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It has often been said in jest that the average Brit moving abroad leaves their cranial matter somewhere close to baggage reclaim at Malaga airport. Others, perhaps reflecting deeper, have pointed accusingly to an earlier time where, with defences down, the armchair traveller was first titillated and later seduced by a multitude of insane travel shows depicting innocents abroad. It is at this point critics argue, that the first significant loss of grey matter takes place.


For what knowledge do most hold of the country that they have now chosen to reside in? What do they know of its rich and turbulent history, its broad and fluid culture, its linguistic diversity and its contemporary politic? The TV depicts little else than sun beds and seashores, fantasies for the unfulfilled. What truth did you acquire as you queued amongst the hordes fleeing North Europe, intent on purchasing a life abroad? What did you learn of the perplexing and widely misunderstood regulations regarding land purchase?
If you are one of those that fell for the hype and purchased your “dream villa” in a part of “unspoilt Spain”, you will probably have found yourself lumbered with at least 15.000 sqm of unwanted fruit trees or a barren north facing slate mountainside and be wondering to yourself, why this is so when all you wanted was room for a pool and somewhere to park the superfluous 4x4.
The reason why rural land has such strict sale conditions is because it is important to try and protect the countryside from being turned into faceless urbanisations. Needless to say that in spite of such regulations the whole of the countryside is being turned into faceless private urbanisations because we all know of at least half a dozen property speculators that share blood ties with the local alcalde.
Amongst such myopic madness, sunburnt shoulders are collectively shrugged, more Rioja is ordered (the limit of your linguistic level) and conclusions are drawn that …well…. that’s Spain after all and the Spain we have all come to love and hate, operates according to its own internal and unfathomable set of rules.
Where though does this leave you, now that the agent and the seller have lefty to share out their inflated earnings? Of course initially you wont mind because after all, what you have acquired is just a big back garden, and is this not the true fantasy of every True-Brit: to be a land holder, an estate owner, to be a country squire abroad?

So for the first few months you’ll be merrily dancing around the nispero groves at midnight plugged into your MP3 player spouting dubious interpretations of Gypsy King lyrics. But, beware. For one day a wiser friend will whisper the true origins of Los Reyes Gitanos and as for those cute looking little apricot fruits that were so “charming “ to have by the handful – they will come to pose a pretty problem when you find you have 40.000 to dispose of.
For the truth is that land management is a full time job and although you may be a dab hand with a pair of secateurs, and you may have had years of experience potting up spider plants you are going to need a whole lot more knowledge, expertise and sheer physical help over the years to come.
You can of course be lucky and acquire just a patch of land with almond and olive trees defined as secano (hard as concrete, needs no extra water and thrives on neglect). But if your Big Back Garden has been defined as riego it will mean irrigation pipes (those are the big black snakes that lie between your trees and trip you up as you conduct your midnight twirls), vast water reserves, pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers. It will mean that you will be employing Paco once a week to spray this, burn that, and to offer mumbling incoherent phrases about the moon’s phases. It will probably mean that you will have to employ a team of fruit pickers each harvest, unless that is you like the idea of wading through a rotting carpet of fruit for six months of the year.
Whatever way you look at it – for the new wave of rural dwellers - it will mean trabajo, mucho trabajo. So what do you do when you find yourself encumbered and overwhelmed? Well, you could try Howling for help and recruit a Willing Worker On an Organic Farm.
Last December, just as the first few flakes of snow began to flutter earthwards settling precariously on our heavily laden olive trees, it was our wwoofer Steven from Germany that helped us to pick the crop and get it to the olive mill before the mid winter frosts really took hold. One month later when we needed help to clear the land in preparation for our first vegetable garden, it was Warren the wwoofer from South Africa who did most of the heavy work: digging over the soil, planting the seeds, clearing rocks and even building a make-shift fence to keep out the wandering cabra montes.
The previous year it had been Barry and Eileen from Newcastle who had arrived to help us with our early morning bonfires.
When the generator needed an overhaul and the chainsaw blade needed retiring after a hectic pruning weekend, it was these two spirited souls that helped us strip, lubricate and reassemble the parts. And last month we had a French saxophonist in our swimming pool. Jeremy was on his way to the African coast and stopped by to help with pool repairs. All wonderful people sharing a wonderfully simple ideology: Wwoofing.
WWOOF began in the UK in 1971 when Sue Coppard launched the project as a means for people to access the countryside in Britain and to support the growing organic farming movement. Small farm holders enthusiastically took to the idea and it soon spread to other countries as woofers from overseas took back the notion to their home countries. Many countries now have their own Wwoof organisation, but Spain belongs to a group that has no central structure and so belongs something called Wwoof Independents.
In theory, all farms or land holdings must be run on organic lines, but this is interpreted fairly loosely. Provided land is maintained with respect to the environment, and you can show some attempts at sustainability or alternative agricultural practices, then you would qualify. You can join by visiting the web site and the cost is approximately 15 pounds per year. Its probably worthwhile having a regularly accessed email address, as this is the most common form of contact.

Wwoofers are not only a source of physical labour; they can also help you see the bigger picture by sharing stories of people and practices abroad. Many have worked in other countries; many – like yourselves - originate from other countries and bring with them a broader range of skills and expertise that you could find locally. Whatever the issue, Wwoofers help put it all into perspective. But don’t forget that it’s not just about taking. In return you give food, shelter, your company and an opportunity to share your skills. In this way the whole process hangs together.
Here on this hectic coastal strip of Spain there are not many models of people working and living together in a way that contributes towards a healthier and less materialistic planet. On the contrary, the area is being stripped of its cultural ancestry and being replaced by a serpentine shopping mall stretching from Portugal to the Pyrenees. As this monster encroaches further inland it is tempting to withdraw into complacency believing that everything is outside your hands. However by becoming a Wwoof host you can play a small but significant role in demonstrating an alternative way to get things done. A way in which all parties benefit, no money is exchanged and land is prevented from falling into disuse.
Maybe we may even learn a thing or two ourselves. Stranger things have happened.





