• Elaine and Ned
  • Elaine and Ned

Spain 2026 - the Alpujarra

The Alpujarra region of the Parque Nacional de Sierra Nevada includes the highest mountains in mainland Spain, so we're expecting some snowy views as we explore the rural heritage items still to be found there. Read more
  • Trip start
    March 7, 2026

    Órgiva: Arrival

    March 7 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 52 °F

    This trip has been eight years in the making. In 2018, we heard about a team of biologists, geologists, geographers, environmentalists, art historians, and anthropologists who set out to inventory the historical heritage of the Alpujarra, the area of high mountain villages located south of Granada in the Parque Nacional de Sierra Nevada in Andalucía.

    The final inventory, produced under the direction of ethnographer Augustín Sanchez Hita, included 5,488 items - everything from water-management channels laid out in the 800’s to mines dug in the 1950’s. Wouldn’t it be great, we thought, to walk the traditional tracks through the mountains to see some of these treasures? And might it also be possible to post gpx tracks of the inventory locations on the app Wikiloc so other people could find the items?

    We shall see!

    Today our jet-lagged brains were not up to anything more than a short exploration of the upper part of the village of Órgiva, our starting point after four days of travel. The high point for Ned was the connection between the Ermita de San Sebastián, and Claude Debussy’s music, “The Martyrdom of San Sebastián”. For me, it was seeing the library where a dedicated librarian collected more than 300 different editions of Don Quixote in multiple languages.
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  • Órgiva: Molino de Benizalte

    March 8 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 46 °F

    What a great day! We had no particular expectations for today other than to get in a short walk to one of the items in the Inventario de Patrimonio in order to see if we could combine the step of making the Wikiloc track with the subsequent step of adding the element description.

    It worked! There were more than a few hiccups along the way, but we now know more about what needs to be done while we are on the trail in order to make the editing easier when we get back to the casa rural.

    In particular, as I found out the hard way, we need to be very careful that all the relevant waypoints are recorded properly as we walk. Another lesson learned multiple times this afternoon is that it’s a little too easy to think you are deleting a photo when you are actually deleting an entire waypoint on the gpx track.

    The sunshine helped make it a good day as we started out along the Rio Chico. The Molino de Benizalte itself is only about a kilometer from town. It’s in ruins now, but what an elegant mill it must have been during its working years. The tall tower that you see in the middle of the building was raised above the adjoining roof lines in order to accommodate the long counterweight beam of the oil press. There has been a mill at this site for more than a thousand years. Benizalte was a Muslim village of about 200 people on the Rio Chico. Although the mill was near the river, it was powered by animals, not water. The current building dates from the 18th century and shows how much attention was paid to creating elaborate industrial buildings during that time.

    The rest of our walk was devoted to admiring the centenary olive trees that are in abundance in this area. There were 20 to 30 dogs who were also in abundance. A few of the loudest ones were behind fences, but most of them were just wandering along the dirt tracks as if they were out for a morning walk. To our surprise,, none of them were threatening. They just gave us a nod and passed on by without even barking.

    Today’s Wikiloc track (below) needs more work when we get home and have a computer to use for editing instead of just a phone, but I am really pleased at how it turned out. As far as I know, it is the only place on the web where the location of the mill is available along with detailed information in English.
    https://www.wikiloc.com/walking-trails/molino-d…
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  • Órgiva: A treasure trove of information

    March 9 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 55 °F

    We hit the jackpot today with our visit to the ADR (Association for Rural Development ) office in Órgiva. The information collected by the Inventario de Patrimonio Histórico project is stored here. The general manager, Francisco Pérez Ortega, emailed me a few months ago saying that they had maps in their office that we could look at when we arrived. So we arranged to stay ten days in Órgiva in order to be able to see the material at leisure plus have time to walk in the area.

    After getting a bit lost on the way to the ADR office this morning, we arrived a few minutes late for our 10 AM appointment, hoping we wouldn’t be disturbing things too much. The exact opposite turned out to be true. Francisco had a work space all set up for us, complete with a marvelous collection of very large maps,(each one as long as my arm!) one for every Alpujarran village and its surrounding area. As you can see in the photos, the base maps have numbers entered for each of the inventory elements. This will be extremely helpful in planning out our walks because we can see at a glance which inventoried elements are close to each other.

    I was in heaven when Francisco brought out the notebook with all the original fichas (data sheets) done by the field technicians. Each page details the history and significance of a single “element”, as the items are called. They are now available online (https://www.alpujarradegranada.com/patrimonio-h…) and are what we’ve been using for several years to plan this trip.

    After Ned photographed all of the maps, we walked out to Francisco‘s office to thank him. He stood up to hand us a final surprise gift: a pen drive with a photo of each of the more than 2500 elements cataloged in the province of Granada. What a tremendously useful and generous gift!

    The kindness of the people in Spain who have helped us out with this project is so appreciated. These include not only Francisco today, but also the librarians in Almería who in 2023 helped us find a copy of the out-of-print book that gives a general look at each category included in the inventory, everything from agriculture to transportation; and the casa rural owner in Bérchules who borrowed a copy of the team’s investigation of traditional architecture of the region from a friend of hers so we could photograph that out-of-print book.

