Day 34 – to Narváez (Sierra de Baza)

It was a good time to leave Castril. Thursday is the annual holiday of the town. Because it’s a Thursday they run it into the weekend and take Friday off as well. Next Tuesday is the National Day of Spain, and as it’s a Tuesday most have the Monday off also. So in Castril, they are taking a week; schools and many businesses closed. It happens once every 7 years, but again every 7 years (so twice) when the National Day is a Thursday and the town day a Tuesday.

The picture is just before they close off the streets, for a week of partying.

And in my little quiet corner of town the party started early, at midnight to be exact with thumping and loud music which continued until just after 3am.

I walked up into town and had a coffee before getting off in the late morning.

I had been tipped by the two guys at the camping up on the Rio Castril a couple of days ago where to head for in the Sierra de Baza. It was good advice, as I would have taken a different route. There’s a forest track that heads up to a ranger station at Narváez from junction 28 of the Andalucia Autovia. From there I headed another few kilometres up the track to a mirador, went out in the afternoon to explore the area, then settled for the day.

This was a peaceful spot, and up at 1450 metres, pleasantly cool. No vehicles passed, just a couple of mountain bikers headed up to the top of the road at 2000 metres. After dark the night sky was the clearest I have seen it yet, no man-made light around at all. The only noise, the various sounds of the deer, which I have got somewhat used to; it’s them that bark as it’s rutting season, and also them that emit a deep moo something like a baritone cow.

And, a literary addendum..

The path through the Castril gorge, has a literary connection also. It starts with a plaque containing some words by the author, José Saramago, from whom I have only read Blindness. It was quite a topical read last year, as it concerns a mass epidemic that causes blindness. The words on the plaque are dedicated to his grandparents from whom he inherited the love of trees. His wife was from Castril.

In a recent twist though, 2012, his widow and the family disassociated themselves with the town and its council after a political fall out.