312 SPORT IN EUROPE 



We rode to the small village of Ojen, there left our mules, and then commenced 

 a stiff climb indeed. At first, along beaten goat-tracks, matters went fairly well, but, 

 when we got higher, the ground became more and more difificult. Steep cliffs had to 

 be surmounted, ravines with loose stones had to be crossed, and climbing over slippery 

 esparto grass just above a wall of rock, two or three hundred feet high, gave a novice 

 like myself a most uncomfortable feeling. As we got higher, the halts became more 

 frequent, and it took us from three to four hours to get to the ibex ground. 



The view from one of the peaks was magnificent. Looking north, there lay at my 

 feet the valley and town of Monda (the historical " Munda " of the Romans), and to the 

 west, the bare Sierra de Tolox, the highest peak of the mountain chain of Ronda (some 

 5,500 feet). Further north were the villages of Casarabonela, Yunguera, Guaro, Coin, 

 and Alhaurin, and the fertile Vega de Malaga with its sugar cane, vines, orange, and 

 olive plantations. Sierra de Mijas, and behind it Malaga itself with its fine port. Then, 

 far away in the distance, I could see the white peaks of the Sierra Nevada, the 

 Mediterranean on the east, and Ceuta on the coast of Morocco, as well as Gibraltar and 

 its bay, the nearer Sierra Bermeja hiding part of it from view. Then the Sierras of 

 Algeciras and Castellar up to the valley of Jimena, and the Sierras of Alcala and Cortes 

 to that of Ronda. 



It was proposed to drive a big ravine on one of the slopes of the Sierra. I was 

 placed at the head of it, and a couple of hours later I had the satisfaction of seeing a 

 string of thirteen or fourteen rams not a hundred yards from my post. It was a grand 

 sight indeed. Some of the old machos (rams) had fine heads, and most of them came 

 in front. They were too far off to shoot, for I had only an old borrowed gun, which 

 I mentally vowed not to fire, besides which I felt quite happy, as I had seen what I 

 sought, and far more than I had ever dreamt of seeing on that first day, though I must 

 say that the guardas were not of my opinion. 



Another big ravine was next driven, but I was so exhausted that I fell asleep, and 

 I was told that a number of ewes passed within a few yards of my post. 



Since then I have passed many happy days in the Sierra, accompanied by old 

 Melchan. As an instance of the endurance of mountaineers, this cazador was over 

 seventy years old, and at that age it was marvellous to see him climb like a goat 

 over rocks, and stand or walk quite comfortably within a few inches of a yawning 

 precipice, or walk as erect and firmly over steep slopes of small, loose stones as when 

 going on a level road. He was one of those few cazadores who are sportsmen at heart. 

 Melchan lived at the small village of Istan, and there farmed a little plot of ground ; 

 and, whenever he was free, he would put a piece of bread and cheese, or pork, into his 



