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IT COULD have been Devon. The hillside dropped abruptly to the river below and the oaks clung to the slope. But these trees were different, their lower trunks naked like the. smooth tanned legs of girls in tweedy shorts. The reason for this was that their cork bark had been harvested to stopper a million wine bottles. We wandered down to the river below, although there was no water running in its stony bed at this end of summer, and came to rest among red-flowered oleanders. Here our host, Hugh Arbuthnott, unloaded cake, fino and home made lemonade from one of the pack mules and distributed generous portions as we lounged in the shade. Our short walk through the sierras of Andalucia proved to be a holiday for sybarites. We started near Gaucin and finished at Ronda. In between came gentle strolls through beautiful countryside from one relaxing stop to the next. Sometimes Jane, Hugh's wife, would be there to meet us with rations of ice-cool apple juice or a basket of grapes. At others we relied on supplies carried in the panniers, or called at a farm and sat in the cool shadows of a spotless kitchen sipping drinks chilled by solar-powered refrigerator. The Arbuthnotts have established a remarkably well-organised and comfortable walking safari in this corner of Spain. Under the surface is a carefully oiled machine run with a precision that reflects Hugh's military past. Perhaps the most obvious clue to his attention to detail is the colour-coded tape which appears on your luggage on the first day and which ensures that you never have to lift it again. Cases and bags disappear from your room after you leave and are already waiting by your bed when you arrive at your night's destination. Much of the cooking is done by Jane. At their farm, La Almuña, from where the walk begins, she grows fresh vegetables and herbs for their guests. Excellent local dishes are served on tables spread with white linen under shady trees. The centrepiece of the week is the time spent in an African-style safari camp which uses large ridge tents imported from Kenya, big enough to house two duvet-covered single beds. The tents have been extended by Hugh to include a bathroom with hot shower. A ring of a sheep's bell brings staff bearing warm water to fill the shower container through a gap in the roof. Probably the most exciting day's walk took us over a pass and into the Parque Natural de la Sierra. Although the initial climb was rather stiff, there were donkeys for those who needed help. When you crest the rise a limestone landscape of clints and grikes stretches away between the grey flanks of higher mountains. The water-worn fins of rock look as though they have been drawn up like clay between fingers, leaving small ridges behind. The rock is pink blushed or subtly greyed with lichens like a delicately made-up face. In crevices inaccessible to the ubiquitous goats we found tiny ferns and the purple petals of autumn crocuses. Blue-winged grasshoppers flitted before our feet, a praying mantis buzzed past, a black spider scurried away; we even experienced a frisson of excitement when encountering a small scorpion. Overhead, a griffon vulturewas visible in the bright sunlight, spiralling in a generous gyre. Its wings were finger-feathered and broad - "like a tea-tray in the sky," as the field-guide put it. We came down from the mountains to a golden valley, the Llano de Libar, sprinkled with chestnut Andalucian cattle and well-fleshed horses, as if we had stumbled on to the set of Rawhide. The only person we saw was a Spaniard with a luxuriant moustache, carrying a lamb on his shoulders. Fluttering black redstarts chattered, from the shade as we squinted up at a mewing buzzard during our post-picnic rest. Like the other pueblo blanco in the area, Ronda is stunningly white, too bright to look at around mid-day, and is strung out along the lip of a honey-coloured cliff. Its narrow streets and shady gardens are a delight, but the poisonous River Guadalevin which runs - grey, murky, foaming - under its famous bridge, emits a noxious stink that permeates the town. Ronda redeemed itself by offering wonderful views of a couple of peregrine falcons perched near the clifftop within yards of the hotel garden. These, too, reminded me of Devon, but in England I have neither seen them so closely nor watched them for so long. |
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Safari Andalucía SL, Finca Almuña, Apartado Postal No 20, 29480 Gaucín, (Málaga), Spain Telephone: (34) 952151148 | Fax: (34) 952151376 | E-mail: info@arbuthnottholidays.com |
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