The Blue Colour of The Sky

EN 18 GRAZALEMA: THE WOUND OF WATER

2011-12-20T11:39:00.008+01:00

It is not an abyss. The wind sweeps through the false flat in the old glacier basin. Your eyes fill with frothing tears in the cold morning air, a razor to your skin. The air gets cold. The dew melts delicately. The bright blue sky plays host to the silent griffon vultures overflying the peaks. Grey summits about to crumble down. Impossible shapes. In this landscape, the steep, shapeless mounts blend with the ductile basin –a plain reaching for the horizon and beyond, skirting another plain full of twisted ancient oaks, cows, sheep, and pigs grazing freely around. A trail cuts across the heart of the plains –a visible scar long forgotten in a landscape that seems quite oneiric but no, here, beneath my feet, it is perfectly real. A land of grooves and scars, of lapies and poljes, of sinkholes and peaks. Welcome to Sierra de Grazalema Nature Park and the mysterious Llanos de Líbar.

Zooming In

Glaciers –moving ice-cold tongues– have shaped the karst formations of Grazalema at will, with the wisdom of time and amazing strength. Ice became water and water kneaded the earth as if it were dough (rock dough), breaking it, sinking it, enhancing it, tearing it off to create a landscape full of vertigo-inducing ravines, idyllic valleys, and steep walls. Water, a mere spark on the surface, has been leaking for ages, gnawing at the rock to create huge sinkholes or add zillions of broken scars. Llanos de Líbar are in fact one of the largest poljes in this Nature Park, and one of the most remarkable in Europe. Nooks and crannies where lambs hide and griffon vultures or eagles make their nests. Holes where guerrillas took shelter during the War of Independence, bandits hid in the nineteenth century, and the Maquis resisted authority in the twentieth. Dark cows browsing in the green meadows, munching the green oak sprouts, and pigs being fed in the shade. Málaga’s Grazalema goes beyond Llanos de Líbar to the banks of the Guadiaro river, spanning the village of Jimera de Líbar, Benaoján, and Cortes de la Frontera, sinking into El Hundidero en Montejaque and appearing 4km later in Cueva del Gato (Benaoján), boasting a world-class cave complex, and showing flabbergasting figures (a fish within a fish, a winged man) in Cueva de la Pileta. Málaga’s Grazalema is glorious, impressive, and different. Today, I am visiting Llanos de Líbar, a place where you can feel the power of the earth and get turned into a speck of dust.

Sierra de Grazalema Nature Park

First of all, let’s feed you with some breadcrumbs about this Nature Park. It has a surface area of 51,695ha, 14,900 of which are in Málaga Province (4,556ha in Montejaque, 4,531ha in Cortes de la Frontera, 2,919ha in Ronda, 2,152ha in Benaoján, and 742ha in Jimera de Líbar). Nature knows nothing about administrative puzzles, so the park jumps from one village to the next, from one province to the next, making a whole that is greater than the sum of its territorial parts. Since 1977, Grazalema has been a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. In 1984, it was designated as a National Park. Overall, it spans 13 towns and villages: to Benaoján, Montejaque, Cortes de la Frontera, Ronda, and Jimera de Líbar in Málaga, we should add Grazalema and Zahara de la Sierra, Villaluenga del Rosario, Benaocaz, Ubrique, El Bosque, Prado del Rey, and El Gastor in the province of Cádiz. More facts: The park’s highest peak is El Torreón (1,654m) and the lowest point can be found in El Bosque. They are just 10km apart, which gives an idea of how abrupt things can get: impressive slopes and twisting roads for a breathtaking landscape. Man settled in the area in the dawn of time: traces of Upper Palaeolithic life were found in Cueva de la Pileta. However, it was only when prehistory was over that settlements became permanent: the Romans, the Arabs, the Christians... Later on, the valleys and gorges of Grazalema were stage and silent witnesses to the bloody battle of the War of Spanish Independence against France. In the nineteenth century, they made shelter for bandits, and in the twentieth they protected the Maquis against Franco’s dictatorship. What remained unchanged throughout the ages, however, was farming and shepherding. In them, man struck balance between livelihood and sustainability, feeding off the park and feeding their cows and sheep too. This respectful ways of living shaped the landscape too; just like water. Cherish the trees, nurture the meadows, protect the valley –this has been locals’ motto for ages. This is why plant and animal species have come down to us as they were in early times. Over 1,300 higher plants, including oaks, holm oaks, gall oaks, wild olives, cork oaks, a few Spanish firs, mallows, Friar’s cowls, thorny brooms, thistles, poppies, thyme, junipers and, on the banks of the river, poplars, willows, and elm trees. Likewise, many animal species have their habitats in the region: wild goats and griffon vultures, foxes and otters, deer and roe deer, golden eagles, Bonelli’s eagles, ospreys, Eurasian eagle-owls, black kites, Egyptian vultures, and even peregrine falcons. It rains a lot in Grazalema. It rains non-stop. About 2,000 l per square metre a year. It is one of the wettest regions in Spain –wetter than many areas in the north. All these features have given rise to an unusual landscape where nature and man have come to terms and coexist peacefully. A densely populated area where man is respectful and nature can be seen at its wildest and most glorious. A seemingly impossible combination that makes the landscape and your trip quite rich.

Los Llanos de Líbar

A zigzagging track across the polje, like a child’s drawing on the sand. Smoothly winding, flanked by sand castles, by lapies. Shaped by water acting like the tongue of the sea. Man feels too little here, faced with geological grandeur... I cannot even imagine the forces required to create this moonlike landscape. A modest cattle trail starting in Montejaque –the “Lost Mountain” according to the Arabs– connects El Hundidero with Cortes de la Frontera, cutting across Llanos de Líbar. 10.5km further afield, in the depths of Sierra de Grazalema, they morph into Llanos del Republicano. Trails and paths crisscrossing a valley carved in stone, a valley that shows its heart to the bright blue sky, a valley geologists call “polje” and laymen cannot find the words to name it. My tour begins in the north of Montejaque, just behind Hostal La Cabaña, where an information panel shows a route and a brief description of it. Reading it, I begin to picture the route. After the first climb up the Sierra de Juan Diego, I reach Llano de los Almendros. Then, an impressive lapies leading to the plains and meadows of Pozuelo. Crossing an ancient oak grove, I come to Llanos de Líbar, where there is a cortijo. Then, a boundless plain leading to Fuente de Líbar, and I am now at Llanos del Republicano. The whole route is made of roads or trails in different condition. Although some can be difficult to drive along, they can all be negotiated on foot. Most visitors do the first –tougher– part by car (up to the oak grove) and then walk to the end of the route. However, discovering all the surprises in this landscape and doing so little by little is one of the best things about this tour. The route is best enjoyed exploring its layers, looking at its ever-changing heart, feeling the impossible formations standing against the bright blue sky (which remind me of El Torcal) with your fingers, watching the majestic, almost static flights of the griffon vultures (there is a huge colony in the area), walking past the grazing cows and their munching of oak leaves, hearing a tiny lamb bleat as it trots by its mother’s side, taking a look at the aggressive Iberian pigs as they feed behind the fence, seeing a thousand and one figures in the twisted oaks that wave their hands at the valley, taking shelter in an ancient hollow tree, staring at the sun as it glitters on the flat summit rocks, trying to count the grey shades painting the surrounding landscape, comparing the tractor ploughing the land to a huge mechanical horse in the style of the Far West, feeling the freezing cold cut your face upon leaving the sheltering trees in the valley, staring at the final plain –the promised land– in astonishment: an open circus backstitched by the pointed mountains, peppered with the ochre spots of cows; stepping on the soft grass, breathing in the suddenly intense aromas of nature. On my way back, silent and magical, I can feel the power of the earth, the connection with it. I have the feeling I am one with the universe, just a tiny particle in it. A prosaic ritual –a must for travellers: lunch under an oak on a deck behind a stone wall. The smell of my potato tortilla, the energy of cold meats, the intoxicating flavours of Moroccan sweets, the good company, the deep, comforting talk, the feeling of freedom, the sense of union with the universe. I return with my senses tuned, feeling the warm sun on me as it rocks in the horizon –a loyal companion putting his arm around my shoulders. Upon leaving Llanos de Líbar, I make a promise to myself: I’ll be back.

Farewell

Embracing the mountains in an endless dream. Imagining the figures drawn by karst against the horizon. Letting the plains drive you across town boundaries. Letting them make their own map with thick woods, farming fields, and mountain tops. Málaga’s Grazalema is unusual and provocative. It invites you to explore and enjoy, to go down its trails and plunge into adventure. It invites you to have a really intense experience.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Other hiking routes in Grazalema, Málaga: Besides the route described here in Llanos de Líbar, the Sierra de Grazalema has other hiking routes across Málaga Province to offer. These include: Cueva del Gato, Guadiaro river, Camino de Huertas Nuevas (New Orchards’ Trail), Camino de la Dehesa (Meadow Trail), Camino de la Fuente (Fountain Trail), Old Road to Ronda, Cañada del Olivar, El Pimpollar, and Hundidero.

Hundidero-Gato system:

Hundidero-Gato system: “In the early twentieth century, the idea came up of building a dam on the river Guadares, just before it disappears into El Hundidero, with the aim of generating electricity. After conducting studies and preparing the roads, the dam was built using the Hundidero gorge, a wound in the surface of the earth down to the opening of the Hundidero-Gato system. But the spillway never worked and the dam never filled. The best two fills occurred in 1941 and 1947. What’d happened? The engineers who built the dam hadn’t taken leakages into account. The water in the reservoir leaked through the porous rocks and the river fed further below. This mistake resulted in an impressive water retaining system and an empty dam. However, the engineers didn’t give up. They came up with a second ingenuous plan: sealing off the access to the Hundidero-Gato system. This meant waterproofing a pit which was 5km long. Two teams of ten workers each would come in from both El Hundidero and Cueva del Gato to take a look at the cave in full, which had never been fully inspected before. This happened in 1929. The two teams, carrying carbide lamps, rope ladders, and barges made with barrels, took thirty days to accomplish their mission. They met at the centre, guiding themselves by shouting. When they got out, they talked of beautiful things inside.. It was an oddly-shaped cave, the result of centuries-old water erosion, a geological wonder that has become a must-see among spelunkers. By October 1929, the trail inside had been finished. But the water always managed to find its way through new crevices. The Spanish Civil War brought the project to an end, and now the cave is a haven for cave experts or adventurers only. Those who’ve been inside this huge natural pipe say you can still see the traces of the old unsuccessful work. Dilapidated ladders, bridges, and elements pointing to human activity. The project failed; what remains is a monument to man’s hubris and victorious nature.” Excerpt from “Montejaque: On the Brink of the Abyss of El Hundidero,” post No. 14 of this blog.

Useful links: All the information on Grazalema can be found on the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. The Jimera de Líbar, Ronda, Cortes de la Frontera, Montejaque, and Benaoján Town Hall websites also contain information about it. Likewise, you can find useful data on food, historical and cultural heritage, things to do, hiking routes, etc. in this blog’s entries on these five villages. You can search for the texts using the search tool on the right.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Nature Park on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande
I would like to thank Paco and Sara for their company, high-spirited talk, and food supplies
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EN 16 THE FAULT OF CAMORRO: FRACTURED ROCK

2011-12-19T11:40:00.003+01:00

Surrounded by a belt of pine trees, the fault rises up against the bright blue sky. El Camorro is looking at me, sizing me up with a posture similar to a Greek statue. Its silhouette shows the hollow of the Cave of Belda –a wound in the mountains, a promise to enter a magic labyrinth. The fault of Sierra del Camorro looks like a ship aground in the olive groves. Broken ground forged in the primeval fires sprouting from the fault. There it stands, waiting for me to conquer it, to come near the fault, to unveil the secrets of the Earth and meet the demon that –legend has it– lives inside.

Zooming In

The fault of El Camorro and the sierras stand crowning Cuevas de San Marcos, a village stretching from the tranquil basin of the Genil river up to the Cave of Belda. It is a deceivingly mild area in Sierra Norte, Nororma, with rolling hills peppered with olive trees. It is a land of invisible ravines –impossible mouths of the crying earth. The fault is a child of savage Nature, of powerful forces that press and move and break and raise the rocks. In the past, their compressive strength produced faults that opened to see the massif emerge from their entrails and move in two directions to acquire its present shape. The crack opened to reveal karst topography, highly vulnerable to erosion, which has carved holes, cavities, and caves (like Belda) in the rock. Being secluded and inaccessible, the area attracted the Arabs, who built a city, Medina de Belda, in the higher part of the fault. From high up you can see the roads leading to Córdoba or Granada, and the clouds of dust made by the farming machines. I look up at the highest point and let the morning air paint today’s version of El Camorro.

Falla de la Sierra del Camorro Natural Monument

Designated a Natural Monument in 1999, it is a large area (1,086,057 sq m) that includes not only the fault but also the massif. Although natural monuments are usually designated to protect individual elements in rather small areas, this is not the case. In fact, the original target was the fault, but it was impossible to protect it without the sierras it is part of. The area is home to Aleppo pines, spiny brooms, turpentine trees, common hawthorns, and orchids. In addition, there are some century-old holm oaks –a remnant of the oak grove that used to be here. Animal species include foxes, rabbits, hares, partridges, Eurasian eagle-owls, Bonelli’s eagles, and griffon vultures. However, the largest population in the area is that of bats, taking shelter in cavities and holes in the rock. Three are the things to see: the Cave of Belda, the old town of Medina de Belda, and Senda de los Milenios Visitor Centre. The recently-opened visitor centre can be a good place for a first approach to El Camorro. A series of boards and other educational resources explain how this Natural Monument was formed. There is also a brief guide to Cuevas de San Marcos and the region of Nororma. The centre is housed in a modern building, whose architectural features match the surrounding landscape. The Cave of Belda, in Sierra del Camorro, is a north-south-oriented 350m-deep cave of great archaeological, geological, and biological value. It consists of a karst gallery featuring stalactites and stalagmites. The cave’s mouth is big and oval-shaped (6m x 12m), with a flight of steps carved out of the rock. A high and narrow corridor leads to the first room, where the most interesting findings were made: pottery and evidence of human presence (maybe burial items), high domes, three accessible lakes, massive columns (over 1m in diameter), and charming corners. Plus, one of the largest bat colonies in Europe (source: Town Hall website). About Medina de Belda: In his Geography, Ptolemy writes about a village called “Belda” (298 B.C.). In Roman times, it was one of the wealthiest cities in Hispania Baetica. A bronze coffin, amphorae, and coins from the Low Roman Empire attest to this. The summit of Cerro del Camorro still has traces of the Muslim village: thirteenth- and fourteenth-century room floors, parts of stucco walls, dry-string tiles, and the fort’s foundations. A lot of information to munch on. Let us get started.

Tour 1: The Cave of Belda

A sign indicates the duration of the first part of the route, PR-A234-Cueva de Belda (953m, 17 min.). I am ready in this wet autumn morning, dew drops still perched on the grass crunching under my boots. A strong smell of soft, wet earth. The route skirts the belt of pine trees surrounding El Camorro –a silent grey wood, full of rocks that have come down the sierras. Nothing is heard but my footsteps. The wood seems to be watching me. A beautiful, mildly rolling trail. El Camorro hides behind the tree tops. Despite its size, it manages to remain out of sight. Before undertaking the climb, I take a few more steps and get to a clearing where I can get a glimpse of the massif. The morning appears behind the mountains –a cloak of light invading the meadows and the soaring trees. I can hear the birds and the echoes from the rock slopes of the sierras. The heart of Cuevas de San Marcos beats here, in the shadows that mirror the hustle and bustle of the town centre, in the barks of stray dogs. The trail cuts into the woods and the trees fall apart at its feet, in a difficult yet beautiful balance. The slope and the rocks beneath the surface (preventing Aleppo pines from sinking their roots in the earth) make the path difficult to negotiate. It has a dizzying effect. You stand still, look around, and everything seems to be leaning and about to fall. In fact, some trees have succumbed to the pressure. As the wood loses thickness, the savage gorge appears before me, carved by the wise old hands of Nature. It is mesmerising: what lies before me and what lies beyond. The Iznájar reservoir, where the Genil river goes to rest, lies on the border with Córdoba. It shows its mouth to us and affords views of the blue sheet of water, shimmering under the reflection of the ochre and brownish olive lands surrounding it. The hills roll up and down, adjoining the lines of olive trees as if someone had drawn them with a square and a triangle. The trail finds its way among the wet rocks. (Watch your step here!) The path is in good condition; there are even stretches with a handrail or trunks to guide your footsteps on the ground. A gate opens to a metal ladder leading to the Cave of Belda. But it is closed. Brickwork tools indicate the area is undergoing rehabilitation. Of course, there is a way of going through the gate. It is not very elegant, but it is there if you want to take a look. The views are spectacular, so I take my time (and seat) to enjoy them. The huge fault, the rock slopes reaching for the sky protect my back. I wanted to come full circle along the trail, the slopes of the sierras, and the climb to Medina de Belda. But the rain has made the trail inaccessible, so I have to go down and take the trip in the opposite direction.

Tour 2: To Medina de Belda

The road to Medina de Belda is not difficult at all. It is a well-kept trail known as “Carril de la Cantera” (Lane to the Quarries), as it leads to the old quarries. You can even drive along some stretches. I prefer to walk, to discover a new landscape at every step. Cuevas de san Marcos appears and then vanishes behind the trees, giving way to the olive-peppered hills that roll up and down at will. Surprise here and there: signs telling the Latin name of plants –rosemary and flax-leaved daphne, fig trees, Iberian thyme, marjoram… I stroll at an easy step, the fault always ahead of me. The sun rises in the horizon, illuminating different parts of the sierras. The atmosphere gets warmer. At a given point, the path forks out and narrows down so that cars can move no further. The road ahead leads back to the Cave of Belda; the road on the right-hand side brings you to the climb up to Medina de Belda. After checking the condition of the ground, I go all the way up to the old Nasrid village. The settlers chose this place for two reasons: natural shelter and strategic location (you can watch and thus control the whole area). A beautiful, cool autumn morning. The rocks keep traces of the previous night in the form of dew drops. A wide panoramic view opens up before me. With the Iznájar reservoir to the right and the olive trees to the left and in front of me, I sit down. I know I am one of the chosen few right now.

Despedida: la visita del diablo

Legend has it that in the Cave of Belda there used to live a demon. Sulphur smell and creepy figures reflected in the cave’s walls pointed in that direction. One night, a group of Christian soldiers spent the night near the cave and the encounter was unavoidable. The governor of Antequera sent a priest to the cave to put an end to the evil presence. But the exorcism was useless against the devil’s wisdom. Defeated, the monk tore off the cross hanging from his neck and shouted a final imprecation: “With this cross, I’ll tie you in.” Amazingly, it had the desired effect: the devil disappeared and was never seen again. During the Reconquista, the village changed its Arab name, “Belda,” to “Cuevas de San Marcos,” for the massif had the shape of a lion –the symbol of St Mark. But this is just what they say.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: All the information on El Camorro can be found on the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. To read about Cuevas de San Marcos, check the Town Hall website and the corresponding entry in this blog (September 30, 2010).

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Natural Monument on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 15 MARO-CERRO GORDO CLIFFS: FIGUREHEAD

2011-12-19T09:32:00.013+01:00

The Sierras de Tejeda, Almijara y Alhama sink their bow in the sea, like a pirate ship frothing in the waves. The vertical walls and the elastic sea blend in a unique picture. The ship seems to be ready to pitch again, to ride the waves, as if the sierras wanted to escape their fate. The clash of the titans gives birth to the natural area of the Maro-Cerro Gordo Cliffs. It is an ambiguous, savage land forged by the erosive power of the sea and the robustness of the mountains sinking in it. It morphs following the whims of the sea, reinventing itself to create different, fickle landscapes. When the sea is calm, it shows a kind face. When it is rough, it shows a fiercer look. Let us leave solid ground to enter the whimsical world of the Blue Giant.

Zooming In

This coastal area is home to an amazing ecosystem and landscape. No Costa del Sol smoothness here: a unique place where the sea and the mountains get together in radical combinations of steep slopes and vital marine corners. The twists and turns of the rocks give rise to inaccessible clear-water, fine-sand beaches. So secluded are they that they can only be reached by connoisseurs, or by local hippies who like to spend even Málaga’s short winters amidst their reeds. Two hiking routes afford views of the cliffs from the coast and the mountains. However, the best place to look at and experience them is the sea: kayaking between stone walls, paddling down narrow paths, swimming in pools, snorkelling in coves, feeling the power of the sea beneath your feet… a unique experience. To write this article, I contacted Educare Aventura (Burriana beach, Nerja), an active travel company organising a wide range of activities, including kayaking tours of the cliffs (more info at www.educare-aventura.com). But before the adventure, a few facts and figures.

