The AWW in the Sierra de Aracena. 14 - 17 November 2016
Our Happy Walking Ground.
PRE-HISTORY
I first came to the Sierra de Aracena in 2009, when Rod Frew led an AWW group there in the spring. Half of us stayed at Finca la Fronda, a guest-house in the hills above Alajar, owned by a direct descendant of the poet Wordsworth, which was then newly-opened, and half down in Alajar with Lucy and Angel, in their original Posada in the middle of the village. I was captivated by the countryside which is so reminiscent of parts of England, with the narrow walled lanes and deciduous trees. Dinah and I returned in 2014, and spent three days at the Finca. When looking for a location for the AWW annual away-days therefore, the area beckoned me once more.
PLANNING AND PREPARATION
The original idea was to visit in October, to be sure of some warmth, but too few people were available, so the date was changed, with some trepidation, to the middle of November. One need not have worried, as it turned out! After the usual changes due to unforeseen circumstances, we arrived at a party of 15, with one couple having to be accommodated with Lucy and Angel in Alajar at their second Posada (San Marcos), and the rest with Cristina and Alec at Finca la Fronda.
The plan was to walk three times over two and a half days, with perhaps some other activity on the final day. In the event, everyone did their own thing on the last day.
THE GROUP.
Sue and Geoff Hill; Gill and Jim Lamont; Miriam and Ken Wood; Linda and Russell Morris; Trish and Alan Coy; Ros Smith; Eileen Dalton; John Davey, Dinah and David Littlewood. Dinah came along with the intention of doing some artwork, rather than to walk. The group was completed by Miriam and Ken´s young dog Bica,
DAY ONE.
The advance.
There were no reported problems with the outward journey. The weather was superb, with no change forecast for the whole of our stay. Ros and her party found what by report seemed to be a combination of bar, hostal and something less salubrious for their coffee-stop, but all arrived at Finca la Fronda in one piece and in good time. So good in fact that the earliest arrivals (some had stayed overnight in Aracena) were well ahead of schedule, and caused something of a panic. The cleaner was apparently the only person on the premises when the first people showed up, and she put in an emergency call to Alec, who came back from a shopping expedition at top speed, running his car into a tree as a result. Dinah and I arrived just in time to hear his less than welcoming comments on guests who arrive too early (he later apologised). Alec´s mother was also on hand by this time, and matters calmed down as coffee was offered and rooms accessed. Trish and Alan departed to find their lodging in Alajar.
View of part of Finca la Fronda.
The First Walk - Finca - Linares - Los Madroneros - Alajar - Finca.
Will he get us lost this time?
Route, Walk One
All gathered at the appointed time (13.00) to set off from Finca la Fronda on the first walk, around 12k, designed to fit into the afternoon. Some had eaten, some had not, so an early stop for refreshment was needed. Descending the steep hill to the road, we realised we would have to climb it at the end! A short search found the marked track for the Camino de Linares, and off we went, descending eternally it seemed into a deep valley with a stream on one side and lush green vegetation all around us. Eventually the track bottomed out and we made our way less steeply towards the village of Linares de la Sierra.
Linares de la Sierra
Jim decided he knew where the bar was, and he led us a merry dance around the back streets before we finally climbed steep steps to emerge in the village square, which doubles as a bull-ring. On this occasion it also doubled as a picnic place for scores of primary-school children on a day out, so our early lunch stop was not exactly peaceful. It was, however, sunny and warm, and we stayed a while.
Plaza de Toros Linares - put to a better use.
Retracing our steps down through the village, we found the signs taking us back westwards towards Alajar, but no sooner had we begun than we had a phone call from Sue, who had managed to lose the group on the way out. Russ nobly hurried back to find her and Eileen. This was, remarkably, the only time in the whole three days that we were in danger of losing our 10%. The route we now followed led along walled paths with much evidence of pig-farming on either side. Indeed, at one point we came face to face with a group of black pigs which we herded onwards for quite a time before they finally found an escape route back through the fencing. The typical farming setup seems to be very large sections of enclosed land with pigs or other livestock, guarded by the large, sometimes huge, mountain dog breeds. Bica wanted to play, but fortunately the fencing was always in the way.
You lookin´at me punk?
The next stop found us in the formerly deserted village of Los Madroneros. It was clear that some of the houses have been re-occupied, but there was a notice on one door complaining that the community has no water supply, and that the authorities will not do the necessary work to provide it. Being a resident must be difficult. We stayed for a short time in the warm sunshine before continuing on our way round to Alajar.
