"This used to be under the Sea," our guide, Carlitos, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Hard to believe. We were walking up a river that had dried up decades, centuries or millenia ago. The only water for kilometres around was the river at the bottom of this arid valley, now a thin, mirage like ribbon, and the liquid in our bottles. The sun was relentless, the mountain itself brittle and dry. How could this have once been sea. How could this environment, Martian red and lifeless, have once hosted life so abundant?
Further up the riverbed that is now our path, clambering over giant boulders, Carlitos shows us proof that annihilates my doubt. Pouring precious water over a seemingly innocuous stone, he reveals one of the secrets of the mountain. Seaweed, fossilised in the rock. Out here in the emptiness of the Argentinian North West, in the isolation of the Andes, it is other worldly. Just this one fossil proves to us the vastness of time...millions of years ago, a breath in the age of the Earth, fish swam here. Thoughts like that always leave me dumbfounded. But today, I would see things more spectacular than that lonely piece of seaweed. On we walked...
Half an hour later we reached our destination, a yawning gap in the side of the mountain, like a mouth making an ugly grimace. These were the mysterious Weyra Caves. Luckily for us, they have avoided becoming a major tourist attraction. We clambered inside, and took a minute to catch our breath. The view was magnificent.
At the start of the trek up the arid valley, the same feelings I get at the beginning of any trek were surfacing: namely, why am I doing this? the altitude and the heat, the 0% humidity, were making what in england would be an easy ramble extremely difficult. But, once I had got into my stride, and the town was far below, out of sight, I was happy. Vale la pena!
After a few minutes perched at the cave entrance, Carlitos lit a candle and we ventured inside. The tiny flame seemed weak against the totality of the still darkness, but Carlitos assured us that this place was the den of no beast...there was no water. After no time at all we emerged on the other side of the mountain, with sheer drops below and an almighty nothingness of a thousand colours of rock, stretching all around. In that place, I experienced probably the most total silence of my life. On that mountainside, where no living thing could be seen, you could see past, present and future. Tash described the experience as "religious."
Carlitos simply said "buen momento."
I thought we had got our money's worth, and Carlitos would lead us back down the valley. But, he had always mentioned "caves" in the plural, and sure enough he led us over a narrow precipice to another mouth in the mountain. this one immediately looked deeper and more menacing. Carlitos demonstrated how to enter...he sprang up onto a rock, and then pushed his legs against the wall opposite, and shimmied across.
"Hombre de arana!" I said (Spider Man!) As I shimmied across, I made the mistake of looking down. Below was a crevasse about the width of my leg and then utter blackness. Somehow I made it across, hiding my fear from Tash and Carlitos, who made it seem so effortless!
I'm glad I conquered my fear, as the next moment was truly special. Carlitos led us through the cave, every few metres lighting candles that had been placed there by previous adventurers. We reached the end of the cavern, looking back along the path we had taken. the candlelight made it look like a sacred place in some bygone era. I have no photos of that place, but it will stay with me forever.
