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Friday, March 22: We slept until 6:10, had a quick breakfast in the hotel, and were in the plaza by 6:45 to be sure we didn't wind up sitting in the sun again. When the bus came, though, there were already several people on board. Although we were first in line, the driver blocked the door and started calling names for people to board. After two couples had boarded, I just pushed pass the driver and gave him our names. We got seats on the good side of the bus, but pretty far back. It turned out to be a cloudy and much cooler day, so the sun was not too much of a problem anyhow. The bus left at seven, driving through the Lerma Valley and into the mountains. We passed through the village of Coronel Moldes (pop. 2,300; alt. 3,600 ft.), noted for having retained the "traditional columned porticoes" on the houses lining the main street. It looked more run down than charming, though. We passed several gauchos riding in the grass along side the road, sometimes pulling cattle by a rope around the horns. From time to time, there were herds of various animals (cattle, horses, goats) along or even in the middle of the road. A little further into the mountains, we passed Alemania, with a "picturesque" abandoned train station. It, too, was very run down. Then we were in the quebrada (gorge), twenty miles of the most unusual rock formations and the most spectacular colors we had ever seen. (Unfortunately, the heavy overcast detracted some from the scenery and made it hard to capture on film.)
The shapes of many of the formations had given them names: the Amphitheater, the Devil's Throat, the Monk, the Obelisk, and the Castles. Others, like the gigantic sinking ocean liner, were left to the individual imagination. Obviously, this mountainous region had been at the bottom of a sea when the many varicolored layers of sediment had been deposited 60 million years ago. Later, the area had been heaved up, but not evenly, so the strata were no longer parallel to the ground.
As we left the gorge, we passed though a grove of carob trees 500 years old, the remnants of vast forests that once covered the region. Soon we spotted the tower of the Michel Torino bodega (winery) that was to be our next stop. Cafayate is one of Argentina's prime wine-producing regions, know especially for a white wine called torrontes'.
We started with a tasting of three of their wines (even though it was only late
morning). The first was a torrontes', with a deep amber color. It was very good, but on the
heavy side. Next came a rosado (rose) made from cabernet sauvignon grapes, but with
the distinct taste of fresh green pepper (and no taste of wine). Last, we had a tinto (red)
that was undistinguished.
The tasting was followed by a tour of the winery with an explanation of the wine-making process from beginning to end. We watched as dump trucks backed up to floor-level, ceramic-tiled pits and dumped loads of grapes into them. Large screws at the bottom
of these funnel-shaped pits pulled the grapes down and into the presses. The juice from
the presses was pumped up into settling tanks where the fermentation process began.
The pulp left behind was squeezed again to make grappa. Then the pulp was removed,
dried, and bagged to be used as fertilizer. Next we walked into the vineyard. We all tasted
the sweet grapes. (Remember, March in Argentina is like September here.) Some in our
group picked huge bunches and took them along on the bus.
Then it was on to Cafayate (pop.7,500; alt. 5.900). We had lunch in a big restaurant with bad food and worse service. We sat with a young Argentine couple on their honeymoon. She knew a little English but was reluctant to use it. We must have shocked them. Even when they tried (unsuccessfully) to get empanadas without meat, we did not remember that it was a Friday during Lent, when we were not supposed to eat meat. Argentines in general are very religious, and we had noticed this young man cross himself every time he passed a church. And I really overdid it with the meat. After having meat empanadas for the main course, I ordered chuleta de ternera (veal cutlet). When it finally came, it was huge, overcooked, and oversalted. It was also more beef than veal. The Argentines must have pretty high age limits on what they can call veal. I ate half of it, then gave up. Jane, more sensibly, had noquis. It really poured while we were eating, but it stopped before we finished. As we came out, there was a basket vendor on a bicycle. We bought a small hot pad from him just so we could get a picture of him. We still had thirty minutes of free time, so we walked across the main square to see the cathedral.
The bus left Cafayate at 3:15, taking the same route back. It was still cloudy with a light rain, but after a while the sun came out. We stopped a couple of times in the gorge. I and two others in the party climbed part way up the Devil's Throat.
It was 7:30 when we got back to Salta. We went to our hotel to rest before dinner. There was a message that Carlos had called. That sent shivers through Jane, worried that it might be about her parents. When I called back, however, Carlos said he only wanted to let us know that all the arrangements had been made for our tour to Colonia, Uruguay, on Monday. Later, when I went down to the hotel desk for a minute, I ran into Rene'. We discussed the effect of the rain on our planned visit to his ranch the next day. We agreed that Rene' would call us at nine a.m. and we would make our final plans then, when we had a better idea of the weather. We ate in the hotel dining room again. We were in bed by eleven, looking forward to sleeping in the next morning. Alas, it was not to be! The phone rang before we were asleep. It was Joseph calling to tell us that Jane's father (Grandpa Eberhardt) was in serious condition and might die very soon. Of course, Jane didn't sleep a wink all night. Still suffering from my head cold, I did little better. Page 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17
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