To apply or to find out more visit: www.wwoof.org

© Paul Read

Over the last twelve months, we have seen nature at its most unforgiving: whilst the tragic tsunami hit Asia, Spain experienced freak frosts that decimated crops and fruit trees followed up a drought that many believe is one of the worst in living memory. This summer, whilst the USA was hit by Katrina we have witnessed jelly-fish invasions on the coast and tornados in Barcelona. Some may see few connections between these widely spread climatic events, but for many others the message is clear: we mess with mother nature and mother nature messes with us.



Almost 40% of the world’s population now lives within 100km of the coast. In Spain the percentage stands at about 60%. And as these coastal populations increase so too does the pressure on the surrounding eco systems.

We can see this along the Mediterranean, as more and more people are persuaded to buy property near the sea.
This has caused an increase in residual waters which are poured into the sea, creating an excess in certain nutrients which the jellyfish, amongst others, frantically feed on.

If we look at the Jelly-fish - or Medusa - invasion on Spain’s Mediterranean coast, it reveals to us a whole catalogue of mis-use and mis-management of our immediate environment: a massive expansion of coastal populations, unfettered tourist developments and a myopic transport and fishing industry.

This summer’s Jellyfish plague was nothing new, its happened before in cycles of seven to ten years. But the cycles are getting shorter and they are lasting longer, much to the horror of the coastal tourist trade as bathers find themselves stranded on the shoreline in sweltering mid-August.

But these summer visitors did not just frequent the Andalusian coastal waters. From Italy to Portugal they were found, and in the Azores high numbers of the very dangerous Portuguese Man-of-War were reported. So what brings them to our waters edge in the height of the season?

Certainly the warm waters combined with this years drought has meant a shortage of cold fresh water entering the sea from rivers, thereby producing a, saltier sea. Additionally, human sewage and fertilizers from intensive farming along the Mediterranean coast are discharged into the oceans leaving behind a cocktail of nitrogen and phosphates that are attractive to the Medusa and encouraging them to reproduce.

To some extent this would have been rectified by natures own inherent search for oceanic balance, but alas we humans have irreversibly tampered here. The natural predators of the Medusa: larger fish and crustaceans are on the verge of extinction, annihilated by over fishing. And marine turtles - the main predator of the Medusa - are being trapped in illegal fishing nets. More than 25,000 sea turtles each year die this way. But its not just the fishing industry to blame: Turtles need breeding space on beaches to lay their eggs and coastal space is gold dust in this Mediterranean retail paradise where every square metre fetches thousands of euros. What chances have turtles to find a little private space to lay a few eggs between the hotel, marina and urbanisation developments that have consumed the shores of Spain? Even the protected national parks of Cabo de Gata, in Almeria are seeing horrendous hotel constructions on virgin beaches such as El Algarrobico. If you want to see something truly unforgivable take a look at http://waste.ideal.es…………….

This is all pretty depressing stuff, but its nothing compared to what is happening on the shipping lanes of the world each year, where transport carriers are slowly diluting the uniqueness of the earths oceans, as they dump 10.000 million tons of water - and living organisms with it - from one side of the planet to the other.
More than 90 percent of goods traded between countries are transported by sea.

For example, one day, not so long ago the Mnemniopsis jelly fish arrived in the Black Sea. It didn’t mean to. It probably would have preferred not to, but arrive it did, having been swept into the hold of a large tanker in its native seas and transported thousands of miles to be unceremoniously dumped into a strange and foreign sea.
A day that the anchovy population will never forget. Hitherto unknown in these quarters, the Mnemiopsis began to explore its new home where it reined unchallenged, its traditional enemies on the other side of the globe. It proceeded to decimate the anchovy population, not only eating the food that the anchovy fed upon but also the anchovy’s eggs and lava.

Modern boats are designed to carry heavy loads, so once the initial cargo has been delivered, the boats become unstable unless they take on board something as ballast: what they take is water.

All boats have always carried, to some extent, excess waters and on board species, but the growth of global markets and the size of the vessels have intensified this pattern.

Upon discharge of the waters in alien seas, plant and fish and foreign ecosystems are released to potentially, like the Mnemniopsis, wreck havoc on the local eco-system.

According to one US Geological Survey, this problem is costing some 100 billion dollars a year just in the USA alone, and it is estimated that the introduction of foreign species is implicated in the disappearance of 70% of all lost native species in the last 100yrs.

Like the transportation of goods, the transportation of people too is having its effects felt in the uncontrollable expansion of the tourist industry.

Tourism is the biggest growing sector in the world economy and the environmental campaign groups are fully stretched to even follow its devastating impact let alone fight to contain its more evident abuses.

Tourism, with its simplistic philosophy of converting the coastline into shopping malls, tower blocks and playgrounds is pushing people to live on the very edge of existence. If you haven't already noticed, the coastal strip is getting a tad crowded these days.

Yet towns like Almunecar – Granada’s flagship coastal resort - are planning to double their size, introduce 4 golf courses, 2 new mariners and a million new private swimming pools. All this is being planned during the worst drought in sixty years.

Some people are now saying that the first step is just to admit the obvious. If we can get that far we can start in seriousness to look for solutions. It is obvious that the worlds economies are based on goods and services that are derived from the exploitation of the worlds natural resources. These resources are finite and the depletion of them are causing global damage to our planet. This is the obvious. The UN, WHO, the Kyoto Summit etc. are all in agreement. It is obvious: Unless we change direction and reduce fishing to recover the ecological balance, protect habitats so that populations can recover, reduce toxic wastes, limit coastal developments, stop the carrying of water ballast in large sea containers, conserve fresh water and plan growth sustainably, we will end up we are heading: ????

