March 18th, 2003 | The lowdown by William Sherman

Las Alpujarras

The fog cut our vision to 15 feet, and the only sound that could be heard was a cowbell up the trail. It was a tinkle of hope, because perhaps a human would be near, someone who might tell us that we were still going the right way. The only landmark for the time being was a deep chasm to our right, revealed from time to time by an occasional a gust of wind. My gloveless hands were bitter cold, and it was getting dark. We trudged on.

Las Alpujarras, along the Sierra Nevada mountain range’s southern flank, is a 70km-long series of villages built by the Moors in the 10th and 11th centuries. Within hours you can see these cliff side paradises shimmer in the blinding sun then hide them selves in mist. Well connected by numerous trails, Las Alpujarras is well worth it for the walker seeking delicate adventure.

The international long distance hiking trail, called Gran Recorrida (GR-7), runs through Las Alpujarras and around the Sierra Nevada. It’s marked by red and white stripes, with trailhead signs giving the approximate time for each hike. Although often quite helpful, the markings can be confusing at some road crossings. Pick up an up-to-date map and follow your basic directional instinct. You’ll soon find yourself in another world.

Imagine us, a pair of students with but a pair of gloves between us headed to one of Spain’s highest towns, planning to climb higher. Yet thoroughly unprepared for the icy Sierra, we instead headed down from Trevélez into the milder Alpujarras. The trail ran southeast, below the peak of Spain’s highest mountain, Mulhacén, to the town of Jubilez. Halfway down the three-hour trail, however, amidst the whipping wind and blinding fog, nervousness struck. Had we gone the right way? Should we have gone right when the road forked? Will we walk off the cliff when night falls?

But the fear soon faded. Aided by the feminine calm of my dark-haired companion and the ski poles/walking sticks she’d picked up along the way, we broke the cloud line and zigzagged down through sheep farms and oak trees to the day’s destination. Thus we entered what’s known as the “Chocolate Land.”

That evening we encountered two provincial niceties. The sweet Alpujarra wine is not bottled, but rather stored in casks and poured out into old juice containers. We were graced with the Sunny Delite label from the local supermarket. How sweet it is! The second bit of luck came in the form of French hospitality. We received comfortable accommodation and superb company in the nearby town of Nieles, population 80. I asked our host at the dinner table if there were people who never left the village. “Oh,” he said, “there’s a very good bar.”

For a reasonable price, you can lodge here with the Moisands in this remote and incredibly beautiful nook.

The next day we followed the road and the GR-7 to Yegen. The trail bent over ridges and dipped through serene valleys, providing us with relief from the bright sun. One time a stream crossed our path so we splashed our faces in the water. Everywhere overcome by the flowery smell of spring, I reached out from time to time to touch the red poppies that lined the hillside, their smooth texture reminding me how once Moorish silkworm farms covered the Alpujarras.

Upon entering Yegen we received the distinct impression that our presence was noted. Greetings were compulsory-Buenas tardes!-as was a smile. I pushed aside a local tavern’s colorful metal link door curtain with my ski pole and entered to find a roomful of 30 or so white-haired men staring at me. Soon I found that nearly everybody wanted to help me with directions.

Gerald Brenan, a British writer and friend of Virginia Woolfe came here in the 1920’s and stayed for seven years. His book South from Granada, recently adapted to Spanish cinema as Al Sur de Granada, tells of the people, the folklore and the magic of the Yegen community. On the way out we met a woman whose late husband was one of Brenan’s kid friends. We asked her if she’d read the book. “Listen,” she said, “I knew the guy.”