Oops!

Didn't realise it had been SO long since my last post. Mitigating circumstances include snow, high winds, lots of decorating and a slow internet connection for the past few days. Apart from the decorating, these things have passed for the moment and so I'll try and catch up with my posts over the next few days. In the interim, here are a few shots taken today on the hill by the ruin as I enjoyed the end of a very warm day (felt like a June evening in England) amidst the almond blossom.

La nieve - more photos

The terrace

The high track

Partridge footprints

Across the barranco

Ploughed fields

Looking down from the high track

La nieve

While I've been seeing snow on the Sierra Nevada since September, today was my first experience of it here at the cortijo. The picture above only shows a light dusting in front of the house but a walk up the hill revealed greater quantities .comthough nothing on the scale of what is being experienced in England. I was accompanied on my walk by a chill wind and did not venture too high. I have more photos but they're awaiting a transfer from my camera and will post them retrospectively

Hairy drive ... with lemons

Woke up to a beautifully sunny day. The mountains opposite were covered in loads of snow so decided I ought to experience the white stuff for myself and drove up to Trevelez. It was also an excuse to try the jeep in the snow. Trevelez was, well, snowy but busy with visitors so did a U-turn and parked up at the foot of the valley which is one of my favorite spots. 

Trevelez

Trevelez valley

I can see my house from there and it's nice getting a different perspective.

Having decided to head home, I drove down the hill stopping to explore some tracks I'd seen previously but not been able to take in the van. Just before reaching Almegijar I saw a sign for some historic baths so I turned off and followed a track. Unbeknownst to me at the time the baths were right by the turning...

The track went on for miles and entered a pine forest. Still no sign of the baths and I ploughed on. The track got worse and worse and worse and I realised after a while that I was actually driving a footpath though there were signs of historic traffic. Had some severe hairy moments; not particularly dangerous just 'difficult' with me still getting used to the capabilities of the jeep. I could see from the satnav that I was heading towards Orgiva and was trying to work out in my head where I would cross the Trevelez river.

Eventually, I passed a house and then came to a dead end. There was a footbridge over the river but the ford was impassable. Putting two and two together, it dawned on me that the house I passed must have been the one in Driving over Lemons! I drove back to the house and called it to see if anyone at home and the author appeared! (I knew from the local papers what he looked like.) 

Having explained my predicament, Chris Stewarts' considered opinion was that it was too dangerous to cross the river in my jeep and the only way out was back the way I'd come. (I didn't invade his privacy by asking him if he was him!). 

For proof, here's a picture of his front gate and a view taken further uphill of the river mentioned in the book.

So, it was back up I went. Got stuck a couple of times but I've got a low ratio I can use on my four wheel drive and, with the odd whiff of burning clutch, I got out. Took just under an hour of slow careful diving to get back to the main road. Not a route I'd like to take in its entirety again but it did show to me what the jeep is capable of and I feel much more comfortable in it. Feels like the mad journey made us bond.

Fire!

I had been told that the January fiesta in  Torvizcon was not to be missed as it involved bonfires being lit in the streets throughout the town.
So tonight  I took myself along to the sleepy town only to find that I could only park a couple of hundred yards outside town, a fairground waltzer was set up at the entrance to the main square and that the (usually empty) lower car park housed a big tent and some dodgems. Add to this various stalls, masses of people and several large bonfires built in various parts of the town. Some transformation, as previous guests who've had a coffee sitting outside at Bar Canario will appreciate.
The fiesta is in honour of San Anton Abad - a hermit, deemed the protector of animals, with a predeliction for pigs. Though I've seen no evidence, leading up to the celebration a pig gets a red ribbon tied to its tail and is given the title 'King of the town'. Said animal is then allowed to roam the streets and all the townsfolk are obliged to feed it. It does not end well for the pig though on the feast day (there's a clue in that last sentence).
Torvizcon does boast two resident pigs in a pen appropriately sited next to the recycling and rubbish slips but I've never seen either wearing a ribbon. I guess a pig walking willy-nilly round the town would not, these days, be a particularly good idea
Anyway, returning to tonight, once various church services and other ceremonials were over, the bonfires were lit. Given the prevailing weather conditions (strong winds), I started to question my choice of attire thinking that next year something asbestos-based might be more appropriate. Fed by endless supplies of brushwood, the fires flared up on several occasions showing observers (and anything parked close!) in hot sparks.

