Yesterday was a little frenetic so is being reported in retrospect. We started clearing up after ourselves and making sure that the house was presentable to hand back to its owners, Chris and Yvonne. That was followed by a shopping trip (well, two, actually) to get some food for their return. Since, on our previous trip, I had preserved some of the then plentiful supply of local lemons and these remained unused, I decided on a lamb tagine to fill the bellies of the weary travellers. Once that was on, I even bought a sponge and washed their car so they would be collected in a presentable set of wheels. As light faded, it was time to head off to Alicante airport to meet their 6:30 PM flight. As luck would have it. easyJet got them in 15 minutes early and they were waiting for us at the arrivals exit. Then it was back home to polish off the tagine and a few bottles of hooch.

Today it was all change as Chris and Yvonne drove us back to Alicante to catch our 12:10 PM return flight. All went without hiccough and we escaped Luton Airport where we were met by our neighbour Paul and ferried back home. Since his kitchen is out of commission, we seem to have been volunteered to prepare dinner for the four of us this evening. That’s great and will provide some entertainment for what might otherwise be an anticlimactic evening.

Today is our last day alone as Chris and Yvonne are flying back from their holiday tomorrow. We had been invited by Jim and Hazel to join them in Alcalali for lunch and, knowing the Spanish lunches, we knew we wouldn’t be needing anything more than a snack in the evening. Carol thought it would be a friendly gesture to go armed with a poinsettia in readiness for Christmas so, in the morning, off we went, together with el perrito on his lead, to find a couple (one as a homecoming present for Chris and Yvonne, too). A small garden centre in Jalon produced the goods.

Just outside Jalon there is a spring with constantly flowing water. It seems to be something of a local ritual to fill countless five-litre containers from this spring, one which we are happy to become part of. Quite why anybody would buy drinking water with this resource available, I don’t know. Since we were heading that way for lunch, we thought we’d take all the containers we had emptied during our stay and replenish them ready for Chris and Yvonne’s return. 70 litres later, we spent a very pleasant afternoon eating, drinking and nattering overlooking the valley (which I now realize is actually called the Vall de Pop).

As darkness descended, we thought it was time to return to give el perrito some company (and, maybe, drink another bottle of wine).

It was a dull, grey morning with an occasional spit of rain thrown in so, after a leisurely breakfast using up the last of our three-euros-for-five-kilos naranjas (oranges), we decided to drive off to the nearby coastal towns in search of brighter weather. We headed for Denia, wondering about drifting down the coast through Xavier and Moraira to end up, once again, in Calpe.

We found a parking spot in Denia but life was still grey and overcast so we went to investigate its indoor market hall. There were some interesting fish stalls, though “they” do seem to be vacuuming some extremely small fish out of the Med. I guess that’s mostly what’s left but it’ll be an underwater desert before long if that keeps up. Quite a few of the market stalls are German, which was a bit of a surprise. Clearly, es gibt viellen Deutsche in Denia. Certainly, German and English seemed to be the most prevalent languages.

Rather than stick to our plan of trogging down the coast in the continuing drizzle and gloom, we decided to take refuge in an appealing restaurant for a few tapas: bread and olive oil; carpaccio of beef; grilled shellfish and lamb meatballs, all went down well with a couple of copas de vino tinto.

Time to return and release el perrito from prison.

No more workers for whom to look completely dumb today, although, at one point, we wondered as a car parked outside our fence. It turned out to be someone working on the roof of the neighbours’ house oppostite. Phew!

Having had a lazy extended weekend, we decided to try another walk in the valley and picked a short one from a package of walks that we picked up from the Tourist Information Centre in Jalon. This was a 4.5 km circular walk from and to Senija just down the valley towards Benissa. The leaflet says that it takes between 3 and 3.5 horas which I suppose should have been a warning; averaging little more than one kilometre an hour must say something.

We drove from Jalon, through Lliber to Senija, found a parking spot and set off in fine style with no trouble. The route climbs up to a cross at Creu de les Bassettes (must be French) at 411 metres for some good views of the Val de Pop. The route continues, if you are lucky enough to be able to follow it (!) along a ridge to a corniche right above the local autopista (A7), below which is the Cova de la Garganta (Giant’s cave?) where, it is said, a bandit called “La Tona” used to hang out waiting for unsuspecting travellers.