Maro-Cerro Gordo Cliffs Natural Area

We are now in a SPAMI –a Specially Protected Area of Mediterranean Importance, as designated by the United Nations. It is a narrow coastal strip, 12km long and 1mi into the Alboran Sea (395 land and 1,415 sea hectares), spanning two provinces, namely, Málaga (Nerja) and Granada (Almuñécar). Its semi-arid climate makes it home to unusual species for a coastal area. In fact, it is the only place in the world where tree germander and box grow together. To them we should add Aleppo pines, the crops in the terraces of the cliffs, overlooking the sea, mastic tree, common juniper, carob trees, wild olives, European fan palms, Prosopis juliflora, and common sea-buckthorn. More curious species include sea rosemary, cliff immortelles, and sea fennel. However, one of the area’s greatest treasures is the marine flora: posidonia and marine phanerogams that are native to the Mediterranean. Posidonia share their narrow space with man, for indiscriminate fishing has pulled them out as if they were just grass. It is a pity, for they attract hundreds of endangered marine species, such as marine sponges, corals, sea anemones, and molluscs like limpets or noble pen shells. And there is more: the cliffs that sink into the sea house seagulls, ocellated lizards, kestrels, falcons, chameleons and, surprisingly enough, Spanish ibexes. If you go deep into the water, you can come across conger eels, grouper fish, sea bass, moonfish, moray eels, dolphins, and turtles. The rich variety of this marine-terrestrial ecosystem is unique in Málaga Province. To enjoy it, you can take a few hiking routes across the cliffs and down to the coves, reaching unspoilt rock beaches like Molino de Papel, woods like El Cañuelo, or sandbanks like Cantarriján. But looking at the cliffs at sea level is also worthwhile if you want to appreciate their height, granite mass, interplay with the sea –the sinuous way in which the Mediterranean lassoes the feet of the rocky giants and seems to be knocking them down. Our trip today will get us to the blue giant to show us the majestic cliffs of Maro-Cerro Gordo.

En el mar

A bright blue sky, only stained by a few gray clouds coming down from the mountains. A bright blue sea with gentle waves and crystalline water. This trip I made with the help of Educare Aventura. They gave me a kayak and some basic instructions to use it, a scuba-diving snorkel, and a three-hour guided tour for €15. In autumn and winter, tours depart at 11:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. at weekends (tides permitting). If you are in for a great sunset, the afternoon ride is your choice (full contact details and more info at www.educare-aventura.com). I choose the morning tour (it is Saturday). After signing up and paying my fee, I meet the guides/instructors, José and Alberto, and my companions: a German family with two kids (a boy and a girl, probably under 10), a silent girl from some European country, and another man. While still on solid ground, we are shown how to paddle. Just the basics to enjoy our trip. It is so easy that it is apt for neophytes. Besides, if you get into trouble, there are the instructors to help you out. Our kayaks touch the Alboran Sea with their noses. It is a cool, stimulating morning. We are heading east, towards the impressive cliffs. We can make them out in the distance, standing against the sky and plunging into the sea. Under a wide array of arbitrary shapes, they look like sombre islands. Black-headed gulls glide overhead until the find an impossible hole to land in. Each stroke brings us closer to the cliffs and makes them look even more majestic. We can hear the waves beating against the rocks. We can see how the water has bored through the walls, piercing the granite at a patient and unflagging pace. First mythical landmark: Cascada de la Doncella, a delicate waterfall that resembles a water-drop film. I can picture the maid –or, better, mermaid– taking a bath, resting her tail on the rocks. We get closer to the edgy walls and feel their power as they loom in front of us. We touch the jutting rocks; they are as sharp as daggers. The waves are rougher now, and the sea beats our kayaks with a little more strength. It reaches every nook and cranny, filling them in and then emptying them in thunderous ebbing. I would not like to be here when the Mediterranean wakes up, wrapped in its sound and fury. The rocks and the waves make you feel so fragile… Pasaje del Silencio: a silent oasis in the middle of a boisterous landscape. We move on, paddling delicately, using our paddles to lean against the rocks. The open sea again, but close to the soaring cliffs. We can see the green crests high above, or the fences of the farming fields. Ochre, brown, and dark grey shades on the rock walls. Tiny coves where nostalgic men and women –survivors of the hippie movement– have built their houses with reeds. You can see them with their flapping clothes, staring at the deep-blue sea. The arbitrary shapes have given rise to formations with names of their own: “Gran Genital,” “Camaleón,” etc. Rocks carved by the sea and the wind. Two men are watching us from one of the cliffs. The seagulls keep flying overhead, squawking, landing on the rocky islands. There are places where the sea’s echo booms loudly. The rocks break the waves in a splashing show. Being in the precipices is a gratifying experience. You are aware of your presence in an almost inaccessible place, with the sea-through water under you kayak playing hide-and-seek with the rocks at the bottom, plus the sun and the salt residue. We stop at La Caletilla beach to regain strength. A few more hippie homes stand facing the sea. Some of their dwellers are lying in the sun. At the far end of the beach, a hand-made raft with a white sail. We talk about the landscape, active travel, Nerja, and kayaking in Málaga and Andalusia. We are told this was the setting of the famous scene in “Verano Azul” where Pancho cried, “Chanquete is dead! Chanquete is dead!” Back to the sea. Some of the rocks seem to be about to fall. The waves keep flooding secluded coves that seem to emerge out of nowhere. The cliff immortelles hang above our heads. Fresh watercourses flow into the sea, getting mixed with the salty water.. Next landmark: Cascada Grande. Water falling 15m in all its might. Our kayaks get closer to the waterfall, and Alberto encourages us to paddle under it. What a surprisingly splashing experience! Through the tube of the watercourse we can see two mountaineers, ready to go rappelling. José explains that in spring, when waterfalls are mightier, it is not possible to go under Cascada Grande. I look and listen. Then I look up. So many metres. It is really overwhelming. There are other secrets like this one in the natural area of the Maro-Cerro Gordo Cliffs. The peculiar combinations of the sierras and the sea lend magic to the place and give free reign to the imagination. On the way back, you can go scuba-diving and treasure hunting in the bottom of the sea. Fabulous creatures and posidonia all around. If you are brave enough, you can even explore Cueva del Lobo, the Wolf’s Cave. I paddle back slowly, savouring the trip, wrapped in bright noon sunlight. I take a look at the crops, at the goats balancing atop the cliffs. I can see La Maroma behind the clouds, as high as 2,068m. Nerja is coming closer, or we are coming closer to Nerja. Someone at the Balcony of Europe may be looking at us. Maybe it is the egregious effigy of King Alfonso XII. As Burriana beach gets larger, we gather momentum and paddle towards the seashore. The noses of our kayaks kiss the sand. Grrrrssss. Grrrrsssss. We are on the beach. We get out. We take pictures. Click. Click. The sea is all smiles behind us.

Farewell

The wind howls in the rocks; the waves break against the cliffs. A white sail flaps in the near horizon –too weak a structure for the mighty Mediterranean. A long-haired, rough-bearded man clothed in rags is the captain. He gets around a rocky outcrop and heads for the open sea. A modern Robinson Crusoe. He leaves La Caletilla beach, the impervious cliffs, and the crystal-clear water of Maro behind. He will be back. And so will I.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: All the information on the Maro-Cerro Gordo Cliffs can be found in the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. To read about Nerja, check the Nerja Town Hall website and the corresponding entry in this blog: 93 NERJA: Intensely Blue. Finally, to contact Educare Aventura, go to the corporate website.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Natural Area on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 14 LOS GAITANES GORGE: THE LEGEND

2011-12-19T09:05:00.003+01:00

The crowned head leaned out. He saw the gorge carved by the wise hands of Nature. The mountain split in half and a mighty river flowing in the middle. A walkway hung from the walls reaching up for the bright blue sky. The king stepped on it. He felt the powerful vibration of the water coming up from the rocky outcrop. Gently, Alfonso XIII turned on his feet and left. Since then, the walkway has been called “El Caminito del Rey” (King’s Trail). Nobody knows if the name has to do with its being so narrow or with the King’s visit on May 21, back in 1921.

Zoom in

Los Gaitanes is a legendary natural area, an open secret, a magic place hikers and mountaineers tell stories about. Every new murmuring voice makes the myth grow bigger. They say birds fly beneath your feet, the air flowing up is so powerful it can tear all anchorage off, the stone walls shudder at the roaring river, a train took two hikers by surprise in the middle of a long tunnel, the concrete in the trail gives way when inexperienced travellers tread on it, leaving them hanging in the vacuum, in some areas the stone walls get so close no sunlight can get in, at night you can hear the footsteps of those who died due to lack of care… Myth, legend, and reality blend in this impossibly beautiful natural area. Now it is closed to the public until the rehabilitation work comes to completion. When it is finished, Los Gaitanes Gorge will be one of the most outstanding tourist attractions in Málaga Province. In this trip, I can only take a look from the outside, but it will be enough to tell you about it, to take pictures and shoot images, to make the legend grow.

Los Gaitanes Gorge Natural Area

I can feel the might of falling water thumping beneath my feet. Man has taken advantage of this power to generate electricity and give rise to the landscape surrounding the gorge. In the hilly plains of Guadalteba, three sheets of water glitter under the sun. They embrace the gorge where the Guadalhorce river flows whose name it has lent to the whole area. The reservoirs are Conde de Guadalhorce, Guadalteba, Guadalhorce, and Tajo de la Encantada. Together, they capture the deceitfully mild landscape of the region. But the gateway to the secret world of the never-ending gorge housing one of the oldest hydro-electric power stations in Spain is the reservoir of Gaitanejo. Man and Nature seem to have agreed to create an amazing landscape here. And History has played her role too: riots, conquests, impregnable castles, Umar ibn Hafsun, the ruins of Bobastro, Mesas de Villaverde, churches carved in the rock. I can fancy those legendary horsemen galloping past the Aleppo pines and the stone pines, the holm oaks and the eucalypti, the hawthorns and the gorse, the rockrose and the savins. Or looking up at the golden eagles, common kestrels, sparrowhawks, and griffon vultures flying over their heads. Or feeding on Spanish ibexes, rodents, and freshwater fish swimming upstream. All these species still live in the 2,016 hectares of this natural area. Biologists even say they have spotted a couple of Egyptian vultures. The gorge has a slope of almost 800m: it is 240m above sea level on its lowest point and 1,195 on its peak in Sierra Huma. It was designated as an Outstanding Area in 1987 and a Natural Area in 1989. The natural area spans the villages of Ardales, Álora, and Antequera. The gorge itself has its origin in Ardales and its terminus in Álora. In between, there is a 5km ravine whose stone walls can be up to 70m high and get as close as 10m to the opposite side. In some stretches, the gorge’s depth is 400m. It owes its beauty to erosion, sandstorm and limestone, and the power of water. There are three main trails inside the natural area: Sendero de Haza del Río, Sendero de Sierra Huma, and Sendero del Gaitanejo. I have chosen Gaitanejo –a moderately difficult-to-easy 5.5km trail that takes two hours to complete. Clearly signposted, it leads from Mirador de los Tres Embalses to the Gaitanejo Hydro-Electric Power Station. From the station you can access, off the beaten path, the entrance to Caminito del Rey, and then back to the viewpoint skirting the cool, shady reservoir.

Trail of Gaitanejo, Part 1

It is clearly signposted and easy to follow. Before reaching the Conde del Guadalhorce reservoir housing complex and restaurants, a detour to the right shows the way to the trail of Gaitanejo. A dirt road before a tunnel leads to the viewpoint of Tres Embalses. 400m ahead of the viewpoint there is the entrance to the trail, accompanied by an information board, a map, and a barrier blocking access to unauthorised vehicles. I park my car nearby and get ready to go. The delicate trail stands in sharp contrast to the majestic mountains in the direction of El Chorro, which seem to pop out of nowhere –a fit of the earth, an angry gesture. They reach up and up, the gorge being a wound in the rocks. Peaks that seem to be the result of chisel work before erosion. The emerald-green water of the Guadalhorce river glitters down there, at the bottom of the valley. If you follow the course with your eyes, you can see the dams of the Gaitanejo reservoir. I get wrapped in the fresh aromas of the autumn morning, the intense smell of pines. I can hear my footsteps in the gravel: crish-crish-crish. A flock of tweeting birds in the crown of a tree takes me by surprise. Green against green, the Guadalhorce zigzags between its carved banks, past the woods, the shrubs, the reed. Voices of men suddenly come to me. The acoustics of the place brings them so close… They seem to be right here, by my side. I turn around but see nothing. The voices come from down there, from the river bed. I reach a 100m tunnel. No need for a torch: both the entrance and the exit are visible, and the tunnel lets the sun in. My footsteps echo in the vaulted space. As I walk down the trail, I can see the peculiar rock formations: how the clay has crumbled, leaving cavities and holes. In fact, the phenomenon known as taffoni is usual in the region, becoming evident in the trail connecting the exit of Los Gaitanes in El Chorro and the Ardales road with the reservoirs along the bank of the Granadillo stream. Taffoni in all shades and sizes. Since the dawn of time, man has taken advantage of erosion for shelter, making houses or cattle enclosures out of caves. In the next reservoir I am going to visit, some of these houses can be seen. They used to belong to the workers of the power station. I can now hear the murmur of water. As I get closer to the dam, it gets louder and more persistent. I can also see the power station, the access blocked by the metal gate. To the left, the water falling in the dam and the trail sign. Next to the gate, a path leads to Caminito del Rey, but the sign warns, “Caminito del Rey: impassable trail. Stay clear. Danger.”

Caminito del Rey

I cannot resist the temptation to get to the place and lean out. It is just 200m around the power station. Access blocked, but it is there. The legendary trail: Caminito del Rey. Still, you can take a look at the impressive gorge. In 1921, King Alfonso XIII visited the area on the occasion of the opening ceremony of the Conde del Guadalhorce dam. Besides admiring this large-scale engineering feat, the King wanted to see Los Gaitanes Gorge from the Gaitanejo reservoir and the railway by El Chorro. For the King, and also for the men working in the area, the engineers leading the project designed a projecting 5km walkway going into the gorge with a 400m slope. The walk way was 70m high in some stretches, hanging above the narrow bed of the river. The gorge became really narrow at times: only 10m wide. The wind roared amidst the rocks at breakneck speed. The beauty of the whole thing was undeniable. Official chronicles say the King went all the way along the caminito, making wise remarks on the hydraulic works and the railway project and laudatory comments on the beautiful landscape. The workers who went with him, however, say that, when he say the walkway, only 1m wide and hanging in the middle of nowhere, he kindly refused to take a step forward. The trail has since then been known as “Caminito del Rey.” We will probably never know if the diminutive has to do with the trail’s width or its length. Leaning out is an overwhelming experience. The roaring water falls abruptly into the narrow river. The thunder seems to climb up the steep walls, reaching up for the open sky. The trail shakes at the power of the river. I can see the first stretches of Caminito del Rey, hanging like a sort of balcony. Endless walls up and down. The trail is dilapidated and broken. The warning does not leave room for doubt: stay clear. There are lots of videos on the Web from people who have done it anyway, walking along the shaky trail. Some use ropes and harnesses. Some do not.

Nature makes us feel so small. Certainly, a majestic, aggressive, radical, intoxicating, impressive, unique environment.

Trail of Gaitanejo, Part 2

Back to the trail of Gaitanejo. The images and sounds of the narrow gorge keep bubbling in my head. The sound becomes an echo, a murmur, a part of the legend. When you see the peaceful water in the reservoir, you cannot guess that, 200m from there, a cut, a wound in the mountains changes the whole thing. The trail back to the viewpoint is cool and shady, amidst pines and eucalypti, by the greenish Guadalhorce, in an interplay of bends and meanders. Taffoni can be seen on the rocks across the river. Some of them are protected by what looks like adobe walls. “The Cathedral” is right there: a natural monument resembling the frontispiece of a church. The sandstorm has come off, giving rise to countless cavities on a huge vertical wall. An arch seems to crown the whole structure. “The Cathedral” is reflected in the undulating river, which constructs and deconstructs the image all the time. I can hear the voices again, but now they come from up there. More birds flapping their wings and flying away. The clucking birds splash around. They fly very low, almost hugging the water with the tips of their wings. A great walk, ideal for kids. And one of the most important power stations in Andalusia. From the river bed, you get back to the viewpoint of Tres Embalses from the lower part. The huge mouth of the Guadalhorce reservoir becomes visible first, followed by the Conde del Guadalhorce reservoir. Their drainage systems reach the bottom of the river, pressure withhold the mighty water. The pine trees lead to forking paths: up to the viewpoint and the car or ahead to a tunnel and panoramic views of Conde del Guadalhorce. Right of the tunnel exit, there is El Kiosko, a restaurant to replenish your energy reserves. My choice: going up. Great views. Stark contrast between the quite water in the reservoir and the chaotic gorge. It cannot be the same water, boring through the rock and splitting it in half. Leaning on the wooden rail, I stare at the landscape of Guadalteba, with Ardales and the Turón river in the background. I take a deep breath and think how variegated, polyhedral, and unique Málaga is.

Farewell

The roaring beneath my feet. The thundering water. The steep walls reaching up for the bright blue sky. The rickety balcony plunging into the gorge. The echoes of a thousand myths and legends, of stories going down a narrow path, of History, of bold and reckless adventurers. The workers who built the trail did not know they were carving the link between human action and nature, thus giving birth to a matchless environment. I think I can make out a tiny king, swallowed by overpowering Nature. Let us wait for the rehabilitation project to be completed, and it will be our footsteps that can be heard, echoing those of the people who walked along the trail before us. My companion whispers in my ear, “I did it. I walked along Caminito del Rey.” I turned around, but the voice vanishes in the rocky walls.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: All the information on Los Gaitanes Gorge can be found at the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. The Ardales andÁlora websites also contain useful information. Likewise, the posts on these villages in this blog also offer information on food, heritage, culture, events, and hiking routes. See Ardales: An Ancient Encounter and Álora: The Fenced-in Town and its Royal Road.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Fotografías: Se muestran en este apartado la colección completa de fotografías correspondientes al post.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Protected Natural Area on the Google map below. See The Blue Colour of the Sky: Málaga’s Natural Areas on a bigger map.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 13 LOS REALES DE SIERRA BERMEJA: THE FAIRY’S KINGDOM

2011-10-21T11:29:00.003+02:00

And a fairy appeared. In the surreal, ghostly, foggy land where the roaring wind came up from the Genal Valley and the soaring Spanish firs reached up the sky. There she was, on a rock. She was pointing at a path in the wall of clouds. And she was smiling.

Zooming In

Sierra Bermeja is crowned by a cluster of clouds. Pure white against the deep red background of the hills, the primitive green woods, and the bright blue sky. An unknown paradise in the middle of nowhere, hidden in the fog. The land of fairies and dwarfs and elves and maybe Tolkien’s orcs and hobbits too. The native Spanish firs rock their proud branches in the wet north slopes of the massif. The south slope defiantly faces the sea. On clear days, when the fairy takes off her cloudy tiara, Sierra Bermeja makes an extraordinary landscape: a colourful 3D map of Costa del Sol Occidental. On foggy days it morphs into a more intimate setting –a darker, powerful, secret place inhabited by imaginary beings. Los Reales de Sierra Bermeja sit on a red mountain. Red, bermeja, ochre. And a fairy lives in them.

Los Reales de Sierra Bermeja Natural Area

Three privileged villages share Los Reales de Sierra Bermeja: Casares, Estepona, and Genalguacil. Each of them owns a different piece: viewpoints for Estepona, Spanish firs for Genalguacil, and pine forests for Casares. It is a spectacular natural area, with majestic peaks (Pico de Los Reales is 1,450m high), great woods, and lots of animal species. Moreover, Los Reales is the habitat of two species that had never been seen before: the Spanish fir (a type of fir native to the Mediterranean region) and the Egyptian mongoose (a rodent of the Herpestes genus). Los Reales is remarkable for its bright red colour (hence the name of the sierras), the result of the peridotite that makes the massif, whose largest area in the world is to be found here. Moreover, the population of Spanish firs in the area is the only one growing on this type of mineral soil. There are many reasons to come to Sierra Bermeja. The fact that it is such a peculiar landscape is one of them. Its surface area is 1,236ha, 100 of which are covered with Spanish firs. It is also a 35km-long natural border between Ronda and the sea. It is 1,000m high on average, its highest peak, Pico de Los Reales, being 1,450m high. It is a protected natural area housing 250 tree species and 60 different species of butterflies. The annual average temperature is 14 ºC to 17 ºC. Several hiking trails cut across the area. The best known is Paseo de Los Pinsapos. It is 4.5km long and takes 2 hours to complete (one way only). It also gives you the chance to spot impossibly old and amazingly tall Spanish firs (they can be up to 400 years old and over 30m high). There is a shelter open on weekends where you can have a cup of coffee, a hearty stew or tripe, or even a typical mountain dish. On clear days, the Salvador Guerrero viewpoint is a must. It is a real roof overlooking Costa del Sol Occidental and its overwhelming landscape.

Spanish Firs and Egyptian Mongooses

Spanish fir (pinsapo) and Egyptian mongoose (meloncillo). Curious names. A tree and a rodent, together in Sierra Bermeja. The Spanish fir was discovered by the Swiss botanist Pierre Edmond Boissier. A few years later, the German botanist and pharmacist Felix Haenseler, who had settled in Málaga, spotted a rodent he had never seen before and called it “meloncillo.” Egyptian mongooses were introduced in the Iberian Peninsula by the Arabs. They were great snake hunters and highly appreciated as pets. They are also called “hairy snakes,” given their longish bodies and bristly fur, or “devils of the bushes.” The Spanish fir, or Abies pinsapo, is a species of the Abies genus and the pine (Pinaceae) family native to southern Spain and northern Morocco. It is related to other Mediterranean trees. Pinsapos are elegant evergreen trees growing 20m-30m tall with a conic crown, sometimes become irregular with age. They have a thin light-grey bark with darker shallow cracks. The leaves are 1.5-2cm long, expanding outwardly all round the shoots, and are strongly glaucous pale blue-green, with broad bands of whitish wax on both sides. The cones are cylindrical, 9-18cm long, greenish-pink to purple before maturity, and smooth with the bract scales short and not exerted. When mature, they disintegrate to release the winged seeds (description source: Wikipedia). Pinsapos are peculiar and majestic trees, rising up in defiance when young. Their branches lend them the looks that make them so peculiar, and the fact that they are native to a single region makes them valuable from the biological and environmental points of few. In sum, they are worth seeing.

