Unexplored Spain Part 35

At that rock they would settle in their minds the next point to be reached, quietly smoking a cigarette meanwhile. How such performances diminish one's self-esteem! How weak are our efforts! Even on the softer southern drifts, what balancing, what scrambling and crawling on hands and knees are necessary, and what a "cropper" one would have come but for the friendly arm of Enrique, who, as he arrests one's perilous slide, merely mutters, "Ave Maria purissima!"

Now we have left the ice and snow and the ibex to wander in peace over their lonely domains. To-night we have dined at a _table_; there is a cheery fire in the rude _posada_ and merry voices, contrasting with the silence of our cave, where no one spoke above a whisper, and where no fire was permissible save once a day to heat the _olla_. Now all we need is a song from the Murillo-faced little girl who is fanning the charcoal embers. "Sing us a couplet, Dolores, to welcome us back from the snows of Alpuxarras!"

_Dolores._ "With the greatest pleasure, _Caballero_, if Jose will play the guitar. No one plays like Jose, but he is tired, having travelled all day with his mules from Lanjaron."

_Jose._ "No, senor, not tired, but I have no soul to-night to play. This morning they asked me to bring medicine from the town for Carmen, but when I reached the house she was dead. I find myself very sad."

_Dolores._ "Pero, si ya tiene su palma y su corona?" ... = but as she already has her palm and her crown?

_Jose._ "That is true! Bring the guitar and I will see if it will quit me of this _tristeza_!"

Next morning the snow prevented our leaving; and the day after, while riding away, we met some of the villagers carrying poor Carmen to the burial-ground on the mountain-side. The body, plainly robed in white, was borne on an open bier, the hands crossed and head supported on pillows, thus allowing the long unfettered hair to hang down loose below. It was an impressive and a picturesque scene, and as I rode on, the rejoinder of Dolores came to my mind, "Ya tiene su palma y su corona."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

IN THE SIERRA NEVaDA (_Continued_)

ITS BIRD-LIFE IN SPRING-TIME

The long snow-lines of the sierra had vanished behind whirling cloud-ma.s.ses, black and menacing. The green avenues of the Alhambra seemed gloomier than ever under a heavy downpour, while troops of rain-soaked tourists belied the glories of an Andalucian springtide.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "UNEMPLOYED"

Bee-eaters on a wet morning.]

Serins sang in the elms, and wrynecks noisily courted, as we set forth with a donkey-team for the sierra. On former occasions we had explored northwards up the Darro towards Jaen, another year up the Genil, this spring we had selected the valley of the Monachil. Hardly had we entered the mountains than thunder crackled overhead, and then a rain-burst drove us to shelter in a cave. Next day broke ominous enough, but we rode on up the wild gorge of the Monachil, and after seven hours'

hill-climbing reached the alpine farm of San Geronimo, to the guarda of which we had a recommendation. The house nestles beneath the serrated ridge of the Dornajo, 6970 feet.

With some dismay we found a.s.sembled at this outlandish spot quite a small crowd of men, women, and children who, with dogs, pigs, hens, and an occasional donkey, all appeared to inhabit a single smoke-filled room. We were bidden to take seats amidst this company, and watched the attempt to boil an enormous pan of potatoes over a green brushwood fire, while domestic animals (including cattle) pa.s.sed freely through to the byres beyond. These being on higher ground had created in front a sort of quagmire, which was crossed by a plank-bridge. Rain was falling smartly, and the writer's spirits, be it confessed, sank to zero at the prospect of a week or two in such quarters. Worse situations, however, have had to be faced, and usually yield to resolute treatment. Thus when a separate room--albeit but a dirty potato store--had been a.s.signed to us, trestle-beds and a table set up, the quality of comfort advanced in quite disproportionate degree.

Now the Sierra Nevada with its league-long lines of unbroken snow, accentuated by the mystery of the towering Veleta, ma.s.sive Mulahacen, and the rest, presents an alpine panorama that is absolutely unrivalled in all the Peninsula. But immediately below those transcendent alt.i.tudes, in its middle regions the Sierra Nevada is lacking in many of those attributes that charm our eyes--naturalists' eyes. Over vast areas and on broad shoulders of the hills the winter-snows linger so long that plant-life, where not actually extinct, is scant and starved; while these dreary inchoate stretches are strewn broadcast with a debris of shale and schist that resembles nothing so much as one of nature's giant rubbish tips. True, there exists a sporadic brushwood, exiguous, dwarfed, and intermittent; there are scattered trees, ilex and pinaster (_Pinus pinaster_), up to about 7000 feet. But all seems barren by comparison. One's eye hungers for the deep jungles of Morena, for the dark-green _pinsapos_ of San Cristobal, or the stately granite walls of Gredos. Here all is on a big scale, the biggest in Spain; but size alone does not itself const.i.tute beauty, and the adornments of beauty are lacking. We write of course not as mountaineers, but as naturalists.

