A Mountain In Spain By sandra Bunting

It is increasingly hard to find a good quality of life where one can live simply but economically, be creative, free from stress and allow your children to roam free. English and people of other nationalities moved in droves to the Celtic areas of Ireland, Scotland and Wales in the last few years looking for a life where ideals would not have to be compromised and where they could live in a more natural, un-materialistic way. Now many, disillusioned by the development of those same countries, are looking to move on once again. The mountains of Spain, near the Costa del Sol, may offer just what they are looking for.

The Spanish government is now trying to encourage development of the region by local and foreign investors interested in farming and rural tourism. It has no interest in the intensive construction that was carried out on the nearby coast but it wants to ensure a thriving local economy. Many of the farmers are getting old, their families living on the coast, other parts of Spain or abroad. The Genal Valley in the Ronda Mountain Range has been preserved basically because of its inaccessibility. The tons of granite that make up the mountain range keep out all but the adventurous. At the top, the coast of Africa can be seen. Further up still on a dirt road to the Pinas Blanca at 1200 metres, there is a type of pine that survived the ice age making it one of the oldest species of tree in the world today. These slopes host the pretty little white villages of Jubrique, Genalguacil, Juzcar, Farajan, Cartijima and others.

March in Ireland was particularly bad this year with high winds, rain and even thunder and lightening. Added to that is the fact that prices here are going up every day. Surfing the internet, I saw a site of reasonably priced property in southern Spain. A change of lifestyle, temporarily at least, may be an option to be able to survive while writing my obra maestra. With cheap flights through the internet, I decided to check it out.

The estate agency is run by a man from Dublin who has lived in the southern mountainous part of Andalucia for 15 years .I flew from Dublin to Malaga via Barcelona and then rented a car for the drive down the Costa del Sol. The road to the village started at a turn to the left in Estepona at the third traffic light up the hill. It quickly began its steep ascent around narrow curves that clung to the side of the mountain. I knew immediately that this was the wrong place for me. The intense fear of heights made my heart pump. My muscles seized up and my hands gripped the wheel tightly. I went slowly, about 10 kilometres an hour, and wanted to turn back. There was nowhere to turn. There was nothing here, only mountains, forests of oak and streams trickling through granite. This could only be seen out of the corner of my eye. I was afraid to look down, afraid to look away from the road.
A young man appeared on the road. I stopped the car. He was drinking water from a bottle.

“How far is it to Jubrique?” I asked.

“Thirty-five kilometres,” he smiled, a good looking man with a friendly personality, he was on his way back to the coast after climbing up.

“For sport, for exercise,” he said.

"I’m frightened,” I said.

He told me to take it easy and to stop at the monument for a break and that the road after that was better.

“The water’s good there too. From the mountains.” He held up his bottle.

The car was hard to start again on the incline. I gripped the wheel even tighter. Higher and higher I climbed. After another half hour at creeping along, I came to a place I could stop. Nothing felt secure. I put the handbrake on but didn’t trust it. There was a little stream just a short climb down some rocks. I was dying of thirst but was worried that couldn’t get up the rocks again. I stopped at the monument briefly and looked at the tiled “sign” showing the wonderful nature in the area.

Jubrique is the first sign of civilization after the Estepona turn-off because the 35 kilometer road winds itself through a national mountain park. An old Berber settlement in “Bandit Country”, it is a warren of narrow streets. The small houses glimmering white in the sun against wrought iron balconies and an abundance of potted plants. Orange trees grow and occasionally fruit falls heavily to the ground. I wondered why none of the older residents sat under the trees. I wasn’t long in finding out. However, the oranges didn’t all fall on my head. Some fell more gently to the ground. They were juicy and tasty.

The village has an old church, a square with a fountain and benches, a village hall, several small shops (for necessities only). I couldn’t buy a map or a disposable camera. One shop had no toothpaste but told me to go to the other shop to get it. When I said I wanted water, they directed me to a mountain spring outside the town. There are a few bars and I was told more are open in summer. The one hotel, aptly called The Mountain Hotel, is at the end of the village. It is clean and pleasant. Rooms have private bath and television, food is available all day and there is a laundry service. The people who work there quickly become friends. From the rooms and the terrace, the view is spectacular. In the distance, peak after peak tries to outdo each other. In daytime the other villages sparkle in their whiteness on another peak. At night their lights look like a cluster of stars.

Across the street from the hotel there is a sharp drop up from which dart sheep, goats and mules under the perfume of almond and lemon trees. A swimming pool and club sits up at the very top of the slope. I would suggest walking as it is almost a complete vertical incline, strenuous exercise but much less frightening than wondering if the car will make it. Jubrique is very much a living community. There is a primary and a secondary school. Children play football and ride bicycles up and down the steep rise of the hill. Miniature dogs, as if they were of a breed unique to the area, were everywhere. I was told that they bark as loud and eat less than a larger dog.

The office of La Mohea Properties is located in the village. It is run by a man from Dublin who has lived in the area for the last 15 years and has been developing his own organic farm nearby. In English he is Rory. In Spanish, he is Don Miguel de la Mohea, proof that in this mountainous terrain it is easy to reinvent yourself. He is a busy man and stands out against the slower pace of other residents. His mobile phone is continually going off as he deals with tours of agricultural students from France wanting to visit local farms to couples flying in to buy farms. He showed me a couple of houses. They were small. Some were in need of work. Others, depending on the price, were ready to walk into. They all had spectacular views and friendly neighbours. There was not a building Rory didn’t know the history of and how it could be improved. An old olive oil press occupying a good sized building, featured in his plans for the area: to find someone to buy it and set it up as an organic press.

