Conquering the Andes: A Hiker's Guide to Salta's Most Breathtaking Trails

Salta City is where you'll want to plant your flag before venturing into the wilderness. It's a proper city with colonial architecture that reminds me a bit of those Spanish towns I visited years back, but with a distinctly South American flavor. The main plaza – Plaza 9 de Julio – is where everything happens, and it's where you'll find tourist information that's actually useful.

I spent my first two days here getting acclimated to the altitude (Salta sits at about 1,200 meters) before heading higher. The city's organized in a grid pattern that even this old bus driver could navigate without getting lost. Most hiking outfitters and tour companies cluster around Balcarce Street, though I'd recommend comparing prices before committing.

The local transport system is surprisingly efficient. The city buses (colectivos) run frequently and cost pennies compared to taxis. They're not as punctual as my old Number 75 route in Liverpool, mind you, but they'll get you where you need to go. I picked up a SAETA card (like an Opal card in Sydney) from a kiosk near the main plaza, which saved me fumbling for change.

Before heading out on any major treks, I'd recommend visiting the MAAM museum to understand the cultural significance of these mountains to the indigenous peoples. Those mummified children discovered on mountaintops are a sobering reminder that these peaks have witnessed centuries of human history – they're not just pretty views for our Instagram accounts.

Just 10km from Salta city lies what I call the perfect warm-up hike. The Quebrada de San Lorenzo isn't going to test your limits, but it's a proper introduction to the region's flora and fauna without killing your legs before the main event.

I caught the local bus #115 from Salta's bus terminal (ask for 'San Lorenzo' and the driver will let you know where to hop off). The trail begins at the end of the village and is well-marked – a rarity in these parts! The path winds through a cloud forest that reminded me of parts of New Zealand, though with distinctly South American vegetation.

The full circuit takes about 3-4 hours at a leisurely pace, climbing to viewpoints that offer spectacular vistas back toward Salta. I spotted several condors circling overhead – magnificent beasts with wingspans that make you feel properly insignificant.

This is where I first tested my hiking poles, which proved invaluable on the steeper sections. My old knees aren't what they used to be after decades behind the wheel, and these adjustable poles saved me from what could have been a nasty tumble on some loose scree.

Bring plenty of water – I underestimated how quickly the sun would dry me out, even in springtime. There's a small canteen at the trailhead, but nothing once you're on the path. The trail gets busy with locals on weekends, so aim for a weekday visit if possible.

Now we're talking proper hiking. The trails around Cachi and through the Calchaquí Valley separate the casual walkers from the serious mountain folk. To get there, I took a bus from Salta's main terminal to Cachi (about 4 hours) along what locals call the 'Cuesta del Obispo' – a road with 40+ switchbacks that would make even this veteran bus driver a bit queasy. If you're prone to motion sickness, take your meds before this journey!

Cachi itself sits at 2,280 meters above sea level, so you'll feel the altitude. I spent a night in a basic but clean hospedaje (around 20 USD) to acclimatize before tackling the trails. The town has a lovely colonial center with white-washed buildings and a church that dates back to the 1600s.

From Cachi, I arranged with a local guide (ask at the municipal tourism office) to drop me at the trailhead for the Los Cardones circuit. This full-day trek takes you through a forest of giant cacti – some over 300 years old – against a backdrop of snow-capped Andean peaks. The contrast between the desert-like foreground and the alpine background creates photos that look almost surreal.

The trail isn't well-marked in places, which is why I'd recommend either hiring a guide (about 40 USD for the day) or downloading maps to your phone beforehand. My hiking GPS proved invaluable here, especially when a sudden afternoon fog rolled in and obscured the trail markers.

The elevation gain is substantial – about 800 meters over the course of the day – and the terrain varies from sandy paths to rocky scrambles. My sturdy hiking boots earned their keep that day, I'll tell you that much. Pack plenty of food, as there's nowhere to restock along the way, and the dry mountain air will have you burning calories faster than you might expect.

If you're after the full Andean experience, the multi-day trek through parts of the Quebrada de Humahuaca will test your mettle and reward you with landscapes that look like they've been painted by a mad artist. This UNESCO World Heritage site features mountains in shades of red, purple, green, and orange that have to be seen to be believed.

I based myself in the town of Tilcara, about 4 hours by bus from Salta. From here, I arranged a three-day trek with a local outfit that included basic camping equipment and food. It wasn't cheap at 200 USD, but attempting this independently without local knowledge would be foolish for all but the most experienced mountaineers.