Now the fun starts; we are half way round and progress has been good thus far, albeit with one wrong turning. We have to descend a precipitous, loose-rock-strewn slope towards the motorway with no obvious path, and the cairns that we were originally following seem to have ended. I would hate to have to do this without our walking poles. (It occurs to me that, by the time a bandit made it down this slope in one piece, any passing traveller would be half way to Alicante!) We should apparently come across a gravel path leading to the right parallel to the motorway. Wrong! All we get to is the fence separating us from the motorway. Tacking right, we do manage to fight our way through some trees, up and down some terracing walls, and eventually manage to pick up something that might be describable as a gravel path.

Anyway, this “path” does lead in the correct direction and we do find our way back to Senija and our car in time for a trip to the supermarket in Benissa. We deserve a treat and find some excellent pulpo (octopus) and bread for a small snackette with a bottle of vino blanco in the late afternoon.

Oh, and it’s started raining a little.

There seemed to be no rush to get up since this morning was a tad overcast. That changed, however, when two men turned up and began gesticulating at Carol through the fence. (Unfortunately for them, Carol had just finished dressing.) Since Carol speaks no Spanish and they speak no English, a game of charades ensues. They appeared to be miming “taking a shower” and “opening and closing a door”. Carol, being razor sharp and having heard a partial story from Yvonne, figures out that they have arrived to fit shower doors (there are currently only shower curtains).

I finish my shower and quickly get dressed. One man, the boss, disappears and the remaining man wants to know “donde?” – where are the doors to go? There are three showers in the house but only two doors. Help! “I know nothing.” Fortunately we manage to enlist the help of a neighbour who speaks a variety of languages including Spanish and English. A phone call back to the boss establishes which two showers are to be the lucky recipients of new shower doors.

Having finished lunch, another man arrives who, in reasonable English, declares his intention to plough Chris’s orchard. He asks me to unlock the gate while he returns to fetch the tractor. That’s easier – until, that is, he wants to know if any plants are to be left unharmed. Arghh! “I know nothing.” Well, nearly nothing. I know he wants the fruit trees but it seems there are some ropey looking cabbagey things and a few oniony-looking items. You can tell that I’m a keen gardener. Time for a management decision – plough them up. Carol agrees but we’ll have to wait ’til Saturday to find out.

It was all a bit Fawlty Towers; somehow, Manuel kept springing to mind.

Cloud? Yes, cloud greeted us this morning after only a single disturbance from the hounds next door. Nothing came of it, though, and we’ve had a dry day albeit with a cool start. Several of the plants in the garden are looking decidedly the worse for wear following the frosty nights that we’ve had.

The main event today would be lunch at a restaurant called Verdi Vent (which sounds to me as though it should mean “green wind” though I can’t find any such reference in a dictionary). Our back up house-sitters, Jim and Hazel, planned to collect us at 1:00m PM and take us to sample the delights at this favourite local  watering hole on the road up to the Bernia. Our table for four started off with 2 litres of vino tinto with refills available as needed. (Need? That sounds like alcoholism.) A marinated mushroom appetizer was followed by a cauldron of soup large enough for the Guards Armoured Division, some salad, and then the main event, a small shoulder of lamb (each), for which they seem to be justly well known. There was another choice (this is the only choice you get to make) but it had to be the lamb. Crepe Suzette with a couple of coffees and brandies made for a very relaxed feeling and end to the afternoon.

This evening, all that will be needed is a log fire to accompany the bread that we purchased this morning in town along with some Serrano and Manchego washed down with a little of our remaining rosado, of course.

Caninicide should be legalized – and if that isn’t a word, I just coined it. In fact, where Spain is concerned, it should probably be subsidized as a public service. That horrendous mut next door was at it again last night on several occasions. Actually, considering that the darn dogs seem to remain tied to a tree 100% of the time, offing them would probably be the kindest thing to do.

Dogs apart, it was another cold but totally clear morning and, after the sun had worked a little magic, we had a pleasant saunter into town with el perrito to get some bread for lunch and another couple of litres of dry rosado to keep us going. You have to love a country where the local cooperativo is open on a Sunday even though most other things are closed. For some very drinkable hooch, they charge the princely sum of 1 Euro per litre. That’s what I call getting the priorities straight.

After lunch, the afternoon was spent reading in the sun on the veranda; not a cloud in sight all day. Now, with the sun sinking, the temperature is following suit and we are retreating into the house to get the log fire going. Then it will be time to start the chicken tagine.

