DAWN in a river valley. Ink-blue shadows beneath tall mountains. A chill in air that is perfectly still. Smell of piny trees and the sound of rushing water. Pin-pricks of red lights as a truck crosses the Seven-Eye Bridge. Day is coming. Time to zip up the jacket and move off . . .
I follow the river on the tail of a vague plan that will deliver me into the mountains and provide a scattering of mini adventures. I have learned that walking in Andalucia is always an adventure, and that within the adventure there are ??? like garnets in a hoary boulder ??? unexpected discoveries to delight the mind and quicken the pulse.
So it is my intention to follow the Rio Guadalfeo upstream into its gorge in the Sierra Nevada mountains, join the GR 142 long-distance footpath, take my lunch at the place where the river splits into a number of narrow tributaries, and return by the same route. The total distance should be in the region of 17.6 kilometres or eleven miles. Let me tell you about the Seven-Eye Bridge because this is interesting though tragic stuff.
The Seven-Eye Bridge carries the main road from the coast into the town of Orgiva and derives its name from the seven arches that span the Rio Guadalfeo. During the Spanish Civil War of 1936-39, republican forces blew up one of the arches to prevent General Franco???s fascist rebels crossing the river. The frontline in this area became more or less entrenched for most of the conflict ??? unlike in the remainder of Spain ??? with the republicans perched upon the slopes of Sierra de L??jar, which rises to the south of the bridge, and the fascists occupying Orgiva after evacuating its residents. There are people alive today who remember these events. It remains a touchy subject.
I leave the van in the shadow of the bridge, pass through the arch that was partially destroyed (you can see the repairs underneath), and follow an indistinct path through the scrub and shingle of the riverbed into the blinding light of the rising sun. The coolness of dawn dissipates with the warmth of the new day. Soon it???s time for breakfast. I have brought a jam sandwich and an apple. That???s proper planning for you.
The white-walled houses of the village of Los Tablones and the spoilheaps of its former mining industry command the opposite bank. Los Tablones translates as The Planks ??? possibly relating to the sheds and stacks of mine timber that once occupied the site. Lead ore was ferried down from high workings on Sierra de L??jar by overhead cableway to the processing mill on the edge of the village. The mill ceased to function many decades ago but the mine ??? after about twenty years of inactivity ??? now produces fluorite for the steel industry. The ore is transported by lorries instead of overhead cableway. Less romantic but probably a great deal more practicable.
A short distance upriver I discover my first gem, the initial garnet in my hoary lump of rhyolitic pyroclastic bedrock. A very British-looking double-decker bus reclines dejectedly beneath a makeshift tin canopy and surrounded by a screen of wild bamboo. This is worthy of further examination, but it???s on the wrong side of the river. At some point in the future I shall explore the opposite bank to see if the destination panel is still visible. And I???ll dig out my old school bus pass just in case.
Wandering east across these great flat banks of baked shingle, the riverbed suddenly veers north into the mountains and the mouth of a winding gorge. Blocking my way is a shallow dam, but while poking about its environs I stumble upon another garnet ??? a tunnel disappearing into the mountainside.
Oh, wow. I just love mysterious tunnels and cannot resist exploring them. Personally, I blame Enid Blyton for corrupting my childhood with the antics of the Famous Five. Like all proper walkers who carry the appropriate safety equipment, I have a torch with me. So in I go, only to emerge a hundred metres further up the river at the foot of a second dam. This one proves to mark the end of the trail, so I double back through the tunnel, cross the river, and search for a breach in thick vegetation that will deliver me onto the GR 142 footpath.
I surprise myself by emerging from a bamboo thicket into the walled garden of a watermill that has been converted into holiday accommodation. In this delightful garden is a gaily-coloured yurt (Mongolian tent, very popular in this part of Spain) and a woman sitting in the grass enjoying a quiet moment in the early-morning sunshine. I tip my hat and scurry towards an alley that leads to the road, making my apologies as I go. Hope I didn???t spoil her breakfast. At least I???ve found the road.
