The next day, long before the sun had risen, the Gypsies were up and preparing for the ten kilometre journey into Ubeda. Working by torchlight, they harnessed horses and loaded small wagons with food and water. When the size of each work party was known, these previsions would be distributed accordingly.

 local traders were beginning to arrange their stalls. The Gypsies moved towards a decorative  fountain, which was covered in a fine sheet of ice.  As they arrived there, they were met by a group of local landowners eager to select their work-force and begin the harvest. The selection process was simple. Each Patrono would call the number of workers he required. The appointed Gypsy gangers would then detail off this number. Food and water would then be distributed, according to the size of the group. After receiving their provision, the Gypsies would then follow their employer, with whom they would be working for the next three months.

  Of all the harvests that the Gypsies undertook, they considered the olives the most gruelling and the most uncomfortable. Their working day started well before the sun rose in the heavens, when they would rise and make their way to the fields. For many it could include a twenty-kilometre journey through treacherous icy tracks with only a flaming torchlight to guide their way. By the time faint streaks of light appeared in the sky, the Gypsies were already in the fields awaiting their Patrono. His arrival was the signal to start the day’s toil. With no time wasted, they set about their tasks.

  First the donkeys would be unloaded of all the equipment needed. This included large wooden sticks called Barra`s. Made from hickory, the Barra`s themselves varied in size from two to four metres. They were hard enough to withstand the constant pounding against leaf and branch, yet flexible enough to use in whip-like motion for knocking off olives in difficult locations.

  All day long they would be swinging their barra`s, beating the fruit off the trees and onto the nets below. The nets themselves were five metres long by five wide. Made from finely woven, yet extremely tough hemp netting, they were placed carefully around the bottom of each tree. As the barra's pounded against leaf and branch, the olives rained down safely on the nets. After one tree was emptied of its fruit, the nets would then be dragged to the next. After four or five trees had been stripped, the men would fold the nets, trapping the olives in the centre.  They would then drag the heavy nets to the female workers who would place their woven reed baskets on the ground, while the men poured the olives into them. Filling the women's baskets as quick as possible, they would then return to the next full tree.

  Meanwhile, the women would carry the baskets over to the `Olympidada', a wooden chute with a metal grid running down at an angle and wooden walls on either side. Hoisting the baskets, they would then pour them onto the chute. Female workers would then deftly pick out leaves and clumps of mud, so only the olives would land in the baskets placed at the bottom of the chute.

After the olives had been separated, they were then loaded into fifty kilo sacks and stacked, ready to be taken by mule to the co-operative. During the day, the farmer could make as many as three trips to the co-operative. On arrival, the olives would be sorted once more. Some would be for eating and those of inferior quality would be placed into the vats and pressed for their oil.

  After this process was completed, the olives and the oil extracted from them would then undergo further journeys. From the valley, they would be transported onwards to Granada and Cordoba, for further distribution throughout Spain. Many of the olives went directly to Malaga, to be placed on ships and sent throughout the Mediterranean and even over to the Spanish Americas.

  The Gypsies themselves knew little of what happened to the olives once they left the valley. It was doubtful they even cared. All they were aware of, was that the work required them to be up well before dawn. In freezing conditions, they trekked to their work-places, negotiating frozen terrain that played havoc with both horses and wagons.

  They also knew that at the first sign of light, the Patrono would appear in the field. This being the signal for the days toil to begin. Then the valley would echo to the sounds of the barra's clashing against the trees. Ice and frost, which had accumulated on the trees, would rain down on the workers, freezing their hands and melting into their clothing. The only way to stay warm was by continuous work. By nine-o-clock, the heat off the sun would just begin to warm through and make itself felt.

  From dawn they worked through to midday without a pause, then stopping for a ten minute break, water was then passed around along with salted strips of meat to keep the hunger out. An hour later they stopped again for thirty minutes. This time more substantial food was passed around, accompanied by a strong red wine. A hastily built fire was set alight and workers would stand around as near as possible to warm limbs and dry out their sodden clothing.  By this time the sun had reached it strength, and was generating enough heat to begin the process of thawing out the land. Now the once frozen ground became soft and spongy, making walking on it difficult. Centimetres of mud and clay would cling and build up on the footwear of the workers.

As the men continued beating the olives, the women; in between sorting on the Olympida and loading the donkeys, would be on their hands and knees beneath the trees collecting olives that had missed the nets. And so it would continue all day until the sinking sun disappeared behind the mountains, and even twilight could no longer afford them the light needed to continue work. This would be the routine for the next ten to twelve weeks, depending on good weather and a sizeable crop.

    As the Patrono's called out the numbers they each required, Francisco Habby Lomez detailed of the work parties. Wherever possible he tried to keep families together, knowing that they would work more comfortable and efficiently in close family units. Slowly the work parties began to leave until finally Habby was left with only thirty four workers of which, twenty were men and fourteen women.

  This was the largest group to work under one man, and that man was Fernadez Herreria. Brother to Manuel Herreria killed the previous year by one of the Great Eagles that still inhabited the valley.

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