Escaping Winter in Southern Spain

I’m writing this blog from our fourth house-sitting assignment in southern Spain, this one a lovely country house in the mountains near Granada with two gorgeous dogs. It is breathtakingly beautiful here. Overnight it has snowed and the hills around us are dusted with white. My last blog finished just before Christmas as we set off into the hills from Malaga to our second house-sit, so it’s been a while. In the six weeks that have passed since then, we have put on the brakes and enjoyed a much slower pace, staying put in the southern regions of Andalusia and Murcia and enjoying the Spanish way of life, away from big cities and avoiding as much of the harsh European winter as possible. We’ve done a lot, but at the same time not much, and have thoroughly enjoyed it. So, before we pick up the pace again and head north here’s what we’ve been up to over the last six-and-a-bit weeks.

Periana

Very early on in our journey we decided to try and find a house-sitting opportunity over Christmas, as we thought it’d be nicer to be in a house rather than the van and you can’t beat a home cooked meal on Christmas Day. We were lucky enough to find one for two weeks over Christmas and New Year in the Andalusian countryside, outside the village of Periana, 30km from the Mediterranean coast.

The homeowners had given us GPS coordinates to find their place – in rural Spain there aren’t addresses as such – so we put our faith in Google and headed to the hills. The road climbed steeply, and we were soon in Periana, a lovely white village nestled on the slopes and surrounded by olive plantations. The house-sit was 3kms further on and we started to get concerned when Google Maps directed us into a narrow lane that quickly became more of a track winding down into a valley. There was no way we could turn around if this was not the right road, then we met not one, but two vehicles coming the other way, both with trailers heaped with freshly picked olives. The drivers seemed unfazed and after a bit of manoeuvring we squeezed past. It wasn’t plain sailing from there, the track became narrower still and now we had scratchy pomegranate trees to contend with. Mr Love was not impressed with the shrill scraping sounds as we pushed by. Successfully navigated, we arrived at small alcove of white-washed houses, trimmed in sky blue and covered in deep crimson bougainvillea. This was Moya, an alcove of just eight houses, but a village in its own right.

Midi, Steve and their teenage son Joe welcomed us into their traditional Spanish farmhouse like old friends and introduced us to their animal family that we were entrusted to look after – their lovely dog Milo, who is very like a huntaway; the three horses, Sultan, Moreno and Sparky; Simon and Thumper the rabbits; Winston the cat; and two unnamed hens.

Understandably in a village of 8 houses you know all the neighbours and that evening all of those in residence were invited over for Christmas drinks to meet us. It was a great idea and a fun night. A couple of the houses are holiday homes, but the others are occupied permanently, with an American family, a Scottish couple, and another Scot making up most of the residents.

Before Midi, Steve and Joe left for Christmas in the UK they made sure we knew the surrounding area, taking us into Periana for coffee and a tour and showing us some of the many walking tracks through the olive groves. Moya is surrounded by steep hills and to walk anywhere you must climb one; stunning views make the effort worthwhile. Over the next two weeks we walked for many kilometres with Milo, up and down valleys through the olives and along rocky ridges and outcrops.

Steve had told us a about the Caminito del Rey, a famous walk through the El Chorro Gorge not far from their place, and suggested we make a day trip of it. We did. The Caminito was originally built in the first decade of the 20th century and was used to transport material and people between two hydroelectric power stations that were built on either side of the El Chorro gorge. The original concrete path, El Caminito del Rey, threads the length of the gorge hanging precipitously halfway up its side. The danger of this very basic walkway became the stuff of legends and attracted climbers and adrenaline junkies from all over the world, with many people referring to the Caminito as the ‘world’s most dangerous pathway.’ It slowly fell into disrepair over the years and was officially closed in 2000 when three climbers fell to their deaths. After being closed for years a new hi-tech hanging walkway was built through the gorge and opened to the public in 2015. It has become one of the largest attractions in Andalusia and is so popular you need to book in advance, as numbers through the gorge are controlled. We could see why. The El Chorro Gorge is an amazing place, with huge walls of rock as high as 400m along its three-kilometre length. The new walkway opens this natural phenomenon to everyone, not just thrill-seekers, and seeing the crumbling remnants of the old concrete path I know I would never have ventured there otherwise. Heights are not my thing, but I always try and push myself, however, right at the very end of the gorge was an iron mesh swing bridge hanging across a ravine. People were taking selfies in the middle and we stopped, as I needed the bridge to be empty before I walked across. A very handsome Spanish guide asked if I was ok and offered to escort me across. Not needing to be asked twice, I quickly put my arm in his and we walked safely to the other side, much to the amusement of Mr Love.

