Close encounter with 'los zorros'

I went for a lone walk the other day. It's not often i get out without the dogs, but  I needed to return a tool to a neighbour and sometimes they can be a bit pesky! 

Going down the camino,  I was surprised by a silver grey fox crossing my path. Just a few steps later I heard a 'squawking' noise coming from the small field. Two more young foxes were squabbling over a mouse that one had caught. They chased around the field until the fox that was chasing, spotted me. He quickly slunk off to hide, and the other enjoyed the respite and polished off the poor mouse! Then, hunger satisfied, he jumped into the camino and to my surprise trotted down it towards me where I was standing quietly by a tree. As he drew alongside he suddenly sensed my presence; I said 'Hola', and then with a little scream of great shock, he bounded up the hill into the wood.

Domingo too!

Another Sunday!

My dogs needed their early morning walk! We set off along the lane. The sun was rising, a rosy glow to the east over the sea, and reflecting golden on the Filabres to the west. Suddenly there was gun fire! Early morning hunters!

La Caza – the ‘sport’ of many men in this part of Spain. Every Sunday, they set out dressed in their camouflage to hunt rabbit, partridge and boar. I’m not sure about their hunting methods, but they involve guns, dogs or both; and the gunfire scares Holly, so that all she can do is tremble and hide for the rest of the morning. Pet dogs and hunters with guns don’t mix!

Now, a good part of my life in Spain seems to be about expending the energy of my dogs. A least two long walks every day are essential, if they are not going to pester me all evening to play games of their choosing! That being the case we decided to go down to Mojacar, for a walk along the beach, where they could chase seagulls and cormorants, up and down the surf, for miles, without fear of meeting La Caza, and hopefully to wear themselves out!

Millie

and Holly

As we drove into Mojacar, the sea glistened all across the bay as far as Aguilas, and the advertising sign of the ‘Pharmacia’ read 19deg centigrade. The resort town wasn’t melancholy today, as it had been through January. The town had spring in its step! Many more bars were open. Families were playing. There was a meet of cycle clubs. More people were strolling along the sea front.

We set off along the most southerly beach, just out of the town. It is the most deserted and undeveloped – mainly because of the recession! Several shells of apartments are awaiting completion. I suspect they will wait for some time yet! There are some fishermen on the shore and sailing boats out to sea. We set off towards the Moorish Tower and chirringuito at the far end of the beach, the dogs alternatively chasing, digging and playing. Prospects for a peaceful evening bode well! A motorised hang glider provided great entertainment for us and the dogs, the pilot waving back as he cruised overhead.

At the chirringuito we ordered coffee and tostadas – toasted bread spread with olive oil, tomatoes and cheese.  Some hikers came and went and then mountain bikers. Then a 4x4 arrived towing a trailer. Hunters with dogs in ‘tow’! On top of the trailer another ‘beast’ was laid, a deer or boar, dead!

I went to pay, and was astonished to see that the boar was by the counter, with one leg shackled with some cord so that it couldn’t run away. It was the size of a medium sized dog and was covered in course straight brown hair. It looked pretty bemused, pretty frightened!  I asked the camarera, if the pig was going to be eaten.  Sensing my feelings, she immediately replied ‘ oh no’; it was going to be released into the campo – to enjoy it’s life in the countryside! The huntsman led the poor pig closer to our table, where Millie and Holly surveyed it with much curiosity and just a little nervousness! I repeated the question – was the pig to be eaten? ‘Oh yes’, he said, ‘Do you want it’?

I declined! Poor Pig! I couldn’t have killed and eaten it. But isn’t it a more honest way of eating meat – hunting, finding, capturing and killing your food, that has had a life in the campo, than resorting to eating one of their ‘sorry’ relatives, who after no life at all, I often see being driven, in double-decker lorries down the motorway, to be slaughtered and butchered!

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!

ORANGES

Nearer the coast, they grow oranges. Lots of them! The neat rows of trees extend over vast fields, and the oranges hang ready to pick.

My mate Pape Sec didn’t come to market this week. He’d managed to get some work harvesting the crop, which made good sense for him. At 5 euros an hour for picking, he was sure to earn more than he could trying to sell handbags and second hand women’s clothes, in the post-Christmas period …. and he needed the money!

Pape came to Spain from Senegal nearly 4 years ago now. He flew from Dacca to Madrid, and entered Spain on a visa which had cost him, nearly the equivalent of a years wage in Senegal. Here he shares a flat, with five other men, designed for just a couple,. That goes some of the way to explaining why he is always at market very early, sleeping in his car! The other reason he tells me, is that the Guardia look out for ‘black’ men, pull them over and hand out large fines for any minor traffic infringement, so travelling to market very early, before the Guardia have risen, is best!