    Luckily, we now have seven more days here to put all this information to use on our next walks.
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  • Órgiva: Snow

    March 10 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 48 °F

    We certainly didn’t expect to wake up to snow on the hills where we were planning to walk today! We wouldn’t have been surprised had we been in some of the higher villages where on previous trips we have run into snow in April and even May, but the elevation of Órgiva is only 450 m (1480 ft), so we didn’t expect it here.

    Instead, we took the opportunity to enjoy our casa rural. Of all the places we have stayed in Spain over the years, I think this house has the most faithful restoration. The ceiling alone is a masterpiece. In every single room, chestnut beams topped by a layer of canes support the floor above. There are additional chestnut lintels visible over the windows. The architect Donald Gray, considered an expert on traditional Alpujarran construction, says that these lintels would have been covered with whitewash in a traditional structure rather than being visible.

    Other delights of the house include a traditional recessed wall cupboard now serving as a bookcase and a tray of olive oil and marmalade from the owner‘s garden. How about a spoonful of pumpkin jam with orange and ginger on your slice of fresh bread from the bakery?

    Other than the snow, the big excitement of the day was getting an adapter from the computer store to allow us to view the photos on the pen drive from Francisco at the ADR on our phones. It felt like magic to see those photos appear on my screen. What an invaluable resource for identifying that we are actually looking at the correct house or ruin or whatever. Given that the descriptions on the data sheets were written 25 years ago, it is sometimes difficult to know exactly which building they are referring to, so the photos are a crucial clue.

    The weather forecast is good for tomorrow, so we are looking forward to walking in sunshine.
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  • Órgiva: Puente de los Siete Ojos

    March 11 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 55 °F

    As predicted, we did indeed have sunshine all day today. With great anticipation, we set out to see four sites we had identified from the Inventario de Patrimonio Histórico, all located on the Ruta de Olivos Centenarios. Heading south on a winding lane, we had the snowy Sierra Nevada behind us, the dark green Sierra de Lujar in front, birdsong and flowers and centenary olives on all sides, and sunshine above. Just perfect.

    Around the last corner before the bridge were the ruins of several old buildings. Normally we would have passed them by with just a glance, but thanks to the ADR photos and maps, we were able to pinpoint this as the exact location of the Cortijo de la Carretera de Cadiar. As its data sheet confirmed, it was once “ a medium-sized farmhouse, with a quadrangular floor plan, built of plastered masonry, with a flat slate roof and flagstone eaves.” We spent a good quarter-hour poking around and discovering ruined examples of constructions that we recognized from our casa rural like the lintels wound with cords and the stone corners.

    We arrived at the Puente de Los Siete Ojos just as a traffic jam was occurring. A big bus started south over the one-lane bridge just as a semi tried to enter from the other end going north. Neither could back up due to the cars that were now following each of them (complicated even more by a tunnel at the far end). The ensuing shuffling and maneuvering reminded us of the nightmare when one has to back onto the ferry at home.

    The end of the story came rather unexpectedly soon after that when the normally dry Rio Chico could only be crossed by balancing on a tree trunk high above. It was an easy decision to return the way we came!
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  • Órgiva: old friends, new camino

    March 12 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 59 °F

    As you can see from the photo, Ned got to hang out his favorite Spanish composer today, Manuel de Falla, not to mention the writer Federico Garcia Lorca. As we walked around the town, we also stumbled upon a sign similar to one we glimpsed yesterday indicating that we were on a camino we had never heard of: Camino Cristo de la Luz. According to its website (https://www.cristodelaluz.es/es/caminos-del-cri…), it runs from Sevilla to Granada to Dalías in Almeria province, passing through Órgiva on the way. Its 16 stages cover 420 km and pass through several villages we are interested in exploring, so I’m glad we ran across those two markers as I had no idea this route even existed.

    Today’s sunshine was a great boon. Ned picked some oranges from a tree in our garden, and we were able to enjoy them on our sunny balcony looking at the nearby hills that no longer have any snow on them.

    Our walking efforts went into making a Wikiloc track that gives the background of eight interesting sites that are quite nearby: the local church, “one of the finest examples of Baroque religious architecture in the region,” whose bells we hear throughout the day; the fountain and cross that accompany the church; a nobleman’s house built on the remains of an old tower of a Muslim farmhouse; and three houses that have features of the local style of building - ie, lots of balconies. On some streets, we felt like we were in New Orleans!
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  • Órgiva: An adventure and a half

    March 13 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 61 °F

    On our best weather day yet, we hiked a loop trail to a small village, Bayacas, that perches on the mountainside above Órgiva. We knew we were going to get beautiful views and what appeared on the map to be a nice stroll along a mountain ridge. Sure enough, as soon as we gained some altitude, we left the dirt track and picked up a single track sendero. A few steps more and we came around a corner face-to-face with a stunning view of a steep , massive barranco cut through layers of dark gray rock by the Río Seco (which is not dry at all right now). It was so magnificent and so unexpected that it took our breath away. At the top, there was a mirador with a fine view south to the Río Guadalfeo where we walked two days ago. Aha, I thought, now we are going to get that nice stroll along the mountain ridge. What I hadn’t realized while looking at the topo map from the comfort of our sofa was that the ridge was only a few feet wide and had a sharp drop of hundreds of feet on either side. Luckily, it stayed just a hair on the side of safe for someone like me. As long as I kept my eyes straight ahead, I could enjoy the glorious mountain views and pretend I was on a wide, level path. ( No photos from that part!)

