To Grazalema

We had visited Grazalema two years ago as part of a walking holiday and were keen to return for a few days armed with some new walking routes. The journey from Córdoba was fairly uneventful, a few diversions at critical points caused disagreements between driver, map reader and satnav but we were soon driving across open plains with small lakes full of flamingos and various waders.

As we approached the limestone hills we were reminded of the attractions of the area that we had enjoyed previously and entered a land of hills and mountains with stark white escarpments and pinnacles jutting in to the sky. We had walked here previously and the mountain roads with a motorhome are somewhat more challenging but we eventually made Grazalema which was full of Sunday trippers enjoying the sun and the fabulous views.

The first campsite we had chosen was closed and so we pressed on down the other side of the hill for what turned out to be quite a few miles. With brakes burning and when our second choice failed to materialise we decided to press on the Arcos and try a third site and return to Grazalema in the cool of the morning. When the third site was also closed we drove down to the lake and enjoyed a perambulation along its shore with the Spanish families and carp fishermen while we planned our next move.

We had parked under trees adjacent to a small hotel with a lake side terrace and so after a walk we felt we had deserved a few drinks and some tapas and sat there watching the dusk settle on the lake and the bats emerge to hunt. On our return to the van there seemed little to do but settle there for the night and hope we were not asked to move on. To bed with a little trepidation Margaret noted a few useful phrases – “Sorry officer we will leave at first light”, “Sorry officer we will leave as soon as I get my clothes on”, “What do you mean we can’t park here? Do you know who we are”.

None of these were needed and after a long night we set off once again for Grazalema stopping en route for bread and photographs of the superb views as we climbed into the mountains. We were joined at one of the miradors by a Spanish gentlemen who had lived in Grazalema all his life but still too the opportunity to enjoy the scenery, “estupendo”, and was fascinated by our casa on wheels. One point of interest was Goatherds Leap.

Salto del Cabrero (Goatherd’s Leap)

So there was this goatherd who was in love with a beautiful woman.

Goatherd : “I love you”
Beautiful Woman: “No you don’t”
GH: “I love you”
BW: “No you don’t”
GH: “But I do – how can I prove it to you?”
BW: “Well you could try and leap from one rock pinnacle to another rock pinnacle where these rocks pinnacles are set very far apart and on opposite sides of a very deep gorge”
GH: “OK – done!”

Of course the task was hopeless and the goatherd fell to a painful death and the beautiful woman was left with no-one to love her because in these parts there are only goatherds. We also hear that this episode has been repeated many times throughout Spain and accounts for the huge numbers of beautiful Spanish women who leave the country each year looking for someone to love them and the massive shortage of goatherds. If you know one end of a goat from the udder – COME TO SPAIN.

As we rolled into Grazalema the site was open and we were able to park up in a really stunning position high above the village with views to the South and enclosed by limestone peaks on all sides. A visit to the village below for essential supplies and a visit to the local tourist office. The last time we were here this was a dark little room but had now been transformed into a larger sunny office just off the main square full of useful books and guides many in English. Now being run by a couple (she Spanish, he English) we were able to get all the information we required.

Back to the van for lunch and then an afternoon walk above the site before an evening bar-b-que.