Where the eagles fly

El Castillo del Aguila, Gaucin

Above the aptly-named Castillo del Aguila circle the eagles that live on these mountains.  The blaze of blue of the sky belies the cold air that bites through my jacket.  February in the Serrania de Ronda can be much colder than expected by those of us that enjoy the balmier climes of the edge of the Mediterranean. Yet there are trees in blossom, oranges weighing heavy on the branches of trees lining the streets of Gaucin, this village perched vertiginously on a crag in the Sierra del Hacho.  In the distance to the north, the mountains are still tipped with snow, while looking southwards, you can see the Rock of Gibraltar, and, beyond that, the purple edges of the Riff Mountains, looking like the vanguard of an invading army. 

Gaucin has seen its fair share of invading armies and battles.  Even without going as far back as cave-dwelling people who left traces of their stay in the cave paintings found in the nearby Sierra, nor the Phoenicians, nor the Visigoths, who left a necropolis near what is now the town, we  know that the Romans fortified it so they could watch their backs while they marched the riches they had garnered in Africa from the sea, through to Ronda and from there to the rest of their Empire.  Eagles in Gaucin in more than one sense.

The invasion of the Moslem armies from Morocco meant that Gaucin changed hands again, and was further fortified.  Like the eagles of the crags nearby, the Moors watched the mountains for miles, intercepting invaders and threats to the Kingdom of Granada, of which Gaucin was an outpost.  The Catholic monarchs of Spain fought over this place for centuries, and Guzman El Bueno died in battle at the foot of the castle in 1309.  

Violence was  a regular occurrence in these parts.  The Moors that remained frequently rebelled and even after the expulsion of 1492, the mountains were alive with bandidos, many of whom in later years were dispossessed farmers earning a livelihood from crime and the slave trade.  The eighteenth century brought to Gaucin tourism of sorts, in the form of the English from Gibraltar, who enjoyed its cooler temperatures in the summer months, as well as its rustic charm, a situation not far different from current times.

However, the twentieth century itself continued to see Gaucin suffer from conflict, with over 50 of its citizens executed during the invasion of the Nationalists in the Civil War, and the mountains hiding refugees and partisan militia opposing Franco.  Some of the elderly residents of Gaucin still remember those times.  The scars of conflict always run deep.

The town itself is as naturally charming as any of the "white towns" of Andalucia, with cobblestone streets winding up steep hills, and lined with orange trees that cast a perfume over passers by.

Tucked away in a corner near the 16th century church of San Bartolomeo, not far from a little square that overlooks the valley and lined with cafes, is the unusual Fuente the los Seis Canos, which merited a pause and a dip of the finger tips into its icy water.

La Fuente de los Seis Canos, Gaucin

Fortunately, the climb from the town to the Castillo del Aguila is relatively easy.  On the way, you encounter the pretty little chapel of the Nino Santo, dedicated to St John of God, a place also touched by the martial history of the area, as despite its sanctity, it was used as an arsenal and a place for soldiers to bed down during some of the many conflicts of the region. 

Capilla del Nino Santo, Gaucin

The castle itself, although in ruins, doesn't disappoint.  To say the view is breathtaking would be to diminish it through cliche.  And inside the huddle of stones that remain of the walls, there is a sense of safety, of knowing that you have time to arrange your defences before the enemy can get you.  And the great bell of the tower can warn of invaders to all the peasants for miles around.

Inside el Castillo del Aguila, Gaucin

To stand where eagles fly is a privilege.  Gaucin is well worth a visit.

The  town of Gaucin, seen from the Castillo del Aguila that defended if for hundreds of years.

Castillo de Castellar de la Frontera

Under the archway and into the old town of Castellar

It has to have one of the best entrances into any town in Europe.  After trekking uphill from the newer and rather more bland town of Castellar, the rewards of walking under this medieval Moorish arch into the old castle grounds wherein lies the huddle of white houses that make up the old town are the breathtaking views and the feeling that for a short while you have a taste of what it might have been like all those centuries ago.

The old town of Castellar de la Frontera was built inside the grounds of the castle - higgeldy piggeldy white houses, leaning on each other for support as they keep an eye from the peak of the hill over the plains that stretch as far as the Bay.  On a clear day, the Rock of Gibraltar is clearly visible.  People have lived here since the dawn of history.  Traces of the stone age peoples who sheltered on this hill have been found nearby, and the ancient remains of a watch-tower was eventually taken by the Romans who settled the area as part of a system of defences stretching from the Bay at Carteya through to the important city of Cordoba.

The town itself and the castle proper was built by the Moslem invaders of Spain as they entered Al Andalus and spread their reign northwards.  Castellar, with its strategic fortification, was an instrumental town in the wars between the Christians and the Moslems until 1434, when D. Juan Arias de Saavedra conquered it for the Christian kings.

After that the town lived a sleepy, rural existence until more recent times, when the local area was developed in the 1960s and 1970s, and a new town was built at the base of the hill.  The population of the old town was moved to the newer houses, and for many years the old medieval town was abandoned, until some more adventurous - some have said "hippie" people moved in.  The little community gradually reawoke and now Castellar boasts homes to numerous artists, writers, pretty rural houses, at least one museum and a hotel.

Perched on a crag at the top of a hill, a little out of the way and surrounded with the greenery of the Alcornocales and the sapphire of the Mediterranean sky, Castellar de la Frontera is a little jewel of a place.  Its cobblestone streets meander about the old castle grounds and occasionally open up into cosy squares scented with oranges from the many trees.  The view is at once calming and magnificent and the air delightfully clear, which, for those of us living around the edge of the Bay of Gibraltar (or the Bay of Algeciras) depending which side of the border you're standing on) is a novelty and a rare treat to be savoured.

View from a terrace in the old town of Castellar