The bus climbed through the mountain range and the hazy view of the sea disappeared behind the range's peaks. The sun climbed too into the cloudless sky. The landscape changed from orange boulders covered with green pines to a grey rock landscape before flattening out. The town of Ronda, like a white spaceship, perched atop a plateau.
As they climbed up the sides of the gorge the afternoon sun beat mercilessly on their heads. Shade was sought on a cool stone bench beside a cobbled street whose stones shone with the footsteps of a million feet. Later a cool beer in an air-conditioned bar eased the pain of aching limbs before the bus ride home.
The sky had returned to its dark beauty by 10pm. They lay on the terrace sofas and peeked out from under the sheltering sails. The wind agitated the palm trees. It sounded like the patter of summer rain, occasional big drops plopping onto hot tiles to a background of lighter cascades. All the sensation of rain except for the dampness - a cooling end to a hot day.
|Reflections - La Mina Secreta, Ronda.|