Mountain meandering

Typical white village, Las Alpujarras

We have been enjoying our time in southern Spain catching up with friends and getting to know the delights of Almeria city. There were still a couple of places further afield on our "to do" list, notably the white mountain villages of Las Alpujarras. We had already visited the Pueblos Blancos when we first entered the Mediterranean but these other white villages are located higher up and cling to the slopes of the Sierra Nevada mountains. So a plan was hatched and a hire car booked to aid our search for yet more white villages and a journey up to the Alpujarras and beyond.

View up to the white mountain village of Capileira,
Las Alpujarras

Typical Alpujarran chimney

More round Moorish chimneys

Having rejected an upgrade to a 4x4 beast, in complete contrast we picked up a cute convertible Fiat 500 from Almeria airport and set off for the Sierra Nevada mountains in warm sunshine with the roof down. After about an hour the view of the sea and the agricultural plastic had turned into mountain vistas and hairpin bends. The scenery was stunning and very green as the terraced farmlands are constantly watered by the melting snow from above, a great contrast to the arid foothills we had left behind. The average altitude of the Alpujarras is over 1200m and we started to notice the temperatures dropping. It was only then that I realised I had forgotten to pack my winter jacket. I decided to remain jacketless for the next couple of days as the forecast was good but unfortunately a return trip to the boat was looking highly likely.

Trevelez

Loading hams onto a lorry, Trevelez

Ham shop, Trevelez

Our first stop was the village of Trevelez which at 1,476m is one of the highest towns in mainland Spain. It is also famous for the quality of its air-cured hams, jamon serrano. Hams are a specialty throughout the Alpujarras but particularly with this village as its clear mountain air is ideal for drying and storing the sweet tasting ham. There were hams everywhere we turned and we didn't need an excuse to stop at a cafe to find out for ourselves what all the fuss was about.

View up the Poquiera gorge from Pampaneira to Bubion and Capileira

Pampaneira village square

Pampaneira village square

We continued along the winding mountainous road until we reached Pampaneira, one of a trio of picturesque whitewashed villages. It is the lowest of the three at just over 1000m and hugs the steep slopes of the Poqueira valley. We parked at the edge of the village and went in search of further refreshments. These villages were the last stronghold of the Moors. They have retained much of their traditional Berber architecture with lots of white sugar cube shaped houses, flat roofs and tall round chimney pots in evidence. Pampaneira was bustling with craft shops, cafes, hikers and the inevitable tourists. We found a pleasant cafe in the central square and the sun from where we could admire the local handicraft shops selling colourful coarsely-woven rugs as well as walkers returning from a hard day's hike in the mountains.

                                                                     Pampaneira

View down the Poqueira gorge from Capileira to Bubion and Pampaneira

Capileira

Capileira

Capileira village square

We returned to our car for the short final journey of the day up to Capileira, the highest, less touristy and possibly more authentic of the three villages, where we were booked into a Finca (country house hotel) for the night. The village is full of twisting, steep streets, springs gushing with fresh mountain water and there were superb views of the Poquiera valley, gorge and the snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains everywhere we looked. Capileira is also a good base for walking so having invested in some serious boots we asked our hotel if they could suggest a relatively easy local walk. We were given a map, told where to start and the following morning we set off up the gorge for a bit of an adventure. The walk took us up through steep, rocky scrubland and on to a lush river valley via an old abandoned village. We had wonderful views of the high peaks including Mulhacen, at 3479m the highest mountain in Spain. We walked passed acequias - ancient irrigation channels developed by the Moors and still in operation, swarms of colourful butterflies, hedgerows of wild herbs and all the while keeping a lookout for the elusive Golden Oriole.

Capileira

Some four hours later we made it back to Capileira somewhat worse for wear and nursing some seriously aching limbs. Maybe we should have invested in some plus fours and two pointed sticks which seemed to be the fashion choice of others we passed. We collapsed at a local cafe in the town square and set about experiencing the Plato Alpujarreno, the local specialty, which includes chorizo, blood sausage, pork loin, Serrano ham, potatoes and fried eggs...

Capileira

View of Sierra Nevada mountains at the start of our walk

View towards the abandoned village

Snow capped Mulhacen, the highest mountain in Spain

Riverside cafe Pinos Genil

With the weather due to deteriorate and our next stop the ski slopes, the following morning we decided to return to the coast and collect my much needed jacket. We drove like the clappers and managed to arrive at our next Finca in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, not far from Granada, at a civilised hour. We even had time to check out the picturesque local village, Pinos Genil, and enjoyed a very late lunch in the last of the sun at a riverside cafe. The Finca was a friendly, family run affair and at weekends they also cooked for their guests so thankfully we didn't have to go out again. We made use of the honesty bar, had a rusty game of pool and sat down for a delicious home cooked meal.

Pinos Genil

What happened to the sun?!

Next morning we looked out from our bedroom balcony overlooking the countryside and on to Granada twinkling in the far distance. Unfortunately it wasn't a pretty sight. The skies had turned dark and ominous. Our time away was short so we decided to continue as planned and set off in the car for Pradollano, the centre of the Sierra Nevada ski resort. As we climbed higher the visibility became almost non existent as the road was engulfed by the descending swirling clouds.

Pradollano

We discussed turning back but the driver was determined! We made it safely to our destination and entered a monstrous underground car park, said to be the largest in Spain. We donned our winter weather gear and ventured out into a snowstorm. We quickly found shelter in a cafe and gave up on the idea of taking a cable car up the mountain as the visibility was so bad. No photogenic beautiful white peaks with a backdrop of deep blue skies. Instead we could just about make out lots of black dots moving down a sea of white snow.                        

Pradollano

                                                            There were still plenty of people out for the day enjoying the winter activities in their varied colourful outfits and clumpy boots so we joined in the fun and had a good look around before heading back to the warmth of our Finca.

Pradollano ski slopes

Guejar Sierra and the Canales reservoir

Raining goats and dogs!

Depressingly the weather was no better the following morning. We had planned to go horse riding high up in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Our guide Victor had been texting regularly with weather updates and the latest was an 80% chance of rain. I am not really sure why we set off but we were determined to give it a go. We drove into the heart of the Sierra Nevada countryside and up high along a precarious single track road which led to Victor's rather ramshackled cortijo (farmhouse) which had been in his family for centuries. It began to drizzle and we suggested reducing our riding time from four hours to two. We were given riding hats, bottles of water and saddle bags for our belongings. The rain increased and by the time we were led to the horses we were drenched and already getting cold. Sadly we had no choice but to call it a day. Instead we went inside and Victor and his Chinese wife warmed us up with a very welcome cup of green tea. We navigated ourselves back down the slopes through a herd of goats and lashing rain to Pinos Genil where most

Pinos Genil

of Granada had congregated for their Sunday lunch. We found a buzzing little restaurant which seated us at the bar before a table came free and we tucked into a local feast which cheered us up no end. It wasn't just us moaning about the unusually unsettled weather, the locals were unhappy too as it was affecting their usually brisk April trade. Needless to say as we made the two hour journey back to the coast the next morning the sun made a cheeky appearance and the clouds were definitely not looking quite so angry!

Canales reservoir, Guejar Sierra