SIERRA DE GRÉDOS
We met, our trio, on the platform of Charing Cross--not classic but
perhaps historic ground, since so many notable expeditions have started
therefrom, with others of less importance.
The heat in Madrid towards the end of August (1896) was not
excessive--less than we had feared. We enjoyed, that Sunday, quite an
excellent bull-fight, although the bulls themselves had been advertised
as of "only one horn" apiece (_de un cuerno_). There was no sign,
however, of any cornual deficiency as each magnificent animal dashed
into the arena, although with binoculars one could detect a slight
splintering of one horn-point, a defect which had caused the rejection
of that animal from the herd-list. For these bulls were, in fact, of
notable blood--that of Ybarra of Sevillian _vegas_--and none bearing
that name appear in first-class _corridas_ save absolutely perfect and
unblemished.
The point illustrates the keen appreciation of quality in the
fighting-bull, which in Spain goes without saying, yet may well deceive
the casual stranger. Thus an American party who breakfasted with us
(always keen to get the best, but not always knowing where to find it)
despised the "Unicorns" and reserved themselves instead for the opera.
We enjoyed an excellent fight with dashing bulls--two clearing the
barrier and causing a fine stampede among the military, the police, and
crowds of itinerant fruit-and water-sellers who occupy the
_Entre-barreras_.
These "Unicorns" proved really better bulls than at many of the formal
_corridas_. Three young and rising matadors despatched the animals--two
each. They were Galindo, Gavira, and Parrao--both the latter excellent.
Gavira looked as if he might take first rank in his order, while Parrao
displayed a coolness in the _lidia_ such as we had seldom before
seen--even to stroking the bull's nose--while in the final scene he
went in to such close quarters, "passing" the animal at half
arm's-length, that the whole 10,000 in the Plaza held their breath.
Parrao will become a first-flighter, unless he is caught, which
certainly seems the more natural event.
That evening we were hospitably entertained at the British Embassy,
where our host, the Chargé d'Affaires, regretted that the short
fourteen-days' Ortolan season had just that morning expired. Thus, quite
unconsciously, was an ornithological fact elucidated.
Next morning we were away by an early train, and after five hours'
journey joined our staff, as prearranged. But here we committed the
mistake of quartering in a country-town on the banks of the Tagus,
instead of encamping in the open country outside. Bitterly did we regret
having allowed ourselves to be thus persuaded. Long summer heats and
parching drought had destroyed what primitive system of natural drainage
may have existed in Talavera de la Reina and produced conditions that we
revolt from describing. Oh! those foul effluvia amidst which men live,
and feed, and sleep!
With intense delight, but splitting headaches, we left the plague-spot
at earliest dawn and set out for the mountain-land. For thirty odd miles
our route traversed a highland plateau; a group of five great bustard,
gasping in the noon-day heat, lay asleep so near the track that we tried
a shot with ball. Farther north, near Medina del Campo, we had also
observed these grand game-birds feeding on the ripening grapes in the
vineyards. Packs of sand-grouse (_Pterocles arenarius_) with musical
croak flew close around. Spanish azure magpies abounded wherever our
route passed through wooded stretches, and we also observed doves,
bee-eaters, stonechats, crested and calandra larks, ravens, and over
some cork-oaks wheeled a serpent-eagle showing very white below.
Towards evening the track began to ascend through the lower defiles of
the great cordillera that now pierced the heavens ahead. Presently we
entered pinewoods, resonant at dusk with the raucous voices of millions
of wingless grasshoppers or locusts (we know not their precise name)
that live high up in pines. Never before had we heard such strident
voice in an insect.
At 4000 feet we encamped beneath the pines by a lovely trout-stream.
This was the rendezvous whereat by arrangement we met with our old
friends the ibex-hunters of Almanzór--savage perhaps to the eye, yet
beyond all doubt radiantly glad to welcome back the foreigners after a
lapse of years. No mere greed of dollars inspired that enthusiasm, but
solely the bond of a common passion that bound us all--that of the
hunter. It was, however, but sorry hearing to listen to the reports they
told us around the camp-fire. Everywhere the ibex were yearly growing
scarcer, dwindling to an inevitable vanishing-point, former haunts
already abandoned--or, we should rather say, swept clean. Where but a
score of years before, 150 ibex had been counted in a single _montería_,
our friends reckoned that exactly a dozen survived. One remark
especially struck us. "There remained," with glee our friends assured
us, "one magnificent old goat, a ram of twelve years, out there on the
crags of Almanzór." _ONE!_ To _one_ sole big head had it dwindled?
[Illustration: "MINOR GAME"]
The valley of the Tagus divides two geological periods, and perhaps at
one time divided Europe from a retiring Africa. Marked differences
distinguish the fauna on either side of the river, and that of the north
(with its 10,000 feet altitude) promised reward worthy the labours of
investigation. Not a yard of that great mountain-land of Grédos has been
trodden by British foot (save our own) since the days of Wellington.