Are we likely to change direction?

Probably not. It’s clearly not in the interest of commercial sectors to even raise an eyebrow over ecological concerns. Look at the petrol industry that is committed to squeezing out every last drop and selling it to you and me before replacing oil with a sustainable alternative. So is despair the answer?

No. The answer is to inform yourself, discuss the issues and give support to the groups that are fighting on our behalf:

Talk about it, visit and inform yourself in web sites like www.wild-spain. Join (at least as a supporting if not active, member) one of the following: Ecologists in Accion or Greenpeace.

© Paul Read

At first it seemed a romantic alternative; candle lit meals, gas lighting and early evenings to bed. Living 2 km from the nearest electricity pylon gave us a novel and factura-free lifestyle. Our friends frowned at our choice of such a remote farmhouse, but although we had been pampered by city life, we accepted that campo living was about going back to basics. Equipped with a portable 12v battery pack we could recharge our mobile phones and plug in a B&W 2 inch screen TV. What more would we need?
Well, for a start there was the washing machine, the water pump and the iron. We had to use a generator for these things but the noise and the fumes destroyed the peace of our valley as well as the lining of my lungs. But AA batteries alone couldn’t run such power hungry items.





At the end of the first year the novelty had become a chore. We missed light switches - especially in the loo at midnight– and salivated over the thought of an electric toaster and watching the evening film without the use of a magnifying glass. A beautiful sunset had come to mean night-time and this meant darkness. Battery lights, candles and gas lamps were OK, but I resented feeling like I was in a tent when I was actually in my own house. To break the monotony, we would occasionally drive into our nearest one-horse-town for a wild night out, but it was a harrowing 20 min pitch-black journey along dusty tracks carved into the vertical sides of cliff faces and gorges. Not a journey recommended after wild nights in one-horse-towns.

THE ORTHODOX ROUTE
In desperation one day we contacted the electricity board, who kindly sent someone to explain some harsh mountain-side realities to us.
“See that!” the Sevillana man barked at me, pointing with nicotine stained finger at a barely visible matchstick on the horizon. “ I lowered the binoculars and nodded.
“That’s your nearest point……which means…” He looked at our house and then borrowed the binoculars again, shook his head, tutted and then turned over the back of his cigarette packet. He thrust an empty Ducados carton with a scrawled figure of 12000 euros at me.
“Más o menos” he added, “ Probably more though”.
The cardboard quote came in handy later that evening as I tried to get the stove to light with our limited scrap-paper supply. The spring sun had set over the Almijara and there was a chill in the early evening air. As I stuffed an old copy of EL Pais in the stove, my eye caught an article on solar energy in Spain. It said that the President intended to make it obligatory for all new houses to install a solar hot water supply but that EU grants were available. I put the newspaper down and pondered. Perhaps the answer was solar power, a clean and renewable fuel source, portable, silent, green and perhaps most persuasive of all - grant assisted!

THE ALTERNATIVE ROUTE
We did try to extend our days by plugging in the generator to give us light and power in the evening. But the price of petrol had rocketed; wars were being fought over drilling rights and the planet seemed locked into this “squeeze out the oil until the last drop” mentality. We were determined not to be a part of this madness, and so we scoured the local press for a place that advertised solar energy with grants. We eventually met with one of the sales reps in their large office.
“ How can we help you?”
“Well, we’re not sure what a solar panel is but we think we would like one, please.”
“I see. OK Lets start at the beginning. Now a solar panel converts light into electricity. It’s basically a battery charger that gets light from the sun. The efficiency of each panel is around 10 to 14% and is based on how much sunlight hits the panel and gets converted into electricity. IN some countries that may be an issue, but here in Spain on every square metre of earth falls 1.500 kilowatts of energy per year. More than any other EU country. Now, grants are available for the installation of up to 40% as well as an interest free loan. Are you still with me?”
“We certainly are, and I think we might have a couple of panels if there is a grant going!”
And so the discussion went on and on and on, getting increasingly technical.

The Rep wanted to know our daily watt consumption, the number of amp hours in a hypotenuse triangle and how many kilowatts it took to blend a gazpacho. I frowned a lot, pretended to calculate numbers on my fingers, jotted down a few fractions on a slip of paper and at last admitted:
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t have a clue as to what you are talking about! You see it s quite simple in my mind. We don’t need to run a fridge, as that’s gas. But we do have a one-horse power pump and an additional pump to run from the main deposit to the roof. We have a washing machine, lots of light bulbs and a 2-inch TV, oh and yes we would like a solar toaster if that possible too”.
The poor man stopped scribbling down my incoherent ramblings and looked at us both.
“Lets arrange a site visit shall we?”


Back home I paced and squinted under a perfect solar sky. No Rep had arrived, no word had been heard. No email, text message or telegram had landed in our buzon. All that energy up there and we were still using the generator. I flexed my shoulders, put on my face mask and went off to start up the generator: it was time to pump up some water. After 20 minutes of arm-wrenching pulls and no sparks I stood back, sweating and heaving and waving a prophetic finger at the cowering machine.
“Now, listen up” I began, babbling incomprehensively through the dust mask, “don’t take this as a threat, but I’d just like to point out that no-one is indispensable in this fossil fuel depleted world and that includes you my oily friend. Come on now - why make things difficult? If all goes well with this quote for solar power, you could be up for an early retirement……….” My little sermon on machine manners was interrupted when the mobile rang. It was our solar rep. He had sent an email estimate, so next time we were in town we could pick it up from a cyber-café. He apologised about the non-visit but had decided that he could give us a rough figure after all. Plus, he pointed out that because we lived so far out of town, it would have incurred an extra charge for the visit and so he was just thinking of us really. I kicked out at the generator before driving into town to pickup the estimate. We sat down in the cyber-café with a strong coffee and the email estimate. To supply our house with enough power to run the pump, washing machine, lights etc would set us back about 18.000 euros. I ditched the coffee and ordered a cognac. On a more positive note, with the grant we would only have to find about 12.000, still though about 4000 euros more than we had. Finally, I wasn’t convinced about qualifying for the grant having been refused an Eroski shopping card the previous week.
What, we wondered, if we were to buy smaller panels? Used fewer batteries? Bought just one panel now and another next year? What we realised we needed was not a whole system, but a sort of “Rice Crispies - collect the set” solar kit. It was doubtful that we were going to get this from an official dealer. Perhaps, we fantasised, could we build it ourselves? We had a screwdriver back home, and I did remember changing a fuse once on a dimmer switch. Would that be sufficient experience to install a solar system?.

