FUERTEVENTURA jan10th

Today was a long(28km) day but a good one. I learnt somethings about the settlers on the land , both historical and recent.
I left the shelter where the table displayed the graffiti of “Misty Mountain Man who had walked all the islands in Jan 2012, and carried on across the stony plain as the sun rose behind the mountains to the east.
On the outskirts of Tefia I came upon an intact old windmill.

A sign told me about the reservoir made here in 1946, the biggest on the island, when they also brought in 30 families to la parcelas. Each family was given a house, 2hectares of land, water rights and some money for farm machinery. They mostly grew cereals but also veg and alfalfa and corn for animal fodder. I don’t know if it was drought or the lure of the city but nearly all left in the 50s and 60s for the capital or Gran Canaria.
A little further on was the Ecomuseum, something like Bunratty folk park, but these looked like restored original houses of the parcels colony. The land around the buildings displayed the old wells and reservoirs, clay topped haystacks, eras, the circular threshing floors and many other facets of husbandry that you probably don’t want to know about. I’ve got a thing about old style husbandry.

On through Tefia where I had been hoping to get water for the days walk but the restaurant mentioned in my guide was shut and for sale. Now you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.
So, carrying on a couple of km I find the Happy Plant Nursery with a stranded ship of the desert outside.

I called in to ask for water and following voices past beautiful flowers and plants in a dazzling array of colours after all the mute sand I found the owners in a big shaded growing area. Originally from Wales, they had set up about 15 years ago. We had a good long chat about many things husbandry related and I realised it wasn’t just water I needed. I hadn’t had a conversation for a week.

After perhaps another 6 or 7 kms and a long gradual climb I found what Paddy Dillon describes as a “curious dwelling”.
Or rather a collection of structures with lots of covered spaces and shading. I stopped for a drink and snack and a lady with an English accent asked if I was ok. So we had a chat (I’m getting giddy by this stage). German couple living there making art and wine. She told me that there had been a lot of rain in December. Full of talk I hiked on to Tindaya with its sacred mountain and yoga centre.

I think it looks a little like Ireland’s sacred mountain Croagh Patrick.
I stopped here for cafe and tortilla in Diana’s cafe and what do you know….pictures of the lady Di on the walls and Andrew Mortons biog on display.
On to la Olivia where the smart southern suburbs had designer villas that kept their trees warm in fashion.

Into town, meal in bar with cards and football and shouting men then out through the less well off area with cars on blocks and broken windows.
The road turned to track that made its way into the islands most recent lava field ,10,000 years old. A chaotic jumble of moss and lichen covered rock in many places dug out and planted with prickly pear.

As I gained height and left civilisation behind I came upon more signs of blow in colonies. Finished and unfinished home build projects, caravans and trucks, veggy plots and a young couple with a child on pony back.
Good luck to them all I say as I make myself at home in what I’m assured is the last trail shelter.

FUERTEVENTURA 9th Jan

There must be some glum faces on the sun worshipers of the Costa today and slim pickings for the lounger rental crew. The cloud was fairly thick and threatening, in fact it was shedding its load somewhere because there was a rainbow ahead of me as I mounted the crest of the mountain above Betancuria to reach Corral de Guize at 588mts. There’s a statue up there of Guise and Ayose,the last Guanche chieftains.

Pretty rugged looking guys. I’d say the Norman conquistadores had their work cut out.
From there I could see the flat plains I’d be crossing to the north with Montana Bermeja rising solitary from them, where I was planning to spend the night in the last trail shelter I knew of.
A long but gradual descent brought me down and out of the Betancuria Natural Park and onto Tarmac all the way into Valle de Santa Ines where I stopped for breakfast.
I was joined by a large (what’s the collective word for cyclists ?) Lycra of German spokespeople. It’s a very popular sport/ hobby in Spain and I have often been amazed to see them pumping their way to mountain tops. They probably feel the same way when they see me doing it without the benefit of wheels.
Leaving the cafe I passed by more barking, chained dogs. It seems each house in Spain is obliged to have at least three, even if they are the kind of breed that would normally live in a D and G tote bag in Beverly Hills.