Hence it was an object with us to secure, not only ibex heads, but
specimens of the smaller mammalia that dwell in those heights. Our
mountain friends assembled round the camp-fire--twenty-five in all--each
promised to take up this unaccustomed quest and to regard as game every
hitherto unconsidered _bicho_ of the hills, whether feathered, furred,
or scaled. If ibex failed us, at least a harvest in such minor game we
meant to assure.[34]
Three o'clock saw us astir, bathing in the dark burn while moonlight
still streamed through sombre pines. Camp meanwhile was broken up;
tents and gear packed on ponies and mules, breakfast finished--we were
off, heavenwards. Then, just as the laden pack-animals filed through the
burn, there rode up a man--he had ridden all night--and bore a message
that changed our exuberant joy to grief--bad news from home.
There could be no doubt--the writer must return at once. Within five
minutes I had decided to make for a point on the northern railway beyond
the hills and distant some sixty miles as the crow flies. Baggage and
battery were abandoned; a handbag with a satchel of provisions and a
wine-skin formed my luggage, and, leaving my companions in this wild
spot, I set forth in the grey dawn on a barebacked mule devoid of
saddle, bridle, or stirrups, and accompanied by two of our hill-bred
lads, one riding pillion behind or running alongside in turn.
Where the grey ramparts of the Risco del Fraile and the Casquerázo frown
on a rugged earth below I parted with my old pals, they to continue the
ibex-hunt, I on my mournful homeward way.
Bee-eaters poised and chattered, brilliant butterflies (whose names I
forgot to note), abounded as we rode along those fearful edges and
boulder-studded steeps. Six hours of this brought us to a rock-poised
hamlet of the sierra. The landlord of the _posada_ was also the
_Alcalde_ (mayor) of the district, and even then presiding over a
meeting of the council (_ayuntamiento_). Amidst dogs, children, fleas,
and dirt, along with my two goat-herd friends, we made breakfast.
Thence over the main pass of Navasomera--no road, not the vestige of a
track, and a tremendous ravine stopped us for hours, and for a time
threatened to prove impassable. By patience and recklessness we lowered
mule and ourselves down scrub-choked screes, and after some of the
roughest work of my life gained a goat-herd's track which led upwards to
the pass. After clearing the reverse slope we traversed for twenty miles
a dreary upland (6000 feet) till we struck the head-waters of the
Albirche river, where my lads tickled half-a-dozen trout and a _frog_!
Kites beat along the stony hills, where wheatears and stonechats
fluttered incessant, with dippers and sandpipers on the burn below.
We halted at a lonely _venta_ (wayside wine-shop), where assembled
goat-herds courteously made room, and passed me their wine-skin.
Presently one of them asked whither I went, remarking, "Your Excellency
is clearly not of this province." Three or four skinny rabbits hung on
the wall, and the landlord, after inquiring what his Excellency would
eat, assured me he had plenty of everything, was yet so strong in his
commendation of _rabbit_ that I knew those wretched beasties were the
only food in the place. Presently with my two lads, and surrounded by
mules, cats, dogs, poultry, wasps, and fleas, we sat down to dine on
trout, rabbits-_á-pimiento_, and _chorizo_ (forty horse-power sausage).
I believe my boys also ate the frog!
Two hours after dark we were still dragging along the upland, while the
outlines of the jagged cordillera behind had faded in gathering night. I
could scarce have sat much longer on that bony saddleless mule when a
light was descried far below, and, on learning that we were still twenty
miles from our destination, I decided to put up for the night at that
little _venta_ of Almenge, sleeping on bare earth alongside my boys, and
close by the heels of our own and sundry other mules.
[Illustration]
At breakfast there sat down, besides ourselves and hostess, sundry
muleteers, all sympathetic and commiserate since my mission had become
known. I was hurrying homewards to distant Inglaterra--so Juanito had
explained--because my brother was _poco bueno_--not very well. The
hostess looked hard, and said, "Señor, it must be _muy grave_ (very
serious), or they would not have telegraphed for the _caballero_ to
return."
Many more hours of tedious mule-riding followed ere at last from
lowering spurs we could see the end of the hills and the white track
winding away till lost to view across the plain below.
Here in the highest growth of trees were grey shrikes (_Lanius
meridionalis_), adults and young, besides missel-thrushes, turtle-doves,
etc. On the level corn-lands below, which we now traversed for miles, we
observed bustards (these, we were told, retired to lower levels in
September)--nothing else beyond the usual larks and kestrels common to
all Spain.
[Illustration: SCENES IN SIERRA DE GRÉDOS.
MOREZÓN. CUCHILLAR DE NAVÁJAS. ALMANZÓR.
THE CIRCO DE GRÉDOS.
