San Luis & Sierra de las Quijadas
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“So… what are you doing here? How on earth did you end up in San Luis?”
Alejandro asked me when I checked into Pupy’s hostel. Well, I certainly never planned to go here. In fact, if you asked me 24 hours earlier where San Luis was, I would have looked at you the same way as Kim Kardashian trying to define Csikszentmihalyi’s flow theory. After Córdoba I thought I’d challenge myself with some time with the gaucho’s at a deserted estancia in the hills close by. Little did I know I actually had to climb those hills myself, 8.8KM straight up, backpacked on the front and back. Thanks but no thanks. So I took 20 seconds to change my mind and randomly picked San Luis, as it was on the way to wine-walhalla Mendoza and it looked alright on Google Images. Planning, why? Well, maybe because I had to wait five hours on the next bus to this un-touristy destination. But ehm… psssht, can you keep a secret? This was one of the highlights of my Argentina-trip so far.
Alejandro asked me when I checked into Pupy’s hostel. Well, I certainly never planned to go here. In fact, if you asked me 24 hours earlier where San Luis was, I would have looked at you the same way as Kim Kardashian trying to define Csikszentmihalyi’s flow theory. After Córdoba I thought I’d challenge myself with some time with the gaucho’s at a deserted estancia in the hills close by. Little did I know I actually had to climb those hills myself, 8.8KM straight up, backpacked on the front and back. Thanks but no thanks. So I took 20 seconds to change my mind and randomly picked San Luis, as it was on the way to wine-walhalla Mendoza and it looked alright on Google Images. Planning, why? Well, maybe because I had to wait five hours on the next bus to this un-touristy destination. But ehm… psssht, can you keep a secret? This was one of the highlights of my Argentina-trip so far.
1,5 hours from San Luis the national park Sierras de las Quijadas was beckoning, the laidback owners of the hostel Pupy & Dem assured me. However, as I arrived at 3:30AM and took my time to recover, the morning was long gone. No time to get bored though, as fellow traveller Alejandro grabbed my hand and took me to El Trapiche. This weekend the Argentinean ‘winter’ made place for the spring, primavera, which is apparently enough inspiration for the local youth to get wild and wasted. At least, that was the hope.
On the way there the police emptied all buses, and every bottle of booze or crumb of coke was taken out and lined up along the road. This job was done well, as no youngster seemed to be in need of the free condoms some western missionaries were handing out. The party appeared to exist of thousands of kids walking around in search for the party. A tad sad. At some point I heard someone screaming ‘Megan Fox’ and the next thing I knew I was posing for a wide arrange of Facebook-selfies and Instagram-insanity. Well, at least a more honorable comparison than the Miss Penalty title I acquired that same day.
Next day: a new chance to get to Quijadas. Aren’t we a bunch of optimists? Apparently there are only 2 buses going here per day, at 8AM and at 7PM when the park is closed. At 8PM the only bus per day goes back to San Luis. Needless to say, 8AM had passed hours ago. Well, then maybe… (I can hardly speak through my stream of vomit that’s coming up)… book an organized tour? We called 9 (non-existent?) tour agencies and a bunch of self-acclaimed park rangers. The only person that answered the phone told us tours are organized with at least five people. San Luis had two tourists at this moment of time, and that was us. Visiting the tour agencies in person and show them our begging puppy eyes didn’t change the situation. Rent a car then? Good option if you’re Bill Gates.* But hey wait, I totally forgot I have legs and boobs, we can easily take the bus and hitchhike back if that’s necessary. Decision made.
* Although I found the cheapest car rentals of Argentina on this site, just FYI
* Although I found the cheapest car rentals of Argentina on this site, just FYI
The remaining afternoon was filled up with a very rewarding visit to Potrero de Los Funes. For 30 pesos we could enter a privately owned, small national park and hike in 45 minutes to a waterfall. The views up the hills guarantee a beautiful panorama over the lake and village, and made the day totally worthwhile in the end.
Go here if you have time left due to the national inefficiency, it’s Argentina’s way of making it up to you.
Go here if you have time left due to the national inefficiency, it’s Argentina’s way of making it up to you.
Although I work in tourism and I am painfully used to set 5AM alarms for the morning shifts, it still is a kick in the face time and time again. However, I was not letting my third chance of visiting Sierras de las Quijadas slip away. Together with Alejandro and the German Kevin und Saskia I made my way to the bus terminal to buy the golden ticket to the Promised Land. “Passports please”, some stubborn voice said. Huh, what, why, I’m not leaving the country right? “No passport number, no bus”, the clerk barked, his eyes showing no empathy for our recent frustrating history. Suddenly remembering I followed acting classes for years, I self-assured pointed my finger in the air to demonstrate a made-up aha-moment. I wrote down the first random number that popped into my head and confidently handed it over with a wink: “My passport number, amigo, there you go”. The bus ticket was booked without any problems.
After a 1,5-hour ride we were dropped in the middle of nowhere. ‘Nowhere’ can in this case be defined as an empty road, dust, sand and a deserted sandwich place. When we bumped into the creaking door we saw a guy sleeping, flat-faced on the bar. After he woke up and pretended to be cleaning the glasses we informed about the options of hiking the Sierras. He happily pointed at himself, put on another hat and all of sudden the bartender changed into a ranger. It’s that easy in Argentina.
First he dumped a couch in the back of his van, then he dumped us on that couch, and before we knew it we drove the bumpy 6KM road to the park entrance. As soon as I tumbled out of the van and looked around me I realized it was all worth it. A long, wide landscape revealed itself, embellished with orange rocky hills. What I saw was something like a small Grand Canyon, call it the Mini Canyon (although… 5000 hectare is not that tiny). Eagles flew over and the wind blew orange dust in my hair.
I felt insanely, childishly, foolishly happy and above all: free.
I felt insanely, childishly, foolishly happy and above all: free.
“… and with dust in throat I crave
Only knowledge will I save
To the game you stay a slave
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will
But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I may roam
Where I lay my head is home
And… the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
Under wandering stars I've grown
By myself but not alone”
[Metallica]
Only knowledge will I save
To the game you stay a slave
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will
But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I may roam
Where I lay my head is home
And… the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
Under wandering stars I've grown
By myself but not alone”
[Metallica]
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Related:
- Go to the Argentina Page for more blogs and hitchhike adventures!
- Check out Budget Bucket List's FAVORITE HIKING DESTINATIONS worldwide!
- Go to the Argentina Page for more blogs and hitchhike adventures!
- Check out Budget Bucket List's FAVORITE HIKING DESTINATIONS worldwide!