Of course, no self-respecting fiesta is complete without fireworks and we were not to be disappointed.

Although the night was still young and free drink and food were being dished out, I erred on the side of caution and headed home. A very windy night was forecast and I wanted to make sure all hatches were battened down.

Well it ain't vinegar

Spurred on by my neighbour Toni asking me whether I'd tried my Tempranillo wine yet, I'd decided that today would be the day when I would lift the lid on the tank and give it a go.

I managed to put the fateful moment off for a while by going in to Cadiar to buy half a refinery (gas, petrol and oil) and a bout of wood-chopping ahead of the bad weather we're expecting, I ventured in to the bodega a short while ago. Releasing the sealed lid, I quickly dipped a glass in before re-sealing the tank.

Returning to the kitchen, initial inspection revealed that it was red (would have been something seriously wrong if it wasn't!), did not smell bad and was clear. With trepidation I had a taste and was pleasantly surprised. I have, indisputably, MADE MY FIRST WINE and, while not as refined as some Tempranillos I have tasted (remember that it has only fermented with the wild yeasts that came on the grapes), it passes muster and compares VERY favourably with that sold by my local off-licence. I have to leave it another month before bottling but I think it's fair to say that I will be able to keep any visitors I may have this year well-lubricated during their stay.

Although a tad early, I'm enjoying a glass as I write this.

Next will be to try the wine made from my own grapes. Watch this space.

An unexpected arrival

Today was a fig day with my starting to prune the big black fig trees as they are currently dormant. Having cut back some lower branches (higher ones will have to wait for my pole chainsaw) on one of them, I took the opportunity to take some hardwood cuttings and planned these on one of the small terraces above what I call the 'flat vineyard'.
Whilst doing this, I heard sheep bells and caught sight of a guard dog. 'Aha' I thought, 'tis the shepherd I saw on Sunday who hasn't yet delivered his promised payment. Having completed my burying of the fig cuttings, I walked up the hill towards the ruin only to find a ewe stood there with a newly-born lamb. Reckon I only missed the birth by a few minutes.
The owner of the ewe then appeared accompanied by a small flock of sheep. It was not the man from Nieles but my neighbour Antonio ('Toni') who was the one who has sold me the Tempranillo grapes back in October. He'd come down to feed HIS sheep on MY almond field (without so much as a 'by your leave' and proceeded to complain about the fact that there wasn't much grass. When I explained that there had been a previous visitor he said that it wasn't right that Sunday's shepherd had just turned up without asking permission! To maintain neighbourly relations I bit my lip.
The new arrival, meanwhile, had managed to get to its feet and was being encouraged by Mum to feed. With a brisk cold wind blowing and a long walk ahead of it back to Toni's place, I wished it well and headed back to the house as it was well past wood-chopping time and, having endured some cold nights of late, I did not fancy being fire-less tonight.
Meanwhile

An arrangement of mutual benefit (or A Grand Day Out)

Paid a morning visit to the allotment, as I call it, to plant some broad beans. (The allotment is the flat piece of land I have 5 minutes away on the neighbouring settlement that I'm hoping to get irrigation water for...feel I need to construct some sort of map for the blog so readers can get an awareness of where I'm talking about; will end up looking like the map of Middle Earth from Tolkien as I keep giving names to special spots!).

After a chat and a coffee with the English couple who live there I decided to make the most of the good weather (sorry if you're snowbound) and drove towards Orgiva but took a turning I'd passed many times before to a village called Alcazar. While the freshly-laid road gave way to a rough track, for once this was accompanied by a very obliging sign saying 'fin de asfalte' though the transition was obvious.

Skirting the edge of the hill, some lovely vistas across to Veleta peak were to be had along with nice views of blossoming almond trees...

I blinked as I came in to Alcazar and very nearly missed it. The word 'sleepy' does not do it justice and, while pretty, the absence of any sign of a caffeine-dispensing establishment took me swiftly out the other side and on up to a restaurant I knew of on the hilly road linking Orgiva and the ridge of the Contraviesa. 

