From Emmerdale to Ardales

Ardales, a short drive from El Chorro, is a small town sprawling on the hills around a church that traces its history back to the 16th century. It is guarded by the remains of a historic Ardales castle, built by none other than that ancient anarchist and rowdy rebel Umar ibn Hafsun.

The roots of the villages go back a looooong time. The name, originally Ard-Allah, God's gardens, dates back to Moorish times. The church is the focal point of this town and its tower is visible form everywhere in the village. Originally the site hosted a mosque and the church tower, made of glazed tiles glistening in the sun in glorious shades of blue and green, is actually the minaret from the old mosque.

The Gentleman has a house in Yorkshire in the middle of those breathtakingly beautiful farmlands of Dales. Ardales isn't too far behind either...

    

A couple of kilometres away there's a cave that was discovered in 1821 after an earthquake in the region. Other than that there isn't anything terribly unique about this village that would set it apart from the other white villages scattered all over Andalusian hills.

But on the other hand... that's exactly where the charm of these places lays . Time seems to stand still. Old men gather in the parks and in the shades of terraces, playing cards and putting the world to right - just as they've always done.

Yet the atmosphere is full of life that is transported onto the narrow streets in the sounds and scents flowing from the open windows and doors, for a moment pulling the passer-by into the lives of their residents. At Garcias little Antonio should go wash his hands; at Gils someone should let the dog out. Gonzaleses are having a laundry day and at Hernandezes abuela is cooking... oooh - seems like it's albondigas for supper tonight! 

And though these are exactly the kind of places one would expect to be insular and treat "outsiders" with suspicion, that is not the case. In a way that my Finnish mentality finds peculiar - though for The Gentleman it's the most natural thing in the world - these are the places where even strangers are greeted with a warm smile. Buenas dias for you, too, mis amigos!

On that grand scale of things

Luckily we had that car in El Chorro - otherwise we just might have missed Bobastro. Though that's what we almost did and stumbled upon it by sheer accident.

Bobastro is an archeological site located near El Chorro. It was the headquarters of a rebel leader Umar ibn Hafsun who fled here with his supporters at the end of the 9th century. This being the time before Facebook, LinkedIn and Wikipedia, the guy's background is a bit blurry. Apparently though, in spite of his name, he was a Christian and a bit of an anarchist, too.

He rebelled against The Umayyad Dynasty that at the time ruled Andalusia and was particularly pissed off at their treatment of the Christian population and the heavy taxes that were imposed on them (France, are you listening?) He also fortified the nearby town of Ardales and acquired land and castles all over the county. The remains of a church he built in Bobastro, apparently inspired by the local hermit Christian community, are still there today.

The signs along the path that lead to the ruins paint a very exciting picture of this era in Andalusian history, but there really isn't too much to see here. Unless you're a hardcore history buff. Though the entry is only a couple of euros...

But the rugged scenery around Bobastro and El Chorro tells of history too. And of a lot more ancient kind. All the lessons I happily ignored at school about the continental plates and glaciers and millions and millions of years it took for our part of the world to reach its shape are so evident here. The mountains still scarred from those events; the landscape formed by the roughest of artists - the nature itself. It is humbling (even for a drama queen like me) and does put things into proportion.

In the history of this Universe of ours we humans have been out and about for such a little while. Somehow the world survived without us. In the timeline of our planet, spanning over tens of millions of years (unless you're a Republican from the Bible Belt, of course, in which case it's only a couple of thousands of years, right?) man is but a petulant little child, still in his diapers. Though, the destruction and decline man has maanaged to inflict in that short time is nothing short of remarkable.

I am a child of the digital era and the quality of my every day life is largely built on the achievements of the modern technology (helloooo, Blogger!) Yet... they are very recent arrivals and somehow people managed to go about their lives before them.

 

Being the romantic fool and an arts and farts graduate that I am, my  humanist within seems hell-bent on believing that essentially we, people, are still the same - that something fundamental about us has survived through the colourful history, changes, progress, rebellions, various social systems and technological advancements.

I remember back in Uni working on a translation of a note a worker on the site that was to become the Valley of the Kings, the final resting place for the rulers of the ancient Egypt, had scribbled on a wall somewhere venting his angst (again - this was before Twitter). He was wailing how he was so ill there wasn't a remedy in sight; so ill that no doctor could help him. And all this because he hadn't see his loved one in five whole days... But the moment he'd lay his eyes on her again, he'd be fine again.

Love, people. Love.

El Lunch at El Chorro

After all those outdoor pursuits in El Chorro my feet were aching (what was I thinking wearing what I was wearing?), my mouth felt like Sahara (what was I thinking not bringing more water?), my skin was ready to fall off (what was I thinking not wearing any sunscreen?) and my hungry stomach was making noises so loud they would have put AC/DC to shame. It was clearly time to silence the nagging voices at the back of my head over some lunch.

