Distrust the beauty spot: it may have something to hide

This weekend, we went walking up in the mountains at a place called Loriguilla, near Valencia. It overlooked a glorious lake reflecting both the encircling hills and the clear blue skies which we still get around here, with amazingly warm temperatures, even in October.

The lake and hills at Loriguilla

But while you can enjoy the beauty, it’s no bad idea to distrust the appearance…

The place has a few ruined houses, along with some new holiday cottages, clustered around the wreck of a church. Paths lead up to the high hills where one can walk along water courses rushing across the hillside and disappearing into tunnels, taking drinking water to the city. The other way, one can walk down to the lakeside and a dock for rowing boats or canoes or, indeed, for swimming from.

Mountain lakes? Even in a hot October I distrust them. “Come on,” said Danielle, and two friends who were getting rid to leap in. But I didn’t share their enthusiasm.

Besides, they didn’t actually leap in. They felt their way tentatively from rock to rock at the lake’s edge, as the water gradually came further and further up their bodies. To, I should say, an accompaniment of screams and exclamations, all of them on the subject of cold.

“Yes,” thought I, “sounds delightful. Enticing even. I might just stay here.”

The three of them eventually got in and all assured me that it was “wonderful once you’re in.”

“It’s wonderful once you’re in.”
I was happy to believe them. And observe. From a distance

What kind of statement is that? It means it’s horrible getting in, but not quite as awful once you’ve done it. They may be right, but what I loathe is the awful transition between pleasant warmth and dryness and blood-chilling wetness before you can get used to it.

“Come on, you’ll enjoy it.”

But I chose not to trust that kind of reassurance. I’ve been exposed too often to “try it, you’ll like it,” claims. Often, they’re about various kinds of particularly revolting-looking food. Long, long years of experience have taught me that if food looks unappetising, it generally is. Equally, if water looks bitterly cold, that’s generally exactly how it is.

I was enjoying being able to wear shorts and a tee shirt in October (in England, my friends have already broken out winter pullovers). So I stayed put and revelled in the feel of the dock underneath me and the sun above, while the others swam around claiming I was missing a wonderful experience. Frankly, I was happy to believe them, just as long as I didn’t have to put it to the test. Belief, sure, but trust, no.

Much more my style, to lie about on the dock

The temperature of the water wasn’t, however, the only thing to distrust in that idyllic spot.

Why, you might wonder, were there only ruined houses and an abandoned church near that lovely lake?

It turns out that the church had been the place of worship of a village further downhill. Downhill? The lake’s downhill from the church. And, yes, you guessed it, the village is at the bottom of the lake.

It was the lake itself I ought to have distrusted.

It may be beautiful, but it isn’t natural. It’s made up of valleys flooded by a dam. It is, in effect, a reservoir. It holds some of the water Valencia needs. Which is, of course, a good thing. Though not a lot of fun for the people who used to live in the old village of Loriguilla.

A ruined church: monument to a lost village

It was in the late fifties that they had to go. At the time, Spain was under the rule of the last of the West European fascist dictators, Francisco Franco. People didn’t get much of a chance to object to his decisions. Or at least, not to do it twice.

To be fair, they were moved to new houses. But did they want to go? Who knows? And if they didn’t, it barely mattered to the people who ran the place at that time.

That’s the thing about so-called ‘strong men’, and Franco liked to be referred to as ‘El Caudillo’, roughly translated as ‘the strongman’. They can make things happen. They do that because they don’t have to worry about how other people feel. It’s effective but it isn’t necessarily pleasant.

Something we ought to bear in mind when anyone expresses admiration for strong and decisive leaders today. Like Trump. Or Boris Johnson. Or Erdogan. Or Putin. Or Bolsonaro. Or rather too many people around the world for comfort.

Come and enjoy the lovely lake at Loriguilla, in or out of the water. But spare a thought for the village it hides. And then ask yourself: is this the way I too want to be treated?