Las Alpujarras

As Ashley says, "I'm not a peasant, I just look like one". He doesn't mean that in a disparaging way, just that he has chosen to live up here, rather than being dealt a hand by fate, to make a living from the land. He certainly isn't doing that.

Up at the 'farm' we got to know Boris the bull and his four wives, who each have a calf. It's slightly disconcerting to have them wandering around and they have no respect for boundaries. They are also growing up and are quite a size. The mountainside is very steep and although there is some grass, most of the vegetation would be better suited to goats or sheep.

Ashley is struggling to keep the cattle within his boundary, which is defined by a single strand of electric fence. On the day of our arrival, the cattle had got out and he was trying to locate them. Much of the mountain is inaccessible on foot and so it wasn't until he received a phone call from a guy over the back, that he knew where they were. It then took until after dark for him to walk them up to the road, along to the track and down the 400m to his place. Apparently the guy was very upset that they had broken branches on a cherry tree and a lot of negotiation took place to prevent him going to court. Yes, it seems that this is quite possible.

Unfortunately we were just turning in when they all got home. We had made camp at the corral where Ashley had said we would be quite ok. For some reason the cows decided to visit us and wouldn't have had any respect for our table, chairs, water containers and other stuff. So we needed to do some cattle herding ourselves to persuade them to go back out. Although I have done it before, I've never done it dressed only in boxers.

Each morning the cows come to the shack area looking for the concentrate feed that Ashley puts out for them. He keeps it out of the way in a van and they are very eager to get at it before he's ready to dispense and this makes it quite difficult for him to get back out.

There isn't much separation between these cows and a man and his worldly possessions. Even so, the cows seem to take adequate care and consideration when they are near the Porsche 944.

This is Boris who is apparently well on the way to 500Kg and is not to be messed with. I have stressed frequently to Ashley that he needs to take care, as he seems to be a bit casual with his heavy duty animals. There's no-one else around to help should he have any problems.

Ashley has a very eco method for disposal of toilet waste involving plant pots and special leaves (no further detail available) and he has four solar panels and a 1,500W invertor. The shower is a simple enough affair, with spring water drawn by hosepipe through a heat exchanger out in the sun. It worked very well. There's nothing better than an al-freco shower in the summer. I'm sure the winter is harder. He burns olive wood which he buy at low cost so keeping warm seems straightforward but I don't know how the hot water is provided in winter.

As we have found throughout Spain, even in the most inaccessible places there is invariably a 3G or 4G mobile signal. It's amazing what rubbish we have to put up with in the UK. 97% of the population covered maybe but that's not the point, it's the geography that counts! I'm here with a fast 3G connection. Maybe it's the height that helps.

Re-visiting Orgiva after several years it seemed much the same. The town has been a destination for hippy types for many years; there's nothing wrong with that. The place does have a bohemian, hippy feel and there are plenty of people who fit that sort of stereotypical appearance in the way they dress and grow their hair.

Unfortunately the first people we noticed, were two long haired old guys sitting on the kerb swigging from a bottle. Some people have no pride. A young woman, with dreadlocks and northern European looks, begging at the door to the supermercado. Has she really travelled here to do this?

As we had our morning café con leche, I saw a couple of old timers across the street. They seem to fit the Orgiva bill, in fact maybe they are ageing rockers doing a bit of composing. Or maybe they are just decomposing, who knows.

Next to us were a couple of older ladies, I think Dutch. They too appeared to be long term residents, with skin certainly affected by the Andalucian sun. They seemed to be referring to bank passbooks, the sort that we had, years ago, from the Post Office. We would go to the counter, pay money in or withdraw some. The cashier made an entry by hand and updated the balance with a rubber stamp to confirm. Every few months the book would be retained and sent somewhere for a proper update. At that point it would also be credited with any interest due and then returned. What a windfall it seemed to be; with no real linkage to loss of spending power of the credit balance due to inflation.

We drove up to Capileira, the village directly opposite and on the southern slope of the Sierra Nevada. It's a 20km drive all the way down and then all the way back up the other side. It sits at about 1,200m. In the photo it's the highest one and we can see the nigh time lights clearly from our camp.

 We remembered it as the place where 'The Leatherman" works. Dawn bought a leather bag which needed adjustment and he was happy to pick out stitches and then re-sew.

Here was another older guy with long hair and dressed head to toe in leather. Somehow it all fitted the "Leatherman" image.

We had our first Menu del dia up there and spent a lovely hour or so soaking up the atmosphere. Here we have a high alpine village that has re-defined itself as a tourist spot without losing any of its original charm, only now it shows few signs of the reality of harsh alpine life.