Yet another cloudless morning but wait, what’s this – a frost!? I’d heard Chris say that Spain had been described as a cold country with a hot sun and here it is. The floor of the valley at Jalon is about 300 metres so maybe the altitude has something to do with it. It is also, we’re told, something of a frost pocket, being completely surrounded by higher ground.

Our legs were feeling a tad weary after our assaults on the Sierra Bernia and the Peñón de Ifach so we were looking forward to a slightly lazier day. Saturday morning is market time in nearby Benissa so, after things had warmed up a little, we drove in to buy some alcachofas (artichokes), which seem to be reasonably plentiful and reasonably priced compared to home, together with a few other supplies. There was also an irresistible cafe with tables on the sunny side of the square so coffee was in order before returning for lunch on the veranda (I can’t find out how to spell the Spanish word for it).

In the afternoon we walked el perrito through Jalon to the other side of the valley and up to our neighbour’s house just to check on things. We were trying to tire the little devil out so we could get some peace and quiet. It may have worked ‘cos he’s now sitting on Carol’s lap while she tries to knit around him.

Yet another cloudless morning dawned after a lengthened night listening the blasted dog next door again. Despite having aching thigh muscles from yesterday’s walk around the Sierra Bernia and being a little shorter of sleep than we might like, we decided to make the most of the weather and try to do the ascent of the Peñón de Ifach, the 332 metre high Gibraltar-like rock that overlooks Calpe.

We drove down and parked near Calpe harbour and started up the path at about 11:15 AM. The route begins gently enough with a smooth, path and handrails. There were quite a few elderly people walking up so I thought we were in for something quite tame. Eventually, this leads to yet another tunnel, this time tall enough to walk through without crouching, to the seaward side of the rock. This is where the fun begins as the paving disappears and the path becomes a very rough scramble over smooth, shiny rock polished by the shoes of countless previous visitors. So much for thinking it would be tame. (I think the elderly contingent walk to the tunnel and then wander down again.)

There are two paths here to take; one leads to a viewpoint at the most easterly point of the rock, the other is the ascent to the top towering above Calpe. The path up to the summit is a hands-and-feet scramble/climb in a few places and doesn’t seem to be for the faint-hearted. It’s best not to look down. Since the footing is a little precarious, it’s also best to stop before looking anywhere other than at your feet. Once at the top, however, the views were impressive and it was well worth the effort. Certainly, the two cats we discovered at the very top seemed to appreciate it.

After some obligatory photos, it was time to brave the decent with our thighs beginning to yelp after this on top of yesterday’s effort. We were grateful for our Leki walking poles which made us feel a bit more secure.

We reached the bottom at about 2:45 PM and popped into Calpe’s bright new Mercadona supermercado before returning to to take Scamp, el perrito, for a swift wander into Jalon for yet more exercise.

Another cloudless sky greeted us this morning so we decided to get our act together and try for the circumperambulation of the Bernia. The Bernia is a v. large lump of rock, about the height of Snowdon, to the south of the Jalon Valley overlooking Altea and, in the distance, Benidorm (which we try hard to ignore). Depending upon the source, the path around it is either eight or nine kilometers. We drove up to the start point, the roads being unencumbered by lorries today, at about 10:30 AM and started the walk at 11:00 AM going clockwise.

The path starts on the north side as something resembling a road but eventually gets quite steep and narrow as you climb to cross to the south side. Crossing to the south side is quite amazing; the path goes through a tunnel, only three feet high in places, carved through the mountain to emerge overlooking the sunlit Mediterranean, Altea and, yes, Benidorm in the distance.  We had to remove our camera rucksacks to get through. It’s a stunning view from the end of the tunnel despite Benidorm.

We were making grand progress on the south side until, about half way round, we took a wrong turn up to the wrong saddle (knowing that we had to cross a saddle). We were on a treacherous scree slope which should have been a clue but carried on regardless. At the top it became obvious that all was not as it should be and we had to descend the same scree slope, which was even more treacherous, to correct our mistake.

There were a couple more oh-my-God-where’s-the-path moments but we eventually managed to return unscathed after five hours (it would have been four without the scree slope detour) to the start point and car, still basking under a cloudless blue sky.

A swift trip to the Masymas supermercat on the way home to get something for dinner (a monkfish tail to go with those pink peppercorns) and we could release el perrito from his prison.

A sense of achievement prevails after what must be the roughest walk we’ve undertaken. What a great day; all is well. 🙂