This kind of cable drum kennel is popular canine real estate here with a plank removed from the inner circle offering secluded bedroom accommodation and also allowing for an outside covered porch surrounding the property.
Whilst on the subject, not long after I spent awhile walking past a much needed development of 60’s Americana Flinstone houses on big plots, most of which are, unbelievably, still available.

Quick going on the flat, but as I moved along I became aware of something slightly amiss with my right heel. You become highly attuned to any nuance when reliant on shoe comfort for getting you there.

This poor sole hadn’t made it.
When looking back over the distances travelled by foot I always get an amazing sense of power that motorised transport never supplies.
Onwards across the stony flatlands open and isolated again. For some bizzare reason the shallow barrancos have been used as bottle dumps and the occasional floodwaters had carried them twinkling far into the distance. It may be something to do with the last farm I passed whose main crop seemed to rubbish, which covered a few acres. Not the sort of view us Eco walkers want. He also has 3 horses (what do they eat) that have supplied the dung that attracts the flies that are the only downside to my accommodation.

Facing west away from the wind, with a sea view, what’s not to like? In fact the sun’s come out, they’ll be smiling on the Costa and there’s still time for the lounger crew to earn a few euro.

FUERTEVENTURA 8th part2

I discovered that my last posting was missing a section from the end for some unfathomable reason. One false move of a stubby finger over a tiny but sensitive control pad can wreak havoc. So I’m having another go before I hit the trail.

The track down to the ancient capital city, founded by Normans (didn’t know that they were in these parts) was tranquil after the exposed ridge above and I was able to admire the crops of prickly pear and agave or aloe.
There was also some almonds blossoming already.

Aloe Vera is a big deal here and there were many products for sale in the tourist souvenir shops. The coaches and rental cars come to admire the restored old stone buildings and I was lucky to meet Tomas, who had restored and converted his old sheds into accommodation.

And so to bed.
But I’ve lain abed too long. The cosy nest has delayed me.
Vamos !

FUERTEVENTURA 8th Jan

It was a journey into the green and lush (by comparison) interior today. I left the pretty and well kept village of Pajara down a wide barranco past acres of shade netted veg plots. Another contrast to home where we need poly tunnels to increase the heat.
Back out past the shelter id had to abandon last night and on up into the hills. These were the best built and managed trails so far. The local council must be very track proud and have a few euros to spend on them because they were pristine. Not a rock out of place. Wooden bridges across the barrancos, stone and cement gullies to take away flood waters and a neatly built stone wall running along side. As we climbed higher there were even sections where they had cut steps out of the rock.

There were abandoned terraces high into the mountains, though not as high as yesterday where they reached 500mt.
The bug seemed to have gone and it felt like I was starting to get “track fit”. The pack felt manageable and I was walking to my musics beat. ( thanks for the sounds Bill and Sarah.) When hiking these mountains nothing gets me up like Donna Summer (ahem , showing my age there) and Fat Freddys Drop has got me down safe.
So good walking up and over coming down into a valley of palms and windmill water pumps.

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On the flat for awhile with easy going past old mule driven well pumps (actually haven’t seen any donkeys or mules, maybe they were people powered)
Into Vega de Rio Palmas where the Virgin Mary appeared in 1497 and to where pilgrims come to her shrine from all over the island on the 3rd Saturday of September.
I don’t know if it’s the presence of all the water or the Virgin Mary but the area seemed quite prosperous. The town has a fine church and square with covered bandstand, nice cactus gardens and fine clay oven,like a lot of the houses around.
After the easy stretch came another long and steep climb eventually leading through what passes for a forest in these parts.

