The magic of Molino

THERE are lemons on the line, but that's not a problem. It would take more than a few fallen fruits to delay the 7.15am from Granada to Algeciras.

Speeding through the Spanish countryside, its driver mindful of a refund pledge if it runs late, it is on track to carry us from the mountain hamlet of Benaojan Estacion to the village of Jimera de Libar, seven minutes away.

It will take two hours to walk back through landscape so lush it's a toss-up between admiring it and avoiding death by watching where we step. To our left is a shudderingly long drop, but distracting us from that is a 360-degree panorama that is like something out of central casting: rampant wild flowers, mountain peaks and a rushing river. Cue birdsong. And a tree-climbing goat.

You couldn't make that up.

This is not the parched Spain we've seen in spaghetti westerns but its opposite: the stunning Grazalema Natural Park, a world away from the high-rise bustle of the costas.

This place has taken us totally by surprise – and we are not just smitten but in love.

It's impossible not to be, as Guernseyman Andy Chapell and his partner Pauline Elkin discovered 22 years ago.

She and the former Elizabeth College pupil were working as teachers in Southampton when wanderlust struck.

Sunshine and a 'lurking love' of the country drew them to Spain, where they spent school holidays searching for somewhere to settle.

Advised to investigate the mountains of southern Andalucia, they were initially put off by the thought of the heat. 'But someone said that Ronda was beautiful,' said Pauline, 'and when I saw it I thought: "Paradise".'

Two decades on, she still thinks it, every day. The small hotel that she and Andy own and run has just won the latest of a string of awards – it is one of travel website Tripadvisor's Best Hidden Gems in Europe and a worldwide Best Bargain Hotel.

'It was almost Third World here at the time,' said Pauline, recalling the summer of 1986. 'There were no estate agencies. You'd stop at a village and ask at the local bar whether anything was for sale. It was all very sociable – and very, very slow.'

Told by someone that the mill was for sale, when she and Andy set eyes on it they knew instantly. 'We thought: "This is it. We've found it."'

The owner was a Texan called Fred, who lived in the only two habitable rooms. He was 80 and had bought it from miller Santo, so-called because of his big white beard.

Fred wanted to go home to America, and invited the couple to stay. 'That was brilliant,' said Pauline, 'because it gave us time to think, "do we really want to live here?" And we thought, "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"'

They couldn't afford the place. Banks laughed when they asked for a loan, but Fred was happy to strike a private agreement and they paid him bit by bit.

Pauline and Andy went back to school to resign and moved to their molino that Christmas.

'Of course, it was fantasy,' said Pauline. 'Idealistic. But we were 30 and it was the right moment to have an adventure. We said: "We'll give it three years".'

A Spanish graduate, she had the language and an eye for decor. Andy was brilliant with finance, and a business partner, no longer involved, was good at the building side. 'We all brought different skills. Financially, we had to. We were spending much, much more than we'd thought.'

Locals rallied round, dropping in food, vegetables – even chickens. And the mill had come with an extra: a goatherd who lived opposite. 'Paco came with the property. Now he's our maintenance man, and he's a genius. He knows this site inside out. We had no staff, but we did have Paco.'

Their plans never included running a hotel. 'We expected to do something a bit simpler, more of a house party,' Pauline explained. 'It was totally rural here and we'd do whatever guests wanted to do – walking, wild flowers, birdwatching.'

Molino del Santo opened in June 1987 with a full house.

'Lovely converted watermill in Andalucia', read the Sunday Times small ads, the only form of marketing. 'We made a little brochure and we'd send it out by post. And people booked – it was all very easy. We knew nothing about running a hotel, we just made it up as we went along.'

Disaster struck almost immediately. Before they could open they needed a gas certificate. But they hadn't banked on Spanish bureaucracy and on the day the first guests were due to arrive, there was no sign of it. 'At the last minute, we were completely defeated by gas.'

Pauline will never forget the panic. Guests were hastily booked into a hotel in a neighbouring village, where they slept at night, and she and Andy ran a shuttle service to Molino del Santo each day.

And there were plenty of other glitches. 'The first night they ate here, everyone unexpectedly ordered white wine. In those days wine in Spain was red – white wine was sherry. I crawled out so no one could see me and managed to buy a few bottles of revolting white in the village. It was a real Fawlty Towers moment.'

Things couldn't be more different today. The hotel has up to 28 staff – all Spanish, most of them local – and there are 18 rooms, a restaurant, a function room and vibrant decor that sits surprisingly well with the retained millstone and original fireplace. Yet the house party feel remains.

'We're good at advising people what to do and where to go. We get a real mixture, depending on the seasons – this area is really famous for wild flowers and we get walkers, serious ones, as well as people who like strolling and having picnics.'

Birdwatching is another draw – there are breeding colonies of griffon vultures in the mountains – and so is fishing.

'It's precisely because of that that I love it,' said Pauline. 'You never know who's going to walk through the door. I enjoy seeing the transformation in people. They arrive and they are stressed, but give them an evening in this environment...'

The location is an obvious plus, but it's not the whole story.

That's more about these two and the magic they've woven. Guests return time after time for more of it, many of them Spaniards – and Guerns. Pauline, a keen cook, brings in ideas for the restaurant menu, which uses produce that is organic, locally-sourced and seasonal. In summer, tables on the terrace are shaded by willow and fig trees, and everywhere there is the soundtrack of rushing water.

The source of the river that fuelled the mill for hundreds of years is a few metres upstream. Fed by a massive subterranean lake system deep in the mountains, it runs right alongside the garden. 'That's what I first hear when I arrive,' said Pauline. 'And I think, "Ah ... I'm home".'

The girls were born and brought up in Spain and went to a local school before moving to Bristol Grammar. And the arrangement works well. 'For us, the difficulty was sorting out where home was,' said Pauline. 'I feel more Andalucian than English – in England I am a foreigner.

'I speak the language and know the culture but there's that 20-year gap.'

She casts an eye around the gardens of this stunning place, created by Moors but lovingly restored to useful life by her and by Andy. Just as I snap my notebook shut, a griffon vulture soars overhead.

'Yes,' says Pauline. 'Without a shadow of a doubt, home is here.'

www.molinodelsanto.com