A journey through the living memory of the towns of Al-Andalus in the Guadajoz region of Córdoba
Carmen had set out early on her hiking route, following the course of the Guadajoz River and walking along a stretch of the Mozarabic Way. She walked alone, with only the constant murmur of the river, the whisper of the wind through the leaves of the trees, and the subtle sounds of wildlife among the branches and reeds as her companions.
At midday, she reached the Stone Bridge on the outskirts of Baena. The river flowed gently between the reinforced banks, and the eucalyptus trees offered a cool, fresh shade.
1EspejoCarmen opened her eyes and found herself atop a sober, austere construction that overlooked the countryside. What she saw before her was al-Qalʿa, the old Andalusi fortress that today is the Castle of Espejo: a defensive tower, but without a city yet surrounding it.
A few steps away, a man in a light tunic, carrying a wooden staff, his face weathered by time, was silently gazing at the horizon. He did not seem surprised to see her, and Carmen was not startled by his presence either. It was as if she had been expecting him.
- Castro del Río2
The path descended along the curve of the river, skirting orchards and olive groves, until the land rose again, giving way to a beautiful town. From afar, Carmen could distinguish the unmistakable silhouette of a sturdy tower and walls gilded by the sun.
—Castro del Río — she murmured, as if the name had sprung directly from the landscape.
3Nueva CarteyaAfter the meal, they thanked Muqaddam and Lubna for their hospitality. The craftsman and his wife bid them farewell at the gate. Carmen carefully tucked away the small bundle of bread and dates that Lubna had given them “for the road.” Shortly afterward, they resumed their journey.
The path wound through gentle hills and fields rippling in the breeze. The sun, now high, cast glimmers among the olive groves, and the steps of the two travelers left a faint trace upon the dry earth.
- Baena4
The afternoon sun fell over the slopes covered with olive trees as Qāsim and Carmen reached the top of a hill. A white patch of houses spread across the hillside, crowned by the silhouette of an ancient fortress.
—There lies Bayyāna —said Qāsim, stopping beside a rock and raising his hand—. ‘A great fortress upon a rise of the land,’ as al-Idrīsī described it centuries ago. Like a watchful sentinel among wheat fields, fig trees, and olive groves.
5ValenzuelaThe sun was slowly setting, tinting the hills covered in vineyards and olive groves with amber hues. The heat of the day was beginning to wane, yet a lingering warmth still floated in the air, as if the earth refused to release the light completely. The soil, reddish and fertile, had been diligently worked.
It was clear this was no forgotten corner: signs of life were everywhere. A group of women harvested vegetables by a riverside, while children carried water in pitchers from a spring that bubbled among the reeds.
