Argentina, just like its neighbour Chile, has a massive wingspan from North to South and both extremes are said to be quite unique and more than worthwhile visiting. As I had seen Argentinian Patagonia and spent some time in its beautiful capital, I took a few weeks to travel to the north-westernmost regions of Salta and Jujuy where things should feel a lot more “Andean”.
Coming from Buenos Aires and traversing the flat plains just below the Chaco province was not all too exciting — roads are just straight on end and population is sparse. I overtook loads of trucks with truckloads of cotton (intended!). If there were settlements, they seemed small and remote. I stopped by an old sign by the main road saying “El Gringo” which had caught my interest. A family came around and said they lived just around the corner in three generations and make some extra money by selling cacti and honey by the road. They said that el gringo, the foreigner, was the nickname of the grandfather, not because he was from abroad but because he had red hair. Argentines like to use descriptive nicknames.
The stretch between Argentinas capital and the North-West took me two full days of riding. As I approached San Miguel de Tucumán one evening, I could finally see the mountains again. I spent a day in the city that is known to be the entrance gate to the Far-North region and for its streets full of citrus trees. From there, I would continue to Tafi valley. The road was winding. The R and I felt home again.
It’s strange how a different environment puts one in a certain mindset. Passing giant cacti, Alpacas and Llamas wandering around mountainous roads over the setting sun did make me feel quite peaceful.
I re-joined the Ruta 40, a road I had taken a lot further south and that stretches all the way along Argentina down to Rio Gallegos. Up here, the road eventually turns to dirt. I passed Cafayate, known for its original wines which are farmed at nearly 1,700 m above sea level. Apart from the vineyards, there are unreal rock formations along the Ruta 68. I passed Cachi on the way to Salta, the capital of the region with a massive pink cathedral. Also and in Salta, I received a warning of road blocks further up the road and into Jujuy. They were said to be peaceful and so I decided to carry on regardless.
Between Salta and San Salvador de Jujuy, there is a tiny road through a mossy forest where barely two cars fit next to one another. It has a humid microclimate as the sun never reaches to some parts this side of the mountain. Needless to say that the ride was fantastic, and I was trying to take the narrow corners not all too fast.
A Change for the Worse?
After passing San Salvador de Jujuy, the road kept climbing towards Purmamarca, the town famous for its seven- (or more?) colored hills. Already and on the way there, I came across a number of demonstrations and road blocks. These didn’t bother all too much and I could slowly pass. In the following days and moving around the area a bit, the road blocks became more elaborate and longer.
Trying to understand what these political manifesations are about, I found that, as always, it’s a bit complex. After years without such road blocks, locals see this as a last resort to claim attention, to get heard, and their main themes are:
- Very low wages for teachers in the region that are not adjusted to the countries staggering inflation.
- A reform of the state law. Locals disagree with the wording of a new law that would limit their right to protest.
- A large-scale lithium mine planned for the region and it would take up the very space where some people have had their houses for generations, and contaminate the land and water for others. The governor is negotiating with Chinese investors over the heads of local people.
On top of it all, nothing is undertaken on a federal level to resolve the situation as the federal and regional government are of the two main parties of Argentina and opponents in that sense. In the light of the coming elections, the government is said to instrumentalize the protests to demean the state party by not trying to help resolve them.
All of these points seem tragic from afar and being in the region helps to actually digest them to some extent. There is an almost magical beauty of the landscape and locals feel like they are part of it as they have been for generations. With a mine there would come a sense of ownership that just doesn’t match the atmosphere of the region.
Of course it’s annoying when one just wants to pass through the area, but waiting for a few hours is a small price to pay in comparison to people seeing their freedom and livelihoods in danger. (Also and on a motorcycle, sometimes there’s an alternative route.) People I spoke to seemed concerned yet humble and peaceful, even apologetic for the fact they were holding up traffic. Sometimes it was just a few people and a barrier, sometimes the manifestations included free food and concerts with local artists.
They asked me to share my impression, as they hope that with more (inter-)national attention it can be resolved.
Passing Purmamarca and Humahuaca, I continued towards Iruya, a peaceful little gem in the midst of mountains and close to the Bolivian border, only reachable by crossing a 4,000 m pass. The region that connects Argentina, Chile and Bolivia and the vastness and remoteness will remain in my heart for a long time.
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