Over the ensuing months we found out very little – apart from it would take more than my impressive tool set and limited electrical background to put it all together. I read all I could, but understood nothing. Ignorance, in this case was not proving blissful.


To counter our solar setback we bought a few garden lights powered by the sun and tried bringing them into the house at night to illuminate the room to read by. It was a rather dismal display. They would only provide sufficient
reading light if worn like a hat. A task requiring a Zen like stillness and a remarkably flat shaped head. I, sadly qualified on one count only.
Undeterred by this relatively small inconvenience, we invested in a solar torch (with rechargeable batteries) for those midnight bathroom excursions and a solar shower. This was essentially a black rubber bag filled with water and hung up in the sun to get warm. Simple but effective and the more we played with the idea of using the suns energy the more we realised that our personal as well as global future was inextricably linked to the sun as a source of power


But where were we to look from here? We were lost . So we stopped looking, and as is often the case when you stop looking – the answer inevitably comes looking for you.

THE WACKY ROUTE
We met a friend of a friend whose name was S.P. We never found out what the initials stood for, we guessed at Solar Peter, Solar Patrick and even Solar Panel but know one knew for certain and know one wanted to ask as SP was a big man, a big man with a passion and a mission. S. P. had recently moved to Spain and was looking - like many a new arrival - for a change in direction. Electrician by trade, he was tired of changing plugs and rewiring complete ruins for short term property speculators. When we spoke of our sad solar story his eyes shone like a pair of garden solar lamps at dusk.

“ Did you know that worldwide electricity consumption stands this year at about 14, 960 billion kilowatt hours? By 2020 its expected to rise to 22.000!”
“Eh, no I didn’t know that SP”
“From where will we get this extra power? From ever dwindling supplies of fossil fuels? I think not! The problem is that whole economies are based on these fuel sources. Hence we have global wars over oil. It’s a dangerous world out there, we each have to do what we can. Forget tapping into an antiquated electricity supply – produce your own with solar energy!”
“Well, if you say so SP”
“What you need is a customised solar system, one that you could add to as you earn more money, one that would get you started off right now. You would also need a water sensor - a thermo static flux circuit breaker with an MP3 neon vice grip - I might have one in the car actually! I could probably knock up a complete system for you in a couple of weeks if you like”
“Of course we would like SP, but what about watts and amps and all that?
“Oh I reckon a system to cover your needs is about 1.500kw, 3 panels, 6 batteries, inverter…. and before you say anything, remember that a 1.500kw system would prevent 225 lbs of coal from being mined, 430lbs of CO2 from entering the atmosphere and keep 160 gallons of water from being consumed EACH MONTH. Never forget that what you are buying is not a product, it’s a way of life. A shift from being a passive consumer to that of an active producer. And unlike coal, electricity or gas, I’m not going to run out on you.”
“He chuckled at his own joke. We chuckled as well because he was a lot bigger than either of us, but wasn’t sure what a passive consumer was. I only knew I didn’t like the sound of them.
“What about the grant forms and all that?”
“I could do it well under your quote even with a grant”

“No grant?”
“No need!”
“When did you say you could come?”

So he came; he installed in just over a day; and then he left. Since then he’s been back now and then to check all is ok, recommending a move to low energy bulbs, timer switches and a host of other wise words like: If the room is likely to be reused within 20 - 30 minutes - its better to leave the light on rather than turn it off and then back on again. Simple but useful advice for power producers like ourselves

So now our environment is fume free. My arm has recovered, my lungs are relieved and we have no electricity bills for the next 15 years. We now actively produce our own power and we have in the process stumbled across some valuable lessons:
1: Any meaningful journey is only ever as far - as you are from yourself.
2: Never kick a generator wearing just flip-flops
3. Beware lending a Sevillana employee your binoculars. (I haven’t seen mine to this day).
© Paul Read

The dust was a deep copper-red and settled like sunburnt dandruff on the tops of our feet. Through squinted vision we watched a bouncing Suzuki jeep containing the tearful seller of our house disappear in the distance. We waved cheerfully and turned to face our new home in a blissfully peaceful, but momentary ignorance. How were we to know? Our water pump had long since stopped pumping, an empty pool stood redundant and blue, and the once green garden was turning a concrete grey.




Water, was about to become a central issue in our lives. In a way it had always been so, but as we had lived a sheltered existence we were detached from such realities by town life. The following few months would take us on an aquatic voyage of discovery, frustration and enlightenment. Our enforced embarkation marked not only the start of our own path to “water-awareness”, but a realisation that not only arid Andalucia is suffering but that the planet as a whole has an unquenchable thirst. Water it seemed, was a valuable commodity and looks set to replace petrol as the currency of the 21st century.

As city dwellers buying a rural property, we had naively accepted the owner’s good word: ”Lots of water here. The pump needs a clean now and then. Never had a shortage in 20 years!” Looking into our depleted water deposit we couldn’t decide whether it was half full or half empty - we just knew that without a reliable water source our new home would be just a tad unliveable. Had we left it too late to check out the facts?