Managing to distract the barman who was tending to some meat on his wood-burning grill, I ordered a coffee and sat outside on the terrace in bright sunshine (albeit with a 'fresh' wind) and a view of the Mediterranean. 

After an exploratory foray along a track through some pinewoods, I continued up to join the Haza de Lino road from which I took the track down towards the house. 

On a whim I decided to turn off and drive up to my ruin only to find myself on arriving in the middle of a flock of goats and sheep. 

I was aware that the shepherd was around as he's been herding lower down a few days ago so was not too surprised. I stopped and introduced myself as the owner and kind of expected him to ask if it was OK to bring his animals on to my land.  This Nicky was obviously lost on him but he proceeded to make up for it by asking whether I wanted a kid goat or a lamb! Knowing that some form of 'trade' such as this is the norm, I accepted a lamb which he said he would deliver tomorrow. 

A certain degree of panic now exists with my not knowing in what form said animal is  arriving...think it's fair to say it won't be coming in neatly packaged freezer packs. 

From my perspective it's great to have the animals on the land as it saves me having to cut so much grass in the Spring, the ground gets lightly tilled by the traffic plus I get free fertiliser.

I think you can guess what the subject of the next blog post might be...

La Noche de Reyes

The Night of the Kings (aka Twelfth Night)  gave me the opportunity to celebrate some of the Christmas/New Year celebrations in Spain. It was always the traditional time for the giving of gifts in Spain and is surviving the adoption of the 'western' Christmas Day by the Spanish. The children aren't objecting as they may get two sets of gifts!

Cadiar was quiet when I arrived and so I took myself off for a spot of dinner before returning to the centre of town at about 9. I was aware that there was a procession through the town though its exact whereabouts were unknown. A took a stroll through the narrow streets of the town and kept getting snatched of reflected noise and the sight of the odd firework. I eventually caught up with the procession which had stopped on a hill at the western end of town.

Standing out from the crowd were the Three Kings (Melchior, Gaspar and Baltasar), each astride a horse or mule and surrounded by their own group of attendants who were trying to outdo the others in terms of the amount of noise they could generate through their chanting & singing. The thing that struck me immediately was how steady the kings' mounts were despite the tremendous din.

Each king represented a specific race. One was black, one oriental and the other white.

Their attendants reflected their 'heritage' in terms of their dress and banners and many carried either large sparklers or flaming torches and a bucket of paraffin for refuelling(!).

As the procession moved through the town, copious amounts of boiled sweets were thrown at the crowd and in to the hallways of houses as many people opened their doors. I'm led to believe that very few sweets are bought in Cadiar in the first six months of the year. Another aspect of the Kings' work is the giving of presents. Each of them ears a voluminous cloak which serves two purposes; one to hide the sack of sweets and the other to cover the transfer of gifts. The donor goes to one side of the king, loads the present under the cloak from where the king retrieves it on the opposite side and shoots the name of the recipient given to him by the donor. Although largely done for small children there were obviously a few people having a second childhood.

Attracted by a shout from a doorway, I met up with my friends Chris & Kylie and their three children. As we followed the procession (which was gathering more and more people), the children gathered sweets and the occasional bonus toy thrown by the kings. In order to make sure that we were all outside Chris & Kylie's house when the kings passed, we took a rat-run through the backstreets and arrived ahead of the first king. Miraculously(!) the king had a present for each of the children who each got a kiss from the king (plus some rubbed off make-up) and a photo-opportunity.

After retiring indoors for a glass of cava and a chance to play with Peppa Pig and her bedroom (NO euphemisms), I headed home after midnight having had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. For a youngster the evening must appear magical and the theatre was not missed on the older ones (well, at least this one).

Postscript: The evening had not quite finished with me and dishes out another treat as, starting the climb up the track, a very large wild boar came out of the undergrowth and let me follow it up the hill for a while.

A new year

After a very grey and wet trip back to England, I'm back home to BLUE SKIES and SUNSHINE ... albeit with a van-shaped gap in my life as 'La Furgoneta' starts her retirement in a less challenging environment.