To and Through Ruines De Quilmes

It was a crazy day, but I guess that comes with the territory.  I started from Tucumán with a six o’clock “flight” by bus of course, but I missed my stop (WARNING!  Know your stops!).

Tafi Del Valle is a little piece of paradise and “absolutely beautiful” – and I missed it!

I had asked the lady across the aisle (in my best “broken” Spanish) if this was my stop.  She shook her finger and assured me that it was not!  Not her fault I am after all accountable for my own actions (Why didn’t I just show her my ticket?).

None the less, I will forever regret that I missed this little placid pastoral setting.  It was a small rural setting with cows and horses grazing placidly in the fields, riders on horseback doing their daily diligence and with a lake as a backdrop to complete the idyllic setting.  But it was the houses that set me back the most; they all, seem to be either newly painted stucco or (of course) brick, landscaped simply (yet effectively) and maintained with a clear sense of pride.  It was hard not to be taken aback – and I was!

I should have realized my error much earlier, but by the time I did, there was no going back.  I was now 25 kilometers from Quilmes Ruines (my planned destination for the next day), and about 50 kilometer beyond Tafi Del Valle.

The bus driver dropped me off at Quilmes Ruines (in the middle of know where), with only a large sign indicating Quilmes Ruines and with no arrow the specific direction.

The bus driver dropped me off at the Quilmes Ruines (in the middle of know where with only a large sign indicating the Quilmes Ruines, but with no arrow pointing out the direction to the ruins.

After wandering around for about 30 minutes and already feeling the burden of my 60 pound backpack; I finally found someone who pointed me in the opposite direction and advised me that the ruins were 5 kilometers down the road.

Luckily, my thumb was working and I was able to hitch a ride after walking less than 50 yards (I felt blessed!).

The ruins are built into the side of the mountain and appear to extend about midway up the mountain.  Although this is true for the bulk of the ruins, there are actually trails leading to the very top of the mountain were a small number of the stone constructions are clearly visible.

There were perhaps 20 people visiting the ruins on that Sunday, and after carrying my pack about midway up the mountain, I abandon it at the side of trail (believing, incorrectly, that there was no one above me on the mountain).  Although, it was not hot (about 70 degrees Fahrenheit) and the climb was easy, the burden of the pack was taking it toll.

The site which is estimated to have once been the home to more than 5000 inhabitants was occupied from 800 to 1667 when the Spaniards moved to a reservation (Near to Buenos Aires, on 600 plus mile walk; not unlike the Cherokee “Trail of Tears” walk).

I spent fewer three hours at the site (it was clearly deserving of more).  With few provisions at the site (some artisans and couple of food vendors); but no hotels, hostels where I could get a room and leave my backpack, I felt that (regrettably), I had no choice.