Down to an area recreativa where I was tempted to stay the night after the exertions of the climb but it was too early and the no camping signs put me off. So on upwards till cresting a ridge I was hit full on by the howling northeasterly. Fine views across the northern half of the island but a slog to the peak and down the other side and a relief to turn westwards again towards Betancurria now looking close below.

Tranquil again I was able to admire the crops of prickly pear and aloe, a big crop here with a multitude of aloe Vera produce for sale especially in souvenir shops of which there were plenty in Betancurria, the ancient capital created by the Normans. Lots of historic old buildings , one humble one I’m in tonight. I met a lovely man , Tomas , who has converted his sheds into original style accommodation.

And so to bed.

FUERTEVENTURA 7th Jan part2

Sitting pretty at this stage.

As I gazed out over strange rounded bare hills toward Pajara I could see some examples of the modern Canaries way of hanging on to water that runs off the hills. Big diggered ponds that now were mostly empty. There must have been a lot of rain at some point recently though as the track has been washed out a number of times. In fact, unfortunately the formation of the track has sometimes created a run for the water and it has become a deep gully that is best avoided.
A lot of effort is made to hold on to as much water as possible whereas I have recently been spending a fair bit of time trying to get rid of it. Ah well, the grass is always greener, and it doesn’t get any greener than at home in Ireland.
Amazingly FUERTEVENTURA used to export a lot of grain and was known as “The bread basket of the Canaries”
Hard to believe now in this parched landscape. I’ve walked past some fine examples of how they did it back in the day.

Another reminder of home I’ve seen on the trail a few times is limekilns. Next to grain it was the biggest export from the 16th century till the 60s.
It might not interest you but I’ve got a bit of a thing about limekilns and recently drove half way across Ireland to see one working.
You may or may not find it fascinating to discover that the small rural domestic kilns were fired on gorse. No gorse around here now and the kiln I explored was full of goat carcases.
So after climbing through some dramatic mountains

I arrived at Pajara intending to move on to the next trail shelter for the night. It was not to be.
As I hiked up the barranco out of town I had a nagging feeling i was making a bad choice. I thought it was because a comfy room would be nice or because I wanted more wifi (it’s getting compulsive) but I overrided such thoughts as I wanted to push on further.
Luckily it was only about 5 km to the shelter because as I got there I was struck down suddenly, and fairly violently by what i can only describe with any decently as a “tummy upset”.
So I had to make my way back to the village as quick as i could in case of a repeat performance, to freshen up.
Lesson learnt… Listen to your inner voice.
An angel of mercy at the full Casa rural found a room for me and a taxi to get there, and as I got in the cab…it started to rain and was no night to be sleeping out in roofless shelter.
So was my intuition about the tummy upset or was it about the rain? Or was the tummy upset sent by a higher power to get me out of the rain because I hadn’t listened the first time?
We’ll never know.

FUERTEVENTURA 7th Jan

The distance markers must be wrong surely ! It took me 6 hours to get to Pajara from last nights shelter and it was only 14 km. Still there were some big climbs involved and some steep and dodgy descents. Big wild empty country.
Decided to fill up with food and water here and head on again to another shelter about 10km further on.
So while I have an hours wi fi I’ll try uploading some photos from the last couple of days.

My first taste of dune walking along the shoreline of the Jandia peninsula.

Stone shelters and umbrellas on the beach for the sun worshipers.

Book now for summer 2015!

The trail above the lagoon.
Then it was time to leave the peninsula and head inland and North across the big sand El Jable.

On the road built by political prisoners.
Past some fishermen in the empty barranco and onto my room with a view.

