A Death in Tilcara ....

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After such a great time in Salta, I decided to head north towards the Bolivian boarder. Tilcara is the perfect stop off point before your cross over to Bolivia. It is a tiny indigenous town which is more Bolivian than Argentinian. My stay here was to be the first time that I have contemplated what it would be like to die falling off a mountain only to be impaled by a rather large cactus.

Tilcara is surrounded by barren mountains albeit the clusters of phallic like cactae. The truth is that Tilcara doesn´t offer much by way of cultural exploration a part from an interesting archeological museum. I decided therefore go on a hike with the owner of the hostel I stayed in and a few other Argentinians that were staying there too.

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The owner, Cacha , is of Calabrian descent, appeared to be continually stoned / drunk and had an annoying habit of hacking up whatever was in his throat and spitting it in any direction he desired. This occurred particularly after a meal or outside my window at approximately 8a.m. On his advice , we decided to hike up to a cave at the top of one of the mountains around Tilcara. I have become quite partial to a hike into Mother Nature´s Bosom, so when Cacha assured me that the hike was easy and that there was nothing to worry about, I believed him. What was I thinking ? ! In hindsight, after describing Cacha as I have done above , would you trust a man like that ? !

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What started off as a gentle walk in the morning sun ended up as an uphill struggle for four hours. The end wasn´t anywhere in sight. You have to appreciate that there was no visible track. Cacha however, transformed into a flexible mountain goat ( he even has the beard) and leapt eagerly over the rocks, scoffing at our feeble attempts to follow.

Our feeble attempts were justified. I will explain why. As I said, there were no visible tracks. When you think of a mountain, you think of a rock that is firm and steady. The ground I was walking on crumbled at every footstep. For miles, all you could hear was the sound of rocks falling into the valley bellow and an Argentinian shouting ´Avalanche´!To top things off, we arrived at the peak of a mountain only to be told that we had to cross this peak in order to scale the rest of the way. The passage was about 50cms wide with the same conditions as above but on both sides of me was a shear drop into a valley of protruding cactae and thorn bushes which seemed to be entwined in a verdant fatal attraction. Not only were memories of my childhood flashing in my head but one of the most horrific deaths was on the cards. I know I am being dramatic, but put yourself in my position.

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I am proud to say that I persevered to the summit where we eventually saw the cave. It was nothing special , I have to say. A cave is a cave at the end of the day. What was spectacular was the view and the feeling of satisfaction that I had outwitted the Grim Reaper. Cacha let us rest for a while during which we looked at the rock formations and tried to make comparisons. Every rock has a different form and an enthusiastic debate took place as to whether the rock at the top to the left looked more like an elephant or like a snail.

Finally, Cacha took us to the second cave which required further climbing in the dirt. This cave was pretty amazing. We had to scuttle under a wall of rock, Indiana Jones style, and crawl through a passage into the main cave. Here, Cacha lit some candles and the whole place took on almost a religious feel to it.The cave had a passage that led to the back of the mountain where we could appreciate the view from the back.

After all of this, it suddenly dawned on me that we had to descend. There were many health and safety issues to consider. For example, how the heck do you not die when confronted by a mixture of moving rocks and earth and gravity ? It was a question I put to Cacha. His response was¨: chill out ! I have been doing this since I was young ! Besides I won´t let you fall because I know you will get the Sicilian mafia onto me.´ At this point, I corrected him. I am not Sicilian.

You already know the end because I am writing this journal entry. We made it back to Tilcara in one piece vowing along the way to be more religious. I have never prayed to so many Saints in my life.

The best part was yet to come. We were all starving and thirsty so we went for lunch. In this part of the world, the empanadas are the best in the whole of Argentina. They are also served with a chilli sauce which is heavenly with cheese and potato empanadas.

The whole experience was fantastic though and I would recommend it. My advice to the unsuspecting tourist in Tilcara: make sure that your will is in order before you embark on this hike !