Extreme High-Altitude Wines from Argentina's Northern Valleys

BY JOAQUÍN HIDALGO | FEBRUARY 04, 2021

In the northwest of Argentina, there is a chain of magical valleys, weird and wonderful landscapes where the air at high altitude is so thin it can leave you gasping for breath. The endless deserts and ravines are, remarkably, producing wines of such extraordinary power that they rarely fail to seduce visitors to the area and connoisseurs much farther afield. 

There are plenty of romantic legends about the northwestern valleys of Argentina. Like the Wild West in the US - we’re talking hundreds of miles north of Mendoza and west of Buenos Aires - these high-altitude wines obey no laws but their own. And strange things happen in lawless regions. Eminently worldly people such as the Swiss businessman Donald Hess (Hess Collection, Estancia Colomé) was bewitched in 1998 by a raw, brutal red (in this case RD, which is included in this report) to such a degree that he decided it would be his place in the world. And then there’s Michel Rolland, who back in 1988 fell in love with the tough, mineral landscape when he set foot in the Calchaquí Valley for the first time - a legendary moment in Calchaquí wine lore. Or the prickly spines of the cardón - the towering cacti that grace the mountain slopes like shepherds looking after flocks of sheep  - that persuaded another man from Switzerland, the mountaineer Cristian Göetz (Bodega Adentro), to start making wines in Cachi. 

Fernando Dupont first planted vineyards in Maimará, Quebrada de Humahauca, in 2004. The contrast between the dry mountain slopes and lush green of the vineyards is typical of the region. The winery can be seen in the background.  

The list of those who have fallen under the spell of northwestern Argentina is long and distinguished. But all these stories began with a bottle that so well reflected the wild landscape and the determination of people that they kept coming back for more.

Looking to find out a little more about where these bottles came from, last December I managed to negotiate my way through the maze of COVID-related permits to travel across Jujuy and Salta provinces, hoping to reproduce that spell and subject it to an exhaustive examination through the 250 wines featured here. This report comes with a warning for the terroir-sensitive reader: some of these wines are the real deal.

The Huichaira ravine – running from left to right – was the chosen home for Cielo Arriba, where it was founded. The thick foliage is encouraged to protect the grapes from the sun.

A Dystopian Tropic

In terms of wine regions, the northwest of Argentina consists of a chain of valleys that fall into two broad categories: the largest wine-producing area is the Calchaquí Valley, centered on the town of Cafayate and crossing through the provinces of Catamarca, Tucumán and Salta, which contains about 4,230 hectares of vineyards, the oldest of which were planted in colonial times with pre-phylloxera vines. La Quebrada de Humahuaca, meanwhile, is in the province of Jujuy. Vineyards there date back to the 2000s and only number about 20 hectares. Together they represent just 2% of the total surface area under vine in Argentina.

Even though they’re very different, these two large valleys - the Calchaquí Valley snakes for 150 miles along the Calchaquí and Santa Maria rivers, while the Quebrada de Humahuaca follows the course of the Río Grande for 90 miles - do have things in common, some in terms of terroir and others related to human geography. For example, the Quebrada (“ravine”) in Jujuy has been named a UNESCO Heritage Site because of its historical legacy, as it is the first place settled by the earliest inhabitants of what is now Argentina, about 10,000 years ago. The Calchaquí Valley, meanwhile, was built up on a legacy of irrigation systems, ancient agricultural terraces and primitive paths constructed by the Diaguita people before the arrival of the Inca (14th century) and Spanish (16th century) empires.

This lengthy history also features viticulture, which began in the 17th century with some vines, including the Criolla and Torrontés varieties, planted in domestic gardens and others as commercial vineyards. One lives and breathes history in the northwestern valleys: I’ve found arrowheads and the remains of large stone mortars - similar to those seen in Yacochuya or on the Amalaya estate - among the rows of vines. Some vineyards, such as Chañar Punco, even contain intact burial sites with ancient funeral urns.

Carolina and Gastón Cruz are the owners of Bodega El Milagro, in Purmamarca, Quebrada de Humahuaca. Carnaval Torrontés is made from two parcels at altitudes of  2,400 and 2,800 meters above sea level respectively. 

When it comes to terroir, the Quebrada de Humahuaca spans the Tropic of Capricorn at Huacalera, where Bodega Tukma’s eponymous vineyard is located. The low latitude - the equivalent of Rio de Janeiro or Brisbane - is a key factor in the life cycle of vines in both valleys. The way to ameliorate its effect is to go high: between 1,700 and 3,500 meters above sea level, depending on the valley and the region. Within just a few miles, warm areas such as Chimpa near Cafayate (which experiences temperatures comparable to Jerez) are transformed into cool zones such as Cachi Adentro or Urquía, where the temperature is similar to Champagne. But a harsh sun strong enough to crack solid rock beats down on both, and it gives no quarter to the vines either.