Los Madroneros, not deserted any more.
Reaching the town, Alan and Trish decided to avoid the climb back to the Finca, and dropped off at their hotel as we passed it on our way through. The rest of us wound our way through the back streets to find the steadily rising path out towards our own lodging. This final leg proved quite tough, and we still had the steep climb back up to the Finca from the road. Maybe it was the early start beginning to tell!
Alajar in sight
Dinner was arranged for 19.30, so all retired to spend the rest of the afternoon in various ways, exploring the grounds of the Finca, walking up the hillside behind it, unpacking, sleeping..... Russell had announced that he had brought a small garrafeira with him, and all were invited for pre-dinner drinks from 18.00, and for some, this was the start of a three-day pattern - which accounts for the cheerful demeanour of the party at dinner. Eileen, I am told, not having witnessed the fact, preferred her white port, in fact she seemed to prefer it very much! On this first evening, some went down to Alajar to meet Alan and Trish, and we sat outside the one bar that seemed to be open at the time, wearing several layers but still getting quite chilled, as the beautiful day had turned into a cold evening.
More From Day One.
Do you give rides?
Strange fruit.
Suit yourself, I´m going this way....
20? Who´s kidding?
Does this valley have a bottom?
At dinner we met Cristina, who, with her brother Alec, now runs the place and with whom I had done all the business of booking, changing, booking, cancelling, special requesting - I think we exchanged about 25 messages altogether. This lady spends her time commuting, five hours at a stretch, between Alajar and Madrid where she has a business, to help run the Finca. This may account for her slight air of bemusement as our party settled in for dinner. Gill immediately took charge of distributing the wine, and ensured that we all had an excellent sufficiency. I don´t know whether Cristina had to send out for more of their house wine or not, but we certainly made a hole in the stock. As for the meal it was pronounced interesting and well-prepared, but perhaps slightly lacking in quantity for some people though everyone really liked the goat´s cheese starter. Highlight of the evening was celebration of Trish´s birthday, with a cake and champagne secretly ordered by Alan.
After dinner, a fire had been placed in the sitting room, so all adjourned there for chat and some impromptu singing. And so to bed.......
DAY TWO.
Walk Two. Linares - Aracena - Los Marines - Linares Around 18k
OK. Bet he can´t do two in a row.....
Route, Walk Two.
Breakfast had been ordered for 8.30, half an hour earlier than the hotel norm (were were in Spain) but everyone turned up on time and enjoyed what was provided, even if items appeared in a slightly haphazard fashion. I always say that toast and marmalade before the scrambled egg makes a nice change.
The plan for the day was to walk from Linares de la Sierra round to the outskirts of Aracena, then over the ridge to the north for lunch in the village of Los Marines before completing the circular route back to the start. We travelled in convey to the start-point just outside Linares and walked round the outskirts of the village to pick up the camino at a point where we had walked the previous day. All went well as we walked through more wonderful scenery, encountering more livestock - pigs, donkeys, horses, goats - and acres of ancient cork oaks, some newly shorn with their bright orange trunks.
Jim in full flow
The western edge of Aracena has seen the development of a new suburb over a number of years, but due to the recession the work had been more or less abandoned when I first visited in ´09. Most has now been completed, and unfortunately, this has resulted in the cutting off of the old route to the base of the hill behind. After meeting a high stone wall we were forced to seek advice from the locals, who of course disagreed as to our best option. Finally we were obliged to walk a considerable detour round the new development. to reach a point where the road from Alajar enters the town. Here Dinah turned up to rescue Eileen from the toughest climb of the day. She also came with a warning from Charles at the Finca that our path up the hill might no longer be passable. The two ladies went off to sample the delights of the town, and I led the group, heart in mouth, to see if we could get through.
In the event, the steep climb to the ridge was open, if only just, and the shorts-wearing contingent did suffer a little from the brambles. The climb in fact was not as severe in length as I had imagined, and we made the ridge in good time and good order.
Four-point hold required
The view that opened out as we climbed was truly spectacular, and once over the top we descended gently through groves of chestnut trees whose leaves were well into their autumn colours. Groups of local ladies were glimpsed over the walls picking up the fallen chestnuts as they have for generations. Meeting the very busy N435 road at the end of this idyllic section was quite a shock, but we only had to walk a couple of hundred metres along it to find the continuation of the track. Then it was back to the quiet and beauty of the woodland.
Where in the world?
