Today, we go exploring further down Valle del Genel that I mis-pronounced yesterday. Instead try Heh-NELL. These workshop days are busy, so while I try to post daily, there may not be much more than one or two images. After all, we are trying to help our participants, and that takes precedence over our photography. Arnie and I are lucky to grab more than few a day.

We head down the road showing what goes into scouting a location. What are the potential hazards in a place? Are they surmountable? Do we care if they are surmountable, or are we better off going to another location less fraught with undesirable elements?

There are many overlooks, but as many of you know, they are often not where the best shot is, and to get to where the best shot is puts you at risk. We did find one that worked. Now, if the clouds would only cooperate. As I saw the misty mountain in the background in one direction, the clouds sped down its slopes, obliterating it.

I turned back to the other direction, and at least I had a hint of the mountain beyond the saddle of a nearby hill.

After a number of stops along the way, we continue down to Gaucin (Gaow-THEEN) to see what we can find. There is promise of an old Moorish castle, and indeed, we can see it as we approach the town. We twist our way up the steep streets, pulling in our side-view mirrors so that we hopefully return the car in the same, pristine condition in which we got it.

“You’re fine over here,” I say to Arnie. “Now, you can turn a little to the right … Piece of cake; you’ve got it.”

Arnie navigates the apparently, too-narrow passages with expert finesse.

We find a place to park by the Cemeterio, yes, cemetery. In Spain, as in other countries, these are quite splendid. Flowers adorn the rows upon rows of crypts. There are lovely, well-tended gardens with Roses, Cyclamin, and assorted other flowers artfully planted. Pittosporum promises exquisite fragrance as soon as the buds pop. Meanwhile, the roses deliver wonderful scents.

Arnie points out a forlorn angel, the glass in front of its crypt devoid of message and perhaps content. We don’t ask. I put her against the Moorish castle to tell of her isolation. Poor angel!

There is something very peaceful about these places. Some find them macabre or unsettling. I don’t. An elderly woman and her much elderly mother put fresh flowers in a couple of vases. A man walks with his wife. People stop and study the names, perhaps of a long-lost relative or ancestor recently discovered.

Arched tops of some of the white-washed crypts provide graphic elements as they climb the hillside.

As we leave, we enter a small park, and an old gentleman engages us in conversation. He tells me that they call the castle the Castle of the Eagle, because it is so high. He points out where on a clearer day, one can see the Rock of Gibraltar, Africa beyond. I have seen it, so I know what he says is true.

We head back down the hill and find that perhaps that is not the best route. I walk ahead to see if it is passable, then ask directions. Arnie also gets out and reconnoiters and decides that we’ll never make the corner at the bottom.

While he explores another way out, the old gentleman from the park comes by, and I ask.

“No, no,” he indicates toward the upper road. “It is much too windy for a car to navigate. Go down the hill, then to the left, and again to the left.”

Arnie returns, and mirrors still in fold mode, we retrace our tracks. Finally the lanes turn into streets, and there is breathing room. We all burst out laughing and applaud our narrow escape. Arnie has said he could envision us trapped at the bottom of the road not taken, no room to open doors, no room to climb out were we to open the windows. Stuck there forever.

On the way back, we make several more stops. One short hike provides another panorama for me, the sun hitting the white hill towns so they shine. I do a non pano of a small village we visited yesterday.

It is time to return to our hotel, so, in spite of tempting scenes that turn me into a chattering cat, I want them so badly, we stick to our course. There will be plenty of longer days ahead, and we still have not checked in.

Tomorrow is another day, for sure. There has been lots of laughter, and we feel good.

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