For that traveller is not exactly spoilt for choice. There's Refuge, a rock climbing club whose blackboard advertised mojito as their daily special. Then there's the tiny bar next to El Chorro station where abuela (Granny) rustles up burgers, stuffed baguettes and home-made chorizo. Charming, in its rustic way. Then there's La Garganta, an idyllic hotel-restaurant that looks like an old-fashioned sanatorium somewhere in the Alps. It balances on the cliff enjoying some spectacular views over the area.

I happily admit to being somewhat sceptic. If that's the competition, would the restaurant even feel the need to make an effort? Would it be sloppy, yet pretentious  establishment full of its own (smugly perceived) supremacy? Luckily my over-active imagination - bordering on paranoid - was soon proven wrong.

The restaurant isn't exceptionally outstanding, but as I was admiring the views underneath the canopy of the vines, providing much-needed shade in the scorching sun, with the warm wind caressing my skin, the chilled wine refreshing my throat and my dear Gentleman smiling across the table...things really couldn't have been much better.

Food was good quality but fuss-free and prepared with tangible and wonderful appreciation for the local produce and traditions. To start with we had a selection of local meats, vegetable tempuras with that gorgeous local honey and morcilla, local blood pudding with roasted pumpkin. 

Tempuras weren't exactly a home-run. We couldn't decide whether they actually had cheese in them or whether the batter was simply so thick it hadn't had the chance to cook all the way through. The light crispness that makes tempura tempura however was tragically missing.  The meats were superb and the sweetness of the roasted pumpkin (with a hint of cinnamon?) balanced the earthiness of morcilla nicely. The result was as comforting as being cradled on mother's arms. 

The portions were generous to say the least and we definitely weren't hungry after all that. The Gentleman has already made a habit of pointing to me (as subtly as he can) how my blog states that "everything should be tried, though not necessarily over one meal" . But the mains look to tempting to pass!

Pork loin with Serrano ham, rabbit stew with orange, leg of pork...In the end - and without a doubt inspired by the baahing sounds of the goats on the pastures in the valley below us - I settled for roasted kid goat. Which was beautifully fatty, succulent and delicious. The potatos on the side were (as they usually are) a bit of a disappointment: they could have been roasted in the fat dripping from the goat, resulting in roasties so crispy and crunchy on the outside and so dreamily light and fluffy on the inside...

After the meal there was only two words to describe how I was feeling: utter bliss. The only way the day could have turned any better was if we could have laid down by the pool for some siesta... but home and our own pool were calling. 

El Chorro - active holidaymaker's paradise

In the end we did get to El Chorro, too. This time we took our own car, thanks to which we got to explore the area a lot more thoroughly. Train is a brilliant way to get here though as the El Chorro station is located right in the middle of the nature reserve.

El Chorro is a haven for the outdoorsy types and has plenty of wow factor in store for hikers, canoists and mountain bikers. The steep walls of Los Gaitanes make this place particularly popular among rock climbers. And what better destination for someone with fear of heights... Luckily half of us was dresses appropriately for the day's ventures.


French pedicure and golden sandals - the appropriate attire for EVERY occasion...

In addition to the free roaming the nature reserve has 2 marked trekking routes - the other is about 45 minutes long and the other about half an hour. The first one comes with a bit of a climb, with views to match.

The hills of this nature reserve are also home to numerous animals and plants - some of them protected. The foodblogger/ amateur horticulturalist was also thrilled to discover several wild herbs - I recognized at least rosemary, sage and wild thyme. 

El Chorro is famous for the gorge of Los Gaitanes, which brings together 3 rivers that flow through Malaga. Before the dam was built here, the annual floods brought on by the rain were nothing short of legendary. 

Railway built halfway through 1850's finally linked Malaga to the rest of the country. The tracks ran through the tunnels carved into the rocks and are still in use today.

The building of the canal started in 1901. During the project a narrow maintenance walkway, resting on steel beams hacked into the rock, was built. In the honour of King Alfonso XIII's visit to the site in 1921 the pathway was named Kings Pathway. Unlike on many similar and equally dangerous constructions sites around the world, this labour was not performed by prisoners forced to put their lives at risk, but the skilled workmen were recruited (among other places) from the local port. 

Views from the walkway would, without a doubt, still be very royal indeed, but unfortunately due to part of it collapsing, the path is no longer in use (just what my acrophobia wants to hear...)

Not that it's enough to put these dare-devils off. I do wonder what sort of travel insurances they have...?

Day in El Chorro is enough to burn off all those churros - all that trekking makes one break some serious sweat. And those sandals of mine never never did make through the day. But it is beautiful here - to a point I'm going to defy all clichés and call the atmosphere paradise-like.

No wonder it has fuelled young (*sighs*) love...