A vote was taken on the location for lunch (Ken insisted on it!!), the result being that we pressed on for a slightly later stop than anticipated at Los Marines, where the advance party of Gill, Jim, Linda and Russell sniffed out a bar, while the rest of us followed more sedately, taking in the remarkable series of tiled panels on the road leading into the village, depicting scenes from different parts of the Sierra.
Two of the Murales de Los Marines
Los Marines, like all the small villages of the area, would undoubtedly repay closer inspection, but our hostelry was on the outskirts, near the old village washing-place where some sat to eat in the sun. This little sunken square also contains a small bronze statue of a lady with a basket, a tribute to the women who are the mainstay of the local economy through the work they do and have done over centuries.
Lunch at Los Marines
Hunger and thirst put at bay, we climbed the hill out of the village, back to the main road, where Sue got into trouble again, attempting a fight with a 60-tonner thundering down at a rate of knots. Geoff brought out her Sunday name as a reward - so now when we hear him call SUSAN, we shall all know there´s trouble up at t´Hill Mill. I had my head in my hands shortly afterwards, as I was taken to task for omitting to tell people that we had to climb back to the ridge before the descent. Sorry Miriam, won´t do it again Miriam, Miss.
Are they coming or not?
At some point on this stretch, members of the group had their first of two encounters with mushroom-pickers. Together with chestnuts, and ham, these are very much part of the local economy, and the woods contain a great variety of edible fungi, some much sought-after.
Basket of plenty
Then followed a very long and winding descent into the valley from which we started, with stunning views to the south all the way down. Arriving back at Linares, we started to walk towards the Plaza de Toros, but were waylaid by another attractive bar on the edge of the village, where welcome drinks were taken. So enlivened were certain members of the party that they began to execute strange contortions in the middle of the road, to the amusement of the locals sitting around. I had just considered putting a collection hat beside them when they ended their performance and we all departed for our hotels. Dinah and Eileen meanwhile had been thoroughly enjoying the fleshpots of Aracena, coffee and shopping firmly on the menu.
It finally got to them....
Dinner on this second evening was taken down in Alajar at Posada San Marcos, and we were treated to a splendid meal in Lucy and Angel´s subterranean dining room. Alan bravely undertook to pay for some of the wine - I hope he didn´t regret it! I think Angel was more in charge of that aspect of the meal than was Cristina! There being no welcoming fire in the grate when we got back to the Finca, we all retired - at least Dinah and I did, maybe there´s a gap to be filled in the story.....
DAY THREE
Walk Three Alajar - Castano del Robledo - Santa Ana la Real - Alajar. Around 18k
Route, Walk Three.
An extra half hour allowed before breakfast on this third morning, before we girded up our loins for our last walk. This started at the western entrance to Alajar, where we all parked and met up with Alan and Trish, who were able to walk out from their hotel. The first part of the day consisted of a very long (4k or so) steady climb out of the Alajar valley onto the hilltops, once again through magical scenery. The route on this day proved to be rather sparsely and confusingly waymarked, and I was very glad of the support provided by Alan with his digital gizmo.
Had to be high for the artics....
Over the hill and descending to our first stop of the day, more mushroom-pickers were met and accosted with various questions. I´m sure I saw someone´s hand sneak into the basket during the conversation. We then proceeded down to Castano del Robledo, a delightful village on a hillside, which I realised I had visited with Rod´s party, once we entered the lovely little village square with its bars and local produce shop. We rested and refreshed ourselves here for a while, obeying the request of our chosen bar owner only to sit on her blue chairs, and not the brown ones of her rival, whose establishment was closed!
Coffee at Castano
We then made our way down..and down.. to the valley through the narrow streets, to locate the climb out again into open country. This part of the walk led us through wonderful mixed woodland, including a lot of pine trees which were giving off a very strong scent, as we reached a ridge-line once more and began to descend. Halfway down the long hill there was a detour to a waterfall, but although we had seen running water there was not enough to create anything worth seeing, so we pressed on down to the valley. Late in the descent we joined a newly-marked long-distance route that runs from Castano del Robledo all the way to Rio Tinto, and a lot of work has been put into creating footbridges and signage. The next stage involved a detour of some 2k along the valley to the village of Santa Ana. This was a very pretty walk. We saw evidence that a night walk has been created here, with lanterns hanging from trees, and examples of children´s artwork about the things they had seen, posted along the way.
Bridge over Dry Gulch
All the facts you´ll ever need
Santa Ana was something of a disappointment, especially for those of us who were hoping for a drop. There were bars, but none seemed to have an outside space, so after a brief look into the square, we retreated down the hill to the local washing place where we ate lunch beside the water-channels.