Statistics need not necessarily be dry. As animals that are 65% water we are constitutionally more soggy than solid. Perhaps we should therefore be more sensitive to the scarcity of water on our planet, but the figures would indicate otherwise. Over 97% of the world’s water slops about in the seas. The artic caps freeze up another 2%, which leaves just a fraction of 1% as fresh water available for you, me, my cat and the rest of the planet. Plenty for all you might say, only you’d be wrong.

Its not that water is running out, its just that each day there are more thirsty mouths looking to share it. A world population of 6 billion today is expected to reach 9 billion by the year 2050. That’s an awful lot of dry throats. From where will we get the extra water? Should we pay more for it or is it the one product that we should have as a right? And if it is a right, how come that some get it cheaper than others?

A Spanish context
Remember that 1% of the world’s water that is available to us? Well 70% of this amount is consumed by the agriculture industry at vastly subsidised prices. You could be paying up to fifty times what your agricultural neighbour is paying for the same cubic litre. The growing demands from this intensive industry has sparked a controversy in Spain over the last few years, culminating recently when the present government responded to the previous administrations River Ebro diversion plans.

The situation up until recently
The last government - the Partido Popular (PP)- attempted to introduce a plan to bring water from the River Ebro to the more arid regions of Valencia, Murcia and Almeria. This controversial plan was seen by opponents as kowtowing to the huge agricultural businesses on the coast and the powerful “concrete”- lobby within Spain (the construction and hydroelectric industries). The PP had planned to divert 1 billion cubic metres of water a year using an enormous pipeline that would carry water down to the coastal regions. It was also hoping to get European funding despite an EU directive ruling out water transfers from one area to another.

But it wasn’t just the EU that frowned upon the PP’s plans. In the town of Zaragoza, situated on the banks of the River Ebro, the local opposition staged a demonstration against the projected PP plan. 400.000 people in a town of650.000 marched in protest at seeing their water supply robbed from under there noses. They and others argued that Valencia and Murcia were Spain’s second and fourth fastest growing tourist regions in 2001 and that the water was clearly for more swimming pools and golf courses, as well feeding Spain’s huge agro business - highly polluting, often illegal greenhouses that hide exploitative work conditions for immigrant labourers beneath an ocean of plastic.

However before the plan could come to fruition, the PP were soundly removed from office in the March 2004 elections and were replaced by the PSOE ( Partido Socialista Obreros Espana) who had pledged to present an alternative plan.
The situation now
“ I want to announce a new politics of water, a politics that takes into consideration not just the economic, but the social and environmental value too…..”
Thus spoke the President of Spain during his inaugural speech to the Spanish Cortes and on the 2nd September 2004 the minister for Environment, Cristina Narbona, presented in Madrid the Govt plan to replace the Ebro pipe project with: Actuaciones para la Gestion y la Utilizacion del Agua. (AGUA). In place of pipelines and river diversions the PSOE opted not only for new desalination plants, but for the amplification of existing plants, the modernisation of existing irrigation systems, and the conservation and re-utilisation of water:

“This plan will allow every citizen to come to know and to understand better the politics of water, and to act in a more responsible way”.

This was indeed a far cry from the “concrete lobby” politics of the previous administration. Here was a cabinet minister attempting to not just answer the water needs of the coastal regions, but to promote a consciousness about water scarcity and the ecological debates surrounding the issues. As a symbol of the new administrations policy, the government publicised the arguments on a web page: www.mma.es/agua in which not only can you learn in detail of the government plans, but voice your opinions via a questionnaire, that we are told will be taken into account over the ensuing parliamentary debates. True participatory democracy or just a propaganda exercise? One thing looks certain though, unlike the PP plan, this looks likely to get the EU funding of approx 33%.


Pumping paranoia
Meanwhile, back at the farm, we had decided that the deposit was in fact half full and that the problem was a mere technical one concerning the water pump electrics. Our water pump stood at 300m behind the house at the bottom of a barranco. The well itself was just under the surface of the ground, exploiting the underground stream that falls gently between hills behind the house. We were lucky to have water so near the surface.

When we started to research information about pumps and drilling we discovered a curious fact: in India during the 1950’s there were fewer than 100.000 motorised pumps in use, now there are about 20 million. Fears abound that underground reservoirs are running out. This led us to look a little closer to home and we found out that in Malaga the average drilling depth for new wells is 100metres and that there is an estimated 10.000 illegal wells in the province. If there are 10.000 illegal wells, how many legal ones are there? What could all these pumps be for? Intensive agriculture, hotels, apartments, water parks, private swimming pools and of course the ever controversial golf courses that, according to statistics, one club alone during one year can consume the equivalent to that of a town of 12.000 people.

Whilst we pondered the possibility of yet more desertification sparked by an unhindered tourist industry, we set about attempting to repair the pump. It would take a while as we are mechanically inept and so to pass the time and in order to conserve as best as possible the little water we still had, we decided to implement a water plan of our own. First was the drinking water problem.


Clause 1: Drinking Water:

Five minutes drive up the road was a “fuente” that locals talked excitedly about: “Healthiest water for miles…and doesn’t cost a duro……look at old toothless Paco over there, 158 this year, doesn’t eat at all, not necessary, just drinks the fountain water its that good!” This was the sort of comment we heard often but had not until now an excuse to visit the fabled fountain of youth.
So up we drove with our empty 8 litre plastic bottles. This was a practice we had accustomed ourselves to, after living in a small pueblo in Castille and Leon where despite the presence of running water in all households, locals would gather at the main fountain with bottles in hand in order to take back good drinking water and the latest juicy bit of town gossip. However our fountain was on a deserted patch of mountain road. Good for parking but sadly lacking in local gossip. So we talked amongst ourselves. I was of the opinion that toothless Paco looked rather sprightly for just 158, and was convinced I had seen him tucking into that slaughtered pig at last year’s fiesta. Had we been told a porky? And if so should we be drinking this water? Where was everyone else? Did they drink the dreaded tap water? It was fact finding time again.

