Domingo

Another thing I miss about my old life in the UK is my Sunday morning saunter to buy a newspaper. Invariably, I wouldn’t just go to the shop around the corner, but would set off over Somersall Fields, taking in the football matches underway; and then along the banks of the River Hipper to Walton Dam, and over to Morrison’s to get my Observer. On the way back, I would contemplate what part of the paper I would get into first while I sipped my coffee. That largely depended, on whether City, Lancashire or England had had a successful Saturday, in which case, it would definitely be the sports section!

Living up a mountain in Spain, such an excursion just isn’t an option, but the dogs needed exercising, so I set off on the walk part anyway! I went past the fuente (natural spring) where we get our drinking water from, and then, going around the first corner, I saw that Antonio was busy on his patch of land. I’m not sure what he’d planted, potatoes perhaps, but now he was busy making sure that the land was well watered. He has a balsa (concrete water storage tank) which is fed by a fuenta, , and he had released water to run along the acequia (water channel) , and was directing it around his crop through the skilful use of a mattock. There are a dozen or so, fuentes and balsas around Barranco de Quiles, and a network of acequias, that run all around the Barranco for kilometres. For some of the balsas, there is an organised rota with time slots for releasing water to an individuals land, but this is no concern to me and to most of the other non Spanish as well. For the most part we have only been sold land that stands above the acequias, so we don’t need to know! The locals often value growing land as much as houses!

Around the next bend, I was welcomed by the spectacular sight of the snow covered mountains of the Marias, glowing in the sunlight, against an azure sky. Here the air was definitely chillier, as the breeze blew from the high sierra. The shelter of the Sierra Estancia (together with ample water) another reason, vegetables grow so well in the Barranco.

The walk took us along the Rambla de Oria – a wide and for now dry river bed, used as a track and a road, but for twenty minutes I didn’t see anyone. Just the song of birds and the pine covered mountain rising above me. Eventually, we came upon Mel, collecting the last of his olives – just 12 more trees to pick!

A little further on we came to another fuenta. Many locals think this one has the best water, and will pass other fuentas to fill containers from here. Other locals disagree, and will collect drinking water from another. Whatever, this fuenta has the additional facility of a washing shelter, complete with clothes rubbing boards. I’m sure the water must have been freezing, but Juanna and Josephina were busy washing sheets. They told me that because of the works (that eventually will bring a better mains water supply to the Barranco), the water was too brown for laundry. They were enjoying a good gossip, while alternatively rubbing some sheets and keeping others ‘floating’, so that they didn’t disturb the bottom sediment, and didn’t have to immerse their arms too deep in the cold water!

…….and so back to our casa for a well deserved coffee! No newspaper, but nowadays I wouldn’t really have time to read one. I still needed to chop some wood for the week’s fires. Nevertheless, what I’d seen on my walk more than covered a good gardening article; the travel section is taken as read; the landscapes would grace any colour magazine and just before lunch I caught the BBC Politics Show. Even better City are on live this afternoon in the FA Cup!