It boots not to tell of days when rain fell in sheets and an icy _neblina_ swept the hills, shrouding their summits from view. A single ornithological remembrance shall be recorded--the abundance of certain northern-breeding species on the middle heights, especially common wheatears and skylarks. After watching these carefully, we were convinced by their actions (their song, courting, and fluttering flight) that both intended to nest here at 7000 feet, and dissection confirmed that view. Time alone prevented our settling the point; but a month later (say early in June) an ornithologist could easily verify the fact.

May the 1st broke bright and clear, not a cloud in the azure firmament.

The songs of hoopoes, serins, and a cuckoo resounded hard by, and from our paneless window we watched three glorious rock-thrushes "displaying"

before their sober mates--as sketched at p. 18. Within sight among the tumbled boulders were also a pair of blue thrushes, with a woodlark or two, several black-starts, and rock-buntings.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WOODLARK (_Alauda arborea_)

Nests in Nevada up to 5000 feet, and in the pine-forests of Donana at sea-level.]

We bathed in an ice-cold burn with temperature little above freezing--at dawn, indeed, the backwaters were ice-bound. Then, mounted on a donkey, the writer alternately scrambled up the stony steeps or dragged the sure-footed beastie behind. The gentler slopes were fairly clad with yellow daffodil or narcissus, now just coming into bloom, and above 7000 feet we entered a zone of dwarf-arbutus and ilex-scrub. The warm suns.h.i.+ne brought out numerous b.u.t.terflies--it seemed strange to see these frail creatures fluttering across open snows! Most of those recognised were tortoise-sh.e.l.ls, rather paler than our own.

Alas, before noon the icy mists once more swept up. In a crevice among some rocks where we sought shelter at 8000 feet the skeleton of a wheatear attested the cruel conditions of bird-life--death by starvation. Here we separated, the writer going for a snow-scramble, following the dwindling Monachil to its source, where the nascent river trickles in triple streamlets down black rock-walls mantled by impending snow-fields. Here snow lay in scattered patches dotted with the resurgent unkillable "pincus.h.i.+on" gorse (_Buphaurum spinosum_) and a spiny broom that later develops a purple blossom, and separated by intervals where the melting mantle had left Mother Earth viscous and inchoate, heart-broken at the indignity of eight months in the arctic.

Higher up the snow became continuous, but seamed by innumerable rills, each laughing and dancing as in delight at a new-found existence, or converging to join streams in buoyant exuberance. Some leapt forward through fringing margins of emerald moss; others ploughed sullen ways beneath an overhung snow-brae. But no chirp or sound of bird-life broke the silence, the only living creatures were ants and a bronze-green beetle! (_Pterostichus rutilans_, Dej.)--not a sign of those alpine forms we had specially come to seek.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

From 8500 feet the snow stretched upwards unbroken (save where some sheer escarpment protruded), covering in purest white the vast shoulder of the Veleta. The Picacho itself was to-day hidden amidst swirling clouds, and only once did we enjoy a momentary glimpse of its great scarped outline. Yet in three short weeks, say by May 20, all these leagues of solid snow will have vanished.

Facing this gorge of the Monachil, the opposite slope is crowned by the conspicuous turreted crags known as the Penones de San Francisco, 8460 feet. To these L. had climbed, and though we both failed in finding the chief of our special objects (the snow-finch) yet L. had enjoyed a glimpse of another alpine species, new to us, and we decided to revisit the spot on the morrow.

That morning again broke fine, the precursor of a glorious day. Hardly had we left our quarters than a lammergeyer soared overhead, then, gently closing his giant wings, plunged into a cavern above. Five minutes later he reappeared and, after several aerial evolutions, suddenly checked and, with indrawn pinions, swept downwards to earth.

Ere we could surmount an intervening ridge, the great dragon-like _Gypaetus_ swept into view, his golden breast gleaming in the early sunlight, and bearing in his talons a long bone with which he sailed across the valley towards Trevenque; we watched to see the result, but, so far as prism-gla.s.ses could reach, that bone was never dropped.

Probably he had some special spot habitually used for bone-breaking.

Later a griffon-vulture (a species rarely seen in Nevada) pa.s.sed overhead, and then a second lammergeyer sailed up the gorge of Monachil.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SOARING VULTURE]

'Tis a long up-grade grind to the Penones, but repaid by magnificent views of the Picacho de la Veleta--its scarped outline gloriously offset against the deepest azure and its 1000-foot sheer drop vanis.h.i.+ng to unseen depths in the mysterious "corral" beneath--an inspiring scene.

Beyond to the eastward towered the mountain-ma.s.s, Mulahacen--perpetuating the name of that Moslem chief whose remains, so tradition records, yet lie in some unknown glacial niche in this the loftiest spot of all the Spains. There they were laid to rest by the fond hands of Zoraya, at the dying request of her husband the penultimate Moorish king, Muley-Hacen.

Our upward course led through beds of dwarf-juniper, thick strong stems all flattened down horizontally by the weight of winters' snows, precisely as one sees them on the high fjelds of Norway. Here, both to-day and yesterday, we observed ring-ouzels, doubtless nesting amid the dense covert.

