The gorge-ousness of the Sierra de Cazorla.

Viva España – The Road to Cazorla, Southern Spain, (6)

Days 4 – 9

In my book, no trip or holiday is entirely complete if it doesn’t involve at least a small amount of hiking..  And with our accommodation perching on the edge of the Sierra de la Cazorla, we had definitely ended up in the perfect spot to dust off our hiking boots and head for the mountains that were teasing and tempting me from our rooftop terrace.  Nothing too strenuous though, doctor’s orders, but there were plenty of flattish walks meandering next to sheer rock faces and along rivers carved by water and time through the Parque Natural Sierras de Cazorla, Segura y Las Villas.

The Natural Park, which covers an area of over 800 square miles, was established in 1986 and is the largest protected area in Spain and the second largest in Europe.   UNESCO had already declared it a biosphere reserve in 1983, and in 1988 turned it into a Special Protection Area for migratory birds.  The park includes two high mountain ranges – the Sierra de Cazorla and the Sierra de Segura – as well as the headwaters of major rivers such as the Guadalquivir and the Segura.  The awesome countryside and the diversity of the local flora and fauna, combined with a rich cultural heritage, have made the region an important tourist destination.

No wonder the brochure we picked up from the Tourist centre in town described the Sierra de Cazorla as ‘…so much more than you imagined… The Sierra de Cazorla is nature and countryside… high peaks, deep ravines, woods, valleys, semi-desert areas, woodland flora and fauna…, it is heritage … castles, churches, shrines, Iberian and Roman sites…, it is culture…museums and thematic centres, festivals, theatre, music and dance…, it is health and sport…natural therapies, fishing, hunting, mountaineering, climbing, cycling…, it is a place for leisure activities and for relaxing, for going for a stroll, eating and shopping, a place for enjoyment…you will enjoy a different experience with each visit’.

And on our first hike – following the Rio Borosa, passing the Cerrada de Elías and onwards to the Embalsa de Aguas Negras – we could, first-hand, admire the spectacular river views and impressive waterfall extravaganzas that have made this area of Spain such a popular tourist attraction.  Even before we reached our starting point at the Torre del Vinagre tourist centre, we stopped at awe-inspiring viewpoints along the route: olive groves undulating into eternity, mountain peaks bluish in the morning haze; frosty, far-away crests stubbornly clinging to a coating of snow.

• 

• 

Not sure of how long the hike was, and none of the fellow hikers we met on the trail any the wiser either, we didn’t make it all the way to the Embalsa de Aguas Negra – the Reservoir of Black Water.  A shame really, as after the long, sweaty trek, a cooling dip would have been most welcome…  We just had to cope with a refreshing splash on the way back…

Our next excursion took us in a different direction and a bit further afield, all the way to the Embalse de La Bolera, a large reservoir created by a dam completed in 1967 and fed from the waters of the surrounding rivers.  Not only do the crystalline and unpoluted waters promote healthy and richly varied flora in the area, in the hotter summer months the lake attracts swimmers and bathers, as well as more adventurous water sports enthusiasts.  In the freshness of early April, we had to make do with spectacular panoramas enjoyed from different viewing points and platforms and the terrace of our lunch retreat.

With a whole afternoon stretching ahead of us, we allowed ourselves to be swept along twisting off-the-beaten-track roads, through mountain ranges and ridges and past castles and caves. We didn’t have time or opportunity to stop everywhere and take it all in.. Even though there was less traffic, the roads were narrow and windy, zigzagging most of the time, so photo stops were not always possible.

We briefly stopped at the Cueva del Agua, where legend has it that the first known miracle of the Virgin of Tíscar happened. It is said the Virgin Mary appeared to the Moorish Chief, Mohammed Andón, to persuade him to convert to Christianity and as such save himself, and all the people seeking sanctuary in his fortified castle, from certain death. We clambered through the narrow tunnel and down the steep stairs to a viewing platform inside the grotto where a shrine has been erected: a statue of the Virgin, with the infant Jesus, El Niño, at her feet. On the rocks below we spotted votive candles and photographs and speculated how on earth anyone would have been able to reach the other side as water thundered down from the waterfall.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Our exploration of the mountains curbed by my limitations, we opted for a last unchallenging hike around the Utrero Gorge. It pained me to have to submit to a route described on the map as ‘Difficulty: Low’; it seemed such a cop-out after having reached Base Camp Everest with relative ease last October… But that was then and I was facing a new reality now.

In spite of the route around the Cerrada del Utrero being fairly short (less than 2 km), it passes through one of the most impressive corners of these mountains. The trail runs along the side of the leafy El Lanchón ( a lapies rock formation created by the erosion of limestone by water) carved by the Guadalquivir River, just a few kilometres from its source. Over the course of thousands of years, the rock has been worn away, slowly chiseling one of the most spectacular gorges in the mountain range: Le Cerrada del Utrero. The exit to the gorge has been blocked off by a small dam and on both sides of the path, interesting vegetation has adapted to this stony landscape, clinging to the rocks and growing in the smallest of cracks and crevices, seemingly defying gravity.

Steep steps lead down from the wall of the dam and follow the river as the water hurls downwards in a series of waterfalls. On the opposite side, a group of dare-devils were canyoning down the Cascada de Linerajos, an impressive waterfall on the River Linerajos, whose waters feed into the Guadalquivir River. The path continues as it skirts around more of the stunning rock formation of El Lanchón.

• 

• 

• 

Not quite sated with the exercise involved in a hike of ‘low’ difficulty, we decided to add on a little extra. The girl in the Tourist Centre was all too keen to point out other possibilities to us, although she suggested driving a bit closer to the viewpoint she had in mind for us: the Mirador de Linarejos. From there we would have a much better outlook on the waterfall…

• 

• 

• 

It may be that we were slightly on the wrong path, we didn’t exactly have a proper map with us, but we seemed to be teetering precariously on the edge of a vertiginous riverbank, clawing our way through overhanging branches and roots jutting out from nowhere. With x-ray vision of an imminent future, I could see an accident waiting to happen. ‘Simon,’ I proposed, ‘Let’s be sensible and walk on the riverbed. It’s dry and bound to be less hazardous than walking on this riverbank…’

Famous old words. Simon obliged, of course… it made sense. So we descended into the abyss, balancing on jagged rocks, traipsing over enormous boulders, taking snapshots of the waterfall, and decided to keep to the riverbed on our way back. I have no idea how it happened: I may have slipped; a momentary lapse of concentration; I possibly looked back to take a quick picture and with Simon well ahead in the distance, I may have rushed… Whatever the cause, I ended up on all fours, toppling over and bashing my knees and shins on the ancient, solid boulders that certainly weren’t in any mood to budge for anyone..

I admit I needed a minute or two – more like ten to be honest – to recover… A nice Spanish gentleman who chivalrously came to offer me a hand to get up, was unceremoniously brushed aside. ‘No, thank you,’ I insisted, gritting my teeth, ‘I am OK, totally OK. I just need a moment,’ as I stared at the ground waiting for the wave of nausea to pass.

‘Simon,’ I called, ‘Simon, stop!! Come back!!’

Luckily, no broken bones. Just bruised shins, cut knees and hurt pride… I would live. Onwards and upwards, back to the car we went.