When we arrived in Periana we were amazed by the number of olive trees and driving the 100km to Caminto del Rey we couldn’t believe how extensively olives are planted in this part of Spain. Midi and Steve had told us that EU grants to plant olives had resulted in other original crops, like wheat, being replaced. All the olives in this area are grown for oil. The farmers belong to a co-operative and the picked olives are taken to the village press, weighed, and then all mixed together, with the resulting oil being trucked to Italy to be bottled. It was nearing the end of the picking season when we there but there was still plenty of picking going on. It’s a very manual process and most of it is still done by whacking the trees – the rhythmic thwack, thwacking of wood against wood echoing through the valley, day in, day out, has an oddly calming effect. Some use blowers, similar to a garden leaf blower – the sound of these is not quite so pleasant.

We had a quiet Christmas, just us and the animals. Lunch on the roof terrace in the sun, and in the evening roast lamb with all the trimmings. Mr Love excelled himself.

Christmas isn’t the main event in Spain. That’s reserved for Three Kings Day, or Dia De Los Reyes, on January 6th.  This is the day the children receive their presents. Much like children in other parts of the world eagerly awaiting Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, the same can be said on the eve of January 5, when children leave their shoes by the door with hopes that the three kings will leave them gifts in their shoes when they wake the following morning.

The day after boxing day we were invited to the neighbours for their annual festive breakfast. The guests were all non-Spanish living in the area. They hailed from England, Scotland, America, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium and of course there were us two Kiwis. We talked to a Norwegian helicopter pilot who now grows olives, and to a Dutch couple who moved here to start a horse-trekking business but had also moved into olives, using a private oil presser for their organic oil that they then sell directly back to the Netherlands. Olive oil is a common conversation topic here.

On a particularly sunny day we ventured back to the coast for lunch in the seaside village of Torre del Mar. As you drive down from the hills olives make way for avocados, lots of avocados. There are EU grants for these too, but they take a lot of water and water is far from abundant in this part of the world.

It wasn’t all sunshine in Periana, we had a few days of rain and the rock-hard earth turned to thick sticky clay. The horses were caked in it and mucking out the paddock took an age, with every step requiring extra effort as your feet were sucked into the ground.

The days passed quickly, New Year came and went. Life in the country was blissfully busy and soon it was time to go. The van was clean and the pomegranates along the roadway trimmed back ready for our departure.

While waiting for Midi and Steve to return we were showing the neighbours our van and discussing our plans and we mentioned our upcoming house-sitting assignment in Pinos Del Valle. “It’s not at Annie and Laurie’s is it?” They know them well. It’s a small world.

We said our farewell’s, gave Milo the dog an extra big hug, and trundled on our way. We had asked Midi where we could find Branston pickle and basmati rice – both very un-Spanish. She suggested we try a little English store on the way down the hill, Arkwright’s. Success, we stocked up with enough Branston for the rest of our trip.

Almeria & the Cabo de Gata-Níjar Natural Park

We had eight days to make our way to our next house-sit in Cehegin, 400km away. Almeria, being 200km from Periana was the perfect half-way stop.

Driving along the coast towards Almeria we were soon surrounded by a surreal landscape cloaked in white plastic. Growhouses stretching from the mountains to the sea. This landscape, once arid desert only good for filming spaghetti westerns, is now Europe’s garden, supplying fruit and veges to rest of the continent all year round. 40,000 hectares are covered in shiny plastic – so extensive that the temperature of the entire area has dropped because the sun is reflected off the surface. It is an incredible sight, fascinating and unsettling.

