There is a legend that somewhere in the heart of Andalucia, within the area of Alhaurin el Grandé; the town where the English writer, Gerald Brenan, spent so much of his life; there is a secret valley which had a sinister past. Here, during World War II, it is said that members of the Nazi High Command went to relax and to ‘get away from it all’; and it was that here the Axis leaders, Hitler and Mussolini, met to discuss their war strategy. Of course there are no official records, at least not available on public access, and the whole matter is shrouded in secrecy. Local rumour also whispers that there was a restaurant by a roundabout between Alhaurin and Coin where the high-ranking German officials sometimes met together in the early 1940s.

There is really only one location that this description could fit and it is pure film set countryside. Wooded and picturesque, small clusters of low white-washed buildings with terracotta tiled roofs on two sides of the roundabout, and on the hillside above a crenellated and towered construction, reminiscent of Transylvania, which would have done Dracula proud as his summer castle retreat.

This location can be reached by taking the A3108 (well it was in March 2007, but the Spanish are renumbering a lot of their roads) towards Alhaurin off the N340 a few km west of the turn for Mijas just outside Fuengirola. The road winds up into the hills and then turns to the northwest towards Coin. Two or three km before the roundabout there is a sign pointing to a place called Barrancoblanco eastwards of the same road.

Barrancoblanco, the white gully or the white valley. Except that no valley was obvious. Nor was much else. The land seemed to be level and rather featureless. However around a slight bend there were a pair of large gateposts guarded by a stocky Bavarian style watch tower and guardrooms. The top of the terracotta roofed watch tower gives stunning views of the surrounding countryside and the guardrooms were for obviously intended for long watches. There was a living area with the remains of a fireplace; a tiny kitchen; a toilet; and at least one other small room which could have been used as a sleeping room or for storing ammunition.

Beyond the gates of the watchtower the road began to slope downwards. About a kilometre further on there was a large pair of inner gates through which the stony track began to descend more steeply. The track twisted and turned for at least another couple of kilometres before levelling out. The bottom of the valley was very secluded and hidden from the view of anyone or anything above. The narrow track, shielded by groves of bamboo wound its way through the contours of the land. Solitary orange trees stood alongside at intervals. The oranges were ripe but not very sweet.

The track ended in the heart of the valley close to some circular grey stone steps which led to a kind of raised patio area. Close by were the remains of what had once been quite a large building, rather more functional than Transylvanian stylewise it has to be admitted. Much of what had been the walls of two sides were still standing; the rest seemed to have been reduced to rubble. There were traces of what might once have been formally laid out gardens. The remoteness and the silence were almost eerie.

The only way out was the way in and reversing the car wasn’t easy. About halfway back was a small junction, missed on the descent. This track led upwards on the other side of the valley. Presumably this was another way into, or out of, the hidden valley. There was a single turning off this track. It led down to a small cul-de-sac which ran along the back of some impressive detached properties with large gardens. A neat sign board proclaimed the name of the cul-de-sac as Willi Mertz Strasse and a German flag fluttered gently from a pole in one of the gardens.

The main track now rose quite steeply and a little further on there was a basic stone built sentry box by the side of the road, barely large enough for two people to sit side by side. The track then levelled off through extensive woodlands and travelled for another kilometre or so before rejoining the ‘main’ road.

Secret valley? Nazi retreat? Hitler’s bolt hole? Or just a quiet mostly deserted Andalucian valley? Perhaps it was once just someone’s estate, gated to keep out animals and trespassers? But then why the elaborate security measures? Bavarian watch towers and sentry posts are not common in Andalucia. What was the large building hidden in the valley? It did not seem to be in typical Spanish style. And what about the legend and the rumours? There is usually a grain of truth in folklore. Somewhere.