FACT 1. COST: Bottled mineral water is 1000 times more expensive than tap water.
FACT 2. WASTE: Water is used in the production of plastic bottles for mineral water and fossil fuel energy is used in the transport and storage of bottled water on supermarket shelves
FACT 3. CONTAMINATION: On the 8th October 2004 Brussels released the list of the most contaminating businesses in Europe. Of the worst 73, five businesses were located in Andalucia. The first of these is a company in Malaga that produces soft drinks and mineral water.

However, using your local fountain however helps to recycle plastic bottles and helps you to be conscious of the availability and quality of water.
It’s also a simple and social thing to do (when not on deserted mountain roads) and that’s important in an era when simple and social are eschewed for the complex and individual.

Clause 2: GREY WATER

The second clause in our water conservation plan involved the re-use of house water for irrigation. This water is called grey water, one suspects because of its not too attractive colour. Grey water is water taken from the shower, sink or washing machine and re-directed to irrigate the land. Obviously one has to be careful of the chemicals that get added to this mixture but it was a huge help in conserving the water that we had and ensuring the land got a percentage at least of what it deserved. It occurred to us that if there were grants for solar power, subsidies for farmers to grow crops that are in excess of EU demand, then where was the assistance and encouragement for using grey water? One survey in Australia found that up to 140 litres a day in the average household could be recycled this way.

Clause 3: Earth banks
Our final clause consisted of building earth banks around the non-drought proof plants in order to retain the water. This not only cut down hugely on irrigation water but also made each plant look very cute in its own little bowel of earth. These would also serve later as fine containers for mulch that reduced further the moisture loss from the ground.

And thus we survived our minor drought. Our parched planet though, we were forced to recognise, remained somewhat dehydrated. Though the present government is showing a laudable willingness to tackle some of these problems there still remains a desperate need to tax water in a more consistent way that may help resolve the neglect of outdated piping. Take for example the market gardening area around Valencia. Farmers here are charged on the amount of land they irrigate so water losses through bad pipes (between 20 and 40%) are often ignored.

There is still the question of tourist demands on water (pools and golf courses) as well as the protection of natural habitats: in the year 2000 on protected areas in Murcia over 3000 hectares of irrigated land was created. How is this possible and why have the authorities not fined this encroachment?

Finally, the trend for converting rural land from secano (dry) to riego (irrigated) in order to carve up smaller building plots to sell off at exorbitant prices has become endemic along the Mediterranean coast. A realistic view of what is happening and measures taken to restrict such practices by the property speculators is long overdue, both by local and provincial authorities who are prone to turn a blind eye where money is concerned.

Conservation and the construction industry, it appears, just don’t go hand in hand. Answers therefore have to be political as water is just too important a business to be left to business. Whether we are referring to intensive irrigation, building plots, swimming pools or golf courses, whether we drink mineral, bottled, spring or the humble tap variety we need to understand the language of conservation – one language even us foreigners should have to learn.

© Paul Read

3 simple steps to agricultural enlightenment
By Paul Read

Lets try and be positive about this. Gorse can provide a useful sanctuary for some animals and birds, I’ve seen toads and wasps for example happily co-existing within this hardy plant. Its presence, one has to admit prevents soil erosion in places that perhaps few other plants would grow. And it provides the rocky dry valley slopes of Granada’s coastal strip with a pleasant green appearance. But, alas this is about as positive as I can be because I have almost 10.000sqm of the stuff, and for me, that’s 10.000sqm too much. It has completely overtaken the abandoned olive farm that I´ve just acquired. So much so, that in places the stuff is taller than I am. So thick and impenetrable is the gorse that most of the land is inaccessible. The olives are slowly stranguled, whilst the encinas and alcornoques, the pines and wild palms fight daily for access to sunlight. And down at ground level where no light can enter, almost nothing else survives. So I sought a solution to the problem, and in the 3-step process I came across a little enlightenment.




STEP 1. Vehicle power:

At the beginning I consulted my older and wiser neighbours about the problem: “ Get in a man and a digger and it’ll be clear in a day or two,” advised one. “It’ll cost mind you, but there’s no other way”. But I had seen what these machines could do. Another neighbour had recently cleared land for a new road, and in the wake of the noisy machine everything was removed, the struggling olives and oaks, the wild lavender and thyme and most sadly of all was the demolition of the old stone walling that supported the ancient terraces hidden beneath the jungle of gorse. And once the machine had upped and gone, the gorse had been left in heaps amongst soil and rock at the side of the road. This seemed a fire hazard as well as slovenly work. There had to be another way.

STEP 2:
.
.

Mobile machinery: Instead of getting in a digger we borrowed a powerful petrol driven strimmer with a deadly looking blade attachment that looked like a giant Ninja’s shuriken. Just looking at this machine got me excited - lean, mean and ready to discriminate between weeds and walls. However the recommended uniform proved not so attractive. A welders facemask, cycling helmet, gloves, boots and the obligatory blue boiler suit. Fortunately I wasn’t expecting visitors that day. I donned the many layers and enthusiastically got to work. I calculated that about 2 or three weeks of effortless strimming and happy whistling whilst I worked would clear the bulk of the land.
After 2 hours my hands were numb with the vibration of the machine. My ears were ringing with the sound of the engine. My entire body was sweating profusely and vibrating even though the machine was now switched off. My face mask had steamed up long ago and I could no longer make out where I was, what I was cutting down or even on whose land I had indeed been cutting. I had disturbed numerous wasps nests (they were not amused) and been bitten by every insect small enough to be able to creep up my trouser leg, sleeve or face mask. In the madness that consumes you when the adrenalin flows and cutting fever grips, the machine failed to discriminate between large stalks of gorse and young oak, pine and even olives attempting to break through to the surface. I had chopped off a number of small struggling trees, lavender bushes and palms and I felt guilty. Was the steamed up mask to blame or my blind enthusiasm to clear the land? And how much land had I indeed cleared over the two hours? No more than perhaps 10sqm! At this rate it would take 2000 hours to clear the land! At 4 hours a day that’s 500 days! I wasn’t sure I could borrow the machine for that long.