    Soon we were in the tiny, steep village of Bayacas, admiring the church and the mini lavadero, quite a bit smaller than most of the ones we have seen, with only two washing boards and no roof. Bayacas looks like it might be on its last generation of residents - no young people around, no shops, no bars. But lots of cars at the foot of the village with Dutch license plates, so maybe that will revive it.

    We followed the left bank of the Rio Chico back to Orgiva. It had clearly flooded recently, probably in February with the record breaking rains that fell on this area, and there were uprooted trees all along the way. We stopped to chat briefly with a man who was cutting up firewood, and then continued on, passing the ruins of old mills, and the acequias that fed them. All in all, it was definitely our best day yet.
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  • Órgiva: A windy day

    March 14 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 57 °F

    Meteoblue (the weather app) warned us this morning that we should be ready for wind gusts of up to 42 mph (68 km/h) today, so we weren’t surprised to see swirls of dust or leaves or last year‘s black olives rolling down the track in front of us as we walked from Órgiva down to the west side of the ford on the Rio Chico. This is the same ford we couldn’t cross two days ago when we arrived on the other side and found the only “bridge” was a precarious tree. When we got to the crossing today, we saw a man with a backpack and his dog trying to cross the river from the opposite side. He gathered some large rocks and tossed them into the water, trying to create a path to get across, but it was a hopeless task. He eventually gave up and, just as we had done, turned around and walked back the way he came.

    Having known ahead of time that we wouldn’t be able to get across, we were perfectly satisfied with poking around in the area and noting the extensive amount of damage to the lane that leads to the ford. It was badly undercut by four tall eucalyptus trees whose roots had clearly served as battering rams.

    This area must see a lot of water damage every year, given the number of rivers that roar down the steep slopes of the Sierra Nevada and converge here. On the other hand, all that water makes it possible for the olive and orange groves to be numerous and healthy. We even spotted one of the oldest cortijos in the area, the Cortijo del Ticino.

    All those trees need irrigation throughout the dry period of the long Andalusian summers, so there were acequias everywhere along our route, carrying water diverted from the Rio Chico. Most of them were relatively small and narrow, often beautifully maintained with stone borders. One had a feature we’ve never seen in a small irrigation acequia before: the water flowed along at a high level and then jumped down to a lower level via a waterfall. How lucky we are to get to see all this!
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  • Órgiva: Last day

    March 15 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 61 °F

    We had a warm, sunny day perfect for walking, but we didn’t walk anywhere - just enjoyed our last day in the house, ate oranges on the porch in the sunshine, did laundry, cleaned the wood stove, and worked on some logistics.

    Tomorrow we are moving to a cortijo with over 600 olive trees. It’s located in a rather rural area at the base of that deep barranco we saw two days ago. There are no shops or bars nearby so we need to get ourselves and our gear there plus a week’s worth of food. It makes us wish we didn’t drink so much milk - heavy to carry. (No powdered milk in Orgiva.)

    While cleaning up, I discovered a photo book the owners made showing the renovation of this house, a three year project. Most interesting were the photos of Naomi (the one who made the pumpkin jam) cutting and gathering the reeds for the ceilings. When we were down by the Puente de Siete Ochos, we saw a lot of reeds growing. I wonder if these are from there.
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  • Tijola: Cortijo Los Correas

    March 16 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 61 °F

    Luckily for us, we were able to get a taxi this morning because six days worth of groceries weighs a lot! We are now ensconced in the middle of 600 olive trees here at Cortijo Los Correas. When we step out of the house, the only noise we hear is birdsong. It’s an ideal spot for exploring the deep barrancos of three major rivers that drain down from the Sierra Nevada: the Ríos Trevélez, Poqueria, and Guadalfeo.

    After helping us get settled in, the owner’s son needed to get back to working with his dad. Today they are burning the trimmings they have pruned from the olive trees so that they won’t grow too high. He has an interesting backstory: he lives here and helps his dad on the cortijo for half the year; the other half he works in Zurich because “it’s too hot here during the summer!”

    We walked all around the cortijo this afternoon. There are more than just olive trees. One terrace is planted with avocado trees, and interspersed with the olives are oranges trees, lemon trees, and kiwi vines attached to wires that form a trellis. They grow like grapes.

    The biggest event of the day was getting a new stovetop installed in our house. We had mentioned to Angela that two of the burners seemed stuck , but it was no problem to us. She and her husband came down to take a look, and an hour later, voila, here came the repairman with a new stovetop. It gave us a chance to talk with them and learn about the difficulties of simultaneously running a cortijo and three casas rurales.
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  • Tijola: El Valero

    March 17 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 70 °F

    Today was the fulfillment of a twenty-year dream: seeing the location of the cortijo that the author Chris Stewart wrote about in his three books titled Driving Over Lemons, The Almond Blossom Appreciation Society, and the Last Days of the Bus Club. Ned and I read these before our first trip to Spain in 2009. In fact, they were the inspiration for riding our mountain bikes through this part of Andalucía. The route we rode, however, is located about 1300 m (4000 ft) higher up in the Sierra Nevada, so we never actually had the chance to see El Valero. We did try! I remember standing near O Sel Ling, the Buddhist retreat center and peering down into the vast barranco trying to spot any sign of El Valero. The entire area just looked deep and dark and forbidding.

