By the time I got in the car with Gabi to go for a walk to explore the hiking trails around Moclin, a picturesque hill town about 35km Northwest of Granada, I was already in a pretty foul mood. Maybe I’d got up on the wrong side of the bed, but a minor disagreement with Gabi about next year’s travel plans had pushed me into a pretty negative mindset. We picked up Katherine, Juliette and Carol, three friends, on route, so any chance of arguing out my feelings with Gabi vanished with their arrival and I ended up just stewing silently on the subject while doing the navigation up to the village. I was about as good company as a crocodile at a sheep convention.
We headed north, out of the flat agricultural basin that is the Granada valley, and up into the more rocky, steep country that forms the valley’s northern limits. Moclin itself is a tiny little place, so small in fact that (amazingly) it only has two bars. In Andalucia, like in the UK, bars are considered far more essential than shops! It’s a cute, flower-filled village, nestled beneath the walls of a 14th Century Moorish Castle. We started our little trek – the well-marked Ruta del Gollizno. Walking South East, out, away from the village and descending quickly into the valley of the Rio Frailes O Velillas. Mist still hung from the tops of the higher peaks, but as we descended, steep limestone cliffs and eroded mountains became the dominant feature of the walk, with the Sierra de Marques on the far side of the valley being particularly impressive. Passing a small hermitage on the way down, we headed towards the village of Olivares, before turning north.
Still not feeling particularly social, I’d been hanging back on my own, taking pictures and generally sulking a little, while still appreciating the scenery. Reaching the bottom of the valley, the last of the clouds evaporated and we began trekking north along the river through a lush forested valley, buttressed on both sides between steep cliffs. The sun, the sound of the bubbling river on my right-hand side and constantly improving scenery couldn’t really be ignored anymore and little by little my spirits began to lift, like the clouds earlier on.
About half way along we stopped for lunch next to the river. The last, northern section of the valley is the most impressive, become increasingly constricted by vertical cliffs and huge cave formations. Here, the trail crosses the river on a suspension bridge and, for a brief time, follows an elevated walkway, built out from the sheer cliff, before beginning the 500m climb back up towards Moclin and the impressive fortress, superbly located on an easily defensible hilltop above the village.
Juliette observantly pointed out that she pitied the ‘poor bastards’ who had to carry the stones up to build that castle all those centuries before. Just below the fortifications there’s a viewpoint, with spectacular views all the way to the Sierra Nevada, perhaps 50 kilometres to the South. From here we re-entered the cutesy cobbled streets of the whitewashed village and made our way back to the Plaza and the bar for a well-deserved drink. A bit of nature and diverse and interesting little hike had somehow, drip by drip, raised my spirits to the point that I was almost decent company. What can you say, the healing power of nature had saved the day!