The Tour

Coming from Estepona on a warm, clear morning, I soon realise there is a white crest covering the peaks of Sierra Bermeja. As I drive up along sharp bends, I leave an increasingly large landscape behind: Costa del Sol, Estepona, San Pedro Alcántara, Sierra Blanca, Pico de la Concha in Marbella, Sierra de las Nieves… After 15km, I come to a crossroads. To the right, Jubrique. Straight ahead, Genalguacil road and mountain trail). To the left, Los Reales de Sierra Bermeja. A bunch of tourists from Germany are sitting in several off-road vehicles in an open area. The narrow mountain trail leading to Los Reales looks so foggy. In I go. I move slowly and cautiously. The asphalt road is covered by thousands of pine needles. Paseo de los Pinsapos is 2.5km ahead; the shelter and the viewpoint, 4km. Welcome to the Magic Kingdom. The road seems to move in circles. Silhouettes seem to live in the haunted trees, appearing and disappearing as I drive on. And then there is the bright red earth too. A particularly sharp bend to the left marks the beginning of Paseo de los Pinsapos. The roadside can hold two or three cars only. As I get out, the fog wraps me in, just like it wraps in the landscape. I get ready to go. It is magical. On a clear day, the views of the Genal Valley must be spectacular. Today, however, shrouded in this thick fog, everything looks different, special. I must first get to Plazoleta de los Pinsapos. The wet, bright green forest glitters in the fog. The Spanish firs go all the way down to the valley at my feet. I seek. They hide. The white clouds swallow them up and then throw them out. The downhill trail is clearly signposted. Some stretches are quite rocky, so watch your step. The Spanish firs greet me with wide open branches, like long-armed men. Moss paints the rocks in green. The bushes brush past my legs as I walk. The ghostly atmosphere spurs my imagination, so that I can see gnomes and elves under the first mushrooms, or cunning orcs hiding behind a thick tree trunk, or hobbits stepping stones. But I had never thought I would come across a fairy. There she is, standing on a jutting rock. She is wearing a flower crown and a white and yellow dress. Her eyes are blue. Her dress is fluttering in the wind. She is carrying a drum in her right hand, and is ready to beat it. She is smiling. What a surprise! A fairy! She is telling me which way to go as she smiles. I say goodbye to her and, still jaw-dropped, I move on. The landscape shows and vanishes. Slopes covered with green bushes and fenced in by tall Spanish firs and some gall oak. The reddish earth guides my steps. The trees are looming above me. I overcome a few hurdles. The rocky watercourses find their way down into the valley. I move easily past them. This wood is brimming with life and magic. You can listen to nature here, breathing close to you. The roaring wind pushes the fog from the valley. Dew drops fall on the ground and echo in the leaves under my feet. This forest is inhabited by ghosts and magic creatures. I take a look at the most peculiar feature of Spanish firs: their needles. When I come to a bridge across a watercourse, I look down to feel the overwhelming power of nature. Then I take the trail up to Plazoleta de los Pinsapos. On a plate you can read García Lorca’s lines about trees: “Árboles / ¿Habeis sido flechas / caídas desde el azul? / ¿Qué terribles guerreros os lanzaron? / ¿Han sido las estrellas? / Vuestras músicas vienen / del alma de los pájaros, / de los ojos de Dios / de la pasión perfecta. / ¡Árboles! / ¿Conocerán vuestras raíces toscas / mi corazón en tierra?” (Trees! / Have you been arrows / falling down from the blue sky? / What fearsome warriors threw you? / Was it the stars? / Your sounds come / from the soul of birds, / from the eyes of God / from the perfect passion. / Trees! / Will your rough roots know / my heart on the ground?). Plazoleta de los Pinsapos is a crossroads leading to Pico de Los Reales (2.2km) or Puerto de Peñas Blancas (3.5km). At the small square, stone benches surround four huge Spanish fir specimens, kindly inviting travellers to rest. Not long ago, someone built a tiny shelter for a single person in case of sudden weather changes. A hideout rather than a shelter, but there it is. I take a seat, drink some water, have a snack. I am quiet. I listen to the sounds of the woods: groans, murmurs, songs, undulating whispers… The fog, like a magician, shows things to me and then makes them disappear. If the weather forecast had not told me it would be overcast, I would have climbed all the way up to Pico de Los Reales or Puerto de Peñas Blancas. But it is wise to be cautious in this weather, so I am heading for the recreational area and the viewpoint.. On my way back, I do not come across anybody. Deep in thought and silent, I gaze at the wilderness that sucks me in. I walk across the bridge and watercourse. I let the pinsapos touch me. I come to the jutting rock, but the fairy is no longer there. Of course, she is a graceful and delicate fairy of the woods. You cannot expect her to keep still. Or maybe she was just a figment of my imagination…

Viewpoint and Shelter

I shake the mud off my shoes, drink some water and get in the car to drive all the way up (cautiously). I reach an open area and a crossroads showing the way to Pico de Los Reales, the Los Reales recreational area (120m), and the Salvador Guerrero viewpoint (1km). I leave the car here and start walking along the mountain road. After a 5’ walk, I can see a ghostly building in front of me. It is the Agustín Lozano shelter –a white house with a huge wooden door built in 1899. The whole thing is quite creepy but suddenly… two kids rush out of the shelter. I say hello and see a few brave tourists sitting inside. The shelter is also a tavern. I will come back later. I move on, as the fog gets thicker and thicker. The Salvador Guerrero viewpoint –a spur ready to split the Mediterranean– is wrapped in it. A blind viewpoint. A viewpoint in the dark. I know the sea must be there, the coastline must be there too, but I cannot see anything. And the lashing wind hits my face. When I visited Genalguacil on June 30, 2009, I came here too. It was a sunny day. I think I will use the pictures I took then to illustrate this blog entry! I retrace my steps along an invisible trail, hidden under the thick fog. I go back to the shelter and greet the mountaineers and hikers there. I can smell the stew. A strong smell. Too early, though. I can even hear the pot bubbling on the stove. I am told the shelter is open on Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays and they serve the menu of the day: stew, tripe, cabbage, mountain foods like loin, eggs, chorizo, potatoes, peppers… A great plan for a holiday. I order two coffees and take a seat in one of the four long wooden tables in the big room. An austere place indeed. I can smell the fireplace, although it is not burning today. This winter, on a really cold day, I will come back and try one of those hearty dishes by the fireplace. I must do it. The kids keep playing.

Farewell

The fairy gets her agile feet off the rock and takes off. She sees how two silent travellers leave the Spanish firs behind and are swallowed up by the fog. She keeps track of them. She knows they are on the right track. She swiftly flies away, vanishing in the trees like a shooting star.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Hiking: This is an ideal place for hikers. The wild trails are well prepared. There are all kinds of routes, from easy to difficult. You can find them on the Net. A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas contains three of them.

Useful links: To learn more about Sierra Bermeja, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. The Casares, Estepona, and Genalguacil Town Hall websites also contain useful information.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Protected Natural Area on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

83 CASARABONELA: “MOORISH CHARM”

2011-10-21T11:06:00.005+02:00

And so I could fancy that Moor climbing up one of the watchtowers of the fortress. A sweet valley of olives and wild olives before his eyes, appearing between lazy shreds of fog. The illusion of the sea in the background, bristling with blue mountains. The smell of oil, of recently pressed olives, of the last embers. The Moor looked into the horizon and I looked at him, thinking his old and my new eyes haven’t changed in 500 years. The sun warmed my skin and face. I was in Castra Vinaria, in Qasr Bunayra, in Casarabonela.

Coming to the “Moorish Charm”

As soon as you set foot on the cobblestones, you feel the traces and the stories only a bunch of towns can treasure. Casarabonela feels at ease with its essence: broken alleyways, unexpected little squares, endless alleys. Just walking through the archway by Fuente del Cristo and up José Hidalgo Street, I can feel it in my skin. To avoid getting lost in the maze, I’ve downloaded a street map from the Casarabonela Town Hall website, which contains a lot of useful information. It’ll help me find my way in this labyrinth of overlapping streets. I can hear the ringing bells of the church, the accents from the sierras, the murmur of the water flowing out of the Caño de Álora fountain a little bit ahead (a key site in the Fiesta de los Rondeles; see below). The streets fold up, casting shadows upon one another. Casarabonela forces you to try and find hidden treasures in its white corners. From José Hidalgo Street, I take Juan Díaz and then Veracruz Street towards my first sight: the chapel. It’s a funny building punctuating the prevailing whiteness with its warmer brick three-part façade and damascene floor tiles. The Chapel of Veracruz houses Our Lady of Rondeles, the protagonist of one of the most popular fiestas in the region of Sierra de las Nieves, where darkness, fire, and torches also play a key role. This is the lower part of town, which means I have to climb to reach the fortress and the church.

Climbing Up

Veracruz Street leads up to Albaiva Street, a winding, sort of faltering, alley. This in turn leads to Calle Real, which reaches up to the church. Most houses feature niches –a tourist attraction in their own right, so much so that there’s even a much requested niche tour in Casarabonela. On Real Street, the tourist office is housed in the old town slaughterhouse. The hall is decorated like a small museum of ethnography, featuring farming tools, crafts, books, guides and brochures. The sun is just rising against the bright blue sky; the assistant is coming later. I need her advice before I visit the Molino de los Mizos, but it can wait. Meanwhile, I get myself the keys to the castle –and to one of my best experiences in Casarabonela. I’m also told how to get there and how to get in. I take note. For the rest of the morning I’ll feel I’m one of the privileged few who’ve carried the keys to the castle in their pockets. Only 10m from the tourist office there’s Plaza Buenavista, whose name is justified by the spectacular panoramic views it affords of the Guadalhorce Valley. I take a seat and just let go, feeling the charming light around me, the singing birds, the hustle and bustle of life. It seems to be the setting for bucolic poetry, but it’s for real. It’s Casarabonela.

The Church and Its Surroundings

From the square I saunter down Mesón Street, where I’m seized by a strong smell of just baked churros. Then I notice the front door of La Gotera, a churrería, which seems to be the entrance to a green wooden house. I come to Casarabonela Square, where I can see the church and a soaring chimney tower –a curiosity against the strongly Moorish background. The tower is part of the town’s industrial archaeological heritage, the trace of an early-twentieth-century power plant. The square oozes quietness. It’s the place chosen by Moriscos (this is what locals are called) to meet and chat in the shade of the trees, as they smell the charcoal, the burning logs that are the harbinger of autumn. After climbing a flight of steps I reach the church, its location showing matchless views of the surroundings. I can hear the pigeons cooing, I can smell the midday stews. And from food I turn to spiritual bread, to the Parish Church of Santiago Apóstol. The church looks at the mountains in the eye. In its strategic location, the belfry tower can be seen from a distance as if it were a lighthouse, a signal for seafarers. Santiago Apóstol is a beautifully robust church, both ethereal and gaunt, and impossibly white. The only different feature is the folding pediment in pink and black marble in the façade, supported by Tuscan columns. The church itself is majestic, with its soaring four-level belfry tower ending in a green-and-brown tile pinnacle. Inside it houses a museum of sacred art, with a few interesting items on display, from prayer books to chasubles.

The Castle

The left side street leads to a refreshing fountain, where you can already see the wall remains of the old castle. It was the last castle to fall to the Christians in the region, and one of the last fortifications to be seized in Al-Andalus, on June 2, 1485. I’m carrying the keys in my pocket. The castle is accessed through a door between two houses. As the door goes unnoticed, I asked a man, who takes me to the right place. I open the door. I walk in. Even when only wall and tower parts is all that remains from the proud, imposing castle, it’s a must-see. Standing on the hillock I can understand why this castle became so important during Umar Ibn Hafsun’s anti-Ummayad riots in 922 and why it was one of the last fortress to be seized by the Christians in Al-Andalus. It affords views of the Guadalhorce Valley as a whole, the massifs of Sierra Prieta, Cruz Alta, Comparate, and Alcaparaín, the early slopes of the Málaga Mountains and the peaks of Axarquía, the glittering mirror of the sea, and the criss-cross of paths and trails that cut through the region. It’s just amazing, because it’s even higher than the belfry tower of the church, which now seems to stand so far away and yet so close that you can touch it with the tips of your fingers. This is a place to stay, you face warmed by the sun, your body rocked by the breeze. The castle of Casarabonela was designated as an Asset of Cultural Interest in 1985; it became part of the European Cultural Heritage List of Monuments in 1989 and was included in the General Register of Cultural Interest Assets of the Spanish Historical Heritage on June 22, 1993, under the category of Monuments. Besides being part of the Spanish protected cultural heritage, Casarabonela’s Arab fortress boasts some of the best benches in Málaga. Here you can sit down and give free rein to your imagination as you face the town centre, the mountains, and the valley, as you hear the whispering wind and the noise of life in the Moorish style, as you indulge in the most wonderful of vistas. Time to get back to the tourist office and return the keys.

The Tourist Office and the Molino de los Mizos

When I come back to the tourist office on Real Street, María is waiting for me. She fills me in on tourist attractions, (custom) guided tours, and so on. The itinerary I’ve followed so far can be done with a guide who can tell you everything about Casarabonela: its history, its traditions, the description of its secluded corners, fountains and niches, buildings and monuments. How can you get your guide? Call the tourist office at (+34) 952 456 561 or (+34) 952 456 067, send an email to turismo@casarabonela.es, or enter the Town Hall website, where you can download two street maps, three routes, and 18 audio guide texts for your PDA, mobile phone, smartphone, or laptop, with their virtual tours. María comes with me along the intricate maze of Moorish streets to the Molino de los Mizos, in the blind end of the extension of Albaiva Street from Juan Díaz Street. Seen from outside, you could never imagine there’s a mill behind that red door. It looks like another house, but when you open the door, you are in the heart of a well-kept olive oil mill. It was operative until a few years ago, using the power of a water spring plus animals and then machines to press the olives and make oil or grind the wheat and make flour. It’s a peculiar building: the storage court is behind a door and after a path with a chamber. Inside you can have a look at the machines, the room where the liquid is stored, some farming tools. More importantly, you can imagine the mill at work, the stone rasping the stone, the mill turning and turning, the men and women waiting for their turn, the animals dragging their heavy burden. María helps me complete the “Moorish charm” puzzle. The town’s slogan is right: Casarabonela is a charmingly Moorish town.

Farewell

I haven’t been to the highest part of the fortress yet. I’m sitting on a bench, feeding my eyes on the bright horizon. I can feel the snippets of history dancing around. I can see the Arabs and the Mudéjars, the Moors and the Christian army, the Ummayad caliphs and the rebels, the civil war and the bastions to be seized. And the fortress emerges as the epitome of Málaga in a subjugating and complex vision that abounds in nuances, colour shades, and aroma notes. I let my imagination fly away, thinking I’m the owner of the keys to the castle.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

When to come: Fiesta de los Rondeles: “The Virgen de los Rondeles Festival was designated as a Andalusian Fiesta of National Tourist Interest in 2001. On the eve of St Lucy’s Day (December 13), fire becomes the star in town, lighting up the way for a pilgrimage that has taken place since the dawn of time. The rondeleros, gathered in the little square by the Chapel of Veracruz (which stands where an old mosque used to be), climb all the way up to the Parish Church of Santiago Apóstol, in the higher part of town. The burning rondeles (straw mats used to press the olives) illuminates their way along the steep, narrow streets –a trace of the old Muslim layout. The fire, the smells –smoke and oil– and the sound made by the Moorish castanets create an unreal atmosphere of the ghostlike shadows cast upon the walls” (source of text and images: Casarabonela Town Hall website).
What to read before coming: Town Hall website: The website hosted by Casarabonela Town Hall contains a lot of valuable information: street maps and PDF itineraries, audio guides, virtual tours, image galleries. It’s a useful tool to plan your trip to Casarabonela, its contents being detailed and user-friendly. In addition, Casarabonela offers guided tours, which makes it one of the towns with more information on its tourist attractions, cultural and ethnographic heritage, and calendar of festivals and events. To contact the local tourist office (Calle Real, 5), call (+34) 952 456 561 or (+34) 952 456 067, or send an email to turismo@casarabonela.es.
Useful links: Besides the Town Hall website, I’ve relied on the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board, Sierra de las Nieves Town Council Association and Sierra de las Nieves Rural Development Group.

Comments, suggestions, and opinions from travellers/visitors to this blog are very welcome. See you under the Bright Blue Sky.

EN 11 PINAR DEL HACHO: ANTEQUERA’S VIEWPOINT

2011-09-22T12:52:00.001+02:00

The meadows in front of me. And in the background, shrouded in the mist, the Lovers’ Rock, Peñón de los Enamorados. Closer, the pinnacles of Antequera’s churches, convents, palaces, and walls, trying to burst the clouds in the bright blue sky. Even closer, the bright green of the pine ocean. At hand’s reach, the grass rocked by the breeze. All this in front of me. At the back, the Hacho Tower, holding its breath at the breathtaking beauty I’m looking at. Welcome to Pinar del Hacho Suburban Park, Antequera’s natural viewpoint. Welcome to this privileged area.

Zooming in

My car runs past the olive trees, leaving a volatile cloud of white dust in its wake. A hiker has showed me the way to the edge of the pine woods, past a huge olive grove, the first formations at El Torcal (right), and a watchtower playing hide-and-seek with the younger pines. I drive through an open gate and park there, for I cannot drive ahead. I get out and get caught in a fresh and powerful smell with a touch of dawn. I can feel it in my car, my backpack, my journal, my camera. The second thing I become aware of is the colour: bright green for young pines, lending the park a surreal air in the lights and shadows of the early morning. Third element: the majestic Hacho Tower, showing above the treetops like a royal guardian. I start walking with a clear goal in mind.

Pinar del Hacho Suburban Park

The park borders on southern Antequera like a natural protection system. I spans the highest part of the village and part of a small mountain that shows a steep side to Antequera and milder faces to El Torcal and the olive groves leading to Valle de Abdalajís. This protected natural area is 85ha, and it’s been afforested with stone and maritime pines which are now some 40 year old. It is a young wood, as shown in the tree trunks. A cattle trail runs across the park: the Cordel Málaga-Antequera (37.5m wide), also used by hikers and hunters. (In fact, I will hear some shooting and barking in the background in my tour, and I will see a few mountain bikes. The park is dominated by Torre del Hacho, a watchtower overlooking the areas of Antequera that can be accessed from El Torcal and Valle de Abdalajís, and affording panoramic views of the meadows, the Peñón, and the town itself. The tower is about 12m high and features a gate and two portholes, which is why it is considered to be a watchtower rather than a defence tower. From its battlements you could gesture at someone in town and be seen by them. Although it is not known when exactly it was built, it seems to date back to the thirteenth century. It was designated as an Asset of Cultural Interest in 1985. 59 bird species, 14 mammals, 8 reptiles, and 2 amphibians have been found to live in the park. All the species are typically Mediterranean, in line with their environment. As to plants and trees, they include the above-mentioned stone pines, shrubs, rosemary, bushes, and grass. The most interesting feature of Pinar del Hacho, however, is the views: Antequera and the meadows, the northern area of El Torcal, Sierra de Cabras… Let’s see for ourselves.

The Tour

A wide dirt road (dirt from the mountains, rock pulverised by heat and rain, by abrupt changes in temperature) brings me to the ocean of low pines, their needles pointing in all directions, as if they wanted to take in all the fresh air I am breathing. By footprints (the marks of heavy boots) get mixed with subtler, more graceful traces. It could be birds, or dogs, or foxes. The garden of forking paths: here they break apart and vanish; there they reunite, courtesy of the travellers and other mammals who have been here before. I take in the fresh air of the early morning, and with it the essence of the pine woods and the sand fill my lungs. It is so easy to associate the mix to the Mediterranean Sea, only 50km away (faraway, so close!). It is really charming, for the body and the soul too. Maybe it is the maritime pines; maybe it is the sand that reminds me of the beach. The sand gives way to the bushes, peppered with a few rocks. The Hacho Tower acts like a lighthouse for visitors; you can see it everywhere, no matter where you are standing –a vestige of times past above the treetops or behind trees. As I walk, I can hear the singing birds and the sound of cicadas waking up. I touch the grass; it feels so smooth. I get to a clearing in the woods that affords a full view of the tower. Bare rock in the sun. Simple. Austere. Robust. A guardian. A lighthouse for sailors. Its door-mouth is open –a black hole inviting you in. But there is nothing to be seen inside. The tower is so powerful that I only realise there is another gem when I get out. It is the horizon, stretching beyond Antequera, the meadows, and the Peñón. The morning mist has vanished, leaving only fragile shreds behind. The views are amazing. I sit down in front of the tower and looked at the tree-framed landscape. They branch out to reveal a unique skyline, with pinnacles and belfry towers reaching up for the sky in an attempt to tickly its bright blue belly, plus clusters of whitewashed houses with ochre roofs. I can tell where the Menga and Viera dolmens should be. The stone nose of the Peñón tears the horizon. The farming fields in the meadows look like marquetry work, painting the earth in brown and orange and yellow. But of course, the main colour is green. The emerald green of the stone pines. Sitting by the mouth of the tower, I drink some water as I enjoyed this great natural setting overlooking Antequera. After a break, I search for a path to go down. I want to reach the lower area to get a different view of the town and the surrounding area. And meanwhile, take a stroll amidst the generous pines. As I move on, the smell of the bushes becomes stronger. The early morning fragrances give way to the aromas of the land: earth, rosemary, and the like. I reach another “mountain beach” (they are everywhere in the park) and then go down a trail flanked by rocks. A new sandy area. More views of the meadows. Overwhelmed and silent, I take a few pictures. I spot the edge of another trail leading to the tower from Antequera (via Torre de la Legión). It is steeper and more exacting, but it can be negotiated. I retrace my steps to find my footprints crossed with those of another being. A bird perhaps? It is all so quiet here. And yet everything moves in the park without my realising it. I can hear voices in the distance: men talking about machines and olives in a nearby estate. I move up, back to the tower and my car. I turn around and take a last breath to fill my lungs with the ever-changing aromas of the pine woods. I see the Peñón and a tangle of aerials in the area. I make out the movements in the living meadows. I wave my hand at Antequera. See you next time!