    Then on our next bike trip, we actually got to meet Chris Stewart. He was conducting a writing workshop in a small village that we were cycling through, and we ended up eating dinner in the same place. He was kind and generous with his time and chatted with us about the books. He had a good laugh when we told him our daughter‘s favorite chapter was the one about the industriousness of the dung beetles near his sheep shed. (And in fact, even now we often stop during our hikes just to watch a dung beetle rolling along a burden that always seems larger than the beetle itself. )

    On this trip, we have gained a whole new point of view about this area, feeling like the geography is magical rather than dark and forbidding, an attitude that extended to our walk today. We strolled along the vega carved out by the Rio Guadalfeo for the first half, admiring all the olive plantations and the acequia-fed fields of vegetables. Then the climb up the barranco started. Just when I thought I couldn’t climb any higher, we came around a corner and reached a high point. We could see the dams on the river that are described in Stewart’s books. Following the canyon upwards with our eyes, his house and barn appeared. What a thrill to see the setting. It was bathed in sunshine and clearly was the little piece of heaven he describes in his writing. He and his wife and daughter have had many an adventure in the 30+ years since he bought this run-down old place on a whim, unable to access a village in either direction when the rivers were running high (like today). From our vantage point, we sent him a silent message of thanks for sharing his stories with us.
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  • Tijola: Acequias

    March 18 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 59 °F

    This morning, we wanted to explore the banks of the Río Guadalfeo which flows just south of the olive cortijo where we are staying. On the map, it looked like we could walk many kilometers along its banks because the flood plain is quite wide here. We remembered seeing a horse and rider setting off upriver not far from here the day we walked to the Puente de Siete Ojos, so we knew it was possible. The problem was how to get down to the flood plain. After comparing the IGN maps with the other maps sources we have, we thought we found a way down, but curiously, we couldn’t find any Wikiloc tracks that would give us a definitive answer. As it turned out, we worked our way down to within a few hundred meters of the flood plain, but there was a fenced olive plantation between us and the river and the gates were locked. Nevertheless, we had a good walk down there on quite a variety of surfaces. We started out on the single-lane road that connects the hamlets out here with Órgiva. This took us to a dirt track that connected with an acequia. Luckily, it was dry and we could walk right in it. Next came a totally unexpected stretch of dirt trail lined with pine trees where we heard what our phone identified as a Eurasian hoopoe singing. It would have been wonderful to sight the bird because it is so distinctive looking, but no matter how much we peered among the branches, we couldn’t spot it. Just when we thought the river would be around the next bend, we came face-to-face with a very large olive orchard behind a high fence with definitively locked gates.

    Although we couldn’t get to the river, we did get a very good look at the amazing abundance of acequias serving every orchard and field around here. These are all acequias de riego, designed for irrigation, not acequias de careo as seen higher up in the Alpujarra. This system of water conservation dates back to the period beginning in the 800s when the Moors ruled this part of the Iberian peninsula. They dug hundreds of kilometers of channels that followed topo lines in the high Sierra. These captured water from snow melt and rivers, carrying it to areas of permeable rock where the water infiltrated and fed underground aquifers only to re-emerge as springs at lower elevations during the dry season. Thus they cared for or “sheparded” the water and gained the name “careo”. When that same water flows through lower channels to irrigate crops as it does around here, the channels are called acequias de riego. We have never seen so many acequias de riego as we have in this area!
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  • Tíjola: Cerro Negro

    March 19 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 59 °F

    The lane that climbs up Cerro Negro is so steep that it has chevrons carved into the concrete the entire way up so vehicles can get more traction when the surface is wet. Our plan when we set out this morning was to climb up just a little way and then turn off to walk along the level banks of the Acequia de las Ventanas, one of the two major acequias that feed all the minor ones we’ve been seeing the past few days. However, when we reached the acequia, there were large signs in either direction saying “private property, no passage”. The acequia itself is community property, but unless we wanted to walk in the water, it seemed we’d be trespassing along the banks.

    Angeles had told us earlier that the climb up Cerro Negro was steep but there were wonderful views to be had, so it was an easy decision to continue climbing. And it turned out to be a wise one! We had views all the way from Tíjola along the Rio Guadalfeo to El Puente de los Siete Ojos to Órgiva. Ned was able to use PeakFinder to learn that the pyramidal peak he been noticing for days is called Cerro de la Giralda. . On the way up there were terraced olive orchards, many balsas for water storage, and new cortijos to see around every bend. We could hear the bells of a large flock of sheep and had the good luck of seeing the sheep themselves on the way down, including the two dogs who were herding them. For a finale, we came around a corner with a great view of Órgiva just as the biggest religious celebration of the year began with hundreds of firecrackers all going off at once. We were glad we were so far away!
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  • Tíjola: Down to the river at last!

    March 20 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 59 °F

    Every day since we arrived, we’ve been wanting to find a way to get down to the Río Guadalfeo. On the map, it looks wild and powerful, coming down from the Sierra Nevada in the north, joining up with the Río Trevélez and the Río Poqueria before it makes a 90° turn to the west and journeys through more mountains to finally flow into the Mediterranean. The flood plain is extensive, so we’ve had the feeling that we could walk along it and see the river if only we could find a way to get to it. We’ve tried several different lanes that look like they should take us to the water, but we’ve always been blocked by fences and gates.