Think I´ll just put this fleece into the wash...
Then we retraced our steps - surprisingly quickly - back to the bottom of the Robledo track, and continued from there back to Alajar. This section of the route proved rather longer than the signage indicated, and route-finding was not easy. Still the countryside was beautiful, the weather as warm and clear as ever, and this sustained us until we climbed the final slope into the town. Rather than walk straight back to the cars, we went into the square for drinks and enjoyed the afternoon sunshine just before it disappeared behind the buildings.
HOW FAR??
Dinner on our last evening was as interesting as, and perhaps a little more substantial than, the previous occasion. It included small pieces of what Cristina told us was a very expensive ham, and a very tasty honey-glazed salad. Oh, and Wine. Again, Lots. That Gill sure knows how to dish it out. I received a card and some excellent wines as a thank you for my work. Ken voiced the thanks of the group with his usual panache. And Sue read one of her famous odes, printed in full at the end of this blogApparently there was also a bottle of very good English ale, donated by John D, that was overlooked, or hidden somewhere, but I am assured that I shall receive it!
Dinner, Day Three.
The gods of the weather!
Anyone for 18k tomorrow?
Russell had threatened us all with a quiz, and he duly produced when we adjourned once more to the sitting room. Some answers proved slightly contentious - you always take your life in your hands when you take on the role of quizmaster - but all enjoyed it really (really Russ!). Geoff and I received the prize in the form of a lump of local rock, which now sits on my bedside table. (I can take a hammer to it and give you half, Geoff, just say the word). All that remained after that was, perhaps rather wearily, to say goodnight and retire.....maybe not for everyone. The stamina of some of these youngsters.......
Well, he got that one wrong - it says here.....
More from Day Three.
Got room in your backpack, Sue?
Young Winston?
´Scuse me, can you direct us to the nearest grass?
Tipple on the terrace - it were chilly!
Where in the world (2)
DAY FOUR The retreat.
Dinah and I left early for home, as we were intending to go to our choir rehearsal that evening (in the event we both decided it was an effort too far, and opted for an early night.) Other members of the party spent time in the area before returning - some even went for a WALK.
FINAL THOUGHTS.
At dinner on the last evening, I made a toast to the gods of the weather, and indeed the clear skies, bright sunshine and optimum temperatures were what made these days so very special, ones I shall remember for a long time. Put together with the wholesome and interesting food, the comfortable accommodation and the excellent company, the whole experience was fantastic. What´s next?.......
Next is Sue´s Ode, of course:
Here we are
all together again,
In a country
we all know as Spain.
This is
about everyone here,
Nothing too
rude, so have no fear!
David’s days
are action packed
He goes
walking, singing and he likes to act.
He leads us
on walks which are sometimes a beast,
Especially
when he goes and leads us off piste!
Dinah is a
painter and has all the gear,
How about a
picture of all of us here?
Ros lives by
wind turbines serving cake and tea
And believe
it or not, it’s completely free!
She’s
managed to keep her Shropshire burr.
She never
says year and always says YERR!
Ken, he used
to work for the Fuzz.
Not my thing
but it gave HIM a buzz.
He and
Miriam lived in Kenya, far away
But are now
in the Algarve making hay!
Miriam had a
go at swinging a club
Now she just
drinks and chats at the pub!
I’m unsure where
Jim and Gill like to live best,
But they’ve
certainly passed the Jersey test.
Gill, when
in Jersey, used to teach keep fit. .
Her pupils
were sad when she decided to quit.
Jim HAS to
have a project on the go
Keeping him
busy, that I know.
Round Alan’s
house is a train track,
Built by
himself, he sure has the knack.
He plays
with his trains all day long
Only to stop
when Trish bangs the gong!
When it
comes to knitting, Trish has flair
Give me a go;
I’m pulling out my hair.
Russell and
Linda spent the summer in a tent,
But in
winter, an Algarvian flat they do rent.
Russell looks
at the sun and is always brown,
There are
times when he likes to act the clown.
Linda helps to
sort out worn clothes.
Some would
prefer a peg on their nose.
John on his
bicycle likes to ride,
With his
panniers sitting on either side.
Once he
cycled to Figueiras from Reading
With all
cooking gear, clothes, tent and bedding.
I’m sure arrangements
have been a pain,
But we’d love to do something like this again.
And now just
a little PS
About which
some here may guess.
Some of you may
know well,
It’s the 70th
Birthday of Alan’s belle.
So come on folks
without more ado
Let’s all
say, Trish, Happy Birthday to you.