Farewell

A first image. An accurate painting, as if made by Antonio López. Quietness and movement. The last morning mist and its surreal atmosphere. A living canvas where time seems to have frozen. A picture where nothing seems to move. A frame of pines and old Antequera down there, as in a dream.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about Pinar del Hacho, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. Also, the websites of Villanueva de la Concepción and Antequera Town Halls contain useful information to plan your visit.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Suburban Park on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 10 EL TORNILLO DEL TORCAL: THE INCONCEIVABLE STONE

2011-09-21T12:54:00.004+02:00

And when you have seen the most ingenious and fanciful shapes, you will not think they can go even further. If El Torcal shows Nature at its most eccentric and imaginative, El Tornillo del Torcal is a madman’s dream, the work of a Praxiteles older than man. Stone sheets floating one on top of the other, supported by an invisible fulcrum. They seem to be about to topple –a limestone rain falling on the valley. The composition is subtle and volatile, as if it were ready to take off –or to tumble down. But neither of these will happen. The rocks in El Tornillo have been together for thousands of years, sustaining a delicate balance. A game of emulations in which rocks seem hamburgers, layer cakes, piled-up CDs… You choose your game. El Tornillo del Torcal is a wonder to behold. In fact, it has been chosen as the icon of this natural area. But there is more behind the effigy. Let’s find out.

The Natural Monument of El Tornillo del Torcal

If eccentricity were to appear in a stronger form in a place beyond El Torcal, this place would be El Tornillo del Torcal. The suitable name (tornillo means “screw” in Spanish) anticipates an accuracy that has nothing to do with human intervention. The dissolution of layers of bedrock through the action of wind, water, or the weather has resulted in a most fanciful and unusual figure resembling a screw. A series of six stone sheets piled up so that the larger ones rest on the smaller ones are the pieces in this eroded jigsaw. In fact they are not one on top of the other, but they are all part of a whole worn away –a whole that has gradually disappeared due to the persistent gnawing of Nature. Designated as a Natural Monument in 2001, El Tornillo del Torcal covers 1,953sqm and includes more than just the famous screw, which is part of a set of formations, all of them equally flabbergasting. Just like El Torcal, in the Jurassic this area was under water, covered by the sea known as “Tethys.” After several seismic movements and the withdrawal of water, the rocks emerged to form a limestone complex in the skin of the Earth that is easily eroded. This is how El Torcal began. El Tornillo is the heart of this natural area and the epitome of this complex erosion mechanism, morphing into thousands of different forms. To reach it, you need to go past another weird formation, El Caracol. In this area you will find the same animal and plant species as in El Torcal (see previous post).

The Tour

From El Torcal Visitor Centre, El Tornillo can be reached following two different paths: the road (there is a clearly signed detour on the right some 300m away) or El Caracol (450m from the trail, also clearly marked). I choose the latter. In the summer, the patches of grass visible among the rocks are dressed in yellow. Yellow and ochre shades with thistle strokes. The trail gets too close to the rocks. You can even touch them with your fingers and feel the smooth result of the lathe of time. You can get a glimpse of some of the area’s curious fact; for instance, the bunches of snails clinging to the rocks, a twisted fossil, or plants growing inside the rock formations. I follow the path, stepping on the high grass, until I reach the karren. This is the heart of the karst formations, that is, the first stage in the emergence of El Torcal after the withdrawal of the Tethys sea. Limestone is a sedimentary rock composed largely of calcium carbonate, a soluble mineral. Like most sedimentary rocks, limestone is composed of grains, and its karstification may result in a variety of large- or small-scale features both on the surface and beneath, including flutes, runnels, clints and grikes (collectively called “karren” or “lapiez”), sinkholes or cenotes (closed basins), vertical shafts, foibe (inverted funnel shaped sinkholes), disappearing streams, reappearing springs, limestone pavements, poljes, and blind valleys. Karren looks like an arid microlandscape. It is formed by white or grey rock partially covered by a type of clay known as “terra rossa.” This is exactly what I see. A rustic yet powerful landscape. Pale and ochre, licked by the sun. The tall grass, rocked by the breeze, looks like a golden ocean whose rippling waves are made of stone. I walk across the karren and leave it behind, amazed at the shapes hidden in El Torcal: stones laid in perfect angles, like the capital of a Greek or Roman temple; narrow alleyways, chasms and scars in the skin of the rocks; tables, sinks like small lakes on the rocks, piles of buns… Piles are the most frequent type of formation in El Tornillo. The erosion has resulted in clefts that make the rock resemble a pile of small cylinders, one on top of the other. Since many of them are worn away at the base, they seem to be about to tumble down.
A bend leads to El Tornillo. A huge pile of different-sized buns. On the left, a longish eight-block formation with a thinner “waist.” It seems to be ready to embark on an exotic dance in a unique, impossible move. It is detached and aloof, separated from other formations by thousands of year of weathering and erosion. When you look at it you know that, despite its imperviousness, its having looked the same for thousands of years, it is a beautiful figure bound to topple and tumble down the hill, and maybe sweeping other formations along the way. Maybe when this happens –I do not know when and I will probably not be here to check– there will be no-one to watch the show. In the meantime, let me enjoy what I see, the majestic, slim formation that has become the symbol of El Torcal. Let me watch the screw. I make my way between the piles of buns. I notice their instability and their strength, the plants and lichens living on their skin. I imagine their shapes against the bright blue sky, daydreaming… I get stranded and retrace my steps, going uphill to reach a small plateau. I leave my backpack and camera on the floor, use a stone as a paperweight for my journal, take off my cap and sunglasses, and close my eyes. I sit down and let the breeze rock me into my Jurassic dream. I open my eyes. There it is: El Tornillo del Torcal and its clustered piles of rocks. Learning about its age and man’s effort to protect its beauty is a moving experience. Under the bright blue sky, the white and grey limestone looks brighter. I stand up and turn around. I make out the Mediterranean in the distance (so close, so far), the Málaga Mountains, Torcal Bajo and Villanueva de la Concepción, the fields, dilapidated and rehabilitated cortijos, old shepherd’s shelters, chipped roofs, dark walls. I think about the people living in these old houses. How must they have felt when they saw El Torcal or El Tornillo, before there were scientific explanations available for what they were looking at? What must they have seen? What beings lived in the rock formations for them? What legends did they tell their children in winter nights, sitting by the fireside? Would they talk about dragons and giants and extraordinary creatures? I can see them. I am with them now, with El Torcal and El Tornillo behind me and my mind bubbling with the images that are still fresh in my eyes.

Farewell

Legends whispered in the alleyways have it that, in the dawn of time, a wealthy emperor had the most beautiful of palaces built on the top of the mountain: light towers, pearl squares, fabulous battlements. The Mediterranean, green with envy, sent the most power winds it could master up the mountain. They blew for days on end, for months on end, for years on end, until a thin layer of sand covered all the towers and squares and battlements. The skin of both human and animal inhabitants hardened, and they developed a stone shell to protect themselves. When the winds abated and the sand whirls rested on the floor, the Mediterranean had a look at the work of his jealous spirit. All the constructions and living beings had turned to stone. They glittered in the moonlight, as if made of polished silver. Mare Nostrum watched the beautiful picture in awe and humbly withdrew to the coast. Since then, when the moon in the sky, in El Torcal you can hear voices amidst the rocks. They are playing, talking about an old town of light and pearls that the Mediterranean turned to silver.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about El Tornillo del Torcal, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. Also, the websites of Villanueva de la Concepción and Antequera Town Halls contain useful information to plan your visit.

Country travel: The region of Antequera and its area of influence feature three natural areas: El Torcal, El Tornillo del Torcal, and Pinar del Hacho. If you want to visit all three without winding up exhausted, you can rent at a country house with fully-equipped facilities. You can come in the summer, for most of them have swimming pools. “El Torcal” Country Travel Southern Association offers a full catalogue of country hotels very close to all three natural areas. This time, I stayed with my usual companion and nine other travellers at Villa Alba.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Natural Monument on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 09 EL TORCAL: A GARDEN IN STONE

2011-08-19T08:26:00.005+02:00

The scars in the stone skin tell a story so old it sounds like legend. It is a story about a prehistoric sea known as “Tethys” that used to submerge the rocky landscape that now defies the sun. A sea that is quite difficult to imagine, inhabited by stone beings carved right out of the bottom of the earth. A landscape populated with fanciful shapes, imaginary beings, volatile summits, soaring crests, twisted rocks, impossible balances… According to Málaga-born poet Salvador Rueda, this place used to be home to disturbing individuals and archaic forces:

El Torcal is heraldic; it combines
Dungeons and dragons in stone
And, like giant dominoes, it lines
Up swirling towers with broken rocks.

Rafael de la Linde christened the shapes with names of cathedrals, glorious temples, and inspiring muses:

Your proud sierra with its rocks
Forges temples and cathedrals,
Weaves illusions and dreams,
Majestic Torcal, brave sierra,
Hiding poetic treasures
You are the poison of inspiration!

The poets are right. There is more than one reason to dedicate beautiful, heartfelt words to El Torcal, a natural area spanning both Antequera and Villanueva de la Concepción. The winding and narrow alleyways between these amazing geological formations could contain all possible legends. There live in El Torcal as many imaginary beings as you can see in the rocks, carved by water, wind, and rain under earth forces that make oceans disappear and mountains emerge in their stead. You should not expect a theme park here, for there is no such thing. There is just the astounding, chaotic, savage, and resistant work of Nature. Welcome to El Torcal, the garden in stone.

El Torcal Natural Area

This place has a long history. The transformation of this rocky area into a natural area is very old. Local inhabitants and visitors soon realised this was a valuable area, and so they turned it into a Site of National Interest in 1929, a Nature Park in 1978, and a Natural Area now. El Torcal is the most important karst topography in Spain and Europe. It is the geomorphology that makes it so special. Here the rocks have been eroded, dissolved, and polished, giving rise to flabbergasting mutations into dragons, ships, or human faces. And this has all happened in a surface area of 20sq km, in a Protected Natural Area of 1,171ha. On misty days, if you look at El Torcal from Villanueva de la Concepción, you will experience a magical feeling that scientists have taken pains to record. The power of research + imagination has made the place even more special. Now we know a lot about El Torcal, but still we can imagine a lot about it if we want to. We now know that El Torcal comprises four distinct areas: Sierra Pelada, Torcal Alto, Torcal Bajo, and Las Escaleruelas y Cortijo del Navazo Verde. We also know that the peaks are separated by unfathomable abysses: Azul (114m deep), Sima de la Mujer (90m), or Sima de la Unión (143m). And that there are caves like Marinaleda (where burial pottery has been found) or Toro (housing meso-neolithic archaeological remains inside). Both geologically and archaeologically, El Torcal is a rich area. But its richness has to do with biodiversity too. 116 vertebrate species (amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals) have been found and classified. Moreover, it is a Special Bird Protection Area, so you can usually spot ominous yet majestic birds of prey flying over your head in circles. It would be preposterous to make a list of all the bird species you can find in El Torcal, so let us name the most common ones: golden eagles, griffon vultures, peregrine falcons, Eurasian eagle-owls, blue tits, and European goldfinches. Reptiles are abundant, too: ocellated lizards, snub-nosed viper (be careful with these!), Montpellier snakes, and lizards. Mammals are perhaps more visible: Spanish ibexes (they are ever-present), foxes, badgers, rabbits… Now pay attention to numbers: against 116 recorded vertebrate species, 664 plant species live in El Torcal, including lichens, moss plants, ferns, and spermatophytes. The largest plant community is that of rock plants, which use any crack to grow. Water (aquifers) plays a silent yet all-important role in El Torcal, crowning and toppling mountains with an inveterate subtlety in the form of raindrops, leakages, dew, and mist attached to the skin of rocks and solidifying into snow or ice. Water is the architect of El Torcal, the sea that left the traces of its salty past in the form of fossils. Besides all these scientific facts, there are the creatures of the imagination. In El Torcal you will find hidden dinosaurs, galleons run aground at the top of a mountain, old totems, fearful sphinxes, camels, you name it. All these figures have nothing to do with reason; they appeal to the fables you want to create in your mind. Let my tour of El Torcal begin. I have been here before, but every time I come, it is a brand-new experience.

The Tour

My car zigzags along the dark tongue of the road like one of those Montpelier snakes living in El Torcal. The landscape in Antequera and Villanueva de la Concepción is yellow and ochre, peppered with the white strokes of “cortijos.” Gradually, it gives way to something new. It is amazing in a way different from anything you have seen before, even when still in the car. Grey shades here and there, white rocky outcrops, impossible sculptures, mounds. The fields (not apt for farming) are everywhere interrupted by rocks: a thousand rises in a thousand sizes. Words like “lunar,” “Martian,” or “ET” immediately come to mind. A naked area, categorical and fascinating. I keep zigzagging in my car until I reach the parking area next to the visitor centre, which can hold about 100 cars. When it is full, a free bus service takes visitors from the road to the centre to avoid unnecessary jams. Climbers with their gear (and their permission), families, well-trained hikers, national and international tourists, biologists… they are all here. The best time of year to study the local fauna is the late spring or the early autumn, when you can watch all the animals in their ever-changing, profuse communities. Before choosing one of the two routes across El Torcal, you should visit the visitor centre, where you will learn how this natural area came into being, how Nature transformed the ocean into a garden made of stone. Information boards, sounds, smells, touch… A journey of the senses (minus taste) across El Torcal. It is a modern visitor centre, efficiently fulfilling educational tasks and giving information on the various geomorphological systems. It is ideal for experts to check what they already know and for neophytes to learn a lot of interesting things. With all this knowledge inside my head, I set out on my tour. As I said before, there are two routes to explore El Torcal. Both of them are circular, and they have one section in common. The Green Route is an easy to moderately difficult route that takes 45’ to complete. The Yellow Route is also easy to moderately difficult, but longer (120’). The Green Route gives an overview of El Torcal, including a nice sample of formations. The Yellow Route guarantees an in-depth approach to the whole system. Both run inside the natural area, using broken dirt roads, so remember to bring comfy shoes and water. You could add your camera, binoculars, and cap to the gear. My choice: the Green Route. In a sort of mysterious game, the trail first hides and then, all of sudden, shows the heart of El Torcal. It is a world in which imagination reigns supreme –a world of dragons, pirate ships, giants wearing extravagant hats, hands making all sorts of gestures, Indian totems, prehistoric animals, castle walls and battlements. You will probably come across fellow visitors. However, the area is silent, and the soundtrack of Nature prevails over the noise of man. As I walk, I feel the millenary rocks beneath my feet, I comment on this or that formation, I take pictures, and I let go. Everything seems to be impossible at El Torcal, and suddenly I am seized by a barrage of questions: How can that wall stand up? How can this rock be in this position? How can? How come? It seems not possible, but Nature shows you that you are wrong: it is possible. It is there. The trail is clearly signposted. You cannot get lost. Whenever you get to a path fork, a sign tells you which way to go. And this is how I get to the fork connecting the Green Route with the Yellow Route. I leave the latter behind and move on. I spot some goats and a few slippery lizards too. Then I reach a cirque dominated by a 25m-high wall. It is quite overwhelming, with its damp, even wooded walls. My voice reverberates and comes back to me, as if I were in an echo chamber. Then I enter a narrower path, lined by trees and white rocks. Being yellowish, it somehow reminds me of the yellow brick road in “The Wizard of Oz.” In fact, the rocks seem to have been arranged by a magician. Other visitors, kids included, are playing the same game as me: trying to see things in the rocks. With so many visitors a day, El Torcal continues to be indomitable, a place ready to close upon itself at any time, or just when man stops walking down its trails. It gives you that kind of empty feeling. Metaphysics aside, El Torcal is an ideal place for kids, to stimulate their imagination as they try to find images where there are only rocks, as they construct their own imagery in the wood of stone. The last section before getting back to the visitor centre is a climb leading to another cirque and a walkway to the viewpoint of Las Ventanillas. I feel as if I had emerged from a magical world. But the viewpoint brings me back to reality, as I can see the village of Villanueva de la Concepción at my feet, protecting the secrets of El Torcal, the Mountains of Málaga and the Mediterranean to the east. The Mediterranean: the little heir of Tethys, the ancient water sheet that used to cover each and every one of the rocks you can see or step on today. The breeze brushes past my face. I turn around and there it is again: El Torcal, a secret in the heart of Málaga, and enchanted garden made of stone. Now let us head to our next natural area, very near here: the Natural Monument of El Tornillo del Torcal.

Farewell

Walking slowly down the trail, I enjoy the silent sound of stone, the perfume of flowers, the brightness of colours. I look up and spot a bird of prey, flying against the bright blue sky. I am getting used to the fanciful formations; I can understand the shapes now give meaning to them, have them fit characters in stories or films. But I am still surprised. I smile and walk on, painting more imaginary beings with the finger of my imagination. I am in El Torcal, but these shapes could take me wherever I wanted to be.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about El Torcal, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window into Natural Areas. Also, the websites of Villanueva de la Concepción and Antequera Town Halls contain useful information to plan your visit.

Country travel: The region of Antequera and its area of influence feature three natural areas: El Torcal, El Tornillo del Torcal, and Pinar del Hacho. If you want to visit all three without winding up exhausted, you can stay at a country hotel with fully-equipped facilities. You can come in the summer, for most of them have swimming pools. “El Torcal” Country Travel Southern Association offers a full catalogue of country hotels very close to all three natural areas. This time, I stayed with my usual companion and nine other travellers at Villa Alba.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this natural area on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

Thanks to Jon, Mariví, Arregui, Paco, Sara, Andrés, Pepa, Rosamari, Jesús and specially to Antonia.

EN 08 ARCHIDONA LAKES: THE HIDDEN TREASURE

2011-08-19T08:12:00.004+02:00

They are invisible. You need to look for them and find them, get to them, to their apparent silence and their glittering water. You need to go beyond the olives and holm oaks surrounding them and tread on the brownish earth leading to them. They are invisible and they are not easily accessible, but there they are, waiting for you, a promise of bright blue shades in the midst of ancient wild olives. Twin lakes in two sizes, Grande and Chica, slipping through your fingers. Two invisible lakes revealing their secrets only to the bold or the chosen ones. There they are, 760 and 823 metres above sea level, surrounded by strong hills peppered with olive trees. You can almost touch them, but you will have to be content with seeing them. The sun shimmering in them, a bird flying over your head and perching on the water. I hear dogs barking and hunters shooting in the distance.

Lagunas de Archidona Nature Reserve

Their invisibility is their blessing and their curse too. The lakes of Archidona cannot be seen from any major road. The A-92 highway, connecting Málaga with Granada, runs at about 1km from them, but you can barely hear the noise of vehicles riding along. Furthermore, they are private property, which means access must be authorised by the environmental authorities or the owners of the land. However, you can get to the shore and watch the landscape surrounding them: the water sheets, the holm oaks covering the slopes of Sierra de Gibalto, Sierra de San Jorge, and Sierra Gorda. The peripheral protection area covers 187ha and it can be freely accessed so, even if you cannot get to the lakes themselves (which together cover 7ha), you can walk around in the area. This protection measure has resulted in the abundance of all kinds of animal species, which meet visitors as they make their way around the lakes. The Archidona Lakes were named a Nature Reserve in 1989, but they are quite different from other lake reserves. First of all, they are surrounded by hills that hide them from view and so they seem to be sunk. Secondly, they are high above sea level. But enough of preliminary talk; let us get in.

