We take the bus from Granada to a small town called Monachil in the Sierra Nevada hills. It’s just after 2 pm when we get there and the revered Spanish siesta has just started. The plaza Miraflores is quiet and all the restaurants are closed. Wandering around, we find an open supermarket and assemble a make shift lunch with bread, cheese, smoked salmon and bananas. The joys of finding smoked salmon in a small town supermarket !

Walking uphill through the town, we try to find the trail head for the Los Cahorros hike. Dhanya spots a trail besides the river and we come across a trail map in Spanish. Deciphering the map takes a bit of time, but in the end we take the aptly named river trail.

The trail runs through dense vegetation and we are soon enveloped in dark tunnels with overhanging brambles and fallen logs. Through the dense foliage we get glimpses of orchards on our right. We might be in the jungle, but civilization is just a fence away.

The river monachil flows into boulder lined pools and horsetails grow abundantly at the waters edge. Red berries of unknown origin grow enticingly on thorny creepers. I see wagtails flit away as we approach. The trail gets quite narrow at times and logs have fallen over. Dhanya ducks under the logs, but I have little Arjun in the backpack. I get down on my knees and shuffle awkwardly. Arjun is sound asleep, cocooned snugly inside the sunshade.

I am just beginning to wonder if we took the right trail, when we meet some fellow hikers. Some broken Spanish is all we need to confirm that this path does indeed lead to the big “puente”, the long suspension bridge.

We cross an old dilapidated water pumping station and emerge out of the jungle. Crossing over a small red suspension bridge, we look up to towering limestone cliffs that rise up. To me, these cliffs are better than any cathedral !

I lower the carrier with Arjun still sleeping in it and head off alone for some more exploration. Soon, I am at the long suspension bridge, the real “puente”. It sways gently as I walk along and looking down at the river below does make my palms a bit sweaty. The bridge is perfectly safe, although looking down at the river below does make the experience dramatic.

Crossing the bridge, the trail now runs along a man made channel for the river. To my right, the walls of the towering gorge rise vertically and the cemented trail is just half a foot wide. To my left just a few feet below is the river. Not wanting to get my feet wet, I gingerly side step along the trail. At some tricky curves, there are steel holds, bolted on to the cliff, making it easier to walk. In some sections, the cliff overhangs and I have to crawl under the ledge. I don’t think I could have done this with Arjun in his carrier.

The trail then enters a talus cave. Gigantic boulders have rolled over and formed a natural tunnel through the gorge. It reminds me of the Pinnacles National park in California.

Crawling once more through some sections of the cave I surge ahead. The cave opens up to more cliffs. Satisfied with my little solo exploration I turn around wondering if Arjun is still sleeping.

Arjun is playing with a wax truck that Dhanya has expertly fashioned out of the pink Baby Bell cheese wax casing. Finding a block of limestone Arjun proceeds to make stone powder, a favorite activity right now.

After relaxing under the limestone cliffs, we head out to the long suspension bridge, this time with Arjun and Dhanya. Arjun holds my hand, and confidently strides across. The bridge sways gently as we near the middle, and perhaps I am gripping Arjun’s hand a little too tightly. I am happy that he trusted himself to cross the bridge. The bridge is perfectly safe and the railing on the side make a nice hold. It’s seeing the gorge below that makes us adults a little nervous.

We decide to take the easier dirt trail back to Monachil since I have had enough scrambling under logs on the river trail for one day. We are rewarded with breathtaking views of the Andalusian hills. As we approach the town, we see horses and trucks amidst the olive trees. We pluck a few olives and taste them. The spicy and bitter taste of the green olive is sharp. Arjun boldly sucks on it, puckers his mouth and declares it to be a Galega olive.