Cafayate is quite a touristy town, well organised and developed but not so big that it is overwhelming. There are three museums there and the town is surrounded by vineyards where you can taste the different wines. The big draw is the Quebrada (Gorge) de Cafayate. As you leave the town heading north to Salta you drive/cycle through about 70km of canyon – red weathered rock of varying shapes and sizes. There were some spectacular views and we kept stopping to take pictures. At various high spots after we had pedalled our way up to the top, there would be a coach load of tourists clapping and cheering! A few people even took our photos and some asked where we were from.

We had started early that day after our previous experiences with the wind. The weather had started sunny and windless but slowly the clouds drew in and the wind got up. Eventually there was some rain and we decided to look for a camp spot as soon as we emerged from the canyon.

At this point there is a small village called Alemania (‘Germany’ in Spanish). We cycled into the village to see if we could camp there and someone immediately said yes. We found a spot next to the old train station, which had been turned into a café and kiosk (sells drinks and snacks). There were even public toilets, which had belonged to the station and a tap. A young man from Buenos Aires was working there. If we understood him properly he was doing some community work, helping at the café. The work was being subsidised by the Germans – not sure who. It was quiet and we slept well, but the local cockerels saw to it that we got up very early!

The next morning started damp with grey clouds, which gradually cleared. The going was largely up and down between green fields. At lunchtime we took a 5km detour at Coronel Moldes to visit a large dam. On a cloudy day mid-week there wasn’t much going on and we had to sit quite far from the water but it made a change from town plazas and bus shelters. As we continued on the road we met a fellow cyclist heading south from Australia and exchanged information. Continuing our journey we began to feel we were back in the UK or Ireland – on either side were cultivated green fields, the road was busy and the drivers in a hurry and the sky a darkening grey. The wind, of course, also picked up. We had already decided that 100km that day into Salta would be too much and decided to try the town of El Carillo, about 20km outside Salta, for accommodation. After a bit of research we found the municipal campsite, a small patch of green nestled between the swimming pool, football field and a much used (it seemed) gym.
The gym was in use until at least 2am practising, we surmised, next day for some big event. Tables were being laid in there, men were cleaning the streets and the police were much in evidence – obviously someone important was coming to town. We left them to it and pedalled the remaining 40km into Salta. It was an unpleasant ride as the road was busy and fast. We had already earmarked a campsite, a municipal one, but with good online reviews about being quiet and clean. Considering its location it was also inexpensive and for the first day the internet worked.