Tuesday 21st May 2019

We had been invited to join Jerry for a short holiday at his house in Andalusia on a number of occasions but at last we were able to accept. Margot had booked the flight to Malaga and Jerry would hire a car to take us onwards. It seemed that I just had to turn up. I had intended to do a little research before we went but kept putting it off. With only a few days left I asked Margot “Where exactly is it we’re going?” to which she replied “Look at Jerry’s email.” I couldn’t find it and gave up. So when we finally arrived at our destination I was surprised, but I’ll get to that soon enough.

Our flight to Malaga arrived at 2145. Jerry didn’t really want to drive the 2 hours then so we had booked a hotel in nearby Torremolinos. I have this thing I tell people about Torremolinos. My middle name is Douglas. My Mum and Dad chose it because they met in Douglas, Isle of Man, when on holiday. To which I respond, well I’m glad they didn’t meet in Torremolinos. Anyway, the next morning I had a brief chance to explore the aforementioned Mediterranean resort with a run along the sea front before breakfast. Then we set off along coastal motorway , circling Malaga before dropping down to the shoreline at Salobreña where we took a break. As we walked along above the beach we came upon octopi cooking in the open air. Margot and Jerry went for a coffee but I took the chance for a swim as it would be my only opportunity. Following a supermarket trip we turned north inland towards the Sierra Nevada Mountains whose snow-capped peaks lay ahead of us.

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I slowly began to realise that this was where we were headed. Soon we were in a region called La Alpujarra, on the south-facing slopes of the higher mountains where whitewashed villages cling like little assemblages of Lego bricks to the steep slopes. Our destination was Mecina at 1100 metres, one of five closely spaced villages collectively known as La Taha. Reaching there in early afternoon we left the car in the centre of Mecina and hauled our cases up the narrow cobbled alleys to Jerry’s house near the top. We had lunch on the terrace before setting out on a walk to get our bearings. Behind the house a steep path leads up to the neighbouring village of Pitres where we purchased a few items which we had forgotten earlier. Unfortunately the two bars with seating in the sun were closed so we returned to Mecina to enjoy a drink there as the sun set looking at the view across the valley of the rio Trevelez. On the opposite side is the Sierra de Mecina. In between, the river flows in a deep gorge. Jerry pointed out a track running along the side of the mountain opposite. He described a walk which involved going down to the river, across the gorge by a bridge, up a zigzag path to the track, along the track and then returning by a similar route at the other end. I subsequently found this walk mentioned in a local guide as the best walk in Alpujarra. Margot and I later admitted to each other that we couldn’t have imagined attempting this walk together assuming it would be too demanding for her. But Jerry seemed confident we’d manage.

Next morning in bright sunshine I had a run up to Pitres by one road, returning by another. I noticed that high up in this fairly remote area the roads were in great condition and envied any Spanish cyclists with these marvellously smooth surfaces to ride on. Our main excursion for the day took us down the valley again as far as Pampaneira where we stopped for a while before turning off up the next valley to Capileira, the second highest village in Spain at 1440 metres. The highest, Trevelez at 1480 metres, is at the top of another valley further east. There we had lunch in the central square, a 3-course menu del dia for € 10. We explored the steep streets and alleys and resisted the temptation to shop for things we would not have space to take home especially the locally made rugs.

Back at Mecina we relaxed for a while in the sun. Perhaps to let us get used to the idea of the long expedition Jerry suggested a walk taking in the first part of the route to get a closer look. We went east to the village of Ferreirola and beyond where we could see the zigzag path rising up on the other side. Then we returned via another village Fondales, which lies directly below Mecina.

Friday was cloudier as we set off around 1030 to walk the Sierra de Mecina. We retraced our steps beyond Ferreirola before dropping down to the bridge over the rio Trevelez which was almost out of sight concealed by vegetation deep in the gorge. Just by the bridge is a ruined flour mill which appeared to have been in use well into the 20th century. Soon we were climbing steeply up the path lined with yellow bushes of broom. Margot was stepping out smartly aided by two walking poles, including one bought specially in Capileira the previous day and surprised herself by how quickly she made it to the top. Here the path join a wide, more level track leading to a cortijo (traditional rural dwelling in Andalusia) at which point another track led westwards along the side of the Sierra. Soon we were looking back across at Mecina and the other villages of La Taha. Here we found a spot with a clear view and a flat place to sit for lunch. Our onward journey took us further west than we’d anticipated, then down another steep, winding path before turning east again to find another bridge below Fondales. Two other walkers had passed us and been passed on this descent. At last we stopped together at the bridge and introduced ourselves. They were an American couple from New York City on a walking holiday and staying in the hotel in Mecina. We got back to the house at 1630, very satisfied with what we had achieved and the wonderful landscape through which we had progressed. Later we replenished ourselves at the local pizzeria. An excellent day.