Cafayate: Through the Red Walls

From red rocks to red wine, Cafayate is brimming with bold color and flavor. Just over 100 miles south of Salta, the town has a rich wine culture, nearby hiking trails and festive plazas. But it’s the journey there that really wows.

The best advice I heard before going? Don’t sleep through the drive.

These words of wisdom came from my good friend Yefan, who’d visited the region a few months prior. An exceptional planner, she created a detailed Google doc with all of her recommendations and overall budget. Cafayate is where I heeded her advice most.

Quebrada de las Conchas

Thanks to Yefan’s insistence, my travel buddy and I remained watchful along the bus ride. About halfway, the road began to roll around a landscape of sandstone rock formations with exposed sedimentary strata. The different layers stacked in shades of ochre, terra cotta and olive green. Barely exaggerating, my face was stuck to the window glass. Unfortunately, our express bus didn’t stop along the way, and we passed through the multihued formations before I was ready to see them go. If you’re planning to make the trip, I’d suggest renting a car to travel south along Route 68 from Salta to Cafayate.

Wanting to broaden the view beyond a bus window, we booked a tour for the following day. Parts of Quebrada de las Conchas formed when tectonic plates collided, forcing up layers of long-crushed sediment.

San Carlos

Because the trip happened just days before Easter, everything in Cafayate had already booked up long before our arrival. Whoops. Fortunately, an acquaintance in Salta recommended La Morena Casa Del Valle, her cousin’s lodging located in a small town just north of Cafayate.

We arrived on Good Friday and heard church bells ringing late at night; many of the town’s residents had gathered in the center square for a midnight procession. Beyond Holy Week celebrations, the town remained sleepy. But the following day, the innkeeper recommended a visit to Me Echó la Burra, a fantastically named brewery walking distance from the town’s center. Although they didn’t serve by the bottle, a neighboring resort let us hang around for a beer. Cheers!

After my travel buddy’s departure, I stayed in San Carlos for one extra day, celebrating Easter with a good book and some sunshine. That is, until a massive hailstorm hit that afternoon.

On the evening of Easter, I packed my bag and took Yefan’s recommendation to stay in Cafayate at Rusty-K Hostal, a quiet, central hostel with a plant-laden courtyard. For the first time throughout the trip, I was alone. I read. I went to Easter mass. I ate empanadas. I sat in that pretty courtyard, read some more and wondered, “OK then. Now what?”

Get your hike on

This, I think, was when I encountered a less straightforward joy of traveling alone: being responsible for finding my own way. I’d already had the pleasure to travel alongside some very cool people. But the day after Easter, I didn’t know anyone or have any plans. I considered spending another day lazing around the hostel, but after the previous rainy afternoon, I already felt antsy.

Yefan had recommended a four-hour hike around Cascadas del Río Colorado, seven waterfalls linked by a mostly unmarked trail and wandering goats. I’d read that the hike would involve scrambling up rocks, crossing rivers and crawling through narrow crevices. Nothing like a rush of adrenaline to dispel restlessness.

So from the center of town, I took a taxi down a gravel road to the waterfalls. A guide by the entrance suggested waiting until more hikers arrived. Within minutes, a couple from Salta pulled up in a big white truck, and the four of us set out for the day’s hike. We talked about how the couple started a clothing boutique in Salta and how I came to live in Buenos Aires.

While the couple lingered at a waterfall, our guide told me that the waterfalls have only been open to travelers for the past 15 years or so. Having wandered around the falls as a kid, he knows the trail as his own backyard.

But really, wine not?

Satisfied with the day’s level of activity, I spent the afternoon gorging myself on cheese and wine at Piattelli Vineyards, a sprawling winery surrounded by its grape vines and lined with swaying palm trees. I arrived at 4 p.m. — just after the lunch hours ended. Graciously, they still served me wine and the most impressive cheese plate I’ve ever had to myself. So for a good amount of time, there I sat: sipping wine and snacking on my massive solo plate of cheese and meat and bread.

It wasn’t until I was strolling back to town, a mile into the walk, that I realized I had completely forgotten to tip. I still feel terrible, especially after they were so hospitable. So if you make your way to Piattelli Vineyards, please leave an extra 60 pesos for me. Actually, now that I consider it, maybe I’ll just walk on back and leave double.