And how efficiently was the land cleared? Looking back over the metres of ground I had cleared, the stalks of the gorse were still there where the slope of the ground had prevented me from cutting close - and everywhere there were random piles of the stuff drifting about. I would have to go back over it all with some hand tool. Then there was the noise and petrol pollution to take into account and whether my bones could cope with another 1998 shuddering hours. Overall not a very satisfactory method.
Step two had indeed brought me nearer my goal, though I think that the light was still some way away in the proverbial poly-tunnel. It would take several madder machine moments before the simple and the obvious would present themselves to me. Like most of the more profound lessons we learn in life, proximity to the problem only obscures the answer.

STEP 3: Back to basics:

Forced to return the machine after two weeks of crazed cutting I had a convenient break to sit back and review the problem. There still remained over 99% of land untouched. Perhaps not all of it needed to be cut? Perhaps I should concentrate on just reaching the trees and releasing them from their spiny prisons? If, as I worked my way through I could change direction as and when I came across a species I wanted to keep, surely that would be a better way to proceed? But how and with what tool? Enter the long-handled cutters: Silent, light weight, no special masks, no petrol fumes or blue clothes and with these cutters you can reach right into the bush, snip from the ground at the main trunk of the plant and haul it to one side. Instead of hacking blindly through every stem and branch of each plant, select the main trunk only and hey presto! Up comes an entire bush each time. Toss it to one side and move on. After a couple of hours I had managed to cut a path between several trees. I wasn’t sweating, nor had I accidentally cut down anything I wanted to keep. Ok, I wouldn’t clear the whole lot before lunch, but at least this way it was enjoyable, I thought about what I was doing, and I noticed and learnt about the things I worked alongside - the spiders and the toads, the preying mantis and the lizards. All could be encouraged to move, rather than dismembered and spun off into the air in a thousand fragments.

Had I reached enlightment?

Not just yet. And so work continued at a slow but thoughtful pace. Asking one neighbour what to do with the cuttings he said lob them onto another neighbours land or onto the “parque natural” that borders two sides of us. Such advice was beginning to tire me a little. Where were the wise old men of romantic Mediterranean novels with scrunched up paper faces and words of wisdom pouring forth from their leathery lips? Still, I was determined to do something other than just lob the residue onto my neighbours land. The cuttings could be kept and mulched down over the year, provided they were kept weighed down. (A lesson well learnt after a many windy night and the following morning spent scouring the hills collecting up the tangled bushes out of my neighbours olive trees). And the fine thick stems can be cut off and kept as firewood for the log burning stove…

Where the ground has been left with a slight covering of this broken down material, new growth is now coming thorough (and very few gorse, so few that they can be snipped or even pulled up by hand as they are spotted). There are now wild palms, wild grape, lavender, thyme, star clover, wild pea, fennel and mint and this is just 8 months later.

And thus to enlightenment.
1. The more you know the less you learn.
2. Less haste, more speed.
3. Beware the presence of leathery lips.



© Paul Read

When the Riotinto fire devastatingly destroyed 27,839 hectares this year in just 63 hours the newspapers were again filled with speculative stories of how it began, why it was started and where, if anywhere the finger of blame should be pointed. Almost immediately one man was denounced by a neighbour and arrested for having started the blaze. After a month in jail, he was released on bail and one of the national newspapers interviewed him. In the interview he said, perhaps unsurprisingly, that he was innocent and that the Guardia Civil had picked on him because he had a criminal record. He went on to say that because the fire had started from a number of different points, spread over several kilometers, it would not have been physically possible for him to have been in all these places at the same time. His version was that it was a group of arsonists that had started the Riotinto fire - and several other fires in neighbouring provinces - and were doing so for financial and other reasons. What, I wondered could these reasons be?





The subject, literally was very close to home. In the last 20 years at least 4 forest fires have swept the hills around my house. The last, just 5 years ago, burnt all the olive trees, encinas, alcornoques and what was then a beautiful Mediterranean pine forest that tumbled down the valley slopes to the front door of my house. At least that’s what all my neighbours told me, for I only acquired the place 18 months ago.


“Majestic, ancient olive trees” they would individually recall with a sadness in their voices as their eyes scanned over the pitiful stalks of the new trees growing up out from the burnt fingers of the old branches. Were these dark and wizened fingers pointing accusingly at someone? For it wasn’t just the trees that suffered: the biodiversity of the area becomes diminished; carbon stored by trees is released into the atmosphere and the risk of erosion increases significantly on such hilly slopes. Fires were definitely bad things, but weren’t fires just an inevitable part of the countryside in summer? Surely all these were not intentional?

According to the “Junta de Andalucia” figures from 2002 there were 1.175 fires during the year throughout the 8 Provinces. 32.2 % were intentional, another 32 % were the result of negligent actions, 12 % were accidental, 20 % were of unknown causes and 3.4% were of natural causes. This meant that 96% of all the fires were caused by man. This was a frightening figure. It suggested that nature herself was not to blame.
I asked my neighbour what had caused the last fire in the valley. His gaze shifted and his shoulders twitched: “ Nunca se sabe” he replied, “ It could have been a broken bottle left on the ground, a discarded cigarette, an uncontrolled burning of “matorral”.”
It seemed to me a lame excuse to just shrug ones shoulders and accept the inevitability of such things. I knew for example that the burning of agricultural waste was, technically lat least, a very controlled practice: Earlier in the year I had approached the local town hall for permission to burn “matorral” and had been told that as my land bordered a nature park (by this I supposed he meant the rocky bare valley walls that played host to scrub and decomposing burnt pines) I would need written permission from Medio Ambiente and could only apply for such permission from the beginning of November (Burning begins in earnest from October locally). So I reapplied in November and in time a personal visit from Medio Ambiente confirmed that indeed I did have lots to burn and that permission would be granted. It arrived the end of December and gave us just two months to get it all done. The first day we started to burn a helicopter appeared above us several times before eventually departing. This was an impressive display of supervision - or so I believed at the time.

