Get Off The Train - Goethe, Gravy & Guitars

The Case of the Cortijo

"Look at this!" I exclaimed, barely able to contain my excitement, "It has two bedrooms, a terrace and BBQ area, a pool, a secluded location with views, a washing machine AND it's within our price range!"  "Book it" he said.  So I did.

Now anyone else reading the additional information may have been put off by the fact that the solar powered electricity system couldn't cope with a hairdryer, 'I can tie my hair back' I thought.  As for reading, 'when hiring a car please note that super mini's are not suitable for the track leading to the cortijo' many would have become suspicious, particularly when coupled with the well known terrain of the region.  Numpty here just imagined a dirt track surrounded by fields.  'No problem', I thought.

The deposit was paid and more detailed instructions to get to the cortijo would follow upon payment of the balance.  Still no alarm bells.

A few months later the balance was paid and the promised detail took us from the airport to a supermarket in the nearest town with instructions to call the owner when we were half way.  You've got it, still no alarm bells.

'Hi Nick, yes we are about half way, can we have the full address so that I can put it in the SatNav?'  'You won't find this place on any SatNav.  I'll meet you at the supermarket and you can follow me in from there.' 
'Oh', I said after terminating the call, 'it must be really out of the way!'

Now all the while the designated driver has been trying to get used to a left hand drive car AND driving on the 'wrong' side of the road.  Occasionally he has inadvertently roamed too far to the right and has been alerted by the rumbling sound of the white markers on the road.  It's been a long day, we've been on the go for 18 hours.  We eventually meet up with Nick, exchange a few pleasantries and then follow his 4x4 along the outskirts of the town.  We gradually leave behind the shops, houses, buildings and lights.  Soon we are in complete darkness save for the illumination of the headlights.  'Wow, this is a windy road' I said as we spiralled our way up and around some hairpin bends.  'It's OK though', I told myself, 'there are metal barriers at the precarious points'.  We were steadily rising higher and higher and very soon the tarmac road ended as we ascended a new section with a really steep incline.  I watched in horror as Nick's car disappeared into the blackness in front of us.  We surged upwards in pursuit with the car almost vertical, I sucked in my breath trying my best not to frighten the teenagers in the back, one of whom we could occasionally hear murmuring 'Oh My God'.  My fingers are wrapped tightly around my mobile phone and the now redundant SatNav - one in each hand, my knuckles white.  The track was often little more than a cars width, made of dust and rock and loose grit.  Every now and then we came to an indent where chunks of the road had fallen away - I couldn't help myself, I think a few OMG's and WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE's slipped out of my mouth.   It took 20 long minutes of this 'journey of death' to reach the cortijo.  We finally came to a stop, white, wide eyed and shaking (well at least I was).  'We're not leaving the cortijo, we can't go through that every day!'

Upon waking up the next morning and taking in the stunning views we could now see some of the track we had ascended the night before.  'It's beautiful but we've got to get back down to get provisions'. 
'Come on' he said 'We'll be fine as long as you don't start yelping and screaming in my ear'. 

Well we survived, I'm here to tell the tale but needless to say we didn't go out at night and if we were out during the day we were always back before nightfall.  Incidentally, I found out the address.  Hidden deep within the information booklet in the cortijo was a sentence that included the region we were in - the Barranco Callonca.  Barranco is Spanish for ravine......