A very special mountain retreat

We climb up until the road branches with the bottom track going off to Manuel's beloved La Macarena with its totem figure of a Wind Eater carved from a semi-felled pine tree . . .

It is the middle of the morning but still everything is frozen, each sliver of grass encased in its own jacket of ice.

The sunshine outside is deceptive. At this height there is always cold in the air; sometimes all day, sometimes not until the night blots everything out but the stars and the cool moon.

Through the window I can see the new house he is building a little further down the mountain, its walls of small stones glowing auburn in the sunlight.

It has become a sort of tradition where, no matter how busy he is, Manuel will always find a way of having lunch with us on our last day (a pleasure we always linger over and pay for with a slightly panicky dash to the airport). This time he wants to first take us up to La Macarena to drink some cider together. We think this is an excellent idea.

All extracts from White Mules and Mountains: Snapshots of Alpujarran Life. © Ruth Wade 2004