    This morning we hit the jackpot, and the second lane we picked led us to a forest area with a nice path heading in the right direction. Soon we were picking our way through reeds and scrubby bushes that were clearly part of the flood plain. We came over a little rise, and there was the river, much wider and wilder than we had expected. We were able to walk up it until we reached the canyon wall that forces the river to turn 90° in direction. There were beautiful colors in the rock walls and no one else in sight - not even any buildings. It was easy to imagine what this must have looked like to the first settlers in this area.
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  • Tíjola: the GR 142

    March 21 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 55 °F

    There are three GR (Gran Recorrido) long-distance hiking trails that traverse the Alpujarra. The GR-240, known as the Sulayr, is a 300 km circular route that runs within the National Park borders in the mountains above the highest villages at about 1,800 m altitude. We have walked or cycled portions of it in the past, but will probably not access it on this trip. The GR 7 starts in Tarifa and finishes in Athens, traveling through the highest Alpujarra villages on the way (like Cañar at 1014 m where we are headed tomorrow). We will likely walk several stages of the GR 7 on this trip. The GR 142, also known as the Sendero Medieval, begins in the village just west of us, Lanjarón, and ends in Fiñana (where it happens to intersect with the Camino Mozárabe). This runs through the lowest level villages in the Alpujarra (like Tíjola at 325 m, where we are now). We have followed its distinctive red and white markings several times this week, including today. In fact, our entire walk today was on the GR 142.

    In earlier times, this would have been a dirt track, but now this particular portion has been turned into a narrow paved lane. One morning, as we were walking along it looking at our notes and trying to figure out whether the building in front of us was actually the old Molino del Ramon or not, a woman drinking coffee on a balcony above us called down to ask if we needed help. We explained our project to her and she came down to point things out. This turned into an hour long conversation with Almudena. It seems like she is related to all 100 or so people in Tíjola and thus was able to tell us about the history of the area. She pointed out that the pavement on which we were currently standing used to be the front patio of her grandmother’s house. When the provincial officials turned the dirt path into a paved lane, everyone in Tíjola lost part of their property. As the conversation continued, we came to admire the longevity of Almudena’s neighbors. To one side was a man of 93 still working in his fields, and on the other side, a man of 104 who died recently but maintained his orchard until his last years.

    This morning, the lane was heavily used. There were walkers like us headed into Órgiva for supplies, local residents traveling in cars or tractors to their fields in the vega, cyclists on electric bikes, the motorist in the Morgan we saw at the gas station in Órgiva last week, and a gentleman we have seen several times swinging by on his bike, pulling a trailer with an awning and a comfortable seat for his dog!

    Thinking of the man driving the Morgan, we’ve seen him pulling into his garage so we know he lives near here. Today we stopped to read the plaque on his house, as we’ve been doing with all the houses and old cortijos along the GR, and had a good laugh at what it said. (See the photos.)

    https://loc.wiki/t/255251025?h=bpbjbjwqzx&w…
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  • Cañar: higher than we imagined

    March 22 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 48 °F

    We have traded our casa rural in Tíjola where we were happily surrounded by olive trees and birdsong and total solitude for a casa rural that is quite a contrast. We are now at the edge of a small village (pop. 366) at an altitude of 1014 m (3327 ft), much higher than before, with a view over Órgiva and the Río Guadalfeo where we’ve been walking the last two weeks. They look tiny!

    It’s always great when you have high expectations for a place and then you get there and it exceeds your hopes. Nothing could have prepared us for this view! We had seen photos taken from here, and had looked up at the village every day from down below, but the camera can’t capture the reality of being on the edge of a sheer mountainside. One noticeable effect is that the satellite that informs Google Maps where we are can’t tell what street we are actually on as we walk around the village because the vertical distance between streets is great while the horizontal distance is negligible. Our blue dot is usually in the wrong place. First village where we’ve ever seen this happen.

    We took a taxi up because again we had to transport a lot of groceries. Good thing; this would have been a daunting climb for me with a full pack.

    We’ve had a main goal for each of the places we have stayed so far. In Orgiva, we wanted to get the ADR information. In Tijola, we wanted to be able to see El Valero. What has brought us to Cañar? The MEMOLA Project. Cañar is the heart of this multi-pronged effort to restore the water system used by the Moors. In the last 12 years, community members and volunteers have revived more than 80 km of high mountain acequias. We hope to see some of these grand acequias during our five days here. For a rousing view of the project, see this short video (in Spanish with English subtitles) that inspired us to come to Cañar: https://memolaproject.eu/node/381
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  • Cañar: Acequia de Barjas

    March 23 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 54 °F

    If you love walking mountain trails - the kind where you are up so high that all vestiges of ordinary life are left behind - Cañar is the place for you. It is the highest village in this section of the Alpujarra, and the mountains rise sharply just behind the village. There is no feeling of prelude before you get to the exciting part of the trail. Ten steps beyond the church plaza and you are in the mountain world.

    We made an early start because we knew it was going to be a stiff climb up to where we could see the acequias cleared by the MEMOLA project. Although the trail was steep, it was very clearly marked. In fact, I would say the signposts and blazes are not more than a year old. We kept a slow but steady pace upward and within a few hours, reached the area where the acequia could be seen. Much to our surprise, the channel was completely dry. In some ways, though, this was a good thing because we could see the details of how it was laid out. Piles of stones and branches showed where clearing had taken place. It isn’t a very wide or deep acequia, but it carries enough water to irrigate the potato fields around Cañar.