LAGUNA DE GRÉDOS.
A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW--SHOWS THE AMEÁL AND CUCHILLAR DEL GUETRE.]
LOOKING SOUTH ACROSS LAGUNA.
HERMANITOS--
CASQUERÁZO.]
It was past noon ere the long ride was completed, and we entered the
ancient city that boasts bygone glories, splendid temples, and memories
of mediæval magnificence, but which is now ... well, Avila. But one
feature of Avila demands passing note--its massive walls, withstanding
the centuries, full forty feet in height by fifteen feet broad. An hour
later the Sûd-express dashed up whistling into the station, to the
genuine alarm of my leather-clad mountain-lads, who recoiled in fear
from an unwonted sight. They, noticing that the officials of the train
also spoke a foreign tongue (French), asked me if such things (_i.e._
railway trains) were "only for your Excellencies"--meaning for
foreigners, _vos-otros_.
At Paris a reassuring telegram filled me with joy indescribable, but in
London and at York further messages intensified anxiety. On August 29 I
reached home, and on the evening of September 3 doubts were resolved,
and the silver cord was loosed.
* * * * *
The Plaza de Almanzór, with its immediate environment, presents a
panorama of mountain-scenery unrivalled, not only in the whole
cordillera of Grédos, but probably in all Spain--it may be questioned if
the world itself contains a more striking landscape than that known as
the "Circo de Grédos." Briefly put, a vast central amphitheatre of
rock--really four-square (though known as the "Circo") in the depths of
which nestle an alpine lake--is enclosed by stupendous rock-walls and
precipices of granite; some of these smooth and sheer, others rugged and
disintegrated or broken up by snow-filled gorges of intricacies that
defy the power of pen to describe. Three of these vast mural ramparts
stand almost rectangular, the fourth shoots out obliquely, traversing
the abysmal _enclave_ and all but closing the fourth side of its
quadrilateral. The rough sketch-map at p. 141 shows the configuration
better than written words, while the photos convey, so far as such can,
some idea of the scenery.[35]
The actual peak of Almanzór which dominates the whole "Circo," as viewed
from the north, culminates in a flattened cone, the summit being split
into two huge rock-needles or pinnacles separated by an unfathomed
fissure between. Only one of these needles--and that the lower--has yet
been scaled. The loftier of the pair, though it only surpasses its
fellow by a few yards in height, is so sheer, its surface so devoid of
crevice or hand-hold, that the ascent (without ropes and other
appliances) appears quite impracticable.
Will the reader seat himself in imagination at the spot marked (*) on
the map. Surveying the scene from this point, the whole opposite horizon
is filled by the Altos de Morezón--a jagged and turreted escarpment
pierces the sky, while its frowning walls dip down, down in endless
precipices to the inky-black waters of the Laguna far below.
Towards the left one's view is interrupted by an extraordinary mass of
upstanding granite, disintegrated and blackened by the ages, known as
the Ameál de Pablo--in itself a virgin mountain, as yet untrodden by
human foot. This colossus, glittering with snow-striæ, surmounts the
oblique ridge aforesaid, that of the Cuchillar del Guetre, which
traverses two-thirds of the "Circo," leaving but a narrow gap between
its own extremity and the opposite heights of Morezón.
Continuing towards the right, there rises to yet loftier altitudes the
black contour of the Risco del Fraile, beloved of ibex; while adjacent
on the north-west, but on slightly lower level, uprear from the
snow-flecked skyline three more unscaled masses--rectangular monoliths
like giant landmarks. This trio is distinguished as Los Hermanitos de
Grédos, their abruptness of outline almost appalling as set off by an
azure background.
Farther to the right (in the angle of the square) two more
mountain-masses--knife-edged, jagged, and embattled along the
crests--frown upon one another across a gorge rent through their very
bowels. These two are the Alto del Casquerázo and the Cuchillar de las
Navájas, while the interposed abyss--the Portilla de los Machos--cuts
clean through the great cordillera, forming a natural gateway between
its northern and its southern faces. As the name implies, this gorge is
the main route of the ibex from their much-loved Riscos del Fraile to
their second chief resort, the Riscos del Francés, which occupy the
southern face of the sierra whose snowfields defy even the heats of
August.
From our present standpoint the southern wall of the Circo--the
Cuchillar de las Navájas--is not visible. This section of the
quadrilateral is equally abrupt and intricate, dropping in massive
bastions towards the level of the lake. Just beyond the Plaza de
Almanzór a second deep gorge or "pass"--the Portilla Bermeja--unites the
northern and the southern faces.
Behind where we sit lies yet another panorama of terrible wildness,
again dominated by rock-walls of fantastic contour--the valley of Las
Cinco Lagunas. But right here our rock-descriptive powers give out--we
can only refer to the map.
[Illustration: GRIFFON VULTURE AND NEST]