Born in Argentina but living in Miami for the last twenty-five years, I thought I knew my homeland pretty well. Yet somehow, the country's remote northwest had always remained a mystery to me. Like most photographers, I'd been drawn to Patagonia's famous peaks, but this forgotten corner of Argentina had been calling to me for years. Last August, I finally answered that call.

I embarked on a nine-day scouting expedition through the Puna de Atacama. This vast, high-altitude desert spans the borders of Argentina, Chile, and Bolivia. This wasn't your typical tourist trail. This was overlanding through some of the most isolated and photographically rich geography I've ever encountered.

After flying into Salta, I spent a couple of days getting to know the historic colonial town. I stayed at Finca Valentina, a beautiful property just a few kilometers outside the city. It is far enough to feel removed from the urban center but close enough to easily access Salta when needed. Every evening, returning to the finca, I'd pass this incredible tree that perfectly captures the surreal beauty of the area. The golden light, the rural road, that sense of timeless Argentina. It became my daily reminder of why I'd come here.

I also took the famous Train to the Clouds during my time in Salta, which was a fantastic experience, but that's a story for another blog. What mattered for this scouting trip was connecting with a local operator who could take me deep into the Puna with proper 4x4 vehicles.

What drew me to this region wasn't just its remoteness, though we sometimes drove for hours without seeing another soul, but the incredible accessibility that Overlanding provides. Unlike many high-altitude destinations that require grueling multi-day treks, here, you can capture otherworldly landscapes without the need for extensive hiking.

The goal was simple: scout locations for my upcoming 2025 Northwest Argentina Photo Tour and discover whether this forgotten corner of Argentina could deliver the kind of dramatic, diverse imagery that serious landscape photographers crave.

Into the Humahuaca Gorge: Where Color Meets Culture

Our first authentic taste of the region's photographic potential came as we wound through the Humahuaca Gorge, a UNESCO World Heritage site carved by time into one of nature's most vibrant masterpieces.

Nobody had mentioned the Bosque de Yungas to me before this trip. As we made our way along Route 9, thick cloud forest appeared around us, looking nothing like the desert landscapes I'd expected. One minute, we were climbing through sparse mountain terrain; the next, we were threading our way through tunnels of green vegetation so dense that I could barely see the peaks beyond. Our guide navigated roads that curved through mist and dense jungle growth, which would have looked more at home in the Amazon than in northern Argentina. It was my first clue that this region holds more surprises than any guidebook lets on.

When we finally reached Hornocal's painted mountains, I understood why people make the journey here. Those famous 14 colors weren't exaggerated – if anything, seeing them in person made me realize photos don't capture their intensity. What struck me was how the small towns and villages in the area simply fit into this unique landscape. I mean, you've got these fantastic rainbow mountains; then there are these little towns like Humahuaca and Purmamarca sitting right in the middle of it all. The houses are built from the same red earth as the mountains, so they don't stand out. It's as if people figured out centuries ago how to coexist with this landscape, and their homes just become part of the scene.

I found myself captivated by the details of daily life here. Weathered colonial buildings with their thick walls and wooden doors. Colorful artisan displays tucked into darkened doorways. The way morning light transforms simple architecture into something timeless. The contrast between the dramatic natural backdrop and these intimate human stories creates endless photographic opportunities.

The light here changes everything. During the harsh midday sun, the colors can appear almost artificial, as if someone had cranked up the saturation too far. But catch these formations during golden hour, and they transform into something ethereal. The trick is patience and knowing exactly where to position yourself as the sun drops toward the western peaks.

When scouting these locations, I discovered that the Humahuaca Gorge offers something rare: the marriage of dramatic natural beauty with authentic cultural elements. Those colorful mountains aren't just backdrops; they're the foundation upon which centuries of Indigenous life have been built.