We had planned to stay the full week in a campsite by the beach near Almeria, but when we arrived we were less than impressed. The campsite was squeezed between cliffs with a busy highway running behind it, and although it was right on the beach it was a tiny bay with nowhere to walk or cycle. It was late when we arrived and as we wanted to visit Almeria we decided to stay two nights. Almeria is an unremarkable city. It has long been a poor area and only recently has the wealth generated from the market gardens in the region seen this city’s fortunes change. Apart from the imposing Moorish fortress overlooking it and its location next to ever-blue Med, it has little to make it stand out. Throughout history it has seen hard times, suffering many sieges over the centuries of Moorish rule, then being decimated by an earthquake in the 1500’s and later shelled by the German army during the Spanish Civil War, before finally falling to Franco in 1939, the last of the Andalusian cities to surrender. Underneath the city is a network of tunnels used by the Republicans during the Civil War as they fought against Franco’s army. I was disappointed to find the museum closed when we were there as I was keen to see how this part of Spanish history was portrayed.

We had seen enough and the next day headed off in search of some countryside not covered in plastic. We found what we were looking for in the Cabo de Gata-Nijar Natural Park. Cabo de Gata-Nijar boasts the best conserved 50 kilometres of coastal cliffs anywhere on the Mediterranean in Europe and is the only region in Europe with a true hot desert climate. It also incorporates an extensive marine reserve so is very popular for diving. Its ecology and landscape are unique, mainly due to the absence of winter weather and to its geological diversity.

We turned off the highway and took the scenic route along this stunning coastline. Rugged mountains made way for small white-washed villages and the deep blue sea sparkled against the ochre cliffs. We found a campsite tucked in a little bay, just a short walk over the hill from the small fishing village of Las Negras. Far from any highways and well off the beaten track we had found peace and quiet in this dramatically beautiful place. A coastal hiking track started from the beach in front of the campsite and took us over the hills and along the cliffs to magnificent unspoilt beaches. We spent five relaxing days here, enjoying the warm sun and many long walks through this extraordinary landscape.

Bullas & Cehegin

Our next house-sit was in Cehegin, 190km from Las Negras and 108km from the coast. As we were due there at lunchtime on the 11th we thought it best to try and stay the night closer to our destination. However, although most campsites on the coast are open all year, inland they are not. This is because you don’t have to go far inland before you are heading up into the mountains and with the altitude comes the cold. We weren’t sure we’d find anywhere, but after searching online and emailing a few potential places we found an open campsite in the town of Bullas, only 15km from Cehegin. We arrived around 2.30 to find the office was closed for siesta, opening again at 4pm. The campsite seemed deserted, there were no campervans and only some permanent looking caravans that were shut up for winter, and there were a lot of stray cats. Oh well, it was only for a night and the benefit of being the only ones there is the bathrooms are all yours. The manager returned well before 4 and checked us in. He was very friendly and told all about the region, suggesting we visit the wine museum to find out about the wine industry that this region is particularly famous for. We had no idea. We had passed vineyards on the way in, but there didn’t seem to be a lot and they were sparsely planted low lying vines.  We were keen to find out more. One of the great things about Spain is although there is a siesta for 3 hours every afternoon where everything shuts, when they open again at 5 they stay open well into the evening. It was after 4 when we set off to walk into Bullas and it was after 5 when we found the museum of wine, but because it’s Spain it was open. Just like the campsite we were the only ones there so were given a private guided tour. From the outside it didn’t look much, but inside was an extensive contemporary exhibition showing the long history of wine in the region and explaining modern techniques used by wine makers here. They treat wine like a craft in this region, the quantities are small, and the result is beautiful. The red grapes grown are Tempranillo, Monastrell, Cabernet Sauvignon, Garnacha, Syrah and Merlot and the whites Macabeo and Airen. Monastrell is fast becoming a favourite of mine.

The house-sit in Cehegin was only for the long weekend, but we had thought it was a good opportunity to see a part of Spain that we probably would never have gone to. Already we were pleased with this decision, as Bullas and its wine was a very pleasant surprise.