This road is also the route of the GR 142. It has whizzed, straightish and entirely flat, along the valley from Orgiva, but at this point its tarmac peters out and it twists, as a rough track, high into the mountains. I ascend a series of tight bends with the sun burning my neck and legs. The coolness of early morning has succumbed to the harsh heat of late morning. Oh, to sit on the green banks of the Rio Guadalfeo, many hundreds of feet below, and dangle my toes in its waters.
Waymarker on the GR 142
Ibex always make things look easy
The track eases its ascent to encircle a topographical feature known as La Herradura. This translates as The Horseshoe ??? a perfect description for this bowl, or corrie, carved from the mountains. On the far side of the river is the home of author and former Genesis drummer Chris Stewart, whose debut book Driving Over Lemons ??? which describes life in this corner of the Alpujarras ??? is a bestseller. Incidentally, La Herradura also shares its name with a holiday resort on the coast. Just thought I???d mention that in case you fancied a quiet walking holiday and booked a flat above an ice-cream parlour by mistake.
La Herradura is another garnet in the rock; and around a final corner ??? after passing through a goat farm bouncing with barking dogs ??? I discover the last garnet of the day: a second mysterious tunnel plunging into the mountainside.
I must admit, I was aware of this tunnel???s existence because I???d spotted it on Google Earth. It is part of the hydro-electric system and delivers workers and vehicles to a remote installation in the gorge of the Rio Poqueira, which branches off the Rio Trevelez at this point. The latter flows into the Rio Guadalfeo a short distance down the valley. If this was Scotland, this place would be known at The Meeting of the Waters or something as equally poetic.
Although there are warning signs barring the public from the tunnel, I can???t resist a peek and wander inside a hundred metres to take pictures. Then I hear an engine starting up deep inside the mountain, so I scuttle out smartly. Julian, Dick, Anne, George and Timmy the dog would have slipped behind a rock, concealed by the darkness. Me, being socially inferior and therefore lacking backbone, I stand outside whistling and admiring the view.
I head for home, following my outward route although avoiding the very private walled garden and the lady in the grass. Back at the Seven-Eye Bridge the campervan splutters into life, still suffering from the incurable malady mentioned in my previous post. No reliable transportation at the moment. Might have to think outside the box and spend some money. Now where did I see a double-decker bus?
The best walks are the ones with unexpected variations and curiosities. I have to say I’ve never gone walking and taken a jam butty with me. That’s a new one. Was it home made jam? You’ll have to find out how the bus got there; it must have a story to go with it.
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It was strawberry jam, and very nice too. I decided to have my breakfast out instead of before I set off. And for lunch I had another bun with cheese, tomato and chorizo I took with me. A bottle of wine would have been nice, but I take enough wrong turnings without confusing things more!
Cheers, Alen
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PS. No, it was shop jam.
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we used to take sugar sandwiches when we were poor. Just white bread with proper butter and white sugar sprinkled on it. It was like cake mix on bread and we used to love cleaning out the cake mix bowl!
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I still clean out the bowl now when Anne makes a cake. I use a spoon these days rather than a grubby finger.
Can’t say I’ve ever had a sugar sandwich. Brown sauce sandwich, yes, but not sugar. Might try one some time.
Alen
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try it – has to be proper butter and white bread
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Looks like it’s a good walk you’ve been on to, Alen. Have you found updated maps of the region? You begin to act like a hobbit with first, second, third and fourth meal. That’s the spirit! One should never skimp on food, while on hiking.
Once I drank whiskey liqueur on a walk in Portugal on a dusty hot summer day but it’s incredible what you can tolerate when you’re young ???? ????
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Yes, I have found a walker’s map of the Alpujarras, but it is very basic and the route I took on this walk is not marked at all. But it does show rough tracks and the GR footpaths, so it’s helpful.
I have been known to take a flask of whisky with me on walks, but I think I would find a liqueur a bit on the sweet side. Mind you, I wouldn’t refuse a sip if someone was offering.
Cheers, Alen
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That sounds great the map of yours!
I don’t know if you are familiar with ViewRanger?
Here is the link: http://www.viewranger.com/en-US
It’s free and there are lots of possibilities for different maps and tracks.
An outdoor organisation in Denmark gives the app a fiver ????
I got older since the days with liqueur so now I highly recommend a bitter, a Danish spice cut, with a strong and long bitter taste produced from currant berries….but only for outdoor use – you know like some deadly varnish and paint products.
