Sierra Trekking Blog: Free wine but watch out for the Ostrich !

http://sierratrekking.co.uk/s_gr7.htm

Moorish Church in Bubion

Fresh coffee and crusty bread still warm from the local Panaderia, Apricot jam, butter and fresh orange juice. What better way to start another glorious spring day in the beautiful 'Las Alpujarras' district of Andalucia.

The lofty Pueblo Blanco 'White village' of Bubion is my base and the first task of the day is to scale the not inconsiderable ascent from the bottom 'Bario Bajo' district to the top 'Bario Alto' district of the village.

Collect spring water from the local Fuente enroute and nod the usual 'Hola' or 'Buenas Dias' to the locals. Hop on board the local bus and grab a seat on the right hand side for what must be one of the most panoramic bus journeys in Spain.

My ears are trained on the local gossip which my inadequate Spanish fails to decipher and my gaze is captivated by the vertigo inducing views down the yawning chasm of the Poqueira gorge.

The bus swings east away from the confines of the Poqueira valley and heads towards the village of Pitres. The views to the south continues to impress with the deep expanse of the valley of the Rio Trevelez and the backdrop of the Sierra de la Contraviesa beyond which lie the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean.

I disembark in the sleepy village of Juviles and after some exploration find a small local shop to purchase my lunch. More crusty bread, Jamon Serrano (the local air-dried ham), delicious Queso de Cabra (Goats Cheese), a huge juicy Spanish tomato and a couple of Oranges.

I find the GR7 route heading south between village houses and head off into the Andalucian countryside. Within 10 minutes the path becomes a spectacular promenade above the valley of the Rio Cimbua. The path leads easily over a shoulder of land with precipitous crags at a safe distance to the left.
Rounding a corner an aerial view of the tiny hamlet of Timar is unveiled. As is usual in these hidden hill villages if you see more than 2 people, it's a busy day.
The route continues to the village of Lobras after which our GR7 route crosses over the GR142 on it's way between Castares and the villages further east.

Further on we follow the course of the Rio Cadiar with it's source near the 3000m crest of the Sierra Nevada mountains to the east of Cerro de Trevelez. The approach to Cadiar is accompanied by the sparkling river to the right and the meadows of spring flowers, Olive and Almond trees to the left.

On arrival in Cadiar I spy a perfect spot for a lunch-stop, a shady
bench on the edge of a fenced orchard by the river. Facing away from the orchard I take in the view and reflect on the mornings walk before setting about the balancing act that is a picnic lunch. Covered in crumbs from my crusty cob and dribbling juice from the ripe tomato I sense a presence over my right shoulder !!

I spin around to be met by the manic stare of an Ostrich which seemed very keen to releive me of my lunch and was probably capable of doing so. I shot to my feet incredulous and scattered my lunch around the bench and the ground. The bird, equally startled turned and headed off into the orchard. I snapped a few hurried photos to confirm that I hadn't dreamt the episode and salvaged what I could of my picnic.

I resumed my sandwich assembly and pondered the meaning of life and the reason for there being an Ostrich in an orchard in Andalucia? Before too long my attention was once again aroused by the approach of something from behind but this time I heard the beast and was better prepared when I turned to be greeted by a local farmer. Warm greetings were exchanged as I fleetingly wondered what the Spanish for 'Ostrich' is but I soon realised my shortcomings and proceded to impersonate an ostrich and ask why it was there. "It was a gift for my Grandson, it was small when we bought it, but it grew".

But of course, silly question !

My friendly companion wandered off without saying Adios which I thought strange but strange seemed to be the norm today.

I finally got to finish lunch and as I packed away I heard once again an approach, my farmer friend. He reached over and offered my a plastic Coke bottle which seemed to be full of Red wine. Indeed it was, he explained that it was made from his own vines and his proud grin made the gift very special. I tasted the wine and complimented him on his excellent produce. We said our goodbyes and I headed north with the river towards Narila. A hot spring afternoon made the final pull up to Alcutar and Berchules quite hard work but the scenary more than compensated. I didn't see another person walking the GR7 throughout the day and in this part of the world, that isn't unusual - unlike the lunchstop !