The Tour

Exiting the A-92 at the Salinas detour, in the direction of Fuente Camacho, you drive into an asphalt lane where you can leave your car after you see the sign reading “Reserva Natural Lagunas de Archidona, 1km.” I park my car and get out to step into an uneven forest trail, perfect for a walk. I can feel the hug of olives as I leave the noisy highway behind –a dull, fading sound. The soundtrack changes: I can hear the first birds singing, the vibrant buzz of a cicada, a rodent gnawing at the bushes. I walk amidst the olives and the holm oaks, silent, in the hope of spotting an animal or two. But soon I realise that it is not necessary to be so quiet. Rabbits and hares jump here and there before me, and it is they who surprise me. I can see their white tails, their scurrying in the fields… According to what I read about this area, other mammals live here: hedgehogs, foxes, least weasels, common genets, European badgers… But I’m not that lucky this time. The olive trees punctuating my itinerary show their fruits, green or black and thin-fleshed –the Mediterranean essence at its purest. Our olive oil comes from here: the golden liquid making local flavours taste stronger. Do not try to eat one of these olives: they are so bitter! No signs of the lakes yet; it was true they were hidden from view. The lane goes up and down. The earth beneath my feet reveals small, star-shaped traces. Reptiles are common in the area; you may come across a Montpellier snake, a ladder snake, an ocellated lizard, a gecko, or a blind snake. There is no-one to be seen in the area. Just a dilapidated cortijo on the right and crop fields are the only signs of human presence. In the distance, shooting and barking. I walk on until I stumble upon two signs that indicate the lakes are private property. But there is no fence or anything. 10m ahead on the right-hand side, I spot the signs of human presence. Two white fences warn you, “Propiedad privada. Prohibido el paso. Do not enter.” A huge board and two traffic signs reinforce the idea. But the reserve’s sign is also there, so I come closer to read it. The lake opens up before me, sheltered by the nearby hills, which are covered in olive trees and holm oaks. Their invisibility is the key to their beauty: apparently calm water only rocked by a mild breeze. I focus my telephoto lens in an attempt to spot some water bird and there they are, swimming calmly in the distance: little grebes, black-necked grebes, great crested grebes, herons, mallards, Northern shovellers, red-crested pochards, Eurasian wigeons, common moorhens, Eurasian coots, little ringed plovers, Kentish plovers. The Grande Lake is 6 to 10m deep; in 1997, it was observed to be 13m deep. The Archidona Lakes are inner lakes fed by an aquifer that contributes water even on the driest summer days. More shooting: this time it sounds closer. I take a break, sitting on a rock facing Laguna Grande. I take a look at the setting: the thirsty olives, the holm oaks in the northern shore, the thick bushes. I go back to my travel guide, which tells me that in the bottom of the lake there live fish like barbels or mosquitofish (a surprising fact), and amphibians and reptiles such as frogs, common toads, natterjack toads, viperine water snakes, or even turtles (not so surprising). I take a couple of pictures and move on. The same trail gets to Cortijo de Las Lagunas, which affords spectacular views of the sierras and the oak grove surrounding the lakes. I take a look at the plants. More “Do not trespass” signs. One across the trail blocks access to Laguna Chica, which is only 0.5km away. What shall I do? Walk ahead or return to Laguna Grande? I do not want to be reckless, and the shooting and barking is now closer than ever, so I decided to return to the other lake. Secrecy is the key to the lakes’ beauty. The fact that only authorised visitors can go beyond the limits is the key to their conservation. The views of the Grande Lake form the hill are beautiful enough to make the tour worthwhile. The silence, the olives and the oaks, the singing birds… As I walk back to the starting point, I come across two cyclists. Their faces show signs of physical effort. No wonder: the trail contains some uphill stretches that must be difficult to negotiate on two wheels. They smile at me; I warn them about the road block; they say they will get as far as they can. Then they get lost amidst the olive trees. I can feel the lake at my back. In two more steps, it will vanish by sleight of hand. Oops: it is no longer there.

Farewell

The light reflected in the water is still in my eyes, sparkling in my retinas with an iridescent tarnish. I think about the past, about how men related to lakes, about crops reaching their shore and pleading for something to quench their thirst with. I think about the dual nature of man: exploitation and conversation of nature. Together with Fuente de Piedra, La Ratosa, and Campillos, the lakes in Archidona make a large and valuable complex, essential to life in Málaga and Andalusia. Each of them has a nature of its own, they are all very different, but they share the reflection of the bright blue sky in their sweet and salty water. Here, on the hill, I can feel I am one with nature; I am part of something bigger. I touch the earth, I listen to the birds, I feel the harsh and intense smells of the summer, I watch the lake. And the lake is watching me.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To find out more about the Archidona Lakes, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window into Natural Areas. Also, the Archidona Town website contains all the information you need to plan your trip to the lakes.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entryst.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Nature Reserve on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN / 07 FUENTE DE PIEDRA LAKE: IMPOSSIBLE OASIS

2011-07-26T11:09:00.001+02:00

Summer paints the lake shores in ochre and copper shades. The water is a glittering mirage reflecting our yearnings. The sun’s rays shimmer on the surface, giving rise to a play of deceiving appearances and fragile certainties. A white cloud here and now, perched on the water. It spreads out and you can see the pinkish sparkles. It is really hot, and the elusive flamingos can be seen in flocks, in small groups, on their own. They know the lake protects them: they are impervious to the murmur of men around them. They sink their smiley bills in their little sea, wading their way across the lake and cackling. The whole picture is a little bit surreal. The vapour from the earth wafts up the horizon like a morning veil. It looks like a mirage, an apparition in the middle of the olive groves. The banks show the salty traces of evaporated water. This salt aroused greed in men: In 1835 and then again in 1969, they tried to drain the whole lake. But nature vanquished them. Now, Fuente de Piedra Lake is one of the most complex, richest wetlands in Andalusia and Spain. It is hot. A flamingo flaps its wings and takes off gracefully.

Fuente de Piedra Lake

It was the Romans who first realised the lake was rich in salt. By 418 AD, they had settled in the area to exploit the salt pans in times of drought. The exploitation remained until the mid-twentieth century. In 1951, the last salt refining plant closed down. This meant man lived by the lake for many centuries and thus affected the ecosystem, preventing some of the water birds (flamingos among them) from flourishing. For the past 60 years, however, the flamingo population has grown steadily, and the local authorities decided to protect their breeding and nesting habits. Fuente de Piedra is a must-stop for birds migrating to or from Africa, and this is why it is so important. On January 11, 1984, it was designated as a Nature Reserve. Covering 1,354ha, Fuente de Piedra is the largest lake complex in Andalusia and one of the most important wetlands in Europe. Many bird species make their nests here –foremost among them, flamingos– and this make it an area that needs to be protected. In fact, it is the second most important flamingo nesting area in Europe and the Mediterranean, behind Camargue in France. In August 1990, there were as many as 50,010 individuals belonging to 170 classified species. The staff at the visitor centre told me there were 12,000 specimens now and the water was 90cm deep, which was quite good for the summer. The meticulous collection of data and the dedicated care of the area are key to the survival of this delicate ecosystem. Fuente de Piedra is subject to the arbitrariness of the weather and the change of seasons, morphing into different settings throughout the year but always looking beautiful, even when it is almost dry in summertime. One of the special treats given to Fuente de Piedra is the ringing of flamingos in July or August, depending on the environmental and bird factors. The ringing of flamingos has grown into a (necessary) environmental festival where people show their solidarity. Local authorities support it vigorously. On the Town Hall website you can read, “Depending on the rain, every year the flamingo breeding season begins in the late winter or early spring. Depending on the number of mates and the availability of food, it continues until the late summer. In order to study various aspects of flamingo biology, when chicks reach a certain age, they are captured and banded. As they group in crèches and cannot fly, they are led into an especially built pen at dawn. The pen is close to the breeding colony. About 300 volunteers coming from all over Spain, and even from foreign countries, are in charge of this delicate operation” (for the full account, go to Fuente de Piedra, “Ringing of Flamingos”). Let’s now take a dive into Fuente de Piedra Lake. The best place to start at is the visitor centre.

Visitor Centre

I leave my car in the parking lot. It is very hot, so the views of the lake suggest a pleasant idea of freshness. I spot some flamingos very near the building dominating the hill known as “Cerro del Palo” and housing the Fuente de Piedra Lake Visitor Centre. It is a must to begin your tour here. Learning about the characteristics of this ecosystem and getting information on the services available will help you enjoy your visit. Moreover, the centre affords spectacular views of the lake. The boards, in flamingo shades, tell you how the birds live and breed in the Nature Reserve: what species to find each time of year, how the ecosystem works, and so on. If you touch some of the boards, you can hear the sounds different birds make: their cawing, clucking, screeching, or singing. Additional services available at the visitor centre include binoculars to rent (€3/hour), bikes or strollers to rent (€5/hour), and guided tours (€6). Guided tours start at noon. They are available in Spanish or English, for groups of at least eight people. The meeting point is the visitor centre itself. Besides a guide and special telescopes, they give you access to observatories that are closed to the general public. There are many of them around the lake. Some of them are accessible to everyone, whereas others are restricted to qualified staff only, and you need a special permission to use them. General-access observatories, however, are perfect to get a panoramic view of the whole ecosystem, the lake and its shores.

Lake Tour

I have got everything I need: camera, binoculars, cap, bottle of water (which you can otherwise get at the visitor centre, alongside a wide array of souvenirs and gifts), comfortable shoes, sunglasses, and a pair of strong legs to walk a lot. I want to get to the tree main observatories: Cerro del Palo, Laguneto, and Vicaría (about 2km away). The distances between them can be covered on foot. Skirting the visitor centre and walking about 100m, you reach Cerro del Palo. Under a shady tree, I take a look at the lake. A bunch of flamingos are elegantly standing in the water, peering it with white and pink clouds. They sink their hooky beaks in the water, wade their way around moving their long and skinny legs, bending their knees. Suddenly, they just take off as others land on the lake. They are not the only inhabitants here; they have to share the lake with common stilts, wild ducks, common moorhens, Eurasian coots, little grebes, black-headed gulls (whose sounds you are very likely to hear), great crested grebes, black-necked grebes… Since life in the ecosystem depends on the season, the flora and fauna change a lot throughout the year. In winter you can find cranes, common shelducks, Northern shovellers, Kentish plovers, little egrets, and red-crested pochards. In fact, there are two different plant ecosystems in the lake area. The first one, which is heavily dependent on rainfalls, includes sunflowers, olives, holm oaks, oats and barley, mastic, Kermes oak, and thyme. The second one is affected by water level, salinity, and soil texture, featuring reed, salt grass, barilla plants, grass and algae in the wet area around the main lake.
The scene is overwhelming: a rich colour palette, a multiplicity of textures –from the polished water sheet to the twisted holm oaks to the leaden summer sky–, mountains peppered with white villas in the background. Green olive trees, brownish hills, white sparkles emerging from the area known as Las Albinas –a nice collection of sharp contrasts. Visitors walk down the clearly signed, fenced trails. The Laguneto viewpoint lies 200m away from Cerro del Palo. Water here is only 40cm deep –the lake is almost empty. The earth looks reddish as a result of the salt contents of the soil. Walking in silence, I can hear the buzzing dragonflies. The flamingos are very near, only 20 or 30m away; although they do not seem to fear the presence of man, I have no intention of scaring them. Just a picture or two. I watch them as they move gracefully and clumsily at once, with their elegant yet stiff legs. The trail leads to a bridge to Las Albinas, the area of the white earth. The path to La Vicaría is 2.4km long, running across dried ground. In the nineteenth century, they planned to turn it into farming fields. The Andalusian Ministry of the Environment bought the land to rehabilitate the salt pans, which are the reason why they earth is white. The path meanders about the mouths of the Santillán and María Fernández streams. I keep walking, talking, and taking photographs. The lake seems to be playing hide-and-seek behind the reeds. An ocellated lizard slices across the trail 1m away from my feet. Insects buzz, the fields sleep, a tractor makes a noise in the distance. All the croaking and clucking and splashing die away to burst again a moment later. Two cyclists ride past me. I can now see the viewpoint of La Vicaría. I am surrounded by nature but I do not feel like a stranger. I am part of this ecosystem right now. At the observatory, an English-speaking man and his two little daughters (one of them is ginger-haired) are watching the birds with binoculars. They take down notes and make drawings. They look at the birds again and take more notes. I walk in to discover a breathtaking view of the lake: the town in the background, the glittering water, the birds. I stop to regain my strength in the shadow. Quiet and silent, I let the horizon seize me. I find new images or new nuances by the minute. A flock of flamingos fly over my head.

Farewell

In the dead of dawn, the volunteers break stealthily into the lake. Wearing boots and waterproof trousers, they push the reeds apart. The dark grey chicks cannot fly, so they rock in their quiet nests. Their home is suddenly invaded by the peaceful horde of men, who are coming to ring and number them. A few months later, one of these volunteers will be watching with his telescope when he spots a new flamingo, dressed in pink. He will recognise his chick in it. He still remembers the number, the letter, the series. The man smiles to himself. It is one of his chicks.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To find out more about Fuente de Piedra, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window into Natural Areas. Also, the Fuente de Piedra Town Hall website contains all the information you need to plan your trip to the lake.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Nature Reserve on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 06 DEHESA DEL MERCADILLO: FOREST BELT

2011-07-12T09:54:00.002+02:00

Like a protective embrace, Dehesa del Mercadillo Park holds northern Ronda in its arms. A thick pine forest peppered with centuries-old holm oaks, looking at the depression of El Tajo gorge and the majestic mountains of the neighbouring village of Montejaque in the eye, and watching over the roads that lead to Antequera or Seville. Strong Mediterranean scents –of pines, rosemary, and thyme– greet visitors hailing from the north, and the ancient fragrances reach deep and profound Ronda, the city of El Tajo gorge. Silence: just a buzzing insect, a cicada with its fiddle, a dog barking in the distance, a singing bird.

Dehesa del Mercadillo Suburban Park

Far away and long ago, when men had few memories, someone called this place “Dehesa del Mercadillo” after the cattle market in the area. The connection between the park’s location and its use as a marketplace is only natural. The park lies in northern Ronda, just before the entrance to town. Travellers coming from Seville had to cut across it; those hailing from Antequera had to go across too; and the inhabitants of Málaga or Sierra de las Nieves had easy access to it (the latter via El Burgo). Meeting point and crossroads. The park is crisscrossed by multiple cattle roads with picturesque names: Cañada Real de Setenil, Cordel de Ronda a Olvera, Vereda al Molino de la Fuente, Camino del Llano de la Cruz, Cañada Real de Ronda a Jerez y Sevilla. Dehesa del Mercadillo was designated as a Protected Natural Area in 2000. It covers 137.77 hectares.

In the pine forest

I have left my car in the northern area of the suburban park, next to a recreational area and the entrance to the Ronda Reforestation Centre, housing several environmental vehicles, a fire truck, and a helicopter. I am about to go through the pine forest from north to south, treading upon the trails that lead to the depression of El Tajo gorge, the granite wall of Montejaque’s hill (El Hacho) and the chasm known as “El Hundidero.” The toilets, swings and barbecues in the recreational area are quite dilapidated. The holm oaks dominate the scene, reaching high above the slides. A low metal fence separates the recreational area from the pine forest, where cool shades prevail over the early morning sun, which is beginning to warm things up. Silence rules here, broken only by subtle buzzing sounds from insects and fiddle tunes from isolated cicadas. Beyond the fence, if you remain quiet, you may spot a disoriented rabbit or two. The guidebook I have read adds that badgers and foxes are quite common too. The forest in Dehesa del Mercadillo Park abounds in stone pines and Scots pines, but you can come across the twisted trunk of a holm oak here and there –amazing shapes in the air, tops resting on gnarled branches growing horizontally. The forest is dressed in dry shades: ochre, yellow, dark orange, and so on. The area is so quiet that you will not feel you are walking uphill. As I move on, I can smell rosemary and thyme, and see thorny brooms, brooms, rockroses, hawthorns, marjoram. It is the quintessential Mediterranean forest. The area has retained its stockbreeding atmosphere. For one thing, it is crisscrossed by cattle roads. Every year, the Armed Forces, coming from Jerez, bring a bunch of studs to Llano de la Cruz for locals to get their mares mounted and thus improve breed quality. It has been done this way since the nineteenth century. In autumn and spring, the inhabitants of Ronda use the trails to go hiking, mountain biking, or horse riding. I reach the depression.

The Depression of El Tajo Gorge

Leaving a nursery behind, I reach for the upper part of the park. Birds of prey fly over my head with majestic calm; there are several vultures and at least two eagles. The suburban park is home to many local bird species: finches, serins, crossbills, goldfinches, woodpeckers, treecreepers, rock sparrows, hoopoes, green woodpeckers, robins, blackbirds, booted eagles, griffon vultures, and owls. In front of me, the city of Ronda, which seems to be hanging from the walls of El Tajo gorge. I cannot see the town itself, or the New Bridge, but the depression is visible. The fields look like marquetry in yellow and ochre, framed by country roads: tight olive groves and mildly-rolling hills that narrow down as they approach the gorge. The mountain range dominated by El Hacho in Montejaque is also in front of me: El Palo, La Ventana, San Cristóbal, Torrejón, Peñón de las Mures in Sierra de Grazalema Nature Park. I look at the clouds of dust moved by the wind. I can picture the lines of donkeys coming to Ronda from various places, the Arab troops besieging the town, Orson Welles taking a stroll before a bullfighting evening, romantic travellers intoxicated by the fragrance of the pine trees. Suddenly, I hear a screech in the air. There they are: a pair of eagles. One of them turns in the air and sinks at breakneck speed. I lose sight of it. A couple walk past me, holding hands. They are heading for the pine forest, in search of the cool shadow of the trees.

Farewell

Just a moment. Sitting on a rock with my eyes closed. I can only hear insects crackling. I breathe in the thyme and rosemary aromas. I feel the tall grass with my fingertips. I open my eyes. A huge holm oak stands before me, its roots carving the earth for centuries. It is watching me. It is playing hide-and-seek with the surrounding pines, in a beautiful continuum of green shades.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To find out more about Dehesa del Mercadillo, visit the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. The suburban park is in Ronda.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this Protected Natural Area on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

EN 05 CAMPILLOS LAKES: COLOUR

2011-06-28T13:24:00.001+02:00

It is delicate and fragile: a lake complex disappearing in the summer and reappearing like a phoenix in the late winter (almost spring), only to disappear again with the next summer. Its fragile and subtle: a cyclical ecosystem dying and germinating with the seasons, fighting to come back and dying again. To the sentimental observer, it is a land of impossible contrasts, mirages and illusions, amazing apparitions, kaleidoscopic colours. There is green and blue and yellow and white and ochre and brown and grey and pink and black. They are all there, against the horizon that throbs beyond the corn fields and the olive trees and the lonely tractors and the whistling trains. Campillos Lakes: a delicate, subtle, fragile, unique ecosystem.

Lagunas de Campillos Nature Reserve

There used to be seven of them, but they were so fragile that two of them –Redonda and Toro– vanished years ago. Now they are five within the boundaries of Campillos: Dulce, Salada, Camuñas, Capacete, and Cerero. They are connected by trails, walks, paths, back roads, rail tracks, and even a royal cattle drive, connecting Ronda to Algeciras. You can get around this 1,126ha nature reserve on foot, on a mountain bike, on horseback, or by car (although not all of them are accessible this way), enjoying the surrounding plains and their olives and wild olives, corn fields and sunflowers. Lagunas de Campillos was designated as a nature reserve in 1989. Given the dramatic changes the area undergoes with the seasons, it is better to come from fall to spring. In times of drought, the lakes become white saline mirages –a sort of shrunk magic veil.

Five Lakes and Corn Fields

Given the fragility of this ecosystem, it is surprising to read that, in the nineteenth century, the people living in Campillos used to go fishing in Dulce Lake. This means that, 150 years ago, this lake may not have gone dry in the summer and had a stable fish population. An 1833 manuscript proves this. Thinking about this, I park my car and get ready to explore the lake area. Dulce is a big lake. Getting off my car, I can hear the first sounds that transport me to a different space with a unique yet universal language. The wetlands in Málaga Province are well cared for; most of them feature a bird-watching area where visitors can take a look at local birds and other animals without disturbing them. Of course, I am carrying my binoculars with me (together with my camera and notepad). Bird watching takes time and patience. You can first hear them in the reed: wing flapping, cawing, clucking, splashing. Then you can see a static landscape, where everything looks so quiet. On closer examination, things begin to move. You can see the wings, the wakes on the banks, the glides in the warm air. Pieces fit in, as in a puzzle: clucking and wakes, cawing and glides, flapping and splashes. Then you start to match images with names. Water birds –common shelducks, little egrets, ducks, Kentish plovers, typical waders, flamingos, common stilts, coots, avocets– are the most abundant. If you stay for a while, you can see many of them. (It could be a good idea to bring a handbook of Málaga’s birds if you want to enjoy your trip even more.) From my vantage point, leaning on the wooden shelves, I can see how the birds dance gracefully by the lake –a smooth, tender dance.
The lakes in Campillos have the same bird population as the lakes in Fuente de Piedra, Archidona, and Alameda (La Ratosa). The birds fly from south to north or from north to south, and some species feed and nestle here. A sign shows a route that must be interesting in spring: 22km in 7 hours, from Dulce Lake in Campillos to Los Gaitanes Gorge in Ardales. It can be done on foot, by bike, or even on horseback. The route covers most of the Guadalteba region, visiting some of the best bird-watching spots. It is perfect for bird lovers. Write it down. The five lakes beat at the same rate, but each has a character of its own, either because it is closer to the fields or to the passing train, or because it was put to commercial uses in the past, or because it barely shows seasonal effects. Salada Lake, for instance, has had an eventful history. The whole lake complex is characterised by low salinity. However, until 50 years ago, locals got sodium chloride in non-industrial ways from this lake. It is in the middle of the complex, behind a hill. Together with Capacete, it is the second lake in terms of size. It is also remarkable for its aquatic plants: Althenia, Chara, ruppia, and so on. Going from one lake to the next, I can spot more animals. The paths crisscrossing the fields make it possible to see ocellated lizards, Montpellier snakes, viperine water snakes, green frogs, common parsley frogs, common frogs, rabbits and hares, weasels, or foxes. The ecosystem is self-sufficient and we are just visitors here, so reptiles and their friends do not care about our curiosity and do not show. We just get hints: an orange speck behind a gorse bush, an astonished rabbit in grey and brown in the middle of a trail, a hissing snake… The road from Dulce to Capacete Lake, past Cerero Lake and Camuñas Lake, cuts across the fields. I can picture farmers in old times, loading their mules with olives, chewing rosemary, wearing caps against the sun, their skin weather-beaten and their hands hardened. Few signs remain of that past life. Donkeys and mules have been replaced by tractors and baling machines that greet the world with their clouds of ochre dust. I wander about slowly under the morning sun. From time to time, I can feel the refreshing breeze. I you are planning to visit all five lakes, do not forget your bottle of water. The tour is short and the course is flat, which is great for mountain bikes. However, fountains are nowhere to be seen. Water can be found in the lakes only. So bring some with you. Some of the nearby paths show silvery threads across them. They form a fine network that can only be seen in the reflection of the sun. Some of the birds feeding in the lakes build their nests in the reed beds surrounding them, so they leave their wet footprints on the trails when they move around. These are fresh. The aromas in the lake complex are unique, giving rise to a special blend: salt from the water, sweet thyme and rosemary from the sierras (these two abound in the fields, alongside rockrose, sage, gorse, or lentisk around Camuñas. The clouds are reflected in the quiet water like a mirage floating in the air. Colours –ochre, green, blue, yellow…– mix to create a perfectly unique landscape. Whereas in winter everything turns green, in spring ochre and yellow prevail. A single landscape dominated by different hues, depending on the season. I stroll down the fields between the trees, skirting a sunflower field. Bales of corn rest on the hills. I step on the earth and then on the asphalt. I can hear the train from Ronda to Algeciras in the distance. It could be a nice route. Note it down.