    We came to a point where we could see Cerro Man ahead and marveled at knowing from the archaeological remains found there that the Romans built mines in this area. A cortijo sat just below Cerro Man, and we could hear a number of dogs barking wildly. I remembered the warnings I had read on several Wikiloc tracks that the owner of this cortijo had a threatening manner and let his dogs menace walkers who tried to cross in front of his property even though it is a public track alongside the acequia.

    The snowcapped peaks directly above Cerro Man were clear when we arrived at that point, but now were quickly disappearing in the clouds. Remembering how rapidly the clouds came down yesterday evening to below the level of Cañar and combining that with the threat of the dogs, we decided this was a good point to turn around. A quick jaunt down the four-wheel drive road got us back to Cañar before the rain hit.

    By this time it was midafternoon and we were very hungry, so a meal of albóndigas and croquetas at the local meson sounded good. The lady in charge was rather brusque when we arrived, but once we started asking her questions about the acequias, she became quite informative. She told us that the reason the acequia was dry today was that it wasn’t this branch’s turn to have water. Today, the gates higher up are open to a different area fed by the same acequia, not the area we were walking through. She also told us that this Saturday the MEMOLA project folks will be here in Cańar. About 40 volunteers and community members will be working on the annual spring cleaning of the acequia. Oh, how we wish we could be here to see that! Unfortunately, we are leaving on Friday. Our next casa isn’t too far away from here, so it might be possible to walk back and see some of the excitement.
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  • Cañar: Around the village

    March 24 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 52 °F

    This morning we tried to find the thirteen items that are shown on the ADR inventory as being located in the central village area of Cañar. Since seven of the thirteen are grouped around the central plaza, we were pretty successful. Our current Wikiloc track is full of squiggles and wrong turns, but we’ll be able to make a better one before we leave on Friday.

    We had a good chance to see the kind of quirky info the ADR inventory preserves when we were standing on the plaza. We would never in a million years have guessed that there was an acequia running beneath it, but the ADR ficha for the square told us there is a 30-meter long tunnel carrying the Acequia Grande underneath the stone pavement. I haven’t seen this info anywhere else - no civic plaque, no web presence in English, no tourist office brochure; so as a librarian, it’s quite satisfying to be able to make this and similar little pieces of history a bit more accessible through a Wikiloc track.

    The houses with traditional architecture are scattered around town and were a little trickier to locate since three of the six had street names but no numbers given on the fichas describing them. One of the listed houses was in the process of being restored and had just been gutted. We had great views of how the lintels over the doors were fitted, how thick the walls were, and how many stones were hidden under the smooth finish normally applied to a house.

    Tomorrow, we hope to track down the four mills just north of the village and one more to the south.
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  • Càñar: Four water mills in a row

    March 25 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 59 °F

    We started out with three questions this morning.
    1. Would we be able to find all four of the flour mills that the ADR fichas show existed in the Barranco de las Parrillas above Cañar?
    2. If we found one or more, would there be enough of the mill structure left to see how it worked?
    3. Would we be able to figure out why there were so many mills all in one small area?

    The answers in short: no; sort of; and yes.

    The answers in more detail:
    1. Even with maps, photos and common sense to help us, we found only one mill (the ruins of the others have disappeared) - and we are not even sure which one we found: alto, medio, bajo, or Tío Casmiro’s! But we had a lot of fun finding that one, so we weren’t at all disappointed.

    2. We saw almost all the exterior parts of a typical rodezno mill, but not the interior machinery. A rodezno mill (see diagram in the photos) works when water is ducted off a river by an acequia-like structure called a caz. The caz follows a topo line out of the barranco, losing very little height until it reaches the top of what looks like a very tall stone chimney called a cubo. As the water falls through the cubo, its weight creates a force that drives a wheel (the rodezno) positioned horizontally, not vertically, at the bottom of the cubo. The rodezno is connected by an axle to the millstones above. The water then exits the mill through an arched opening called a cárcavo.

    3. Looking at the steep slope where the barranco came down, the logic of having four mills here was clear. They were placed like links in a chain. When the water exited the first mill, it was then carried by a new caz to the top of the cubo of the second mill, which was located farther down the slope. The original amount of water now powered the second mill. Falling again, it powered the third mill in the chain, and finally reached the fourth mill. Very efficient!

    A look down at the fairly level course of the Rio Guadalfeo and the flat vega extending from it made it clear to us that it would be impossible to situate rodezno mills down in the valley. They count on the force created by falling water (as is found in a barranco) to drive the wheel.

    This afternoon I read that this was indeed the case. From medieval times up to the 1960’s, long trains of mules went up with wheat and descended with flour, linking the cereal-growing areas of the lower Alpujarra, with hydraulic scarcity, and the high areas, with greater energy availability.

    We ended our walk by exploring south of the village and finding the ruins of an old olive oil mill, an era (threshing floor) that is now a parking lot with swings at the end, and the local school which has 24 students and five teachers!
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  • Cáñar: the GR 7

    March 26 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 61 °F

    The architect Donald Gray spent most of his working life living in a small village in the Alpujarra. He devoted himself to recovering and defending traditional Andalusian architecture, working alongside local builders to learn skills that were not taught in any university. I carry images in my head of the drawings he made for his four slim volumes on the vernacular architecture of the Alpujarra, so every time we walk through the central plaza here in Cáñar, I see it both as Donald Grey saw it 25 years ago and also as it appears today. I wish the tree between the church and the fountain were still alive! Gray’s comment holds true, though: “Cáñar has one of the most pleasant squares, free of modern atrocities and with a beautiful fountain at the center of the square, which is not frequent in the Alpujarra.” (Most of them are built against walls.)

