Our Sierra nirvana
Anna Melville-James shuns the high-rise resorts of the Costa del Sol in favour of a luxury mountain hideaway
DRIVE south along the Costa del Sol from Malaga and you will soon hit a succession of fairly depressing, high-rise resorts. By the time you reach Estepona, only the views of Gibraltar and the tip of Morocco manage to raise your spirits.
But head inland from Estepona and within 20 minutes the number of tourists and golf courses thin out, leaving those in the know to enjoy the Sierra Bermeja mountains.
In the Acedia Valley, on the edge of Los Reales de Sierra Bermeja national park, timeshare apartments give way to vultures soaring on thermals, and wildflowers that leave the countryside ablaze with colour.
This glorious enclave is bisected by the Pasada del Pino to La Acedia walking trail and dirt roads that discourage cars.
Within ten minutes of leaving the main coastal road, we had reached our holiday hideaway, its gardens full of stunning palms, Spanish firs and citrus trees.
We were a party of 12 staying at the Villa del Valle, a tardis behind a discreet wooden door. The property actually sleeps 20 – in addition to the main house there is a separate apartment and a detached cottage, which each sleep four.
The main property has a huge living room, a kitchen with every conceivable mod con, and most of the ten bedrooms have an en suite bathroom and terrace. There are so many dining and sitting areas that on the first day we played musical chairs to try to fill up the space.
In the end, though, everyone always congregated around the pool – this one had a gas barbecue area nearby, and a hot tub.
We spent our days lapping up the sunshine, sipping Cava, and swimming. Heat isn’t guaranteed in this part of Spain in late autumn and winter, but it’s warm more often than not.
Cooler days are ideal for visiting the white villages, or ‘pueblos blancos’, dazzling sentinels against the dark green crags.
The nearest, Casares, was a 15-minute drive from our villa. We managed to visit during a siesta – something simultaneously annoying when you need milk and reassuring that such traditions still exist in a frenetic modern world. So we wandered silent streets and read about Blas Infante, the socalled father of Andalucian nationalism, who was born in Casares.
Carry on down the road towards Manilva and you’ll arrive at the sulphurous Baths of Hedionda. Julius Caesar was a fan of its waters, apparently, and you can still swim here.
Afterwards, it is fun to spread out a picnic under eucalyptus trees – just as the locals do. Although it was great to head out for tapas in the evenings, when your dining table looks out on to paradise, it’s just as tempting to cook yourself – or even let a private chef do it for you. However, our finest home delivery was a performance by a flamenco group one evening. As the sun set, plaintive guitar and ‘cante’ filled the air and the world stood still in timeless splendour. You can keep the beach. Out here, the hills are still alive with the spirit of Andalucia.