Farewell

Sitting on a wooden bench, I can hear wings being flapped. Then a pink and white flame shines before my eyes. Just a shake. The flamingo stretches its neck and sinks its beak in the water once more. Then it flaps its wings again. It takes off. It glides above me. It draws a circle above the lake and flies away to the north/northeast, in the direction of Fuente de Piedra. A white and pink stroke ripping the air. The clucking, buzzing, and splashing in the area seem to die away. Everything is so quiet.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about the lakes in Campillos, go to the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. Lagunas de Campillos Nature Reserve lies between the township of Campillos, in the region of Guadalteba.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this nature reserve, located in Campillos, on the Google map below.

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EN 04 GRACIA SUBURBAN PARK: A STORY

2011-06-28T13:20:00.002+02:00

The breeze, made of shadows, tempers the morning heat. Frays of light pass through the Aleppo pines and change, painting the slopes of a majestic hill in a state of Grace. History and nature blend in a perfectly subtle mix. Wall ruins, delicate poppies, buzzing bees sucking flowers, generous views of a chapel of Arabic origin, a thousand bird tunes, an imposing fortress. Welcome to the Gracia Suburban Park in Archidona, cradle of kings.

Sierra de Gracia Suburban Park

The park has a surface area of 35.3ha. Its privileged location earned it a high geostrategic value in the past. It is bounded by the village of Archidona to the South, olive and almond fields to the North, the amazing Sierra de Calderón to the East, and Camino de la Hoya to the West. Designated as a suburban park by the Andalusian Ministry of Environment in 1999, it stands on a mound, a plateau whose slopes are covered with Aleppo pines and whose top is crowned by the Chapel of Virgen de Gracia, an Arab architectural gem housing the classical arcades of old mosques. It takes some 30’ to 45’ to get to the summit from the centre of Archidona, depending on your pace and the stops you make. The ascent is quite steep, but the landscape is worth the effort –great views and amazing attractions revealed at each new step: Peñón de los Enamorados (Lovers’ Rock), the meadows, and the olive and corn fields in Antequera, the walls around the old fortress… Locals use the trail in their daily work-out, hiking their way up and trotting their way down. Let’s get ready: camera, journal, hat, water bottle, binoculars… Done.

Up to the Chapel of Santo Cristo

I can already see the white Chapel of Virgen de Gracia –up there, imposing and inaccessible. Although it is early, the morning sun is hot; I search for the cosy protection of the shady pines. An all-pervading smell comes from the trees; it is fresh, subtle, and persistent. If I could keep it in a bottle, I would take it home. Then I would open the bottle and let the aroma fill the air: the corridors, the kitchen, the living room... The breeze brushes past my skin. A cluster of prickly pears over here; poppies painting the green fields in red or yellow over there. As I go up, Archidona gets smaller and smaller, and the grey massif of Calderón gets closer, its broken outcrops become one with the fortress walls. The climb is punctuated by the Stations of the Cross. Now I am within the pine forest. A thousand songs from a thousand beaks make the delicate soundtrack of my ascent: trills, quavers, caws, whistles. I can imagine them flapping their wings to escape visitors; I can see them motionless for a while after guessing I am coming closer. Maybe they are specimens of native species: booted eagles, Bonelli’s eagles, short-toed snake eagles, cuckoos, common wood pigeons, great spotted cuckoos, Eurasian eagle-owls, red-legged partridges… I can see the white chapel among the tree tops. Despite the uphill walk, I enjoy the cool of the morning: the breeze, the shadows… I can hear the buzzing noises from the town of Archidona –a distant murmur made up of voices, horns, barks, ringing bells… At a sharp bend, I go off the beaten path to explore a scenic viewpoint protected by a railing. Archidona stretches out before me: the Chamfered Square, the Minim Convent, the old Town Hall… To the East, Peñón de los Enamorados appears in the mist, and the road zigzags across the olive and corn fields like a black serpent. I sit on a rock and let my eyes wander. I outline the nearby mountains, the roads and the streets of Archidona with my finger in the air. Back on trail, I head for the Chapel of Santo Cristo. It was built in the eighteenth century and renovated in 1997. Preceded by a yard flanked by stone benches, the simple building features a brick lintel framing the door. It is cool and shady in here.

Up to the Chapel of Virgen the Gracia

The climb is winding and steep, but it can be negotiated without effort. I get closer to the fortress walls: stones laid by the Romans, strengthened by the Arabs, and used by the Christians. The Pico del Conjuro –the hill where the chapel and the walls stand is protected on its southern slope, for a chasm makes access impossible from the North. I walk my way up, greeting a couple of women runners and then a man running on his own. They reach the summit in a jiffy. The soundtrack of whispers, creaks, and drones never stops. Lots of animal species live here: amphibians (frogs and toads), reptiles (ocellated lizards, ladder snakes, Iberian worm lizards), and mammals (deer, wild boars, foxes, rabbits). At night, you come across bats, shrew mice, Algerian mice, European badgers, and garden dormice. The majestic shadow of the walls is on a par with the majestic sierras. The rocky crags and the wall stones become one, blending man’s intervention with nature’s work. I reach the remains of the battlements. The pine forest has been left behind and the summit is clear. I can now understand the geostrategic importance of this place, at the crossroads of Málaga, Granada, Córdoba, and Antequera. I can even picture an Arab guard standing right where I am standing now, scrutinising the clouds of dust made by the carts of merchants or the troops of soldiers. I let my imagination run wild. The Chapel of Virgen de Gracia is right in front of me, and it is not a figment of my imagination.

The Chapel of Virgen de Gracia

The chapel can be accessed by car, but you would be missing the beautiful landscapes afforded by the climb. They get better as you walk up, and they are viewed against the backdrop of animal sounds. I am happy to be here. Archidona played a key role in Al-Andalus. “Arsiduna,” as the Arabs used to call it, was the capital of the district of Rayya. It was here that Abd al-Rahman I was proclaimed emir. Hence the importance of the local fortress and the mosque (the only one that has come down to us in Málaga Province). An information board at the summit tells you, “The temple is accessed from an eighteenth-century porticoed courtyeard. Once inside, you can first visit the prayer room (haram) of the Al-Andalus mosque, its horseshoe arches supported by columns with Roman shafts. The presbytery shows the signs of the seventeenth and eighteenth-century renovation. The chapel is dominated by a painting of Our Lady of Grace. The belfry tower has kept the structure of the Arab towering minaret, which was used to summon Muslims to prayer.” Outside, a row of beautiful balconies invite you to look at the nearby sierras and villages, indicated in a board: Sierra Chimenea (El Torcal, Antequera), Sierra Pelada, Sierra de las Cabras, Villanueva del Rosario, Villanueva del Trabuco, the Lakes in Archidona… I take a look at the landscape, spotting the peaks with the binoculars. I am having a great time.

Farewell

EmbWith my eyes filled with the blueness of the sky and the whiteness of the chapel, I climb down the trail leading to the town centre. New sounds add to the familiar soundtrack: tinkling bells and bleating sheep. I come across a shepherd with three dogs. We talk for a while. His flock comprises over 500 sheep. I say goodbye. The bleats vanish amidst the pine trees. Sheep and church bells blend.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about the lakes in Campillos, go to the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

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Geolocation: Find the exact location of this nature reserve, located in Archidona, on the Google map below.

EN 03 LA RATOSA LAKE: A MIRAGE IN BLUE

2011-06-03T10:04:00.003+02:00

The blue sheet plays hide-and-seek with the olive trees. It emerges between two olives, then vanishes. My eyes play tricks on me, as if I were before a mirage in the desert. And it is not just today. La Ratosa appears and disappears, depending on the season. It is bright blue in spring and in winter, brownish in autumn and in summer. It is an ever-changing territory in a delicate balance. Now it is brimming with life: clucking, trilling, swishing, whispering, murmuring, wing flapping, splashing, squelching… It is the soundtrack of the lake, a symphony of nature accompanying the distant murmur of human life, with its tractors and high-speed trains. The dark red earth lies in sharp contrast to the blue lagoon, the pale green olives, or the pink flamingos. So we have the soundtrack and the palette. We just need to let go now.

Laguna de la Ratosa Nature Park

La Ratosa Lake was designated as a Nature Reserve in 1999. It boasts a series of features that make it so special. It is a fragile ecosystem, surrounded by heavily cultivated areas. Moreover, it is subject to the whims of the seasons, drying up in the summer to be reborn in winter and spring. It is a small area, covering only 24 hectares, originating in the natural drainage of an aquifer. Located between Alameda and Humilladero, in the hinterland of Málaga Province and close to the border with Seville, this ecosystem suffers the summer heat, which evaporates the water in the lake. As a result, La Ratosa is surrounded by a narrow reed bed and birds do not nest there; it is only a passing and feeding area. These features make the lake inaccessible except to researchers, who must get permission from environmental authorities. But if you are not an expert, you can still have a great time skirting the lake on the outside. I can tell you you can. La Ratosa Lake is part of a larger ecosystem comprising other lakes –Fuente de Piedra, Campillos, Archidona– and the Guadalhorce Estuary, which is the gateway to Spain from Africa.

Walk, Silence, Life

I have parked my car next to the sign of Laguna de las Castañuelas. I am welcomed by a cloud of white butterflies and blue dragonflies dancing by the lake. The earth is bright red. Getting out of my car, I can hear clucking. Ten flamingos making a V against the bright blue sky fly over me. The flap their wings slowly and rhythmically, like ballet dancers. They are so close to me but they do not get frightened. Changing directions, they hide in the shadow of the olive trees. Taking a look at the lake, I can see some of the inhabitants of La Ratosa: as many as fifteen different bird species, including great crested grebes, black-necked grebes, little grebes, grey herons, cattle egrets, greater flamingos, Western marsh-harriers, common moorhens, Eurasian coots, black-winged stilts, black-headed gull, lesser black-headed gulls, gull-billed terns, and black terns. I begin my walk around the lake. Silence can be a tool and an ally here. I skirt the lake amidst the olives, greeting a couple of men spraying the wild trees. I keep walking, always silent. It is the only way of becoming familiar with the subtle sounds in the area –cluck, splash, swish… I can make out the green rings of a snake fleeing the main road, a yellow alligator almost 0.5m long just five steps away from me, a static rabbit in the grass surrounding the lake… Every now and then I stop and listen. I give the landscape a closer look and what seemed motionless begins to move in a unique secret dance. The reeds rock to reveal the blue lake behind them. I am walking down an earthen trail used by tractors which draws a sort of belt surrounding the lake. Behind a bend, hiding in the tall grass, a bunch of greater flamingos show their huge beaks and their pink wings. I take out my binoculars and watch them. Then I get my camera and take a couple of pictures. But I do not want to frighten them. I walk slowly, step by step, trying to make no noise. As I come closer, they swim across the lake, without flapping their wings, just moving smoothly in the water. They are so delicate… A heron is pecking at the water. As I make headway, the lake gets hidden behind a large field of daisies, lilacs, and poppies, framed by the ever-present olive trees. A high-speed train moves across the horizon in the distance, like a fleeting, muffled arrow. Fresh, sweet smells. I take a deep breath. I come as close to the lake as the reddish mud surrounding it allows me to. More moorhens –black body, white beak– swimming in V-shaped arches with their chicks trailing behind. The butterflies suck the daisies and the lilacs and the poppies, flying in erratic ways. The dragonflies buzz in the corn fields. And there is more. I cannot see it, but I know it is there. I have read about it in A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas: La Ratosa Lake has a high botanical value thanks to its underwater species and to the presence of specimens of Althenia orientalis, a plant living in shallow water. In the clearings by the lake, given the water’s salty nature, there are white salt pan traces –a harbinger of the forthcoming summer, of the ephemeral character of life at La Ratosa, of its fragile, changeable existence. I keep walking.

Farewell

I stay put. Silent. Trying to become one with the environment. At first nothing happens. But then, little by little, life goes back to its old rhythm, impervious to the presence of man. I can hear the clucking again, and the flapping of wings, the drone of dragonflies, a hidden trill amidst the olive trees, the subtle sibilant sounds of reptiles, the creaking of branches, the swishing of reeds, the chirping of crickets, even my own breathing. I am now part of La Ratosa.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about La Ratosa Lake, go to the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. You can also read the entry for Alameda in this blog. >

When to come: The best time of year to visit La Ratosa is from February to June. After June, the landscape changes dramatically due to water evaporation. The vast sheet of water becomes a salt pan in the summer and remains like this throughout the autumn.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry

Geolocation: Find the exact location of this natural area, between Alameda, Humilladero and La Roda de Andalucía, in Seville, on the Google map below.

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EN 02 GUADALHORCE ESTUARY: A SECRET

2011-05-16T09:18:00.004+02:00

They appear in the background in the early morning mist, like long-legged spiders silhouetted against the sea and the mountains. They move slowly, like ghosts at dawn, as if they were creatures from H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds. They are the huge cranes of the Port of Málaga. In front of them, in the foreground, there is the marshlands. A tangle of twisting meanders drawing self-closed spirals. Glittering lakes –Escondida over here, Grande over there– that absorb the morning sunlight. Echoing honks, quacks, and trills and the distant murmur of the hustle and bustle in the dark road A-7. There is a well-kept secret here, a world crisscrossed by trails and paths where you can hear the muffled sounds of the city. A hidden yet accessible treasure of Nature, where the roving flight of birds shares the bright blue sky with the routes leading to Pablo Ruiz Picasso Airport. It is a treasure I have seen many times before, spotting it between the highway rails, guessing it was there in my hurried daily errands. This is where the river Guadalhorce flows into the Mediterranean, creating marshlands brimming with life –lakes, birds, small mammals, insects, plants and flowers. A land of hybridisation between the sweet river and the salty sea. A pleasant green oasis lying between Málaga City and Torremolinos. This is the Natural Area of the Guadalhorce Estuary.

Natural Area of the Guadalhorce Estuary

The Guadalhorce is a waterway laden with citrus aromas flowing through the entrails of Málaga Province, feeding the fruit tree groves and the vegetable gardens, and then flowing into the Mediterranean. The river and the sea play an overlapping game in which appearances can be deceiving. The sea gets sweet and the river becomes salty in a uniquely beautiful ecosystem. The Guadalhorce Estuary was designated as a Natural Area in 1989. In a 67ha/165.6ac surface area, it has a wide array of bird species. Given its strategic location between Europe and Africa, it is part of the route used by coastal migratory birds every year, and the area where many of them stop to rest and feed. The place was altered by man: its present appearance is the result of man’s burdensome intervention and later rehabilitation work. In the 1970s, aggregate extraction unearthed a series of gravel beds in the mouth of the river which were colonised by various plant and animal species. (A gravel bed is a natural gravel deposit due to river transportation in suspension, followed by sedimentation and consolidation. The particles carried in suspension result in gravel whose edges, unlike those of rocks in quarries and mines, are not angular. Source: Wikipedia in Spanish.) In 1989, the place became a Protected Area. Nine years later, rehabilitation work began; after a long process, the place got the appearance it has today. The man-made lake complex features two main trails, 1.5km/0.9mi long each, five viewpoints where you can watch the marshlands, and the longest wild littoral-coastal area in Málaga Province.

The Well-Kept Secret

Coming across such a natural paradise only 7km/4.4mi from Málaga City is quite a shock. The marshlands are surrounded by a well-developed urban environment, but they have managed to keep their natural essence, maybe thanks to their location. There is only one way of getting to them –a bridge where the river forks and the area gets surrounded by two waterways leading to the Mediterranean. The bridge is closed to vehicles and can be accessed from the housing developments in Guadalmar. Upon crossing it, you enter a deceivingly calm world. I get ready and stay motionless and silent for a few seconds. I forget about the buzzing of cars and the roaring of planes. I forget about all city sounds and begin to hear splashing, clucking, honking, grass swishing, trilling, flapping of wings. I close my eyes and let the early morning sun warm my skin up. I take a deep breath and gaze at the glittering green of the marshlands, the misty blue of the sea, and glowing mirrors in the lakes. Laguna Grande, La Casilla, Escondida, Eucaliptal, Costera, Limícola, Río Viejo… I am ready to unveil one of Málaga’s best-kept secrets.

The Walk

The well-signed dirt trails are flat, ideal for footing, hiking, mountain biking, or just hanging around. The place is great for kids, who can spot birds, small mammals, or insects, and try to track them down. According to the information boards, there are two things you must not do: go off the beaten paths and make noise. If you are silent, your bird watching chances will be higher. Many birds stay in their nests, hidden in the foliage, and fly off when they hear you coming, frightened and surprising at once. I come across a few riders and runners. Everything looks so quiet. I take pictures. I take a look at the plants. I make comments on the various species. I walk at a relaxed pace. Only 300m/328yd to the right, there is the viewpoint of Laguna Escondida –and my first contact with local fauna. I slip in quietly. Its windows afford views of the lake. I move slowly. A board tells the story of the lake complex: how it was discovered, what its characteristics are… I sit down on one of the wooden benches, getting my tripod ready. I spot a small flock of ducks. Click, click. I stay put, staring at the reflection of light on the water. Depending on the season, the lakes are visited by grey herons, egrets, cattle egrets, black-crowned night herons, common shelducks, little grebes, buffleheads, Audouin’s gulls, ospreys, black storks, and common kingfishers. I enjoy the peace, the splashes, the morning breeze. I move on, slowly, silently. I spot the tracks of birds and reptiles across the trail. They are wet; they must be recent. They are all over, like messages from an old, whimsical, subtle animal world. I reach another viewpoint, Laguna Grande, located on a mound. It is a window to paradise: a small, self-closed sea surrounded by reed and bushes. A shallow lake, only 1m/3.3ft deep, where ducks and wading birds play survival game. I let a sigh out and let the sun dwell in my eyes. Before taking a few pictures, I take a look. The cranes and the old chimney in the background. The colourful flowers and shrubs in the foreground. This is the secret of the Guadalhorce Estuary: very different landscapes in a few metres distance, wild nature and urban development separated by a bridge. I reach the sea and take in its smooth waves. Retracing my steps, I come back to the fork in the river in search of Río Viejo. I explore its banks, its subtle meanders, its special features. And the lake of La Casilla, which is where rehabilitation began of this unique and delicate, fragile yet powerful area. I walk without saying a word. I come across more runners. I reach more viewpoints. I take more pictures. I speak in a hushed voice. I look at the sea. I get lost in my own daydreaming. Suddenly, a question comes to mind: What does this well-kept secret look from the outside, from the other side of the waterways protecting it, far from the bridge?

A Look from the Outside

Leaving the marshlands behind, I take a dirt road leading straight to the sea. A wall of tall reeds hides the treasure, protecting it from inquisitive looks. Moved by the breeze, the reeds seem to rock the marshlands. I follow the river amidst lilacs and daisies, dressed in bright violet and spotless white. I can hear the ducks splashing, diving underwater when taken by surprise by visitors. I imagine other birds living in the area, and I can see small flocks of them swaying in the sky, flying and turning all of a sudden, perching on shallow pools along the way, lowering their beaks to drink some water. In front of me, the sea and its reflection. More cyclists. More sportspeople. The Guadalhorce flows smoothly (or so it seems) by my side, bringing the smells of La Hoya with it: orange and lemon blossoms filling the spring air with sweetness. As I get closer to the sea, I can hear a different sound: the waves against the sand. The grass is rocked by the breeze. Two fishermen throw their rods in the Mediterranean as they smoke a cigarette sitting on a multi-colour chair. A barge sails past the river mouth towards Málaga City. Looking back, I can see the delicate yet powerful secret, weak and strong at once. The city flaps its wings beyond the marshlands, with its skyscrapers and its spider-like port cranes.