Because the sun shines so brightly through the thin mountain air, the shade cast by the vine leaves, which are quite different from the spikes and spines that cover the desert’s natural vegetation, is key. The combination is fairly difficult to assimilate and so apparently unsuitable for wine production that it’s something of a human miracle that the valleys contain fully irrigated (with both drip and flood systems) vineyards of Malbec (1,627ha), Cabernet Sauvignon (763ha), Tannat (137ha), Merlot (108ha) and Syrah (91ha) among the reds, and Torrontés (1,115ha), Sauvignon Blanc (49ha) and Chardonnay (39ha) among the whites, to name just a few. Almost all of them are planted in alluvial fans that spread out from the mountains in a mixture of soils on slopes of varying steepness and orientation, with a handful planted on pre-Colombian terraces. 

The traditional way to plant in the Calchaquí Valley is using the pergola system so as to protect the grapes from the sun. This makes it easy to tell newer vines from the older ones, some of which date back over a century. VSP (vertical shoot positioning) training only came into vogue in the late 1990s. Because of the widespread use of pergolas, harvest is done by hand while only large wineries use mechanical harvesters, accounting for about 10% of the overall harvest.

The Bodega Piattelli restaurant offers gorgeous views of Cafayate and a terrace on which to sample delicious empanadas and other regional and international delicacies. 

The Calchaquí Spell

I have been visiting the Calchaquí Valley, especially Cafayate (1,700m) since 2004, whenever I get the chance. It’s the center of the region, with the most important wineries and largest surface area under vine. I am fascinated by the cultural melting pot of local folklore, enhanced by wine-tipsy local poets telling tales about valley life (including Jaime Dávalos, a member of the family that has run the Hacienda Tacuil vineyard since colonial times), and landowners who built palatial mansions such as Finca El Recreo in places that could only be reached by a three-day mule ride from the city of Salta, itself the seat of wine dynasties such as Michel Torino, the Isasmendis, the Etcharts and, more recently, Domingo Molina, the Lávaques, and the Romeros. 

When you consider that in 1892, when the Michel Torino winery (renamed Bodega El Esteco in 2000 after it was acquired by the Peñaflor Group) was founded, wines were being made without electricity and the railway never got to the area, the inevitable conclusion is that these pioneers really loved wine, and because the area was so isolated, the only way to ensure a steady supply was to make it themselves. Today, it looks like a very savvy move: the larger wineries – such as Etchart, El Esteco – produce as many as 5 million or more bottles a year while the average output of smaller producers such as Finca Las Nubes or Estancia Los Cardones is between 50,000 and 200,000 bottles.

From left to right: Alejandro Pepa, Head of Oenology at El Esteco, together with the agricultural engineer Javier Tellechea and the oenologist Claudio Maza. In the background we see clouds beginning to form. In Cafayate, they help to filter sunlight and keep temperatures lower in summer.

Michel Rolland likes to say that the first time he came to the area, hired by Arnaldo Etchart to make wines for export, “I didn’t understand a thing, not even Spanish. And the wines were made to local tastes. They were rustic, not remotely suitable for the international market.” Etchart had entrusted him with changing all that.

This pioneering export initiative proved to be just the first of a series of projects embarked upon by local and foreign entrepreneurs who came to the valley to perfect the good qualities that nature already had to offer - profound reds with high alcohol content, starting at 15% - and to tame the raw/overripe or just plain gone-over character that held sway on the local scene. It was this savage, powerful style that bewitched Hess into producing the highest-altitude wines in the world: his Altura Máxima vineyard was planted in 2003 at 3,111 meters above sea level, beginning a new era for wine in the Calchaquí Valley.

Lavender is the signature aroma of the hotel Estancia Colomé, a very pleasant stop on one of the most rustic roads in the north. In the background to the right is the winery surrounded by vineyards.

Altitude Madness

In an interview I did in 2004 with a probably slightly envious Arnaldo Etchart, who was retired by then but whose ironic character was still in full bloom, he said: “Only dwarves go on about altitude.” But he was wrong. His vineyards in Yacochuya, on the outskirts of Cafayate at an altitude of 2,000 meters, would be dwarfed themselves in a race to go ever higher in search of cooler conditions. Hess, along with Dávalos and several others, was already working in higher parts of the valley, such as Molinos (2,000m), Cachi Adentro (2,600m) and even smaller areas such as Pucará (2,600m) and Luracato (2,750m), and new styles were emerging as a result.

