The Sierra Nevadas

[April 22-24]

By a long stretch, my favorite region of Andalucia was the eastern inland region around the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Driving from town to town along the coastline kept us rather inactive, if you don't count the brief stops for Marita to pet cats. In the Sierra Nevadas, we found not only tremendous natural beauty and whitewashed towns clinging to the hillsides, but also a break for a couple days of hiking in the snowcapped peaks.



When we reached the top of the roads winding down from the hillside towns of Bubion and Capeleira, we knew that we'd be sticking around for a while. As opposed to the unfeeling grid of streets overlayed on the modern metropolis, or the knots of alleys tying up traffic in older cities, these hillside villages had footpaths that felt as if they'd grown out of the angled land below. Instead of flattening the features of the landscape, the whitewashed buildings seemed to accentuate them: rising, falling, and occasionally curving as if they'd simply been hewn from outcroppings of stone. An unfortunate development of condominiums has plastered a swath of flatness upon part of the hill, but the old character still dominates the town.

We checked into a simple room and took lunch at a restaurant overlooking the valley below town. Lunch consisted of a fortified local wine with a dark, rosy-amber hue, and a platter of aged meats served with bread. The ability to directly compare different meats made the eating experience much more interesting, as some had many more dimensions of taste than others. One had only the "gross" dimension, as it was essentially just a block of white animal fat. That one went into the "cat treats" bag that Marita carried around to lure cats under her hand. (At lunch, I also was the subject of a terrible photo that made me look exactly like Rick Steves, raising my glass to the camera. For reasons of vanity, it will not be shown here.)



That night and the following day, we explored the mountains above. The roads deteriorated as we ascended through the planted forest into a clearing in the grid-like pattern of trees, and were delivered to a rather developed trailhead. We were afraid that we'd be hiking in a tourist playground, but the trail quickly rose to an open expanse of short, prickly grass and piles of dark rock. After another half hour of climbing, the gentle slopes became barren, with only occasional grassy patches and white flowers breaking up the scree. Eventually, we reached some snow, where we took the time to build a little snowman. Note the small bite of carrot, which we were lucky to have for a nose.



We also stumbled upon a couple of Spanish Ibex just before we turned around. The crest of the mountain ridge was probably another two hours off, but from the top, I believe that it's possible to see Grenada in the distance. If we'd had the time, we could have walked all the way there!

We had to leave early in the morning to make much of our limited time in Grenada, so we turned in early as well. That night, Capeleira was holding an annual town festival, with a band just down the street, a giant inflatable play castle, and a couple booths with games and speakers blaring pop music. We figured that we'd catch a bit of the festival before sleeping, but the party had died out by 11:00.

Or so we thought. By 1:00 the next morning, the party just started warming up. The sounds of the music and occasional firework tore right through our earplugs, and we spent the night in short fits of sleep. We woke to the sound of a marching band comprised of very weary teens in full band uniform, headed by a man lighting off fireworks every few minutes, and propped up by a parade of old men and women with canes. On that sleepless night, the legendary nightlife of Valencia had no edge whatsoever on this otherwise quiet town. Since we were awake anyway, we packed our bags early, loaded the car, and started our drive into Grenada.