Farewell

I stare at the glittering lakes. The ducks and herons move in the kaleidoscope, disturbing the quiet water sheets with splashes and subtle tracks left in the marshlands. Off they fly, only to quieten down a few meters away. They quack and get involved in birdy arguments. They flap their wet wings against the bright blue sky. I am sitting on a wooden bench in the observatory, camouflaging to be part of the environment, catching its breathing rhythm, changing to green and darkish shades. I take off my intruder’s clothes and feel at one with the world.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about the Guadalhorce Estuary, go to the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. The Estuary is quite close to Málaga City.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact geographical location of this natural area, between Málaga City and Guadalmar, on the Google map below.

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EN 01 ARTOLA-CABOPINO DUNES: A LABYRINTH OF SAND

2011-05-16T09:12:00.003+02:00

From time immemorial. This moving, ductile, capricious strip of sand went all along the horizon from Punta Ladrones in Cabopino to San Pedro Alcántara. Deceivingly silent yet a living being lapping at the paws of the sea and climbing up the mountains. Carved by the whims of the wind, chiselled by the slight erosion of the Mediterranean, shaped and reshaped by the breeze blowing from the sea. Junipers swallowed up by the sand emerging here and there, stone pines lowering their branches to stuck their branches on the ground. From time immemorial. When the Barbary corsairs still plundered the coastline and the Mediterranean dwellers hid behind the mountainous fence. A trace of the raids and the pillage: Torre de los Ladrones, a magnificent tower, the highest along the Málaga coastline. Then there came the waves of tourists, who had other pleasures and needs, and the huge dune shrank to its current 192,715 square metres. Punta Ladrones and Río Real are its milestones today, the posts between which the dune moves, silky and alive. The Dunes of Artola-Cabopino were designated as a Protected Natural Area and a Natural Monument by the Andalusian Government in 2003. It is still a wild, indomitable area. I walk around. I bury my feet in this patch of land where the Mediterranean essence breathes: the sand warmed up by the early sun, the soundtrack of the beating waves and singing birds, the cicadas coming to life in the early day. I walk around and I enter the labyrinth of the Artola Dunes.

Torre Ladrones

This is the starting point of my trip, under the shadow cast by the Tower westwards. It seems to be telling me which way to go. There is no fixed route in the dunes, for they are a maze of open paths in the bushes. The paths change every summer, every spring, they appear and then vanish, shaped by the wind. Some run from East to West and others do so from North to South, from the pine forest hiding the main dirt road to the sea. In the summer you can see the tourists swaying as they tread upon the ancient sand, carrying their caps and balls and coolers and umbrellas like “rarae aves” that can find no place in heaven. I look up: Torre Ladrones. Imposing. A 15m block looking down at me. The highest tower along the Málaga coastline. It used to be part of the defence system designed by the Catholic Monarchs after they seized Granada with the aim of defending the coast from the ravages of Barbary corsairs and Turkish ships. The Tower was named after the term “ladronera” –a defensive device consisting of a projection in the upper part where you could watch or harass the attackers. Torre Ladrones was built in 1497. It is a beacon tower or “almenara,” from Arabic “almanara,” a word that means lighthouse, after a signal system used for communication between towers, consisting of lighting fires at the top.

The Dunes

I am in. A three-colour flag flutters against the horizon: water, sea, and plants. Green, blue, and steel grey. The soundtrack of the soft beating waves, the singing birds, and the meandering reptiles in the bushes sets the slow pace of the Dunes, which seem to have a life of their own. The perfumes of the coastline, where heat acts as a sieve for the sand and the salt. I did my homework before coming, taking notes of the flowers and animals I could find in the area. It pays off, for I soon spot a Silene littorea, splashing the place with lilac shades in relatively large bunches or in individual flowers that look like shipwrecks against the green background. Empty shell pieces on the ground, pearly, on their way to become sand –childhood treasures, since most kids love to pick them. Multi-colour plant combinations, white sand lilies standing in sharp contrast to everything else. As you walk away from the coastline into the most distant paths, the vegetation becomes thicker, growing under the protection of the sand bar. Mastic trees and pines shake hands to create a dense net protecting the area from the wind that blows from the sea. The stone pines brush the ground with their branches, their trunks protected with a veil of moving sand and their roots buried in the volatile earth, stretching like nerves and emerging in this or that spot like lonely, twisted, sinewy wires only to vanish a few steps ahead. The pines make real caves, which you can access through narrow passageways. The caves are natural shelters where the dunes can breathe and the plants can rest. Even birds find them useful when they are looking for a place to nest. The most beaten paths, naked, lead to the beach and the sea; they flow into the Mediterranean as if in desperate search for blueness. The atmosphere in the Dunes is dense and intense, heavy, exuberant, laden with ancient aromas. No wonder you find it quite oppressive: plants camouflaging in natural colours and the bright strokes of ocean blue in between. Twisted junipers carved by capricious winds and trying to protect themselves by taking impossible shapes, their cups touching the ground. The landscape is hybrid and ever-changing. Pines, junipers, and mastic trees join forces to create a solid background where you do not know where one tree ends and the next begins. The Artola Dunes are a kaleidoscope where colours and contrasts play their game. Looking down, I can see the tracks of the elusive birds. I can hear them, too. But they do not show. Only up there, trapeze artists in the bright blue sky. I can see their delicate footprints on the sand –perfect geometric designs, as if shaped by man and not by Nature. Two or three triangles. A zigzagging line. Silver seagulls, blackbirds, hoopoes, little owls, kestrels, Kentish plovers… They all escape the lens of my camera. I can hear them move, sing, flap their wings behind a bush, as if they were ghosts that would not be fooled by my stealthy moves. Their tracks are the only proof of their existence. The Dunes change. They move. They morph. They die and are reborn. The green vegetation covers the yellow body of Hercules, sandy and fragile, subtle yet strong, that beats inside. The salty breeze from the sea shakes the surface. Lizards loaf around on the sun. Beetles prowl around like moving black diamonds. The beach grass and the sand couch grass rock to the rhythm of the breeze, their thin stalks carrying the burden of the moving sand. The perfumes of the Dunes are deeply Mediterranean. They link the area to the essence of the land. They stick to the skin of beachgoers, guests at beach bars, or tourists looking for a different beach. For better conservation and friendlier access by visitors, the Ministry of the Environment is working on a project to enclose the area, add wooden walkways, do away with the central path leading into the Dunes, and relocating the only bar that is still inside the natural monument.

Farewell

I breathe in the fragrance of the pines, warm sand, and flowers. I listen to the singing birds and the barking dogs in the distance. I can feel the caressing rays of the sun on my skin. I stare at the sea in front of me, morning passers-by along the shore, getting their feet wet. A seagull plunges into the water. I sit down on the bushes and get pricked by Sea holly, a prickly plant full of sharp thorns. It was the only species I had not seen.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

Useful links: To read more about the Artola-Cabopino Dunes, go to the websites of Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Government of Andalusia, A Visitor’s Window Into Natural Areas. For more information on the town where the Dunes are located, check the Blue Colour of the Sky entry for Marbella.

Images: Here you can see all the photos of this blog entry.

Geolocation: Find the exact geographical location of this natural area, between Río Real and Cabopino in Marbella, on the Google map below.

Ver El Color Azul del Cielo "Espacios Naturales de Málaga" en un mapa más grande

101 MÁLAGA: MEDITERRANEAN DREAM (PART 2)

2011-05-05T09:26:00.008+02:00

Continued from
101 MÁLAGA: MEDITERRANEAN DREAM (PART I)
Click on link to go to Part 1

Picasso: The Museum

Picasso introduces a new look at Málaga. A look at an outlined, severed face. A look in which reality appears carved by a new and unique chisel. Maybe it’s not a matter of chance. Maybe the many-faced Málaga had an impact on the boy playing in Plaza de la Merced, maybe the salt, the seagulls, the men and women lying on the beach influenced his matchless perspective. What could be the genesis of his unbridled cubist look? Málaga and the Mediterranean are ever-present in Picasso’s work, in the form of childhood visions or as part of the painter’s DNA. These are my thoughts as I stand in the queue outside the Picasso Museum. The Museum is housed in the former Palacio de Buenavista, an ascetic sixteenth-century building with whitewashed walls. Málaga is an amazing blend of history and avant-garde. Thus, under this temple of modernity, containing the work of one of the most prolific innovative artists of the twentieth century, there’s an archaeological site where the Phoenicians, the Romans, and the Arabs share Picasso’s Mediterranean essence. 155 works on display. 155 works that show Picasso’s development as a painter and a sculptor. 155 works that make the Picasso Museum in Málaga necessary and the most visited museum in the province. Book illustrations, drawings, sculptures, pottery, graphic designs from 1890 to 1973. 155 works that are the real stars here. An explosion of colour against a white background. Impossible silhouettes. Doves ready to fly away. Volatile figures. I sink the Picasso’s world of dreams. I’m wandering. I’m floating. I see the other visitors with new eyes. I break up their faces and put the pieces together again, as if they were puzzles. Visitors moving from one painting to the next. Visitors who know what they’ve come to see, analysing this brushstroke or that line. Sceptical visitors who can’t see the value of Picasso’s break with tradition. Conscientious visitors wanting to see everything and analyse every single detail, coming closer and then moving back, as if sizing the works up. Visitors who feel Picasso. It takes time to visit the Picasso Museum. It takes time and energy. You have to make a contribution: open your mind and let go. For information on the Museum, admission fees, hours, temporary exhibitions, the permanent collection, the genesis of the works, calendar of events, news, etc., go to http://www.museopicassomalaga.org/. Combined tickets for the permanent collection and temporary exhibitions are €8 (permanent collection only: €6; temporary exhibitions only: €4.50). Now on: “Kippenberger Meets Picasso.” If you can, have breakfast at the café. It can be expensive, but it’s worth it. Water and stone in a cosy patio as the building comes to life and the works shake off their drowsy sleep.

From Plaza de la Merced to Picasso’s Birthplace to Juan Breva Museum of Flamenco Art

The boisterous Granada Street takes me to Plaza de la Merced, past El Pimpi, where I felt so good a few hours ago. If Larios Street is Málaga’s main artery and Plaza de la Constitución is its beating heart, Plaza de la Merced is the epicentre of an earthquake. Everyone seems to meet in this square: youngsters ready for party, tourists, families in their early walks, and pigeons in the early afternoon. In the middle of the square there’s a monument to General Torrijos, one of those rare men who are committed to ideas like freedom above all else. His ideals cost him his life (he had a tragic death). To read more about him, click here. Facing the square, the Picasso Foundation and the Picasso Birthplace and Museum (admission + audio guide: €2). Take a look at the website (Picasso Foundation) before coming. You can read about the foundation’s mission, activities, and publications. The audio guide tells interesting facts about Picasso’s childhood, his family, his first steps in Málaga. It’s weird to be in the place where one of the geniuses of the twentieth century was born and raised. It helps understand where that unique vision came from, how little Pablo looked at this very square from these very balconies. If you’re a Picasso fan, download the special Picasso Route at Málaga Turismo (Picasso in Málaga) –a sightseeing tour with 13 points that had an influence on the life of the great artist: Picasso Foundation, La Malagueta bullring, Church of Santiago, old Town Museum, old Academy of Fine Arts… From the Picasso Foundation, my feet take me to the Cervantes Theatre, whose grey façade stands out against the cloudy sky. Built in 1870, the Cervantes Theatre puts on a wide range of shows and concerts throughout the year, reaching its climax at the Málaga Spanish Film Festival, whose main venue it is (the opening and closing ceremonies are held here). For information on the Festival –an event that’s becoming increasingly important and injects a dose of extra vitality to an already vital city–, go to http://www.festivaldemalaga.com/. The festival is held in March or April. Other Festival venues include the Echegaray Theatre and the Albéniz Cinema. I have to fight hard to resist the temptation of having an invigorating coffee at one of the cafés in the square before the theatre. Carcer Street leads to Álamos Street and this brings me back to Plaza de la Merced. Along the way I come across the Juan Breva Museum of Flamenco Art on 4 Ramón Franquelo Street. The building houses the Museum and the headquarters of the Juan Breva Flamenco Club. As a matter of fact, the Museum opened in 2008, on the occasion of the Club’s 50th anniversary. The collection contains 5,000 flamenco-related objects, 2,500 of which are records. It’s considered to be one of the most important flamenco treasures in Spain. Alongside the original records, there’re 40 guitars (some dating back to the eighteenth century), embroidered shawls, phonographs, dresses with trains, etc. Certainly, a must-attend for flamenco lovers and a curious sight for general visitors. Back in Plaza de la Merced. This is where Day 1 ends.

Some Clues

I share opinions, go over my notes, read some of the brochures I’ve collected during the day, and realise it’s been a hard day, rich in reflections and emotions. Now, I’ll give you some clues to have dinner, go tapas, or have a drink. The Historic District is crowded at weekends. The corner of Larios Street and Granada Street opens up zillions of leisure and culinary options. Some of them you’ll find below. The surroundings of the Albéniz Cinema are a typical meeting point, with several bars to have a coffee in the afternoon or a drink in the evening. Sitting at one of those tables, you can get great views of the Arab Fortress or the Roman Theatre –quite a privilege. Plaza Uncibay is another square featuring various bars, restaurants, and coffee houses. But there’re more squares and streets: Plaza del Carbón, Plaza del Siglo, Plaza Jerónimo Cuervo (opposite the Cervantes Theatre), Calle Méndez Núñez, etc., etc., etc. All of them can be reached on foot. International or Mediterranean cuisine, tapas, avant-garde dishes, fast food, fried fish… Tastes and colours for everyone. A coffee on a terrace, dinner at a modern restaurant, two pints of beer later in the evening… And then, to bed. I’ve booked an affordable room at a hotel in central Málaga. Just check rates and deals before coming; there’re so many options…

The Roman Theatre

Day 2: Older Málaga. The Roman Theatre, the Arab Fortress, the Gibralfaro Castle, and lunch in El Palo. The Visitor Centre at the Roman Theatre is one of the most modern centres of its kind I’ve ever been too. It’s free. The tour begins with a multimedia film in three screens and then you move on to cases that turn on when you pass by. In addition, there’re touchscreens where you choose the information you want to read. Modern and interesting. The contrast with the Theatre itself is amazing: from twenty-first-century technology to the latest engineering available in the first century B.C. Málaga’s Roman Theatre is a symbol of the city’s importance in Roman times. Perched on a hill in the shadow of the Arab Fortress, it was active until the third century AD, i.e. for almost four centuries. When the Arabs came to town, it had fallen into disuse, and so some of its stones were used to build the Fortress. Hence the Roman capitals or shafts inside the purely Arab construction. I come on stage, admiring the rehabilitation work done for visitors to be part of such a magic setting without spoiling the original building. I think of the Greek tragedies and Roman satires that must have been staged. I can hear the actors saying their soliloquies in a loud voice. As if by sleight of hand, when I leave the Roman Theatre, I find myself at the entrance of the Arab Fortress.

The Fortress: An Arab Dream

I’m loving it. I’ve been loving it since I first visited it a few years ago. The cobblestones, the views of the port and the roofs, the orange blossom smells, the direct look at the Mediterranean. There’re multiple entrances. Combined tickets for the Fortress and the Castle are €6.90 for two. Tickets are sold by vending machines, so make sure you’ve got change. The Arab Fortress combines the grace of a palace with the roughness of a fort. And it’s the combination that makes it glorious. When you wander about its battlements, gazing at the city and the sea, you understand why it was such an important building. Standing on a hillock by the sea, the Fortress watches over the natural bay of the Port of Málaga. Built in the eleventh century, it remained in the hands of the Muslims until Málaga was conquered by the Christian army in the fifteenth century. Two walls with L-shaped doors make the main hall. The lower, thicker, wall surrounds the building housing the chambers where the rulers lived. I roam and ramble without end. I fancy what life must have been like in those times, based on the objects shown in the Fortress’s cases, the murmur of the water flowing along irrigation canals, and the polychrome paintings on the arches. Veils and robes and turbans that evoke Moorish queens, emirs, and rulers gazing at Africa from the keep. I take a seat in the garden, close my eyes, give in to the morning cold, the violent aromas of the flowers, the lullabies from the water pipes. Visitors come and go, speaking different languages, and I think of the Port of Málaga as a medieval Babel in times of the Arabs. The Arab Fortress is connected to the Gibralfaro Castle by La Coracha, an uphill street between two imposing wall stretches. The street is inaccessible, though. There’re three other ways of getting to the Castle: skirting the outer wall, taking a bus (hours and stops shown at the entrance to the Fortress), or driving. If you choose to go on foot, take the lift down to the street –you’ll need to save energy for the climb.

Gibralfaro: Málaga’s Bastion

It’s a 20’ steep climb. If you’re fit enough and in no hurry, the walk is worth it, as you’ll get gradual views of the city, La Malagueta Bullring, and the districts of Pedregalejo, El Limonar, and El Palo. It’s tiring, but Málaga’s bright blue sky makes up for that. The Castle’s history is appealing, as usual. Toponymy. Etymology. The word Gibralfaro is believed to be a blend of an Arabic and a Greek stem: Yabal, “mountain,” and Faruh, “lighthouse.” Yabal-Faruh > Gibralfaro. The name points to the castle’s function as a coastal watchtower in times of the Phoenicians. The Gibralfaro Castle was built in times of Yusuf I (fourteenth century), probably to defend the Arab Fortress from ground and sea attacks. But the Castle’s background and reasons for being there pale before the beautiful setting. The Guadalhorce Valley penetrates the land with its boundless fruit and vegetable gardens. Málaga, Malaka, falls at my feet in a bird’s-eye view of some of its hidden treasures. The hillock affords views of the unfinished Cathedral, the Picasso Museum, the towers of the Churches of Los Mártires and San Juan, the new neighbourhoods and housing developments taking the city away from the sea, La Rosaleda Stadium (where Málaga CF play), the pine groves around the Castle, the Fortress and its chambers, the walls, the port and its huge steel insects, a.k.a. cranes, La Malagueta Bullring, the connection with the east with El Palo in the background, the connection with the west and Torremolinos, the first mountain slopes… And, above it all, the bright blue sky. A sky in a unique shade illuminating Málaga. A sky shared with and yet different from the 100 other towns and villages that make Málaga Province. A sky that is neither water nor cloud, that boasts a blazing sun in the summer and a decadent light in the autumn, that affords beach days in winter and colour revival in spring. You can walk along the Castle walls. Some steps are quite steep, but you can reach all bastions, look down at La Coracha, or play soldiers and pretend you shoot the cannons from the portholes. Inside there’s a Visitor Centre displaying original artifacts and replicas that reveal the Castle’s historical value and the role of Málaga in history. Rifles, sabres, and military uniforms to let your imagination run wild. The sun rules in the bright blue sky. Afternoon: time to think of my next target –lunch on the beach.

El Palo

I pick up my car at the parking area and drive to El Palo, enjoying the coastal landscape and the peculiar mix of smells: sardine skewers and salty waves. I drive past the Baths of El Carmen, an old resort built in 1920 and very popular with the early-twentieth-century bourgeoisie. Now, a decadent air makes it almost irresistible, one of the best places for coffee at sunset. El Palo is immediately associated with sea aromas, as if it were encoded in its DNA. Life here is rocked by the waves, the murmur of water, the delicate swing of the Mediterranean. The sea promenade is full of people, locals and out-of-towners alike. They’re skating, riding bikes, jogging, strolling… They look at the sea in amazement or with the certainty of those who see it every day. The charcoal is ready for the sardine skewers. The espeteros poke at them with care and know-how. Sea smells. Sea flavours. And sea characters. A tough, gaunt sailor, with skin weather-beaten and his beard grown, plays chess with a man in a suit. An old woman walks her tiny dog wearing a leopard print hoodie (the dog); she’s wearing a flower print dress, a flower print shawl, a flower tiara, and Nike Air gym shoes. Bars and restaurants have mushroomed in El Palo. They offer all imaginable fish dishes, all imaginable rice dishes, and all imaginable fish and rice combinations –the Mediterranean trapped in a pot. I’ve made up my mind already. A classic this time. A must-visit in Málaga. You have to enjoy or suffer it at least once in a lifetime: El Tintero.

Lunch at El Tintero: Y yo cobro!!

Even if you’ve been here before, you’ll be surprised. The waiters cry, “Concha fina, fina, fina, de verdad,” “En vinagre, llevo los boquerones en vinagre,” “Cigalita plancha, digo, cigala plancha”… A string of warnings that seems to have no end. All waiters hover between the tables as they shout the names of the dishes they’re carrying. Guests raise their hands to indicate what dish is theirs. No traditional menu. No traditional service. Instead, fish auction. Plates are never removed from your table before you finish. They just pile up, in different sizes and shapes, and when you’re done, a new character appears: “Y yo cobro! ¡No me quieren ver, pero yo cobro!” It’s the bill man. He counts the plates and the bottles and writes the amount on the paper tablecloth. This is how El Tintero works. It’s a restaurant-cum-show. It’s always crowded, and they make no reservations. Of course, it’s always boisterous and noisy. If you’re looking for a quiet seaside eatery, this isn’t the right place for you. Now, if you choose to come, be ready to enjoy yourself without guilt or complexes. Be ready to put up your hand to call the waiter when he shouts, “Calamar plancha llevo, oiga, calamar plancha!” If you’re visiting Málaga in the high season, be early (1:00 or 1:30 p.m.). Otherwise, it’ll be difficult to get a table (anyway, there’re guests finishing and new guests coming all the time). Also, don’t get too excited about the first cry you hear. Take your time; choose your fish: there’s enough for all, and it’s always fresh. I order water and beer, and a long list of dishes: rice, grilled prawns, grilled squid, clams, marinade, scallop… The bill = check the picture. After lunch, I make a short documentary video of life in El Tintero, which you can watch below.