The route took us through the Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat) canyon, past pre-Columbian ruins, and up to viewpoints where you can see the famous Hornocal (Mountain of Seven Colors). We camped in basic conditions, with temperatures dropping well below freezing at night despite it being spring.

My old bus driver's back complained bitterly about the sleeping arrangements, but my sleeping pad made the experience tolerable. It packs down smaller than my thermos but provides enough insulation to keep the cold ground at bay. Worth every penny when you're trying to rest at 3,500 meters altitude.

The highlight was reaching a remote plateau where we could see condors nesting on inaccessible cliff faces. Through my binoculars, I watched these magnificent birds with their 3-meter wingspans riding the thermal currents with barely a wing flap. Made me think about all those years I spent wrestling with a steering wheel when these creatures navigate the skies with such effortless grace.

The trek reaches altitudes of over 4,000 meters, so altitude sickness is a real concern. Our guide carried an oxygen canister for emergencies, and we were advised to chew coca leaves (perfectly legal and normal here) to help with the effects. I found they helped a bit, though the taste takes some getting used to – like strong tea leaves mixed with grass clippings.

Now, as someone who's spent most of his life behind the wheel of buses, I feel qualified to give you the lowdown on getting around Salta province. The good news is that public transport exists to most major towns. The bad news? It's infrequent, sometimes unreliable, and rarely goes directly to trailheads.

Long-distance buses in Argentina are surprisingly comfortable – a far cry from the rattling boneshakers I used to drive in Liverpool. Companies like Balut and Flecha Bus operate services from Salta to Cachi, Cafayate, and Humahuaca. Expect to pay about 10-15 USD for a 3-4 hour journey. The buses have toilets, air conditioning, and sometimes even serve coffee and alfajores (local sweet treats).

The challenge comes when trying to reach actual trailheads. For this, you have three options:

1. Local colectivos: These small buses run to villages near popular hiking areas but operate on schedules that seem to exist only in the driver's head. Ask locals about times and be prepared to wait.

2. Shared taxis (remises): More expensive than buses but can be split between hikers. From Cafayate to some trailheads, expect to pay about 20-30 USD one way.

3. Hitchhiking: Common practice among locals and budget travelers. I thumbed a few rides with farmers heading up into the mountains. Always offer a few pesos for fuel as a courtesy.

For multi-day treks, the transport logistics can be the most challenging part. This is where I found my travel backpack invaluable – with 65 liters of capacity, I could carry enough supplies for 3-4 days of independent hiking, allowing me to reach areas where public transport simply doesn't go.

One final tip from an old bus driver: always, ALWAYS confirm your return transport before setting off on a day hike. Nothing worse than completing an exhausting trek only to find the last bus left an hour ago, leaving you stranded in a village with more goats than people.

After decades of mountain hiking across five continents, I've learned to pack smart rather than heavy. Salta's trails demand specific gear considerations due to the extreme temperature fluctuations, high altitude, and remote nature of the hikes.

First, let's talk boots. The terrain here ranges from dusty paths to sharp volcanic rock, with the occasional stream crossing thrown in for good measure. I wore my trusty leather mid-ankle boots with Vibram soles that have seen me through Nepal and New Zealand. If you're buying new, break them in thoroughly before arriving – these trails are no place to be nursing blisters.

Layering is critical in the Andes. Mornings can start near freezing, while midday sun at altitude can feel scorching. I typically wore: - Base layer: Moisture-wicking long-sleeve shirt - Mid layer: Lightweight fleece - Outer layer: Wind/waterproof jacket

For lower body, I swear by convertible hiking trousers – the ones that zip off at the knee. Might not win any fashion contests, but when the temperature climbs 20 degrees between breakfast and lunch, you'll be grateful.

Water purification is essential on multi-day treks. My water filter saved me from carrying excessive water weight and let me safely refill from mountain streams. It's smaller than a can of beans but filters out 99.9% of all bacteria and protozoa – a literal lifesaver when you're days from civilization.

Sun protection isn't optional – it's mandatory. The combination of high altitude and clear air means UV exposure is significantly higher than at sea level. A wide-brimmed hat, high SPF sunscreen, and proper sunglasses are non-negotiable items.

Finally, don't underestimate the value of a good first aid kit. Mine includes blister treatment, altitude sickness medication, broad-spectrum antibiotics (prescribed by my doctor before travel), and basic painkillers. When you're a day's walk from the nearest road, being self-sufficient can make the difference between a minor inconvenience and a major emergency.