In Guadix: the Barrio de Cuevas

April 3, 2024

Guadix is a considerably more substantial place than either of us were expecting. Larger, busier (and not particularly bike friendly), in spite of its modest 18,000 population it feels more like a small city than a town. Sitting in the center of the Hoya Basin (the large interior plain we biked through yesterday), it’s a historically important place and one of the oldest cities in Spain.

There’s quite a bit for the tourist here: a cathedral, an alcazaba, excavated Roman ruins - easily enough to justify a two night stay, which we might have done if we had one to spare, and lord knows that after the last three days we could use a break from the bikes. We’ve only got this one afternoon though; and we’ve seen many cathedrals and Roman ruins by now, and I just visited Almeria’s alcazaba a few days ago; so after we’re settled in and Rachael’s back from her excursion to the supermarket I leave to climb up to the mirador above the Barrio de Cuevas, the Cave Barrio, for a sight we won’t see anywhere else in Europe.

Many of you probably already know of this, but Guadix has the largest district of cave dwellers in Europe. There are an estimated 2,000 caves occupied here, carved out of the tuft badlands that surround the town. I’ve seen evocative photographs before of chimneys rising up from the dirt and want to see for myself. Guadix is a place I’ve wanted to see for a long time but have never really expected to come to because of its relative remoteness.

The tourism literature suggests wandering through the barrio and making your way up to the mirador perched atop of an eroded tuff hillock, so that’s the plan. I hastily draw up a walking route on RideWithGPS and then send it to Rachael in case she wants to walk up there later too, and then I’m out the door headed for the barrio, less than a half mile from our hotel.

It doesn’t take long until I come to the beginnings of the barrio. It’s obvious I’ve arrived when I see the first chimneys for these underground homes sprouting up from the ochre earth like mushrooms. once you start noticing them you see them everywhere you look, along with the entryways and exposed facades of the whitewashed homes beneath them. It’s a fascinating place, and apparently densely populated. Children are playing, folks are sitting or around visiting or industriously engaged in some task or another.

The first impression is of a fairly impoverished neighborhood with limited services, but I’ll learn later that the homes are hooked to the city’s utilities - they have indoor plumbing, electricity, appliances, and from the looks of the many antennas lining the ridges with long cables hanging down and connecting them to the homes below it looks like they’re on the grid. One of the plusses of these homes is that they don’t require heating or A/C because their temperature stays nearly constant year round.

Note the electrical cable rising up the wall from the front door.

It’s running up to an antenna, about fifty feet above the house.

I’m having a hard time finding the mirador though, which wasn’t well marked on the map. I’m walking up a narrow pathway and a set of stairs when a couple of women sunning themselves ask (I assume, since they’re speaking Spanish) if I’m here to see the caves and then point around the corner and call someone’s name.

presently, a man of short stature emerges from the entrance to his home (like many of these places, there’s no door - just a sheet hanging down covering the entrance) , smiles at me, and beckons me in. He proudly shows me around the interior of his little home - the living room, the bedrooms, the kitchen, the hearth - and when I prepare to leave he pantomimes to suggest that I might make a donation to the cause, which I expected and am happy to do.

After I thank him and take my leave, I keep wandering around trying to find the mirador. It looks like I might be coming to a dead end or someone’s private walkway, but another quite short man (I wonder if most of the cave population is of short stature) gives me directions I don’t understand, pantomimes and points to indicate I should continue on, and then smiles and heartily shakes my hand. So I keep going.

I encounter a German Shepard blocking my path and calmly staring at me and consider whether I should back off; but after sweet-talking her for a moment she seems fine with letting me walk past; and soon after I come to a wide staircase leading up the highest hill around so I start climbing. It’s the mirador, and it’s a remarkable vista point. Below is the mishmash of badlands with house fronts and chimneys sprouting out of the dirt - and in one direction there’s the historical center of town, prominently crowned by the cathedral and alcazaba; and in the opposite direction is the stunning Sierra Nevada range that we’ve biked beneath for the last two days.

To my surprise, I turn around and see that the dog has followed me up here and seems to be enjoying the views herself. And when I sit down to rest for a few minutes she comes over to me, collects some affection, and then heads back down the stairs.

I haven’t been down from the mirador long when I get a call from Rachael. She’s in the barrio herself, following my GPS route trying to find the mirador, and is having her own trouble trying to locate it. I check to see where she is on the Garmin and find that she’s less than a hundred yards away, near the base of the stairs. I coach her on directions and then walk back her way. We meet up almost immediately, chat for a bit, and then she goes up and I continue going down. It’s not long before she’s back down again too and catches up with me, and then we walk back to the hotel together - slowly, because that’s really the only way I walk these days.

This fence lizard was stopped inert in the middle of the lane, waiting to be squished by a foot or a tire. After taking my shots I gave him a prod in the tail, testing to see if he was still with us. He was, and quickly skittered to a safer spot.

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Jacquie GaudetOk, Guadix has been added to my list of places to visit. Looks fascinating! One more of those places I’d never have heard of if I didn’t read cycle touring journals.
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7 months ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesAfter cortisone in her knees stopped working, Dodie tried Synvisc injections (artificial joint fluid) which did seem to give her a bit of time before the orthopedic surgeon delivered her verdict "Your knees are both crap, which one do you want done first?".
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7 months ago

Anne MathersI’m getting so excited as I sit here eating my breakfast, reading your journal and watching Rachel’s videos. We will be in Guadix in another six weeks. Aside from the windy uphill slog 🚴 and that other blip that shall remain nameless 🙀, it looks like cycle touring bliss. Rachel, your song selections 🎼 are spot on and make me smile at how fitting they are. They really enrich the experience for us followers. Loving every minute of your journey! 😍
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7 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Anne MathersYou’re going to Guadix too! Amazing, I did some research here and on that other site and didn’t turn up much at all. You’re going to love it, I’m sure. I wish now we’d had a second day.

What’s your general route through here? Which direction will you be going?
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7 months ago

Rachael AndersonTo Anne MathersThanks so much for your comments about the videos and music! How exciting that your trip is coming up soon. Have a wonderful time an I look forward to reading about it!
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7 months ago

Bob KoreisTo Jacquie GaudetFascinating. That's the word I was going to use as well. Layer upon layer of cultures leaving their mark upon the locale. This definitely looks like another wow day.
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7 months ago