“The way real estate works in the interior of Malaga region is that the agent puts the buyer together with the owner and they negotiate, ” he said.

However, only serious offers reach that stage. The next day I toured farms with a Welsh couple who were considering moving here permanently. They had been looking at several sites the day before. Many of them were deeper in the valley making access only possible by mule. The ones I viewed with them were easier to get to. One was absolutely stunning. There was a small house, a swimming pool and an outside stone oven. There was a good sized piece of horizontal land, a gully, terraced land and a river at the bottom. The couple were planning to work the land and do agri-tourism with mule trekking, camping and any other scheme that would provide sufficient income to allow them to live there. Their two young sons were not with them. While enthused about being able to offer them a freer childhood, they were concerned that they would be too isolated, the farms too inaccessible.

It isn’t hard to be completely taken by the romantic vision of going up and down the mountain but realistically it would mean a lot of hard work to take on a project like this. It is not to say that it would not be worth every bit of it. But it would not be easy.

Of course for me it was not an option. I had no background in agriculture, no-one in our family was good at fixing things (I have been waiting a year for someone to come and replace a pane of glass) and my extreme fear of heights made me cling tighter than I ever had before to the car or anything that seemed remotely solid before venturing a peak down a mountain slope or cliff. It is ironic that I felt so wobbly when under me were huge piles of solid rock.

As an animal lover, I cursed my vertigo as I discovered more of what the valley had to offer in terms of flora and fauna. The domesticated variety included mules, sheep, goats, chickens and those delightful black pigs that feed on acorns. The free-range animals were lively, intelligent and sociable; a pleasant change from those brought up in crowded conditions under intensive farming. On the wild side, there were boars, mountain goats, deer, polecats, wild cats besides birds of prey such as eagles, falcons, owls and vultures. One of my favourite creatures is the chameleon which decorates walls and floors as it basks in the sun.

The colours of the valley are unusual and don’t exist further west. The Genel Valley has deep orangey-red soil covered with green pine, oak and fir forests. Besides vegetables the farms produce walnuts, chestnuts, almonds, and olives. Prickly Pear cacti, higher than a man, grow together to form hedges. Fruit trees are heavy with avocados, kiwis, oranges and lemons providing lush tones and fragrances. Water streams down from the mountains, twists lower down in the form of the Genal River or rushes down in little falls, perfect for bathing under.

The Genal Valley is just part of the mountainous region of central Andalucia, the Serranía de Ronda. There are two other distinctive valleys, to the west and to the north, joined by the Ronda plain in the middle. The mountains open up and cause a less claustrophobic feeling closer to the city of Ronda although the hills are not as striking as in the valley, being stonier and treeless.

Ronda itself is charming with old churches, palm trees, plazas and parks. It was nice to see shops again. One could almost be deceived into thinking it was at sea level until contact with the Paseo de los Ingléses, the English promenade, which hugged a semi circular cliff or looking down on the famous Arab Gorge which cuts the city in tow. It is joined by a narrow bridge. However, after a few hours of camera-snapping tourists I was happy to return again to the relative isolation of the Genial Valley.

Back on the terrace of the hotel in Jubrique, watching the sun go down behind mounds of solid rock with only the sounds of sheep and a rooster, it is hard to believe that this is only a few kilometres from the frenzy of the Costa del Sol. There's sun here but the atmosphere is relaxed. Rory at La Mohea is working hard to prevent the same kind of over-development from taking place in the valley. With other farmers in the area, he is promoting a mixed idea of self-sufficiency and low impact, low density agri-tourism. His methods go a step further than organic. Although not a farmer, I find the concept interesting and important. Permaculture is the design of a farming area in such away that production is improved through a mixture of traditional and modern methods. It is shaping or placing things next to each other for mutual benefit. For example, something could be planted for shade, something else to retain water, flowers that attract bees could be placed near fruit trees that need to be pollinated. Buildings would fit in with the landscape and people would respect the land. It is like creating a little Paradise. Plants, animals, people and microorganisms benefit from shared interaction. Idealistically, it is perfect. But it is hard work.

When not selling Real Estate, La Mohea offers holidays at his farm. You can study permaculture, just have an ecological vacation or be a volunteer worker on the ranch. The brochure invites you to enter another world, a simple way of life dictated by what is around you. The ranch house is old, built in a traditional style with solar-generated electricity and very few modern conveniences. Outside there are just the cultivated banks, fresh air, forests and mountains.

Unfortunately, I could not appreciate all this at the time. I was worried about getting over the mountains to get back to Ireland. There was no way I could drive by myself. I was going to go down by taxi from Ronda and ask another taxi to drive my rented car. There was no way I could drive over those roads again. So when the Welsh couple offered to drive me and take my car, I jumped at it.

We went a different way this time. It was a twisty dirt road through after the next village of Genalguacil with fallen boulders and uprooted pine trees strewn across the path. I clutched the side of the seats and kept dark sunglasses on so I couldn't see that we were literally hanging over the bends. A mist lowered itself upon us. I was glad to be back on the coast before nightfall. The couple said a quick goodbye. They were anxious to get back.

The motorway to Malaga was busy. The city was full of palm trees, large stately buildings and a busy port. I treated myself to tapas and wine before going to sleep in a small hotel. Now that Ryan Air has announced direct flights from Dublin-Malaga, I would definitely go back. However, I mightn't climb so high next time.