There are many rules regarding the burning of matorral. Particularly regarding the “horario” - from sun up to 2pm, and only on weekdays. Never after 2pm or on weekends nor fiestas. Finally, that the site of the burning must be supervised for at least 2 hours after the burning has stopped (in case the wind should catch the fire and bring it back alive again).


We observed to the letter such conditions. Meanwhile our neighbours continued to burn as they had done since the beginning of October. When one day I summoned enough courage to ask one of them if he had applied for permission too, he gave me that “I’m a serious farmer and I don’t need to apply for such things look”. His land bordered the nature park too but this didn’t seem to bother him. “ If you know what you are doing, there is no danger” he claimed. Then, leaving his 3 or four fires still smouldering took off in his 4x4.

Behind our house, high up on the mountain peaks sits a Guardia Forestal building, that in theory is in use 24 hrs a day to ensure that any illegal fires are spotted and reported quickly. So when, last winter a fire broke out on the hill opposite us where a farmer was burning his cuttings and directly in front of the Observation hut, we waited secure in the knowledge that relevant authorities were being informed and were at that moment hurtling towards us with extinguishing equipment at hand. 10 mins later, and no appearance. We could see above the blaze a farmer working his land. He looked undisturbed. He was too far away for us to call him. Worried, we phoned the Guardia to report the fire. 15 minutes later a lone Guardia Civil vehicle turned up to watch the fire as it slowly extinguished itself upon reaching a recently terraced, and therefore vegetation free, patch of land. Meanwhile the farmer had lit another pile of cuttings to burn and carried on ignoring the presence of the Guardia. After 20 mins they left.
But what about the observation hut? I later read in an Interview in EL Pais on 4th August 2004, Diego Canamero of the Sindicato de Obreros de Campo said:“ Of the 231 observation towers in Andalucia only 50% are in use”.

“You got to remember, one of the problems now is the state of the land,” said our neighbour the next time he visited.” Once upon a time we would all clear the land of old wood for our fires, now it’s left to rot. Now the hills are abandoned, and where replantation has taken place, before it was eucalyptus and now its pines. These trees are no good. They are no help”.

What did he mean, ”these trees were no good”. What’s good or bad about a tree? Surely a tree is just a tree. You couldn’t blame the trees could you?

Well it appears that some trees have become adapted to fires, like the serotin pines of Mediterranean pinewood (P. halepensis, P. pinea, and P. pinaster). Also, several species have a remarkable capacity to sprout after fire, like Holm oak (Q. ilex) or kermes oak (Q. coccifera), or the resistance of the bark of the cork oak (Q. suber) to fire. But other Pines and particularly the eucalyptus, which was introduced in Spain in the 70’s as part of a repopulation policy, have become fire hazards across the whole country.
In an interview with El Pais after the Riotinto fire, Vincente Mans, co-ordinator for the Asociacion Espanola de Sociedades de Proteccion contra Incendios ( Aespi) said that 68% of the forest was eucalyptus, containing a lot of resin. “ If the temperature is high and the humidity low, then the resin becomes very inflammable”. Once upon a time the trees were worked and a derivative was extracted from the trunks. However only 20% of the trees are now worked, as it’s cheaper to import the stuff from plantations in Brazil. As a result many plantations were abandoned and the resins stay in the tree as potential flammable contents.

So it appeared that you could blame the trees. But still, whatever trees are planted they still have to catch fire. What was it that was causing the fires in the first place?
There appeared to be certain climatic conditions that increased the likelihood of fires. According to the Junta there is Factor 30 to take into account: temperature more than 30%, humidity less than 30 % and winds over 30kph. If these three conditions are present at the same time then……watch out. But these figures just describe the potential conditions that could contribute to fires starting. What is it that actually starts them?

Well, there is the weekend cortijero that decides to use a lighter rather than a hoe to clean the land. Its quick and cheap and less labour intensive. Once done the land is ready to be worked and additionally has a nice amount of burnt ash mixed into the soil too.
Then there is the illegal burning (without permission) of agricultural waste that gets out of hand. (The Bodijar fire in Granada 2 years ago is a sad example of this).

Then there is the accident - the metal blade strimmer that catches a stone and causes a spark - (Seville this year), or the intentional - property speculators that purchase and then abandon the land as they await the price rises and the interests of developers. Or finally the arsonist that wishes to re-classify land use and secretly sets fire to it.
Whatever the reasons, a planned response and effective defence of the forests are clearly in need. This is no emotional plea for a greener Spain. Forests oxygenate the planet. They attract and hold water. They combat soil erosion and fight the desertification of Spain. They play important role in protecting the bio-diversity of life. Finally, with important countries like Russia at last backing the Kyoto targets, Spain has less an excuse to fall behind with its obligations in reducing contaminating emissions. Some of the required methods for making such reductions are politically sensitive and therefore have become a somewhat sticky issue. One solution is too invest in the repopulation of forests with indigenous species. One hectare of forest consumes 20 tonnes of CO2 in one year.


With such global importance to the environment, the worrying spread of forest fires is an issue that politically as well as socially needs greater attention. Education seems one answer, but cannot address the greed and laziness of land misuse. Perhaps the Junta, after the Riotinto blaze, may investigate in a little more depth what measures can be adopted to stop such fires from happening in the first place. An investigation well overdue.
© Paul Read