camper was a disgusting mess, but we decided to wait until we reached the rental house before cleaning it up. My mum had rented it for two nights before their flight landed, meaning we could get there early and get everything sorted for their arrival, including picking up their hire car and doing a big food shop.
The reservoir where we’d camped was only about half an hour's drive from the house, and we’d arranged with the owners to arrive at midday. Pulling up outside the gates, the owner no doubt heard us and came down to let us in. She showed us briefly around, explained a few details, and left us to get on with things. The driveway was steep and narrow, but it had space for two cars, meaning Ruby would be securely locked inside with us the whole time, which was ideal. I immediately put a load of washing in the machine, and testing out the shower was not far behind. We unpacked all our clothes, cleared out the fridge, and made a start on deep-cleaning the van, a job that was going to take a while.
It’s always odd spending the first night in a new place, and I never sleep well straight away. While the house itself was an exception—comfortable, spacious, and quiet—the cats ensured we stayed awake anyway. Having not particularly enjoyed the barren, windswept desert or the dog-infested reservoir, they were making the most of the space. They spent most of the night belting around the house at breakneck speed, playing, howling, and galloping across the bed. It took nearly three days for them to calm down.
The following day, we collected the hire car from the airport and went to a nearby supermarket for a massive grocery run. Afterwards, we continued cleaning the campervan. I had also recently secured my first student via an online teaching platform and taught them first thing that morning in a free "get-to-know-you" session. To my delight, they wanted two classes a week indefinitely. This was exactly the online business I wanted to start growing, so I was pretty chuffed. It felt like the start of better finances - which Ruby definitely needed!
On our second evening was pizza night and we also went out to the theatre. The house owners had kindly dropped off some free tickets to a dance show. Lee was tired and didn’t fancy it, and I could easily have stayed in as well, but I insisted we go. Who gets free tickets and then sits inside watching TV instead? "We must go," I declared. We took an Uber into the city centre, as parking was scarce and taxis were cheap. The main plaza was bustling; Salta was gearing up for one of its biggest events of the year: the arrival of the Pilgrims. But more on that later.
We joined an enormous queue outside the theatre. Seating was first-come, first-served, and we managed to grab a couple of seats towards the back. The show celebrated local dance schools, with each performing a routine on stage. A lot of it featured traditional Argentine folk dancing, including several performances of the Chacarera, which involves plenty of twirling skirts and waving handkerchiefs. We also saw many renditions of the Malambo — a traditional gaucho dance that resembles a kind of aggressive, rhythmic tap dancing. Some of the schools performed more widely known styles like the Tango, while others ventured into what could best be described as modern conceptual dance.
At one point, a young man walked onto the stage dragging a long trail of newspapers stuck end-to-end behind him. After a remarkably passionate, emotional performance running around and gesturing frantically, he proceeded to lie on the floor, roll himself up into his newspaper train, and waddle off stage swaddled in paper. It was a bit odd, to say the least, but certainly memorable! For the modern routines, wheelable trolleys seemed to be an extraordinarily popular prop.
On the whole, it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening out. I probably wouldn’t have paid for tickets, but going for free was a great treat.
Our two days in the house flew by, and before we knew it, we were driving back to the airport to meet my parents' inbound flight. Salta is only a small airport, so as we pulled into the car park, they were already stepping out of the terminal. They’d had as smooth a journey as possible getting to this slightly awkward location, and we couldn’t wait to show them the best of Argentina. And of course they had brought presents.
The weather forecast for the next couple of days wasn’t great, a sharp drop in temperature and overcast skies, but as they’d no doubt want a bit of time to settle in and adjust to the time difference, it wasn’t a problem. After that, the weather looked set to turn warm and sunny, perfect for exploring the surrounding mountains.
A couple of days later, we headed off on our first hike together. We returned to the area where we’d camped before arriving in the city, near Campo Quijano. We parked by the obligatory Héroes de Malvinas monument and followed a dirt track running alongside a disused power station. The track came to an end, and we continued along a path that led right into someone’s farmyard. From there, the trail took a steep route directly up the hillside to the right; it wasn't waymarked or particularly clear. We checked with a shepherdess working in the field to confirm we were going the right way before continuing our ascent.
The elevation wasn’t exceptionally high, but it was enough to be felt, and the climb was steep and unrelenting. We climbed slowly, soaking in the views as we gained height, joined by the local sheep herd.
The peak was called Cerro La Cruz (Hill of the Cross) and featured a weathered white cross at the summit. We perched at its base to catch our breath, looking out over the various reservoirs dotted across the landscape below before making our way back down.
It was a glorious day for a hike, and we all enjoyed stretching our legs — though my dad was probably wishing he hadn’t picked quite such a challenging walk for his very first outing!
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