Today, the difference can be tasted right there in the glass. The potent reds from the sandy soils lower down are quite different animals from the profoundly juicy styles higher up. But it’s important to note that one isn’t any better than the other. The divergence began a process that has changed the entire valley: there are producers currently working on polishing the natural bullishness of the valley in its purest state - this report features some great wines in that style with mild alcohol content - while others are working in a more classical vein. Whatever their intentions, both groups are producing good and bad wines, but those distinctive Vallista qualities still come through loud and clear.

Nonetheless, it’s instructive to pay special attention to the contrasts: on the one hand there are modern reds such as L’Amitie Gran Vin 2019, Thibaut Delmotte Malbec Natural 2018, Sunal Ilógico Malbec 2019 and Estancia Los Cardones Tigerstone Malbec 2018, and on the other the long-perfected excellence of San Pedro De Yacochuya Malbec 2018, RD 2019 and Colomé Estate Malbec 2018. In between we find elegant profiles such as Amar y Vivir Malbec 2018 and exotic reds such as Miraluna Merlot 2019 and Adentro Malbec 2017.

Tacuil is a remote, patchwork location: the vineyards are planted in a series of parcels on mountain valleys and rivers. While the cardon cacti have adapted to the dry conditions, the vineyard requires drip irrigation.

The competition to make the highest-altitude wine set off a process summed up by Alejandro Pepa, the oenologist at El Esteco: “We realized that we could make adjustments to the style to achieve elegance and subtlety, retaining but toning down the power of the valley,” he explained as we tasted the wines he produces at the southern end of the valley at the Chañar Punco Vineyard, and others from La Turbina - the most picturesque vineyard I visited - whose first Garnacha vintage from pre-Colombian granite terraces will get plenty of tongues wagging.  

Subtlety and detail are the two words one would use to describe this emerging movement. Experiments are being carried out with Rhône varieties, mainly Garnacha, and soil types other than sandy-loam are being explored. Parcel-selection work is being done at El Porvenir de los Andes, while Piattelli is investigating a patch of calcium deposits at their Animaná vineyard, suggesting that the next great generation of valley wines might well look quite different from the ones we’re seeing today. For the moment, however, the division between old-fashioned and new-style reds still defines this remote but justly proud winemaking region.

Special mention should go to the tranquil colonial-era town of Cachi. Located to the north of the valley at the foot of the Nevado de Cachi range, which reaches 6,300 meters above sea level and boasts snow-capped peaks all year round, it is home to a handful of new producers whose projects began just over a decade ago but are now producing some incredible wines centered around the Göetz vineyard, a group of powerful but fresh reds whose base is the rather unexpected variety of Merlot. Magic and the paranormal are very much in the air: Cachi hosts the only UFO port I’ve ever come across on my travels, though the only thing I found that was out of this world were the juicy reds they’re bottling up there. 

Finca Los Cuises, which belongs to El Porvenir de Cafayate, is set in a gully and gets its water from a natural spring, which also explains the lush vegetation. In the background is a view of the Calchaquí Valley. The sheet is there to protect the grapes from birds.

Torrontés & Cabernet Sauvignon

Argentina is the land of Malbec, and some excellent, spicy examples can be found up north. However, in the Calchaquí Valley, two other varieties stand out. Among the whites, Torrontés Riojano, a cross between Listán Prieto and Moscatel de Alejandría that first appeared in colonial times, is an exotic, aromatic white grape that producers are looking to make in different styles. Ingacio López, the oenologist at Etchart, is among those working obsessively with the variety. With 170 hectares under vine, planted in different soils, he thinks that “taming the terpenes that produce the muscat aromas and classic bitterness can be done by adjusting the grape’s ripeness and precise work at the winery.” Pepa’s team is thinking along similar lines, but they’re focusing on the sun: “We have all our Torrontés planted in old pergola vineyards, so we work with the shade and harvesting point to avoid heavy styles that lack freshness.” Gran Linaje 2020 and El Esteco Old Vines 2020 are good examples of their success. 

In the cooler, higher areas, however, where it’s hard to get Torrontés ripe - it has a very long cycle - we see VSP system vines harvested while still crisp to produce sparky, easygoing whites such as Colomé Estate 2020, Adentro 2020 and Cellarius 2020, in which the trace of basil and vibrant acidity set the tone. As a grape that’s native to Argentina, it’s only really comparable to other valley output.