Back home in Senegal, Pape has a family – his wife, a young son and daughter, and he tells me his mother lives with them too. His elder brother lived with them also, but he died last year!  He hasn’t returned to see them since arriving in Spain, and doesn’t expect to be reunited with them for another year or more! Next year, he can apply for ‘residencia’, and be able to leave Spain, to visit his family, knowing that he will be able to return, without the impossible expense of a visa! But only if he can find some employment, that pays his social security contribution. Finding such work in Spain, at this time, is going to be really difficult. Even so, he assures me that this is better for his family, than trying to live in Senegal, where for him; there are absolutely no work opportunities. For now though, he can earn a little to send back to his family, and at least he is able to speak to them by telephone each week.

Right now the supermarkets are filled with those oranges! Fruit and vegetables are sold in their season here. Fresh and  cheap – but even cheaper if you buy bags from the many roadside stalls. I like to have some with me, to share with my market colleagues or to entice the dogs back at the end of a walk.

Near the end of one early morning walk with the dogs -  I went up to the high almond fields where they love to forage for the remains of last years crop, and the crunch of shells echoes their success. Soon the almond blossom will drape its pink and white over 1000’s of acres of countryside – a most beautiful sight!  I share a mandarin with the dogs. Then I hear laughter from the road below. Catarina too, is walking her dogs. At 70+ years she has walked 3 kilometers including a very steep slope, and has a couple more kilometers to complete, but she has the energy to berate me for 'spoiling' my dogs - "they don't need a breakfast and certainly not oranges!!

In one hand, she clutches an old olive bow for the fire, in the other a large sprig of thyme. She explains that thyme is a really good to aid digestion. We chat some more! I tell her I've been up to the high slopes and it's very beautiful. She knows! When she was young, she spent many days in the mountains - gathering rosemary, lavender and thyme to sell in the market; and collecting almond branches for firewood. There was no electricity then! And no butane gas either! All we had was candles and sticks - and most times only sticks!

Although they don’t know each other Pape and Caterina have much in common – they have both known real poverty!

A rambling on Twelfth Night

One of the things I miss most about Britain are Ordnance Survey Maps, with their clearly marked footpaths and bridle paths, to help you ramble your way from village to village – and especially, from tea room to pub!

Walking in Spain has many, other compensations though.

Yesterday, I decided to roam with my dogs in the Sierra Cabrera – the mountains situated between the Mediterranean and the desert............(well not yesterday actually because I was going to post this blog nearly a week ago now – but someone nicked the solar panel that powers the internet signal to our house! Bring back nuclear power – that’s what I say.)

It was pleasantly warm and sunny as we set off towards the mountain trails. A little way along the road we came across a man with a bundle of ‘green’ in his hand. I asked what he had found, to which he proudly showed me a beautiful bunch of wild asparagus, that was to go with the families Twelfth Night celebration meal.  I think he then immediately regretted telling me of his secret supply, because then he went on to explain that hardly any grew there because the soil conditions weren’t right!......... Oh Yeh!

We continued climbing, the dogs getting increasingly excited about the prospect of chasing rabbits and disturbing the flocks of red legged partridge hiding in the low bushes.  When we reached the summit of the trail we could see for miles – below the fairway and green tapestry of Cortijo Grande (if golf’s your game, can there be a more beautiful place to play?) and across The Sierra Filabres; the Almanzora Valley; the Estancias and beyond them maybe 40 miles away, the huge table of rock called Gigante, at 1547metres the first of the higher mountains of the Sierra Maria. In the opposite direction, the ancient white pueblo of Mojacar clung to the hillside, framed by the shimmering Mediterranean.

A large flock of sheep munched their way across a neighbouring summit, unattended by man or dog, the collective flock memory dictating their route, and I could hear the echo of their bells.  All of a sudden, a Bonelli’s eagle, circled and swooped across the flock, but then teasing, continued over the ridge.

In the warm sunshine, with views to far mountains and sea, it was hard to believe that this was Christmas tide!

The Christmas lights had been strung up across the road of Oria village on the 21^st December! No need to rush things here! They were accompanied by loud speakers that loudly played tapes of children's choirs singing jolly festive songs.

Talking of choirs; on the 23^rd December, every one eagerly listened in to the Cathedral Choir Boys singing the winning numbers of the, the big Christmas lottery, 'el Gordo' - 'the fat one'!