We soon picked up our friends of yesterday--small hedge-sparrow-like birds with blue-grey throat, striated back, and red patches on either flank, the alpine accentor. At first they were fairly tame, allowing us to watch and sketch them perched on lowly shrub or rock, warbling a sweet little carol (louder, but otherwise resembling that of our hedge-sparrow), or darting to pick up a straying ant. After a while that confidence, though wholly unabused, vanished; they became wild and cautious, refusing to allow us a single specimen! These birds were evidently paired, but showed no signs of nesting. Alas, that a drawing by Commander Lynes depicting the scene with the Picacho de la Veleta in the background refuses to "reproduce"!

These were the only accentors we saw, nor did we see to-day or any other day a single snow-finch.

_An Alpine Farm._--The lands of San Geronimo (where we were quartered) extend up the Monachil to either watershed--a length of 4-1/2 leagues, while the breadth cannot average less than two. The acreage we leave to be calculated by those who care for such detail. At this date (early May) certainly one-half lay under snow, which still enc.u.mbered the higher patches of cultivation--to-day we saw men unearthing last autumn's crop of potatoes well above the snow-line. At lower levels some corn already stood six inches high, but many "fields" were necessarily, as yet, unploughed. Fields, by the way, were separated not, as at home, by hedges, but sometimes by a sheer drop of 500 or 1000 feet, elsewhere by perpendicular rock-faces or by shale-shoots. But the laborious cultivation missed not one level patch--nor unlevel either, since we saw ox-teams ploughing where one wondered if even a cat could maintain a footing.

This is the highest farm in Nevada, possibly in all Spain. The house stands at 6000 feet and the lands extend to the Veleta, 11,597 feet. It provides grazing for goats and sheep, as well as a small herd of cattle, and thus affords permanent employment to several herdsmen. But at seed-time and harvest it employs as many as twenty or thirty men who, with their dependents, live in rude esparto-thatched huts scattered over the whole fifteen miles, and it was the numbers of these (a.s.sembled for pay-day) that had caused us some consternation on our first arrival!

The value of the farm, we were told, is put at 8000 Spanish, representing some 400 as yearly rental.

Two years before, wolves had become such a pest to the flocks that strychnine was universally resorted to, with the result that to-day not a wolf is to be seen in the whole sierra. Foxes also perished, and the guarda, Manuel Gallegos, told us that he had thus obtained several wild-cats (_Gatos monteses_) whose skins fetched 20 pesetas apiece as ladies' furs. The following day we chanced on a dead marten-cat, evidently killed by poison; and on showing it to Manuel with the remark that that was _not_ a _gato montes_, he replied: "No, senor, that is a _garduno; pero lo mismo da_" = "it's all the same!" Accuracy in definition is not a strong point with Manuel, nor indeed is it with any of our Spanish friends.

Martens are the commoner animal in Nevada; there may, nevertheless, be a few true wild-cats, and there certainly are some lynxes. The four-footed fauna of Nevada is sadly limited. There are neither deer of any kind--red, roe, or fallow--nor wild-boar. Bare rocks afford no covert for these: there is, of course, one compensating equivalent in the ibex.

Small game is equally conspicuous by its absence. Local _cazadores_ (each of whom, of course, possesses a decoy-bird--_reclamo_) enlarge on the abundance of partridge and hares, yet we saw hardly any game whether here on the Monachil, on the Genil, Darro, or at any of the points whereon we have explored the Sierra Nevada. There must, however, be a sprinkling to maintain the golden eagles and peregrines, both of which birds-of-prey we observed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GOLDEN EAGLE HUNTING]

There were small trout in the Monachil; but in Genil and Dilar (which latter springs from the alpine Laguna de las Yeguas just under the Picacho de la Veleta) trout ran up to a quarter-pound or thereby: the method of capture is dynamite.

Ibex at this season (May) frequent the southern slopes of the main chain--looking down upon the Alpuxarras--a favourite resort being the wild rocks of Alcazaba, east of Mulahacen; but in summer they are distributed along the whole of the "high tops" and are still maintaining their numbers as usual.

We had cherished the hope of meeting with ptarmigan and other alpine forms in these high sierras, especially during our earlier expeditions after ibex. We are satisfied that ptarmigan at least do not exist, having seen no trace of them at any point; but we never saw the snow-finch either, and it is reported to exist in numbers.

Oh! the wearying monotony of that long down-grade ride--the infinity of vast subrounded mountains, all alike, all ugly, all sprinkled rather than clad with low gorse and spiky broom, like millions of pincus.h.i.+ons with all points outwards. Then the shale--the very earth seemed disintegrated. Red shale and blue, cinder-grey and lemon-yellow; some schistose and sparkling, the bulk dull and dead. Here and there, amid oceans of friable detritus, stand out great rocks of more durable substance--solitary pinnacles, towers and turrets of fantastic form. Six hours of this ere we reach the _Vega_ of Granada.