The last walk

We crossed this ford on our way to the lost village of Acebuchal which sits on a traditional muleteers route between Granada and Malaga. It has always acted as stop over for passing traders, a place to rest and get supplies. The Civil War took a terrible toll in this part of Spain with neighbouring villagers fighting each other. In the summer of 1948 the authorities loyal to Franco ordered the residents of Acebuchal (some 200 people) to abandon their homes as the village had long been suspected of providing refuge and food to the guerrillas who hid in the surrounding high hills.
It lay abandoned and in ruins until 1998 when one man fulfilled a lifelong dream and began to rebuild. Everything had to be done by hand and there was no electricity or piped water until 2003. It is now boasts a fine rustic restaurant and many flourishing tourist lets. Wandering the streets of Acebuchal and visiting the tiny chapel, really is like going back in time. Mules and donkeys are still the order of the day
It was hot walking the trail. Very hot. 28C in the shade. The girls only made it half way on the return journey. We took shelter under the shade by the ford and sent the boys on to fetch the cars. We were happy to wimp out!
AD and I get the midnight plane home tomorrow. I hope to get a Derelict Thursday under my belt before we leave.
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