Las Cumbres

After 11 km on the curves of the old national highway, the last 6 by moonlight, I reached the welcoming lights of Las Cumbres hotel.

Entering the rustic bar with its cobbled floor, the kilt provoked the usual mixture of stares, smiles and subtle and not so subtle pointing. A huge smile and a hearty good evening to all and sundry is the best approach I've found.
Spaniards generally respond well to confidence in oneself.
  
Pedro was behind the bar, and when I inquired about accommodation he took me through to the hotel reception to organise a room for the night. He owns Las Cumbres, and not only that but he was born here as well. 

The buildings of the old hotel are fairly impressive, but the paintings hung around the place are even more so. They include a range of old spanish classics together with more modern works, which complement each other delightfully. These are augmented by a number of black and white photographs with Andalucìan themes, including a huge aerial photograph of the Sierra Nevada (I think) and various images of the bullfight and bullfighters.

Post refreshing shower and inspection of a new foot injury I headed down to the bar for my dinner. (regarding the injury, somehow the sole of my right foot on the right hand side has developed an odd inflamed patch. It hasn't blistered, but instead is simply red and swollen. "Not life threatening, more tape required tomorrow", was the conclusion.)

Dinner was a classic of the region, a simple salad along with a plate of the finest Pata Negra cured ham (from free range pigs that roam the dehesa munching acorns), washed down with refreshing chilled red wine. Superb.

Pedro came to join me as I ate, a genial conversationslist our discussions ranged far and wide over the human condition. As ever he was interested in the project and the walk, and the places I'd visited and things I'd seen.

After I'd finished dinner the bar shut, but the good thing about drinking with the owner is there's no closing time. The  gin and tonics flowed and by the time we called it a night it was late indeed.

Luckily I've got an easier day today, just 35 km downhill to Seville.