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I gave up drinking varnish and paint products a long time ago after my ulcer was cured. But that Danish drink sounds nice. And thanks for the link. I shall use it.
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Haha! Have you ever seen City Heat/1984 with Clint Eastwood and Burt Reynolds taking a drink during Prohibition in the US. They have an obscure fluid standing under the kitchen sink. I love when they get ready with there coffee cups ????
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The Famous Five always had adventures. What a great way to look at life! Thanks for another captivating post and as ever, wonderful photos.
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I was looking through a list of Famous Five books on Wikipedia last night, trying to tick off the ones I have read. My favourite was about a ghost train in a tunnel on the moors, but I can’t remember the title. Might have to read them again.
Cheers, Alen
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I’ve got the first 10 and am re-reading them just now. I liked that one too and will try to remember to let you know which it was. My favourite is ‘Five go on a Hike Together’.
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Sounds like Enid Blyton’s sales are going to get a boost.
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Five go off to Camp (or something like that)
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Thank you.
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I was more into The Secret Seven. Though I seem to remember the stories being very similar. Used to borrow them from Boots Library in Darlington, don’t know why as I was regularly in the public library opposite The Northern Echo.
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Hi John. I don’t recall reading any Secret Seven novels. Perhaps it was a loyalty thing and I didn’t want to abandon the Famous Five.
Crown Street library ??? I used to go in there too. I love sitting in libraries.
Cheers, Alen
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Great post – those tunnels are really interesting and I’d have had to go in, barred or not! We used to walk through our railway tunnel (150 yards with a bend in the middle) when we were kids – I still make myself do it now sometimes. It’s a goods line and sometimes we only just made it through before a train came rumbling through. We never had torches though!
And OMG! that ibex! ???? What a terrible place to be leaping around on all that chossy rock above that horrible drop! They’re crazy!
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Must say I’ve never walked through an active railway tunnel, though we used to play on the tracks as kids and put our ears to the rails and listen for trains approaching. Kids don’t do stuff like that these days.
Those ibex (ibexes?) can climb anything. They must be the most sure-footed animals on the planet.
Cheers, Alen
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those ibex must be the most fearless animals when it comes to heights too! Wish I had their nerve – mind you, I’d probably be dead by now if I had!
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Very interessting reading, Allen. And very beautifull pictures. Looking foreward to see you in November. Give my love to Anne.
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Hi Tove. Thanks for that. Yes, see you soon.
Cheers, Alen
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Superb photos and a thrilling write. It just looks like an amazing land to explore
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Hi James. It sure is. Being in a strange country, and with very basic maps, every walk is an adventure.
Cheers, Alen
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My mum used to make sugar sandwiches when I was little, too. These days I always take jam sandwiches out on the hill – usually strawberry jam myself. Nice and moist, not too dry….. Mind you, I’m surprised you didn’t have some fresh eggs from a local farm and lashings of ginger beer.
Great walk by the way……!
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The lashings of ginger beer would have been very welcome indeed, Chrissie. I might take some next time because when you’ve downed nearly 1.5 litres of water you could do with a change, no matter how thirsty you are!
Cheers Alen
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Great post Alen and it makes a change from the higher levels that tend to draw us all with a wide vista in mind.
Very interesting historical facts regarding the bridge, we crossed it a couple of years ago whilst on holiday, the river was really running at the time after some very heavy rain, the rain was heavy enough to cause quite a few landslides onto the roads requiring a fair bit of swerving.
We stayed in La Herradura – the coastal resort; it is highly recommended for a low-key vacation as it is mainly frequented by Spanish families and the food at the various chiringuitos is delish and very good value.
Anyway Alen, delighted to see that you are making the most of your new life in Andalucia and I hope that the Camper shakes off it’s malady soon.
Cheers,
Alan
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Hi Alan. Yes, the other La Herradura is our favourite place on the coast ??? not as big and as popular as its neighbours Almunecar and Nerja, more of a quiet retreat with a few hotels and restaurants. A few hours on the beach then a three-course menu del dia for 6.50 euros each at a Chinese restaurant is just what a chap needs every once in a while. In fact, I think we’re due a visit now the holiday season is over.
Cheers, Alen
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