Salinas Grandes: Mastering Salt Flat Photography

After leaving the painted villages behind, we began our ascent up the Cuesta del Lipán. This winding mountain pass carries you from the colorful gorge into a wholly different realm. The road snakes upward through increasingly sparse terrain, each switchback revealing more expansive vistas and thinner air. Storm clouds gathered above us as we climbed, creating dramatic lighting that had me constantly reaching for my camera.

At 4,170 meters above sea level, Salinas Grandes suddenly appears before you like a real mirage. This massive salt flat, stretching over 12,000 hectares, transforms the landscape into something that belongs more in a surreal dream than on Earth. The perfectly white surface is broken by an intricate network of geometric patterns where salt mining operations have created rectangular pools that catch and reflect the sky.

I spent a good portion of the morning walking across this crystalline surface, fascinated by the interplay of textures and reflections. The mining pools create incredible blue mirrors against the stark white salt, each one a perfect frame for the distant mountains. When conditions are right, you can launch a drone here, something that I was able to do. The aerial perspectives reveal patterns that are impossible to appreciate from ground level.

Shooting on salt flats can present some technical challenges. The intense reflected light can fool your meter, and the white surface can make autofocus struggle. But these challenges are worth it for the graphic, minimalist compositions you can create. The key is understanding how the light changes throughout the day and how those geometric salt formations can serve as leading lines or natural frames. If you find yourself in this situation, trust your histogram and overexpose at least one stop.

From Salinas Grandes, we continued deeper into the Puna, crossing into even more remote territory towards the Salar de Pocitos. This smaller salt flat lacks the perfect geometry of Salinas Grandes. Still, it offers something else entirely: complete isolation and raw, simple beauty. Here, the salt surface is more weathered and organic, creating different patterns and textures.

But as we approached Tolar Grande, the landscape truly revealed its most extraordinary face. The area known as Desierto del Diablo stretched before us, its red and orange badlands rising from the desert floor like monuments to geological time. These formations, carved by wind and rare rainfall over millennia, create a landscape so alien that it feels like you've been transported to Mars.

The wind here was relentless during our visit, adding challenge and drama to the photography. Sand whipped across the desert floor while those incredible red formations glowed in the afternoon light. The isolation is complete. For hours, we saw no other vehicles, no signs of human presence except the rough track we followed deeper into this wilderness.

The Remote Puna: High Altitude Desert Wilderness

From Tolar Grande, we pushed deeper into the most remote corners of the Puna, heading toward El Peñón through a landscape that grows increasingly otherworldly with each kilometer. Our first stop was Ojos de Mar, a series of high-altitude salt lagoons that seem impossible in this desert environment. These perfectly circular pools of turquoise water, surrounded by white salt crusts and set against rolling brown mountains, create some of the most surreal compositions I've ever encountered.

The colors here defy logic. Brilliant blue-green water so saturated it looks artificial, contrasted against bone-white salt deposits and the muted tones of ancient volcanic peaks. The morning light was soft and diffused, creating an almost dreamlike quality to the entire scene. These lagoons exist at over 4,000 meters above sea level, fed by underground springs that bring minerals to the surface, creating these natural jewels in the desert.

Continuing across the vast Salar de Arizaro, we approached one of the Puna's most iconic landmarks: the Cono de Arita. This perfectly symmetrical volcanic cone rises from the flat salt desert like something from another planet. We arrived in mid-morning, which isn't ideal photographically, but even under harsh light, this formation is spectacular. The cone's geometric perfection against the endless white salt flat creates minimalist and dramatic compositions. I'm already planning to return during golden hour this year to capture it in a better light during our upcoming photo tour.

What strikes you about Cono de Arita isn't just its perfect shape but its complete isolation. This geological formation sits alone in the middle of nowhere, visible for kilometers in every direction. It's a photographer's dream to play with scale and negative space.

As we traversed the Quebrada of Calalaste, some very special conditions and drama began to unfold before us. The wind here picked up to extraordinary levels, so strong that we couldn't safely leave our vehicle. But this created one of the most incredible photographic opportunities of the entire trip. Our guide, who rarely took photos, was so amazed by the conditions that he grabbed his camera for the first time during our journey to document the sandstorm.