Farewell

As I bid farewell to Málaga, I feel my heart is filled with colours, flavours, aromas, sensations, names, stories and histories, peoples, streets and squares, buildings, morose strolls, sunsets on fire, party evenings, glorious dawns, poems and poets, tapas, painters and Roman legions, brotherhoods and tourists, museums, rivers and sandy beaches, curious characters, looks, pleasures and devotions, religious feelings, austerity and merrymaking, loneliness and hurly-burly, Larios Street, theatres, castle battlements… I shake it all, I mix it all until a get a unique blend, distinct and matchless. It’s the blend that makes the bright blue sky. Málaga’s bright blue sky.

Travel Tips and Useful Links

About this tour: It’s been my intention to design a comprehensive tour of Málaga City, including as many interesting sights as possible –the musts and a little more. In this I’ve followed expert advice and word-of-mouth recommendations, as well as past experience and hunches. This double-entry article on Málaga is just a sketch. Of course, the best thing to do is find the Málaga you want or need to find. There’re so many things in Málaga that there’s a Málaga for everyone, as there’s been one for me. Experience it. Enjoy it. The Mediterranean dream lives in its streets.
What to visit: 23 museums: There’re 23 museums in Málaga. There’re museums of the most various kinds. Here you can download a PDF file containing the locations and brief descriptions of all of them. Music, dollhouses, glass, cars… You name it. Málaga is a city of museums.
When to come: Festivals: Málaga’s cultural life and calendar of activities are built around four major events –Easter, the Festival of Virgen del Carmen (with the fishermen’s procession), the August Fair, and the Málaga Spanish Film Festival. For more information about them, click on the links above.
Before coming: To make your tour of Málaga more enjoyable, contact the staff at the Costa del Sol Tourist Board Contact Centre or the various Tourist Offices. Knowing the itineraries, hours, and fares in advance will help you make the most of your trip.
Useful links: In addition to all the websites included in parts 1 and 2 of this article, I shall add two key references: Costa del Sol Tourist Board and Málaga Turismo. In them you’ll find all you need to know to plan a perfect trip.

Comments, suggestions, and opinions from travellers/ visitors to this blog are very welcome. See you under the Bright Blue Sky.

101 MÁLAGA: MEDITERRANEAN DREAM (PART 1)

2011-05-04T10:21:00.009+02:00

Blinking lights on Larios Street. Blinking, lighting, fading, painting, decorating, sketching the city out. Larios Street: a line bringing the salty aromas of the sea –Mediterranean, Mare Nostrum– to the beating heart of town. A city that wakes up late and goes to bed even later. Larios Street –after the Marquis of Larios–, Málaga’s main street, setting the pace for the city’s rhythm and feeling –a feeling shared by the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Arabs, the Christians, the French, the bourgeoisie, and modern tourists. Larios is a street of rest and rush. Málaga spreads out of it. The city opens like a flower and shows its hidden treasures to all visitors ready to go after them. Málaga City is an abridged version of Málaga Province. It’s pious and rackety, artsy and homely, cunning and honest. It overlooks the unavoidable sea and borrows its salty perfume. It tunes its naps to the croaking of seagulls. This sea welcomed the Phoenicians in the seventh century B.C. and contributed its bluest, deepest heart to the salted fish of the Romans. It opened up to the world through its port. A city that dresses up in Easter and has an unfinished cathedral. A city to eat fried fish and sardine skewers. The city of Picasso. A city where you can see and smell orange blossoms, and jasmines. A city of martyrs and fishermen. A city of tapas and pleasant strolls. A city with an Arab fortress and a convent. Malaka. Málaga: a city to enjoy.

Trip and Experience Planning

Málaga is a city with many faces. The one you see depends on what kind of traveller you are. There’s a cultural Málaga, a sociological Málaga, a culinary Málaga, an artistic Málaga… There’s one Málaga for each visitor. The possibilities are endless. I’ll try to reel them off for you. A good tour of Málaga takes time. Time to go sightseeing and time to let yourself go. Málaga’s had an eventful history, and it’s a Dionysian town, promising pleasures at sunset, long seaside strolls, amazing delicacies and popular dishes, fine perfumes, traditional patios… It’s in the city’s nature, and you’re constantly reminded of it as you wander about. At www.malagaturismo.com you can find lots of trip planning tips and useful information: tours, calendar of activities, sight descriptions, phone numbers, accommodation directory, theme guides, etc. For those travellers who don’t have much time and want to see the main attractions only, Málaga Turismo offers guided tours of the Historic District (€5) showing (without giving access to) the Cathedral, the Picasso Museum, the Roman Theatre, the Arab Fortress, Picasso’s Birthplace, and the Church of Santiago. The tour ends at Bodega El Pimpi, where visitors get a glass of wine. These guided tours take 90’ and are available in Spanish or in English (for special tours in French, Italian, or German, call (+34) 669 127 457). Travellers who prefer customised tours can download eight different itineraries at malagaturismo.com: Sights in Málaga, Botany in Málaga, Romance in Málaga, Religion in Málaga, Rocks and Water, Tradition in Málaga, Contemporary Art in Málaga, Picasso in Málaga. They’re shown on an easy-to-read street map of Málaga. Visitors who’d like to have a little bit of everything and take their time, there’s a street map showing the most important sights, which you can visit in the order you want. Even you do you some research before coming, make sure you begin your tour at the Tourist Office in Plaza de la Marina, just where Larios Street begins. (There’re other Tourist Offices in town, but this is the main one.) Here you can get information on hours and prices. (Most, but by no means all, buildings are open all day long, so you’d better check before planning your itinerary.) Most buildings and museums charge admission fees (€1 to €8) so, if you want to avoid queuing and crowds, have your money ready. The money you pay to enter the buildings is then used to preserve them –in most cases, successfully. Inside, there’re guides ready to tell you interesting things or answer your questions. I’ve planned my tour to take two days. Day 1: Historic District, its buildings and museums. Day 2: Roman Theatre, Arab Fortress, Gibralfaro Castle, and the fishing districts Pedregalejo and El Palo. Accommodations in Málaga can be counted by the hundreds, and there’re prices for every budget. My choice: a downtown hotel, so that I can leave my car in a public parking area and forget about it. Several hotels in town offer parking discounts. Check it before choosing yours. After collecting quite a few brochures, I draw my itinerary on the map: Picasso, nineteenth-century bourgeoisie, several churches, a few museums, the Cathedral, García Lorca, El Pimpi…

Plaza de la Marina, Casa de la Guardia, Atarazanas Market, Museum of Popular Arts

Starting point: Plaza de la Marina, a square absorbing the hustle and bustle of the port behind and opening in three directions –Paseo del Parque (east), Larios Street (north), Alameda (west). I choose to go westwards, strolling in the shade of the trees, watching the passing cars and the passers-by (both locals and out-of-towners). Málaga is chaos; it’s in its nature. I’m heading for the Atarazanas Market, one of the key points in town –a non-stop flow of people and goods. But before, on No. 18, there’s the Antigua Casa de Guardia, a tribute to traditional taverns serving sweet wines of the land directly from casks. A wooden bar, fresh foods, light filtering shyly in. If you want to enjoy the bar even before coming to it, check its website (http://www.antiguacasadeguardia.net/). You’ll find everything you need to know there. Founded in 1840, Antigua Casa de Guardia looks as it did when it first opened. It’s the oldest tavern in Málaga. I take note of its opening hours. With sleep in its eyes, the tavern is only waking up. A sign on Alameda marks the detour to Mercado de Atarazanas. What a lovely market! Markets tend to be special parts of towns, beating time with their racket, their hours, and their goods. Atarazanas was built in the nineteenth century. Architect Joaquín de Rucoba preserved the original Mudéjar façade in carved marble. I walk in and let the special lighting effects of the market wrap me in. Zillions of things to eat: fish still tossing their heads, shopping bags, buzzing sounds, Malagueños in a hurry and gaping tourists. The heart of the market beats as the windows reflect an amazing colour palette. I walk past the stalls: fish, pork, meat, vegetables… Each of them has its own smell. The market used to be a shipyard; hence the name (atarazana means “shipyard” in Spanish). With the market aromas still in my nose, I walk out and head for my next icon. I go down Atarazanas Street to Puerta del Mar and from here to Plaza Félix Saénz, where Málaga’s first modernist building, Almacenes Félix Sáenz, stands. Now undergoing rehabilitation, it was built by Fernando Guerrero Strachan between 1912 and 1914. Until recently, it housed one of the first department stores, which opened in 1886 and closed down in 2007. At its glorious best, Almacenes Félix Sáenz had 300 employees. When you come to the Historic District, remember to look up as you wander about: remarkable façade details, galleries and balconies, lace curtains, roll-up blinds, wrought-iron grilles. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Málaga experienced an economic boom as a result of the thriving industries and trades managed by the bourgeoisie living in town. They had their own homes, stores, and meeting places built. Those rococo, neo-baroque, decadent buildings still lend a special air to the city. Many of them have been renovated. I keep walking in search of the Guadalmedina River. On its bank, on Pasillo de Santa Isabel, there’s the Museum of Popular Arts and Customs, housed in a seventeenth-century building known as Mesón de la Victoria. The Museum boasts a great collection focusing on the city’s recent past, from everyday objects to an old fire engine. The Museum has 19 rooms set up to show how people lived in Málaga in the past few centuries. Some of the objects are really curious: a sixteenth-century midwife’s chair, a traíña or sardine fishing net still in use in the twentieth century, harvesting and reaping tools, a bourgeois home. Customs and traditions have changed a lot in 50 or 60 years. The gadgets we use in everyday life have evolved. It’s just amazing. The Museum of Popular Arts and Customs charges an admission fee of €2. Here you can taste past times. Recovering popular arts in the form of ethnographic heritage is a very important task. At the Museum, such heritage has the place it deserves.

From the Museum of Popular Arts to the Portal of the Cathedral

Carretería Street leads from Pasillo de Santa Isabel and the river bank back to the heart of town. I walk past a couple of funny shops selling religious items: cards, figurines, scapulars, and so on. I walk on, always looking up to spot special features or curious details. More traditional shops along the wayBiedmas Street leads to the Wine Museum in Plaza de los Viñeros (what a coincidence in names!). The Museum is housed in the rehabilitated eighteenth-century baroque building of the Palace of Biedmas. Inside, visitors can go over the whole wine-making process and try Málaga wines. The Museum’s website contains a lot of useful information: wine tasting courses, lithographs, gift shop, and more. In the future, the building will also house the headquarters of the D.O. Málaga, Sierras de Málaga, and Pasas de Málaga Control Board. For €5 you gain admission to the Museum and the possibility to taste D.O. wines. An irresistible deal. Back to Carretería Street and past the Medieval City Walls to the recently opened Holy Week Museum, which is clearly signposted (admission: €3). If you’ve never been to Málaga in Easter, you’ll find the Museum overwhelming. It shows all the elements that are present in Easter Week celebrations, from organisation of brotherhoods to the carving of images to multiple cloaks and crowns and huge floats. In Málaga, Holy Week celebrations go beyond the religious or the spiritual to become a major cultural and social event. The Museum contains information on their evolution and development, their importance, and the most curious or remarkable aspects about them. The floats are majestic, and they must be so heavy! After visiting the Holy Week Museum, you’ll have a better understanding of traditions that might look weird at first sight. It’s highly educational. The Museum is housed in a building with high historical value: it used to be the Hospital of San Julián, founded in 1683 by the Brotherhood of Santa Caridad, “from the Brotherhood of Santa Caridad in Seville.” The Museum opened in 2010. For more information, go to the Museum’s website, http://www.mssmalaga.es/. Inside, you can smell the burning candles and hear the echoes of Easter bands. Back on the street, I feel a fragment of the Holy Week is hanging from my rucksack. Ballesteros Street, Andrés Pérez Street… In search of the Historic District again. The slim tower of the Church of Divina Providencia reaches up for the sky. The narrow alleyways lead to one of the largest churches in town: Iglesia de los Mártires –an impressive, unconventional building whose exterior design isn’t what you’d expect for a church. Vibrant, bright red brick and an impossibly high belfry tower. The interior is profusely decorated –the perfect example of Baroque horror vacui. Incense makes the air and the light coming in through the glazed windows thicker. People come and go; they kneel down, say their prayers, light their candles, and leave. The door squeaks whenever someone gets in or out. Dedicated to St. Cyriac and St. Paula, the Church of Los Mártires was built after the city was seized by the Christian troops (1491) and consecrated in 1505. I wander about in a respectful mood, trying not to bother regular church-goers. My next sight is yet another church, Iglesia de San Juan: another icon in Málaga (Mártires Street, across Compañía Street, the Especerías Street). The Church of San Juan is one of the four temples built by the Catholic Monarchs after the conquest of Málaga on their way to Granada. Built between the fifteenth and the seventeenth centuries, it’s a bold mix of Gothic and Mudéjar features. The tower was finished in 1543, and the first extension was undertaken in 1554. The building was extended again in 1620, and the arcade in the right aisle was added in 1680. Together with the Church of Los Mártires, San Juan draws the largest number of church-goers in Málaga, in part due to its accessible location in the Historic District. From the Church of San Juan to Plaza de la Constitución, the starting point of Larios Street and the nerve centre of city life. Before reaching the square, I take a look at the building of Sociedad Económica de Amigos del País, whose curious history is worth mentioning. Built in 1785, it’s housed many different organisations and institutions. First, the Friendly Society of Harvesters; then, the Maritime and Ground Consulate; later, the Economic Society of Friends of the Country (hence the building’s name today); finally, a Jesuit school. The building is a fine example of eighteenth-century domestic architecture: continuous balconies on the upper floors, windows at regular intervals, and a central courtyard surrounded by galleries. Plaza de la Constitución is the stage where many city rituals are performed: Easter processions, youngsters getting together to go party on Granada and Uncibay Streets, locals doing the shopping, tourists who know their way around, tourists who get lost… If Larios Street is the main artery in town, then Plaza de la Constitución is the beating heart of Málaga. From the square, I walk across Pasaje de Chinitas in search of the Cathedral and the Episcopal Palace. Pasaje de Chinitas is a dear alley to the city, mentioned by Federico García Lorca in his poems. The whole story of Café de Chinitas would need a blog entry of its own. I’ll only say that it was the meeting place of the intelligentsia in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, a café where literature was discussed and politics was brewed, “a place halfway down a courtly hall and a brothel” (Diario Sur). The café closed down in 1937. These are García Lorca’s words about it:
“En el café de Chinitas
dijo Paquiro a su hermano:
‘Soy más valiente que tú,
más torero y más gitano’.
En el café de Chinitas
dijo Paquiro a Frascuelo:
‘Soy más valiente que tú,
más gitano y más torero’.
“At the Café de Chinitas
Paquiro said to his brother,
‘I’m braver than you are,
more of a bullfighter and gypsy.’
At the Café de Chinitas
Paquiro said to Frascuelo,
‘I’m braver than you are,
more of a gypsy and bullfighter.’”
Still hearing the merrymaking of past times, I walk away, approaching a place more connected to the soul. Let me introduce you to Málaga’s Cathedral.

The Cathedral and the Episcopal Palace

With García Lorca’s words still clapping like castanets in my head, I’m coming close to the most majestic building in Málaga: the Cathedral. Prone to humour as they are prone to solemnity, Malagueños call their Cathedral la manquita, for it has only one of its two towers (the other was never finished). But before visiting the city’s greatest church, whose interior affords the finest of religious experiences, I’ll take a look at the Episcopal Palace next to it, in Plaza del Obispo. The Cathedral casts its shadow across the square –a classic meeting point in town– and many tourists choose this place to take pictures or have a snack at one of the bars there. The square sounds like a small-sized Tower of Babel: you can hear different languages and accents. Groups big and small follow their flag- or umbrella carrying guides like flocks of sheep, listening to stories and curious facts about the Cathedral. Meanwhile, the Episcopal Palace watches them all. It’s a huge complex of buildings dating back to the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries and bearing multiple styles, depending on each building’s original purpose. Currently, only the Diocesan Museum and an exhibition gallery are open to the public. Everything said, I’m now ready to set foot in the Cathedral. After queuing for a few minutes and paying €5, I’m in. I’ve been here before, but it still takes my breath away. Again. It’s just spectacular. No wonder the Arabs chose the same location for the largest mosque in town, which stood there for eight centuries. Construction of La Encarnación Cathedral began in 1528. Although work continued well into the eighteenth century, it was never finished. The final details of the main façade and the south tower were never added (this is why locals call the building La Manquita). Málaga Turismo adds interesting information: “The most remarkable elements inside are the choir sculptures –42 carvings by Pedro de Mena– and two rare eighteen-century organs (4,000 tubes) that are still being played today.” Words, however, are not enough to describe what you see. The church is incredibly high inside: 41.79m in the central nave. The colossal columns that hold the roof make a double half-circle delimiting a single high altar dominated by a huge stone cross, which can be seen from behind too. The sunlight filters through the windows in amazing patterns, dyed with the whimsical colours of their glaze. The paintings hanging on the walls are also very big, almost out of proportion. Visitors wander about, move as if they were to sit in the choir stalls, then leave. We all feel so tiny here, industrious ants taking pictures without flash, reading all signs, taking down notes, taking a break and sitting on a bench, praying. The Cathedral gulps me down, merciless, as I enjoy every single detail, every story, every comment. The Holy Cathedral Basilica of La Encarnación is torn between its Baroque exterior and its Renaissance interior. In fact, it’s considered to be one of the finest Renaissance icons in Andalusia. For more detailed information on the Cathedral, go to the website below. Echoes, lights and shadows, choir stalls, paintings, the imaginary music of the silent organs… Everything is inside me now. When I get out, I feel the glaring light of the sun in my eyes and an annoying pinch in my belly.

Technical Stop and Tribute at El Pimpi

It was my intention to visit the Picasso Museum before lunch and then go to El Pimpi, one of the best-known traditional taverns in town, but time flies and, after so many religious icons, I’m now really hungry. So I take Granada Street, across San Agustín Street. Granada is one of the most popular streets in town. Connecting Plaza de la Constitución with Plaza de la Merced, it’s always busy and noisy. Many well-known bars and taverns, or even prestigious restaurants, can be found here: La Campana, El Piyayo, Mariano (Plaza del Carbón), El Clandestino, and others. They’re all great eateries to go tapas or have a hearty meal. On Granada Street at Plaza del Siglo are the modern headquarters of the Costa del Sol Tourist Board, the organisation where this blog was first conceived and thanks to which I’ve visited the 101 towns in Málaga Province under The Bright Blue Sky. Granada Street also houses the editorial office of the newspaper La Opinión de Málaga, as well as many different shops. My tavern choice is El Pimpi. A great place and a great name. In the nineteenth century, there used to be helpful boys at the port who helped passengers get off boats and carried their suitcases for them. They were known as pimpis. With time, pimpis grew in number and became the first tour guides in town. Their hallmark was the bikes they used to get around. After getting organised, they began to run a tavern opposite the Roman Theatre. Their tavern, called El Pimpi, became a popular meeting place for youngsters and tourists. In the shade of its casks and barrels, locals sit alongside visitors from Northern Europe or Japan, sharing the best wines and the best dishes. This is why El Pimpi is such a charming place. Moreover, El Pimpi has played host to literary meetings, flamenco shows, and endless talks between poets or artists. Antonio Gala, Manuel Alcántara, Lola Flores, and Antonio Banderas have all been at El Pimpi and signed its casks. The old history of El Pimpi (until 1800) must be connected to the modern part (as of 1971), when the tavern was reopened in the same place and with the same name, without moving a single beam. I like the ambience, the old bullfighting posters, the unmistakable flavours of traditional recipes, and the boisterous or quiet atmosphere depending on the time of day (for you can have lunch, dinner, tapas or a snack at any time at El Pimpi). Well, my technical stop at El Pimpi morphed into a tribute to this tavern’s spirit. The menu announced Iberico ham and cheese, salted meat, homemade tortilla, toast and ligeritos, rellenitos, salads… If you want to know what each of these things is, better come and taste them. My order: 6 glasses of bear, 1 chopped tomato salad, 1 ligerito serrano (loin and pepper sauce), 1 ligerito pringá (delicious stew meat), 1 ligerito montes (larder loin), 1 ligerito palomar (pork scratchings), 1 salmorejo (to wash everything down), and 1 tortilla. The bill = €33.35. Time flies (again) as I talk and laugh and order more beer and more ligeritos. I take a look at the pictures I’ve taken, plan my afternoon tour, think of the friends I’ve shared tables with at El Pimpi or those I’d like to be with here. Wearing a secret smile, I get ready to leave. It’s time to meet one of Málaga’s favourite sons: the great Pablo Picasso, whose works I can feel beyond the tavern’s walls, for the Picasso Museum is close to the Dionysian temple I’ve just been to. Off I go.

101 MÁLAGA: MEDITERRANEAN DREAM (PART 2)