We went to see the nativity scene in the nearby town that was so big that it occupies the whole of a huge marquee erected outside the Church. Besides the traditional nativity scenes of 'Wise Men', shepherds, angels and stables there was a whole scene of biblical life - farmers; bakers; potters; joiners; children playing, women cleaning, and all performing elaborate mechanized actions. There was even - how can I say this delicately - a man squatting behind a bush, going to the toilet!! Why I'm not sure, but you will be ‘relieved’ to learn that he wasn't 'mechanized'!!

Christmas Eve - 'Nochebuena' was a time for family gatherings and special meals, and for some children Papa Noel paid a visit!

'La Noche Viaja' - News Year Eve, was a bigger celebration – though in this time of economic recession not so big as in previous years. In the bars and in the village square, people gathered to celebrate the New Year. At midnight as each bell chimed people took another grape in a desperate attempt to swallow them all before the last chime, and then toasted each other with cava. An enterprising supermarket was selling plastic cava glasses filled with twelve grapes!

And then, on the 6^th January – Twelfth Night - everything stopped again for Christmas! Los Tres Reyes - the 'Three Wise Men' had arrived bearing gifts. There was a horseback procession of the three kings through town, and bags of 'carbon del Reyes' - a sweet like black cinder toffee - was thrown to the children who scattered to claim their share. Then, it was back home for more family celebrations and present giving!

….and now as we continue into January the olive harvest carries on - black berries for the olive mill, leafy branches for the goats, and olive logs for next year’s fire! 

Everisto

The little town of Chirivel, has a lively Friday morning market, where I put my own stall up most weeks….and most weeks, I think to myself, as I wind along the lanes between the Sierra De Estancias and the Marias, watching the early sun come up,  glowing on the mountain tops – it doesn’t really matter if I sell anything today – these views have made the day worthwhile!

Sunrise for market traders!

The market extends 400 metres down the street to the building where they sell meat and fish. Along the way there are clothes stalls; household goods; shoes; fruit and vegetables; sweets and nuts; olive oil; cheeses and cooked meats; jewellery; leather goods and plants. All sorts!

For me, best of all. is the 'churro' stall. Batter fritters are plunged from a gigantic wooden 'icing' nozzle into a great basin of hot olive oil. They sizzle for a couple of minutes, before being cut into bite size pieces, and served in paper bags sprinkled with sugar.

Or maybe it’s the basting chickens on the mobile rotisserie that appetise the air that temp me most?

Last week I was enjoying the atmosphere of the place when an older Spanish man, complete with black beret and a friendly twinkle in his eye approached my stall. In Spanish he asked me where I came from

- "Good Morning", he said when he learnt I was British. …. "And where do you live?. I told him that I lived in Barranco de Quiles. "Oh you are very lucky", he said. "You live in a green paradise. You always have water" As indeed we do! The barranco is blessed with many balsas and fuentas, and the valley is green with the production of vegetables, in the little fields for much of the year.

He went on to tell me that throughout his life he had been an artisan - able to make all kinds of articles by hand. He showed me the beautiful hand made shoes he was wearing, and asked if I wanted to see more. We went into his house, off the main market street. Here I was amazed by his artistry and craft. We explored his house which seemed to be divided into a whole series of workshops! There were leather jackets; turned wooden bowls: woven grass ornaments (esparto), more shoes and paintings. Truly amazing skill! If you want to see more take a look at Everisto's web site

http://www.ual.es/personal/ramon

Porkies

The other day, a fine afternoon in late November, I set off with my dogs, Millie and Holly along the rambla, until we came to a camino that ascended up through the pine forest. 

The views of the 'surrounding Sierras were amazing. Snow was dusting the tops of the Marias, 15 kilometres to the west. It looked as if the far distant peaks of the Sierra Nevada had some serious snow; and I could clearly see the space observatory at Calar Alto on the highest summits of the Filabres. 

The little pueblo of Oria, with its ancient ruined alcabaz (Moorish fort) on the hill top; and it's even more impressive Church basilica - possibly the most beautiful in the whole of Almeria, was nestling in a hollow on the slopes of our Sierra de Estancias

Best of all though, the sight that brought the most warmth, to the chill crisp afternoon, was the sun glinting in the distance, on the Mediterranean!

All this; the company of 'great' dogs; the scent of pine and rosemary; and occasional bird song was making for a perfect afternoon. 

We three continued up the path, and eventually stopped for a drink of water.

I could sense that Millie was not at ease. The thick neck hair of her husky/collie parentage had hackles raised! Holly, sensing something was up too, tickled the air with her nose to collect scent and gave a low growl! They both glanced nervously around. I too felt uneasy!

Then 15 metres ahead, a very large wild pig crossed the path, soon followed by a piglet!

Wow!