Shirley and Tony moved from the UK 13 years ago and live in the country outside the historic town of Cehegin, growing olives and almonds. Their house is off-the-grid, running on solar power. We were welcomed with a lovely lunch and introduced to their three rescue dogs. In southern Spain there is a huge number of abandoned and stray dogs, so most pets are rescue dogs. Animal welfare isn’t to the same standard as we are used to and many dogs, especially in the countryside, spend their lives chained to a tree. Hunting dogs are abandoned when they are no longer useful and unwanted puppies dumped in drains and, to make matters worse, the Spanish are not keen on de-sexing their animals. Shirley and Tony’s dogs all had a rough start to life – Stebbie was found wandering the streets with a badly broken leg that was eventually amputated, Kayla was badly abused and is still nervy and needy, and little Bella was dumped in an empty shed at only 6 months old, alone and cold. For them it was a happy ending and they are much loved and cared for. We had a great time with these dogs. There was no shortage of empty countryside to walk through with rabbits and deer to chase. We’ve been particularly impressed by how clean Spanish towns and cities are, there are always workers picking up rubbish and sweeping streets. However, in the campo (the countryside) things are different, people dump rubbish everywhere without regard for the environment. It’s common to be walking through the wilderness and come across old mattresses, broken appliances and tyres.

Shirley and Tony returned from Madrid and we said our farewells, heading off with a lovely gift of 5 litres of home grown organic olive oil. That day was particularly cold, and we’d woken to snow on the surrounding hills. Not long after leaving Cehegin we rounded a corner and a blanket of white lay in front of us. At first, we thought it was more growhouses. It was not. It was snow, and lots of it.

Aguilas, Palomares and Motril

Our final house-sit was two weeks away and we meandered back down the coast visiting areas we hadn’t seen on the way up.  Our first destination was Aguilas, an old Roman fishing port and now a bustling seaside town in the region of Murcia. We spent three warm, sunny days here, taking long walks along the beachside promenade, climbing the point to Castillo de San Juan, the 16th century fort sitting high above the town, and cycling around the bays.

Our decision to move on was mostly because the campsite was very full – we were packed in like sardines and there wasn’t much space to stretch out and relax. We headed down the coast to a campsite near a beach and surrounded by market gardens. It was not far from the service town of Palomares and between the fishing village of Villaricos and the bustling seaside town of Garrucha. It wasn’t the prettiest location, but the campsite had a lot more space and a very laid-back feel. It even had a naturist area, discretely screened off in the back section. The nudist beach and resort of Vera Playa is just down the road and the campsite must have seen a gap in the market. We chose a lovely spot in the “textile” area.

The nearby beach was very desolate with no buildings or houses close by, and very beautiful. Because of this, lots of people were “wild camping” there, with huge numbers of campervans lined along the waterfront, despite signs saying camping was prohibited. We counted 77 on one day. I suggested we join them and save some money. That idea was quickly rejected in favour of warm showers, flush toilets and electricity. Mr Love likes his creature comforts.

The market gardens in this area were mostly growing lettuces, millions of lettuces. We were walking by a field that had just been harvested and were shocked to see so many cut lettuces left lying on the ground. They obviously hadn’t passed the quality control test. We joined a couple of other campers and helped ourselves to the rejected greens. Surely they could be sold on the roadside or given to the needy?

We stayed here for almost a week and had beautiful weather, sunshine and 20 degrees most days. Across from us were a lovely English couple who lived in France but spent winter in Spain, always at this campsite. They were very proud of the campsite and declared it to be the best they’d been to – funnily enough this was something we’d heard from the “regulars” we’d met at the Las Negras campsite too. They did know a lot about the area and we picked their brains. They told us that back in the 50’s the mayor of nearby Mojacar had encouraged the English to move to this area by offering plots of bare land for free if they were to build a house. Because of this initiative there are lot of English people in this area. We heard plenty of English accents when we biked through the nearby resort area of Puerto Rey and in the restaurants we lunched at in Garrucha.

I had noticed a lot of motorhomes and cars had a sticker with a stickman symbol, including our neighbours. I asked him what it was, and he explained the story of the Indalo Man. It is an ancient symbol found on the walls of a cave the province of Almeria over 100 years ago, it has now been adopted as the symbol of Almeria and is seen as lucky. In this part of Spain it is customary to paint the Indalo symbol on the front of houses and businesses to protect them from evil. You aren’t supposed to buy an Indalo Man yourself but instead be gifted it, so we found an Indalo Man fridge magnet and Andrew bought it for me.

