Excerpt from More Notes From Iberia (by R.
Genn)The Trails Around Here
We are staying at a remote property in the hilly country
in the Sierra de Aracena. From here narrow trails and pathways snake in every direction,
eventually interconnecting small towns and hamlets. The landscape varies between active
subsistence farms and deserted ones, their fallen roofs and leaning walls a hazard. The
hills are spaced with cork and holm oaks as well as olives and pines. Even in the wildest
areas there has been tilling around many of the trees, indicating ownership claimed, and
there are small garden plots in low ground near springs and brooks. Water runs freely in
many of the ancient flumes and ditches. Here and there a man can be heard chopping wood or
hacking at the rocky soil. I’ve seen several hunters, moving alone or with dogs.
Occasionally a shot is heard echoing between the hills. From time to time a horse or a
mule will pass, its rider high in the saddle, his panniers loaded with sticks or live
chickens.
I’m in a wood alive with wild birds. Many of the
songbirds of northern Europe winter here. Chickadees and robins abound, as do blackbirds
and thrushes. Bullfinches and wagtails feed on the green near a brook. A woodpecker swoops
from pine to pine. Cuckoos are heard but not seen, and an inquisitive hoopoe comes close
when I call.
A pathway drops to an old watercourse and joins for a
moment with the remains of a Roman road--the ancient route from Seville to Lisbon. There
are shards of marble and what looks like pieces of broken statuary. Road-stones are worn
smooth, laced and decorated with lichen and moss. Water runs under the road through a
well-constructed culvert.
Now the path leads away in another direction and I follow
it, not knowing where it goes.