I've never seen anything like what happened next. Humongous clouds of sand swept across the valley while mountains appeared and disappeared in the shifting haze. The whole scene took on this dreamy quality as the light filtered through all that suspended dust. Mountain ranges stacked up in layers, each one a different shade – some deep purple, others glowing pink and gold. It felt like watching nature put on a show just for us, constantly changing the scenery with every gust of wind.

We also made a quick stop at Laguna Verde, another high-altitude lagoon with impossibly blue water set against dramatic mountain backdrops. Then, we briefly visited to photograph the volcanic formations near Antofagasta before finally reaching El Peñón in the late evening.

During this day, I discovered that the remote Puna offers something you can't find anywhere else: complete solitude combined with landscapes so alien they challenge your understanding of what Earth can look like. The isolation is profound. For hours, we saw no other vehicles, no signs of human presence except the rough tracks we followed. Yet the photographic opportunities are endless, changing with every shift in light and weather.

Campo de Piedra Pómez and High-Altitude Wildlife: Alien Landscapes Meet Life

From El Peñón, we ventured into what might be the most otherworldly landscape in all of Argentina: Campo de Piedra Pómez. This protected natural area feels like stepping onto an alien planet. Ancient volcanic activity created these incredible white pumice stone formations, sculpted by the wind into extraordinary shapes. Towers, arches, mushroom-like sculptures, and abstract art pieces carved by nature stretch across the landscape.

The contrast here is what makes it so photographically compelling. Pure white pumice stone formations rise from black volcanic sand, creating compositions that are both stark and beautiful. The textures are incredible. Up close, you can see every detail of how wind and weather have carved these soft volcanic rocks into flowing, organic shapes. From a distance, they create an endless field of white sculptures against the dark desert floor.

What struck me most was the play of light and shadow across these formations. Even under the harsh midday sun, the pumice creates its own dramatic lighting as shadows dance between the sculptural forms. I spent hours exploring different angles, trying to capture the scale and the intimate details.

But photographing here is not easy; I felt overwhelmed by the different options and compositions. The challenge is conveying just how vast this place is while also showing the intricate beauty of individual formations.

I didn't have the opportunity to photograph Campo de Piedra Pómez under the stars during this scouting trip, but it's something I'm incredibly excited about for this year's photo tour. The dark skies here, combined with these white formations, should create some truly magical nightscape opportunities.

As we continued to explore the high-altitude lakes and salt flats in the area, we encountered one of Puna's most beautiful surprises: flamingos. These elegant birds thrive in the mineral-rich waters of high-altitude lagoons, creating scenes that seem impossible: pink flamingos feeding in brilliant blue-green water, surrounded by red and orange mountains, under the endless blue sky of the high desert.

The flamingos add a completely different element to the photography here. Suddenly, you're not just capturing landscapes but wildlife in one of the most extreme environments on Earth. These birds have adapted to life at altitudes exceeding 4,000 meters above sea level, feeding on algae and small crustaceans that give them their distinctive coloration.

The layered geology visible in the surrounding mountains tells stories spanning millions of years. Different colored rock strata create natural art on a massive scale. Some formations resemble ancient architectural structures, as if ancient civilizations had carved terraces into the mountainsides. The interplay between these ancient geological formations and the delicate life that persists here creates endless photographic possibilities.

Lessons from the Road

Nine days in the high-altitude desert taught me more about extreme environment photography than years of shooting in more forgiving conditions. The Puna presents unique challenges that push both photographer and equipment to their limits, but the rewards are extraordinary.

Shooting at 3,500 to 4,500 meters above sea level changes everything. Battery life plummets in the cold, thin air. I went through twice as many batteries as usual, especially during the chilly mornings and evenings when the light was best. The extreme UV radiation at altitude means polarizing filters become essential. The light is different here, more intense and contrasty than at sea level.

