Several kilometres along the Camino de las Parideras (mostly single track) from the small town of Zafarraya is the splendid Área Recreativa de Las Parideras de Zafarraya — one of the finest Zafarraya campervan stopovers in Granada province. At 1,122 metres above sea level, with wonderful views over the town, it is the kind of place you stumble upon and immediately add to the list of places to return to.
Issy admiring the view over Zafarraya. Poppy is camera shy.
Área Recreativa Las Parideras de Zafarraya
In 2019 the town hall constructed the Vía Ferrata (hiking route) dedicated to a local called John Hogbin (1969-2011), and the area de recreativa is the starting point for hardy hikers, rock climbers and abseilers.
I tried to find out who John Hogbin was, as his name didn't sound very Spanish. It didn't take long to learn that John was a local British resident and had a passion for mountaineering who tragically died in an avalanche in 2011.
You can also see land art by impressionist painter Jes Gamart on rocks and trees around the locale.
It has parking for cars and campervans, together with numerous picnic tables, BBQs, and an assault course for kids. There is a restaurant and bar, with toilets and showers, that is open Friday to Sunday and public holidays. The owners are friendly and helpful.
It is the kind of place you stumble upon and immediately add to the list of places to return to. If you're looking for similar stopovers across Spain, I've written a guide on how to find free or low-cost park-ups in Spain.
Área Recreativa Las Parideras de Zafarraya — picnic tables, BBQs, and that view. Not a bad spot for a few nights.
Four Nights at 1,122 Metres
I stayed 4 nights, which took in the May Day holiday, and it was an experience to watch Spanish families arrive, and within what seemed like a few minutes, the men had set up a gazebo, generator, tables, and chairs whilst the women lugged heavy cool boxes stuffed full of food, beer, and chilled red wine. Meanwhile, the kids were dispatched off to the assault course to pick up a few grazes and bruises.
The nights were quiet, and we were woken in the morning by the ringing bells of a goat herd.
Despite there being no waste bins (take your rubbish with you), it is remarkably clean.
I'll give you a short version of my incapacitation.
The Incident
It's an excellent area for walking my dogs, although we had a bad experience on our first night, as, when returning from a walk, a French plated Mercedes had arrived, and the female occupant had an unleashed Mastin (Mastiff) who trotted towards us with intent.
Mademoiselle, in her long cotton frock and flip flops, called after her dog as she shuffled in pursuit.
The monster (dog, not the young women) ignored her and was upon us before I could react, and I had no choice but to allow him to have a sniff, which wasn't good enough for him as he launched his 50kg frame at Issy.
The next thing I remember is seeing stars as I was pulled over on the rough concrete road. I had a bloody nose, a fat lip and a throbbing elbow and shoulder which hurt like fuck, and it felt like I had left a kilo of my DNA on the road.
I could hear Poppy crying.
By this time the woman had arrived and must have pulled off her dog.
She said, in English. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Are you OK? Is there anything I can do?
I have a Spanish plated van and two Galgos Españoles (Spanish greyhounds). I mean, do I really look that English?
I checked the condition of my dogs (they were both OK) before I mumbled about large dogs being on a lead and muzzled in public places as I limped back to my van.
I hurt everywhere and dabbed iodine on all of the parts that needed it. The wound on my right elbow to my wrist started to take on the look of a footballer's tattoo, and my arm started to look like an elephant's trunk.
While licking my wounds, I soon realised I could not swat flies with my left hand.
It was another story when I finally went to see my doctor, though. She did very little apart from wince at my wound and issue a prescription for anti-inflammatory cream.
#vanlife
Read more vanlife adventures here.
Wonky park-ups, proper adventures, genuine freedom — The Flexible Chef.
That is an awful experience. We had a similar situation but in France - we called the Gendarmes who came out within 20 minutes by which time the other dog owner had disappeared.
We hope you are OK.
All the best
Peter and Dee.