We did a lot of biking over the week, mostly along the coast, but also a day trip inland to the village of Cuevas del Almanzora. It really was desert-like once we left the coast, and the lettuces made way for oranges and more olives.

Finally, we had to pull ourselves away from Camping Cuevas Mar, leave the province of Almeria and head further down the coast to the town of Motril. Motril is in the province of Granada, only 64km from the mountain city of Granada, capital of the region, and 32km from our next house-sit. It is on the aptly named Costa Tropical and is a lush green oasis, quite different from the arid surrounding areas. This is because it sits at the mouth of a valley bordered by snow-capped mountains that generate a higher rainfall for part of the year. The tropical climate was perfect for growing sugar and that is what made Motril rich in past times. Sugar has now given way to a fruit bowl of produce grown here, with cherry tomatoes being the most popular crop. During the five days we spent in Motril we biked along tracks between lush fields filled with food, and past networks of concrete aqueducts moving precious water across the countryside.

On an extremely windy day we biked to nearby Salobreña, a pretty, white-washed village on a hill that claims a history stretching back 6,000 years. There are two parts to this picturesque village – the historic town plopped on the hilltop like cream, with its castle clinging to a rock ledge, and the modern beachfront resort with apartments, condos and tapas bars. Mr Love was quite taken by this place. It was the full package; beach, mountains and history. He decided, if he were to choose one, this would be his place in the sun.

Pinos Del Valle & Granada

So here we are at our fourth and final house-sit in Spain. A beautiful country home built by Englishman Laurie and his Canadian wife Annie on the outskirts of the tiny village of Pinos Del Valle. We are looking after Nuria and Lucia, two lovely rescue dogs, and Simba the ginger cat. Laurie and Annie grow olives and sell their organic oil to friends and family back in the UK. Their property is immaculate. Oranges and lemons grow in abundance here. Not those bitter Seville oranges planted in the streets of Andalusian towns, these are sweet and succulent. We have had freshly squeezed juice every morning and are planning to pick a box or two before we leave.

The house overlooks a dam, built by Franco to bring water from the north to the south. Franco was big on moving water where it was needed – something good he did. Water is a hot topic in Spain, there are arguments between regions, north and south, and plenty of politics about how best to use it, who should get it, and how.

We took a day trip to Granada to visit the Alhambra palace and fortress, Spain’s most visited tourist attraction. Back in Periana Midi had asked us if we had been and we told her it was on our agenda. She warned us to book in advance. We were lucky to be given this advice, it was almost fully booked five weeks out, and this is the low season.

Granada is beside the Sierra Nevada mountain range, home to the famous Spanish ski fields. These mountains provide a stunning backdrop to the majestic Alhambra that stands guard on the hill above Granada. Visiting La Alhambra is to take a journey back when the Moors ruled Andalusia. This extensive complex started as a fortress in 1238 and grew over the centuries along with the strength of the Islamic rulers who lived behind it’s warm red walls. After the Moors were pushed out it became a Christian court in 1492, later falling into disrepair and temporarily abandoned in the 18th century. It has now been restored to its former glory and is a truly incredible place to experience. The Nasrid palace at the heart of the complex is exquisite, filled with beautiful columns and arcades, quiet reflecting pools, gently running fountains, ornately painted tiles decorating its many walls, and intricately carved horseshoe archways. The expansive geometric gardens mirror the mosaics and are perfectly ordered and manicured. You can’t rush around La Alhambra, time is needed to absorb its magnificence and its history. We took all afternoon.

Apart from the day trip to Granada we’ve spent the week close to home, taking the dogs for long walks beside the dam, through the olive groves, past almond trees bursting with pink and white blossoms, and for a hike to the tiny white chapel of Saint Cristo Del Zapato, high above Pinos Del Valle on the top of a pine covered peak.

The last couple of days have been cold and this morning we woke to snow covering the hills and the chapel on the peak. More is expected today. The locals say it’s the lowest they’ve seen the snow. It’s been a cold winter in Europe and even the southernmost part can’t escape its icy reach.

Tomorrow we start on the road to Barcelona. In two weeks we catch a ferry to Sardinia.

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