Cabernet Sauvignon, in contrast, is an eminently cosmopolitan variety. But you can’t find the character it takes on in the Calchaquí Valley anywhere else in Argentina. When it’s harvested with the required delicacy, it’s a strange but desirable bundle of flavor: an exotic combination of roasted red pepper and black currant with a breathtakingly intense palate. Francisco “Paco” Puga, the oenologist at El Porvenir de los Andes, has been working in tandem with Paul Hobbs, selecting parcels by their soil type. “The parcels that combine stone and sand are the ones we like best,” he said. Good examples include: Domingo Molina Cabernet Sauvignon 2017, Amar y Vivir Cabernet Sauvignon 2019 and Colomé 1831 2019, which I tasted when it was recently bottled; I will publish a review when it has had more time in bottle.

A colonial style house at the top of an outcrop dominates views of the vineyards and winery of the hamlet of Humanao on the shore of the Tacuil River, Calchaquí Valley.

The Frozen Hell of Humahuaca

If the Calchaquí Valley is the core of the region, offering both tradition and renewal, the Quebrada de Humahuaca is still in the first chapter of its viticultural history. The scene is an unusual mixture of young wineries founded by mostly inexperienced entrepreneurs with a yen for producing new wines in a hellishly freezing climate. The winegrower Alejandro Sejanovich - who owns Manos Negras in Mendoza, among several other wineries - is running Huichaira in partnership with Alejandro Nieva and summed it up it well: “Up here at 2,650 meters, it gets very cold, but the sun is still harsh during the day.” His Malbec vineyard boasts small but happy plants where bunches in shade are treasured commodities, as is the natural acidity that represents the heart of Cielo Arriba Malbec 2018 and 2019, the wine made from the vineyard. 

Huichaira is one of the most recent vineyards developed in the Quebrada and is set on a north-facing slope to protect it from the frost. But journeying further around the area, one finds new vineyards developing in between age-old crops, generally clustered in small plots of 1 to 1.5 hectares. In fact, further to the north, some isolated vineyards reach as high as 3,500 meters, and it’s here that Bodega Ayni produces its unusual Uraqui 2018, a powerful but refreshing blend kept in an abandoned mine right next to the vines, guarded by towering cardón.

These pioneers have chosen to plant vineyards in such extreme conditions out of a strange mixture of local pride and good old-fashioned stubbornness: since pre-Colombian times the traditional crops in the area have been spices, potatoes, beans and red pepper, while the Quebrada is an increasingly popular draw for international tourists. Argentina is becoming well-known for its wine, so wine growers are looking to bottle some of the local characteristics brought by these extreme conditions to go with the regional cuisine. The long-term idea is to build up a new industry in the Quebrada in a way similar to the Calchaquí Valley a hundred years ago.

Cristian Göetz’s Torrontés vineyard in Cachi Adentro, at an altitude of 2,670 meters, in a ravine surrounded by native trees.

Given the stats, in Jujuy they’re beginning to talk about extreme altitude. Among the pioneers of the area, two are worthy of special attention for their determination to keep going in the midst of adversity. Fernando Dupont founded his vineyard in Maimará in 2004 when he gave up working on farms in the pampas. Dupont was advised by Juan Prates, an agricultural engineer familiar with the region who works in some capacity with all the producers in the area. Dupont said, “We began with Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon because we thought they’d work best at 2,400 meters.” He wasn’t wrong: his Punta Corral, which combines both grapes, achieved a balance with the 2018 vintage that should point the way for the rest of the region.

The other producer is Amanecer Andino, established in 2009 by businessman Alfredo González, who planted on the shores of the Río Grande in Purmamarca (at 2,200m). “During the 2012 harvest, the first one, a sudden swell forced us to the other side with all the recently barreled must. We couldn’t get to it for a couple of days,” he remembered, describing the learning curve that comes with a brand-new terroir. Summer flooding is a serious issue on such steep slopes. The landslides that two years ago rose as high as five feet up the walls of Viña El Perchel and rearranged the vines in the vineyard are proof of that. 

Another pioneering winery is Tukma, set up by Fernando Maurette and Raúl María Nocetti. Having already established vineyards in the Calchaquí Valley, they drew on their experience to plant their Huacalera vineyard, where Sauvignon Blanc is the star together with a red blend of Malbec, Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah and Tannat.

The wines of the region are taking shape - with oenologists such as Lucas Niven from Mendoza and Marcos Etchart from Cafayate increasingly traveling there - and some are already finding a balance that tones down what is a savagely natural terroir. This makes the Quebrada de Humahuaca an alluring place to come and witness the beginning of the process. Perhaps in a hundred years these crazy 21st-century pioneers will be documented in history books already full of magical tales about the north.

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