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Spain's 135-year-old scenic British train line through 'bandit country'

Mr Henderson's Railway takes passengers on valor de cada carta no pokera scenic journey from the Bay of Gibraltar through the stunning Andalusian countryside – and Spain's brigand past.

As I stepped aboard Mr Henderson's Railway in the Spanish city of Algeciras, the sun's rays pierced through the branches of juniper trees, and we chugged away from the glittering Bay of Gibraltar. The three-carriage retro British train soon trundled over the Guadiaro river, and cork forests framed the green-and-ochre patchwork fields as we wound our way north into the heart of Andalusia.

You can purchase tickets for Mr Henderson's Railway here. Three trains a day travel between Algeciras and Bobadilla. One-way tickets cost €18.70 and round-trip tickets cost €29.90.

Two hundred years after the British invented the modern railway, this Victorian-era line, launched in 1892, still weaves its way between mainland Europe's southernmost rail station in Algeciras, through the stunning Serranía de Ronda region to its terminus in Bobadilla. During the three-hour journey the diesel-powered carriages slowly climb the single track to nearly 800m above sea level while journeying through 16 tunnels and across 20 bridges. The route offers passengers up-close views of rural Andalusian pueblos blancos (white hill towns) and undulating countryside, seamlessly reconnecting travellers with the golden age of train travel.

Gibraltar's strategic location at the western entrance of the Mediterranean has long lured overseas powers, including the British. After Spain ceded "The Rock" to Britain in 1713, the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 increased the headland's strategic importance. But in order to propel Gibraltar from a provisioning port to a major international trade hub, the British needed to build a railroad to carry goods from their overseas territory into Spain and the rest of Europe.

There was only one problem: a Spanish royal decree stated that the British couldn't connect a train line from Gibraltar onto Spanish soil.

An ingenious solution was proposed: by starting the rail line in the Spanish industrial port city of Algeciras, passengers and goods could easily be ferried between the two ports. This new train line would also provide a better means of transportation through Andalusia for Spanish residents. What's more, British residents and military officers stationed on The Rock would also now have a way to escape Gibraltar's sweltering summer heat.

To lure holidaymakers, the British built the Reina Cristina hotel near the port at Algeciras to provide plush accommodation for officers and their families. The colonial-style hotel is still in operation and attracted naval and garrison officers, as well as merchants en route to India and the Far East.

"There is a very special connection between the railway and the hotel," said Julie Duran, the hotel's assistant manager. In addition to many British servicemen whose north-bound trips started at the Reina Cristina, Duran noted that a veritable who's-who of distinguished guests stayed over the years – from King Alfonso XIII of Spain to Orson Welles.

"Winston Churchill was here too," Duran added. "The hotel is very important for everyone associated with Algeciras. I'd describe it as British with a Spanish influence."

According to local historian Roberto Godino Hurtado, the line is named for the 19th-Century British railway financier, Sir Alexander Henderson, who backed the engineer John Morrison when the Spanish government granted his company permission to construct the railway.

Previous attempts by other companies had failed. One of the main challenges was that 19th-Century Andalusia was notorious for banditry; the dense forests and mountainous outcrops provided ideal sanctuaries for highwaymen to hide and exploit, and the only safe way to travel was by sea. But in 1844, the Guardia Civil – the national rural Spanish police force – was founded to put a stop to brigandage on the country's roadways. Their presence along the developing route helped discourage highway raids and over the course of three years, Morrison and his team were able to finish the railway, inaugurating the final section in November 1892. The new railway now provided a far safer way to cross the countryside; trains – faster, larger, connected by telegraph – were naturally harder to rob than stagecoaches and mules.

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More than a century later, the bandits have vanished, but the legacy of the line named after Henderson remains. As I continued my journey, I saw the early evening haze in the sky through the carriage windows give way to oak and chestnut treetops on either side of the track. Passing between vast landscapes, bales of hay punctuated the farmers' fields, while thorny trackside brambles were swept aside as the train trundled along. Today, the original Victorian cars and clickety-clack of the steam locomotive has been replaced with the low hum of modern, comfortable air-conditioned carriages, but the stunning views remain.

When we reached Gaucín station, a handful of passengers alighted to make the 7m hike through wild olive and fig trees to the spectacular Ca?ón de las Buitreras (Vultures' Canyon), a more-than 100m-high limestone gorge carved by the Guadiaro river. As they stepped off the train, the hikers were greeted by a stationmaster, one of several posted at the route's various stations. Dressed in a Victorian period-inspired buttoned-up navy jacket, red cap and flag with a whistle in hand, he told the train driver when it was safe to push on.

I decided to hop off myself two stops later at Jimera de Líbar station, whose whitewashed stone, arched windows and yellow casing oozed Andalusian style. Bar Allioli sits a few yards from the platform, and chatting to its owner Jose Antonio Pérez Moreno, I learnt that the station of Jimera de Líbar is not actually situated in its eponymous village. "They used the river valley to build the railway, because of the steep slopes," said Pérez Moreno, explaining how the difficult rocky terrain of the village meant that the line had to be constructed two kilometres away, where the gradient is flat and would allow the track to be laid.

After a couple of ca?as (beers), I boarded the next train, and the three carriages promptly chugged away from the platform. When we stopped at the town of Ronda thirty minutes later, I noticed some of the Victorian-style features still remained at the station; the original iron wall bracket used for the platform lamps and the switch levers to change track alignments giving a regal nod to its British heritage.

We pushed on and the landscape levelled out, giving way to expansive vistas. It was easy to envisage how the remote mountainsides with their rocky outcrops and dense areas of vegetation would have provided shelter for the bandits of the past. Now, in safer times, the train trundles between the dense hideaways of olive groves and lemon trees, allowing passengers to take in the views.

It is said that time passes slowly in Andalusia – a pace gladly embraced by this nostalgic train journey through a land that once lived in fear of brigands.

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