Dust is everywhere. The constant wind kicks up fine particles that find their way into every crevice of your equipment. A good weather-sealed camera system isn't just recommended; it's necessary. The vast distances and scale can fool your autofocus system. Manual focus and hyperfocal distance calculations become crucial skills.

But here's what most photographers don't understand about Argentina's northwest: this isn't just another pretty landscape destination. This is one of Earth's most complete photographic laboratories, where you can explore virtually every aspect of landscape photography within a single journey.

Where else can you photograph a jungle in the morning, geometric salt flats at midday, and otherworldly volcanic formations at sunset, all on the same day? The diversity here rivals continents compressed into a manageable area accessible by vehicle.

This region offers something increasingly rare in our Instagram-saturated world: genuine discovery. While photographers line up at popular viewpoints in Patagonia or the American Southwest, you can spend entire days in the Puna without seeing another photographer. You're not recreating someone else's shot; you're creating your own vision of landscapes that barely exist in the collective photographic consciousness.

The cultural element adds layers that pure landscape destinations can't match. This isn't empty wilderness; it's a living landscape where indigenous communities have adapted to extreme conditions for thousands of years. Their stories, daily lives, and architecture provide the context and depth that transform good landscape photography into powerful storytelling images.

Most importantly, this region challenges you as a photographer. The conditions are demanding, the light is harsh, and the subjects are unfamiliar. You can't rely on your usual techniques and comfortable settings. The Puna forces you to grow, to see differently, to solve problems you've never encountered.

More Than Photography

Looking back on those nine scouting days, I am struck by the incredible photographic opportunities I discovered and the experience the region offers. This isn't just about collecting great images; it's about immersion in a landscape and culture that exists nowhere else on Earth.

This region's food and wine culture adds an entirely different dimension to the experience. After days of photographing in harsh desert conditions, sitting down to regional specialties like locro stew or perfectly grilled llama meat, paired with exceptional high-altitude wines from the Cafayate Valley, becomes more than just a meal. It's a connection to the place and its people. The Torrontés wines produced here have a unique character shaped by the extreme altitude and intense sun, much like the landscape itself.

Every evening brought new flavors and stories. Local guides shared family recipes passed down through generations, explained how traditional cooking techniques evolved to work at altitude, and introduced wines that captured the terroir of this impossible landscape. These moments around the dinner table, sharing stories of the day's adventures while tasting wines that could only come from this place, were as much a part of the experience as capturing sunrise over the salt flats.

What makes this region special for photographers is the combination of visual drama, cultural depth, technical challenge, and pure remoteness. You're not just making pictures; you're documenting one of Earth's most extraordinary and least-known landscapes while experiencing a way of life that has remained untouched for centuries.

As someone born in Argentina, finally exploring this hidden corner of my homeland felt like discovering a secret that had been kept from me my entire life.

The 2025 Northwest Argentina Photo Tour I'm organizing will provide photographers with the time and guidance to explore this region thoroughly. We'll spend adequate time at each location to work with different lighting conditions, we'll have access to areas that individual travelers can't easily reach, and we'll be able to capture those nightscape opportunities at Campo de Piedra Pómez that I missed during this scouting trip.

This scouting expedition confirmed what I suspected: Argentina's northwest isn't just another destination; it's a photographic revelation waiting to happen.

For photographers ready to step away from the crowds and challenge themselves in one of Earth's most extraordinary landscapes, this is the journey that will redefine what you think landscape photography can be.

If you want to see more of what this incredible region offers, I've documented the journey in two YouTube videos that capture both the photographic opportunities and the challenges of working in this remote landscape.

For those ready to experience this photographic adventure firsthand, join me in September 2025 for what promises to be an unforgettable journey into Argentina's hidden northwest.

The Puna is waiting. The question is: are you ready to discover it?

As always, if you enjoyed this post, let me know in the comments below, more photo adventures coming soon.

Photographing Argentina's Best-Kept Secret: Scouting the Puna de Atacama's Alien Landscapes