    The central square also has a prominent GR 7 sign, so today we followed its arrows toward the village of Soportujar. My phone had a humorous take on that name when I dictated it for the caption of a photo of the village. The text came up as “so poor too hard”. We had a good laugh since some parts of the track were indeed poor and hard. On the way back, we met an Irish-Australian couple who gave us a lot of good advice on which portions of the GR 7 are well maintained. They live down near the coast, but they said they come up to Cáñar frequently because they get their drinking water from the fountains here.

    We have an amazing opportunity coming up this evening. We’ve been invited to attend the final rehearsal for a series of upcoming concerts taking place in local villages featuring works by Vivaldi and Pergolesi. They’ll be rehearsing in the church, so not only will we hear the music, but we’ll have the chance to see, in Grey’s words, “its coffered ceiling, a roofing system inherited from the Moors, although constructed after the reconquest.”
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  • Above the Río Poqueira: Moving day

    March 27 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 55 °F

    We were sad to leave Cańar today, especially after last night‘s rehearsal for tonight’s concert. Ned’s comments from the point of view of a former conductor of a volunteer orchestra: They were great! The soloist, chorus, and chamber ensemble sounded professional and so well balanced.

    We had time before we left for a long conversation with Robin, the owner of our apartment. He left Scotland 15 years ago and has lived in several villages in the Alpujarra since then. He told us that the water we saw coming over Dique 24 yesterday was very unusual for this time of year. Dramatic flooding occurred last month along with heavy winds. Many trees came down in the steep barranco, and the course of the river was actually changed!

    As for moving to our next spot, it’s a good thing Ramón offered to pick us up in Cáñar. We’d never have found Casa Walhalla on our own. Even though we have cycled within a kilometer of here twice on our mountain bike trips, we have never been aware of the wild depth of the Poqueira Valley that was just south of our route. I have a feeling that it is going to be quite a challenge to explore.

    Ramón and Michelle moved from the Netherlands to this remote spot far from any village two years ago. They have put all their effort into improving the buildings that were falling apart, creating a vegetable garden, nurturing fruit and nut trees, and being good stewards of the land. Ramón gave us a tour of the property. It’s so steep, all I could think of was why didn’t I grab my hiking poles before we started out! Luckily Ramón and Ned kept me from stumbling over the edge.

    When we told Ramón that we were very interested in the numerous acequias around here, his whole face lit up. He said he loves being part of the acequia system! All the farmers in this area who use water from the acequias are obligated to work on the spring cleaning of the channel. Ramón said the first time he did it, it gave him goosebumps because it connected him so closely to a history that extends back more than 1000 years and because it is such a uniquely communal effort. Farmers are assessed the number of days they must work on cleaning crews by how much land they have. Ramón has a relatively small piece and must volunteer to work one day each year. His neighbor just below has a much larger plot of land and owes five days each year. If a farmer doesn’t work his required number of days on a cleaning crew, he must pay €60 for each day missed so that someone else can be hired to do the job.

    Ramón is at the end of a branch of the acequia so he gets as much water as he wants whenever he wants it. But others closer to the source have an assigned day and time when they can lift the gate to allow the water into their land. So you could be assigned, for example, every Wednesday from 2 AM until 6 AM. Then you would have to get up in the middle of the night to lift your gate.

    Ramón’s acequia was dry today, he explained, because just as the big storm last month rerouted the Rio Chico near Cáñar, it also changed the course of the Río Poqueira that this acequia is channeled off of. Now the beginning of the acequia is no longer connected to the river, and no water is flowing into it. This is a huge problem for all the farmers downstream on this acequia. Ramón doesn’t yet know what they are going to do about it.
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  • Walhalla: walking to Soportújar

    March 28 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 55 °F

    Our goal was to walk into Soportújar, find the pharmacy, and fill a prescription. On the map, it looked like the GR 7 would be a good way to get there. I had noticed in the write-ups on a few Wikiloc tracks that there were warnings about deterioration of portions of the GR 7, but they were sort of old tracks, and I figured there was at least a 50-50 chance that the trail would be passable. We walked past the hermitage dedicated to Padre Eterno, remembering a friendly cat that had greeted us here in 2018. On that trip, we had just made an 800-meter descent from Puente Palo, high up in the national park. The next day I had to replace the brake pads on my mountain bike!

    Today we walked the same 4-wheel-drive track in reverse, heading up to link up with the GR 7. Suddenly, Wikiloc gave us a negative beep-beep sound, and up popped a rather mysterious message saying that 50 m ahead was a route that was no longer supported. A few seconds later, we saw why. There had obviously been tremendous flood damage in the area as evidenced by a series of large wire cages filled with boulders to hold back flood waters, as well as rerouting of the track. We went about a kilometer farther, hoping we could still get on the GR 7, but when we reached the red and white blaze for where the trail used to take off, there was just a sharp drop that petered off into nothing. We had a great view of Cańar and the stretch of GR 7 we walked there, though.

