Storygram: Caminito del Rey

Sorry for the late update! Had been kind of busy haha.

----

It had looked like a gigantic knife had sliced through the landscape and scooped out a piece from the rocky mountain range. Tilting her head upwards, she saw the sudden 90° decline from the mountaintop down to the deep gorge below. The Guadalhorce river cruises serenely, its turquoise waters soft and creamy as they curl through the craggy pockmarked formation.

She descended from the cliff overlooking the Caminito del Rey, the gravels and pebbles crunching beneath her hiking boots. As the wind rips through the trees, her glance eventually wafts towards the white pristine hotel she was staying in. The pool glittered under the Spanish sun, and though at a distance away, she thought she could make out the polite clatter of fine dinner plates at the restaurant.

 

The glitzy hotel stood at odds with its surroundings. A rugged, worn-down village couched nearby, its houses perched almost desultorily over the undulations of the mountain. A lone local bar was lodged aside the silent train station. The green tarpaulin covers of the bar flapped noisily in the wind, almost in tune with the music blaring over the radio.

It was strange seeing the bar wedded to the cushy resort next to it. But with the deep ravines and the dizzying peaks of the place, she supposed contrast was part of the life of El Chorro.