16-18th January, Ronda and the Bull-Ring

From Cadiz we moved in land to Ronda, a spectacular old town that has built up a rocky outcrop in the mountains. The Spanish Inquisition had its head-quarters here and the views to be had from the town into the valley are vertiginous. We camped for two nights in possibly our most pleasant campsite to date. Although quiet and secluded we were close enough to the town to walk in.

We have found the spirit of the bull-fight pervasive in Andalusia and whatever one thinks of it on a moral level it is difficult not to be hypnotised by the ritual and pageant that surrounds it. Ronda is well known in Spain for it small but reputable bull-ring, a venue to which all matadors aspire. Whereas the Seville school of fighters are elaborate and showy in their art, those of the Ronda are said to deal with the bull in a more procedural and austere fashion. With tickets to the bull-fights that take place during just one week in September hard to get hold of and costing from €150 upwards, we thought we’d get as close as we probably ever will to one by taking a tour.

Even empty the fear and excitement that must be felt by all involved is palpable within the small arena. I felt suddenly very vulnerable in my bright red coat. You can enter the bull-pens and both of us got spooked by the lingering smell and huge gore marks left by the unfortunate creatures as they waited for their final fifteen minutes of fame. Graham nearly ran out when he heard the snort of a large animal. But they’d not forgotten to remove a bull last September, it was one of the horses from the equestrian-guard training base located next door.

Inspired by all we had read about Spain’s greatest matadors and the sight of their colourful and elaborate costumes, we couldn’t resist returning to the ring to have a quick go. Krista in her pushchair made for the perfect bull against whom to practise some rudimentary moves.