    So it was back down to the local road into the village, dodging an unusual number of cars for such a small community. Soon we were making our way through the crowds of tourists who had flocked to Soportújar to see the “village of the witches”. Teenagers giggled with their friends as they took selfies by Baba Yaga; couples looked romantic as they saved each other from dragons; parents sheparded their children into the witch’s cave; and grandmothers soothed babies in push chairs while waiting for the rest of the family to reappear. We guess there must have been at least 200 tourists in the village - by far the biggest crowds we have seen since we arrived in Andalucia. To top it all off, the pharmacy had a sign on it saying it was closed today for personal reasons. We made a hasty retreat back to complete solitude at our house overlooking the barranco.

    This afternoon, Ramón and Michelle are working with a friend of theirs to make repairs to the area just outside our kitchen door where there used to be a patio with a table for outdoor meals. Last month in the big storms, a huge chestnut tree crashed down and wiped out the patio. Today they are mixing cement to make a support for the new patio. In the meantime, the table and chairs have been moved to a small terrace on the other side of the house.
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  • Walhalla: a magnificent day!

    March 29 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 54 °F

    Magnificent, magnificent, magnificent! I think all of the Poqueira Valley could hear our shouts of joy as we came around a corner and had a totally unexpected view of a high snow-covered peak. “It looks like Mulhacén!” we cried to each other. “Could it really be?” Sure enough, PeakFinder
    confirmed that we were indeed looking at the highest peak in mainland Spain.

    It was an amazing moment because we were descending south down the valley and had expected our views to the north to diminish, not increase. Our goal had simply been to find a small ermita and its nearby cortijo that were listed on the ADR fichas. But our angle of visibility of the upper part of the barranco of the Poqueira continually increased and soon we could see all three mountain villages perched high above us: Pampaneira, Bubión, and Capileira. The view was even better than eight years ago when we climbed up Mulhacén from the pass just below the peak. When you are so close, you can’t appreciate the rounded bulk of the mountain. And if anyone is trying to climb it today, I hope they are wearing skis or snowshoes!

    As if the day wasn’t already fine enough with our lovely dirt track, the bright sunshine, and the unexpected views, we came around a corner and found not just one but two of the main acequias that branch off the Rio Poqueira. The Acequia de Órgiva was dry (maybe it is the one that has become detached from the river when it changed course?), but the Acequia de Cerro Negro was full of water flowing down to the Guadalfeo Valley. These are both major acequias de riego, feeding many smaller acequias. For efficiency, they are now concrete channels rather than stone lined as they were originally. This means the trees that used to line the acequias, their roots being watered by seepage from the channel, are now gone.

    We are guessing this might be the top walk of our trip, so we are very grateful to have had this unexpected treat!
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  • Walhalla: in the acequia

    March 30 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 55 °F

    Surprisingly, we could not find any existing Wikiloc GPX tracks along either of the two acequias that are just below Casa Walhalla. But looking closely at the IGN topo map of this area, it seemed to us that we could work our way down from the house to the Acequia de Órgiva and make our own route. This morning we did just that, very pleased to be able to hop right into the acequia. (We knew from crossing it lower down on our walk yesterday that it was going to be dry.)

    Feeling like we were our own little MEMOLA project, we walked several kilometers north, tossing aside branches that had fallen into the channel and dodging thorny vines that hung down from the trees above. This was the first time we’ve ever been able to walk in such a deep acequia, and we marveled at the engineering it must have taken to create it. Eventually, we came to a point where the channel was encased in a tube. The path beside it had a sheer drop to the river, so we turned around and investigated the other (west) end of the channel. Here the side walls were not as deep, and the channel itself was wider. In order to head off the danger of fast moving water cutting through earthen walls, the outer edge had been cemented where it went around curves. Eventually, we climbed out and used a small lane to circle back to our house, very happy to have had such an unusual experience. Now if we only knew why the acequia is dry at the moment…
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  • Walhalla: Balates and bancales

    March 31 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 61 °F

    Balates and bancales were much in evidence on our walk up (and up, and up) the western face of the barranco of the Río Poqueira today. A balate is a dry stone wall used to support a terraced crop area; a bancal is the terrace itself. These small parcels of irrigated crop land or orchards are the main visual elements on the steep hillsides around here, their staggered arrangements resembling giant staircases.

    The small bancales we passed today were largely abandoned - which is true of most of the terraces around here that are on land too steep to be reached by even a four-wheel-drive track. Up until the 1960s and 70s, they were accessed by horse, burro, or mule, but now if they can’t be reached by tractor, they likely have fallen into disuse.

    Nevertheless, their remains made for a beautiful climb up until we were above the village of Pampaneira and on a level with Bubión across the ravine. On the way, we passed the third acequia in this area: Acequia Cachariche. Like all the Roman and Moorish acequias, it operates totally by gravity (no pumps or machinery like you see in other irrigation systems), leaving the Río Poqueira at an elevation of 1090 meters, and losing only 100 meters on its journey to end in the Cañadillas barranco 5 km later. This acequia is the first one we have seen on this trip that is an acequia de careo, not de riego (irrigation). Its purpose is to direct the water to permeable areas where the abundant water from snowmelt can sink down into the ground, recharge the aquifer, and emerge many months later and hundreds of meters lower as springs that serve villagers during the dry summer months.
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