THE mountains are full of places where people lived, raised families and died. Their children and their children???s children have moved on. All that remains are stones and walls and the imagined echoes of humanity . . .
Every country has its ruins, its forgotten villages, its silent places where people dug the earth before history swept them away. These roofless walls that are today bathed in sunshine once knew music and tears. These husks of stone and mortar were once warmed by fires and lit by lamplight. Within their confines, children grew into men and women, had children themselves, and watched the cycle revolve.
Ruins aren???t just ruins. They are the story of mankind written on the landscape. They are what our forefathers left behind when they wandered off in search of work, fled to the New World, and died in unfamiliar places. (Click images for high-res versions)
There is a range of hills between the Sierra Nevada and Sierra Almijara, in Andalucia, southern Spain. We drove along a winding mountain road through the hills and chanced upon these two ruined haciendas ??? the first pictured above, the second below.
Our host in Orgiva, Bruce Mac Nally, didn???t know much about their history but suggested they had been abandoned during the turmoil of the Spanish Civil War (1936-39), or in the ensuing guerilla conflict that dragged on into the 1950s and was bloodily crushed by Franco and the Guardia Civil.
Today they are nothing but shells. Time has moved on and left their stories untold.