FUERTEVENTURA 6th jan

They say a pictures worth a thousand words. I was hoping to feature many photographs and thereby cut down on the amount of nimble finger work needed to type on a 2 x 1 in keyboard.
But it seems I must be very sparing or crashes occur.
Yesterday I headed off early down the pink paved prom in Morro Jable. I thought I’d have it.to myself but was busy with joggers cyclists skaters and speed walkers.
Eventually they headed back to the apartments for breakfast leaving me to head out of the urbanization and back to the wilds.
The trail played cat and mouse with the waves, leading me along the beaches and up and over small headlands. If the tide was in the cat would get you as the cliffs reared up cutting off access.
Some shorelines were covered in large pebbles that had been built into handsome shelters to protect from the ever present wind.
It wasn’t long before I was joined by the serious sun worshipers setting up for another day of melanoma.
Soon after the last beach bar things got rugged and very sandy with drifting dunes making the going tougher.
I climbed quite high for a fine view of the coastline and distant mountains. Below me a curving sand spit created a vast shallow lagoon above which the sky was dotted with the colourful kites of the tiny surfers.
One blot (or actually several) were the abandoned skeletons of massive hotel developments. It seems the crash struck hard but like the ghost estates in deeply rural Ireland it was hard to imagine some of these being viable.
As I past by one sprawling deserted complex in the desert it heartened me to see loads of little Barbary squirrels had taken up residence.
But if I thought it was desert yesterday, today was pure Lawrence of Arabia.
I got an early morning bus to where I finished last night and set off on a 17km hike across El Jable.
The problem was that for the previous 2 days my pack had been pretty much emptied. Now with water food tent etc it was about 13 kilos and the trail started with a long climb, not a steep one but enough for my back, knees and hips.
But the pure empty scenery all around soon made me forget the load and I had it easy compared to the political prisoners who had been forced to construct a road across this wasteland. I kept coming across little sections of it that the wind blown sand had revealed.
The mountains were made of fossilised sand and shells blown inland for millions of years.
In some places the trail marking posts were nearly buried and they’ve only been there a couple of years.
It took me 5 hours to cross the sea of sand to reach the little village of Le Pared where there were surfers and dune buggy riders but no where to stay so I carried on another 11 km to a trail shelter for the night.
Travelling through this land of sand and rock in its infinite variety has reminded me of the Burren and the host of forms that the limestone displays.
The moon has risen, looks full. The stars are out and the mass of Cardoon mountain is before me.
Fingers crossed while I click’ publish’

FUERTEVENTURA 4th January

There was a song going through my head today as I hiked across the volcanic wasteland. Walking on the moon.
The walk reminded me of another trail I did in the Cabo de Gata in South Eastern Spain , in the desert region of Almeria, with my track buddy Ivor Bundle.
Same twisted rocky mountains, same big empty spaces with no development , same crashing waves onto the sands next to the trail and the same beautiful little flowers struggling in a parched world.
Good thing….. I got a two wheel drive taxi to take me out on the rutted dirt track the 25kms to the lighthouse at Punta de Jandia,
Bad thing….. Half an hour after I started to walk I see a chunky bus on the track. Oh well, some useful info for the guide writers there.

The tiny ex fishing village of El Puertito was a fairly desolate place complete with a bizzare collection of vans and caravans.

More of which I discovered further on down the trail

I wondered if I would see the washed up remains of boats used by African illegal immigrants in the coves as we had on the Cabo de Gata.
Hiking along I remembered why I wanted to do this after the stressful preparation and apprehensive departure. The open spaces, the winding trail, the wind in the hair, actually way too much wind. No wonder there are kite and windsurfers here. But all in all a good first day through amazing grace, I mean space.

They say the greatest journeys begin with a single step. Well this one started with 31,303 steps.

FUERTEVENTURA 3rd JANUARY 2015

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First day of the trip coming to an end and time to try get iPhone blog up into the ether.
Good thing…my hiking poles and tent pegs got through security.
Bad thing…took me an age and much stress to get Spanish sim and data up and running.
The flight over the island and the bus ride down it revealed a hell of a lot of empty space.
Mucho sand and rock. Some amazing volcanic calderas(?)
A hint of green after whatever winter rains they get but mostly all shades of beige.
I landed at the end of the bus route at the large resort ofMorro Jable an expensive 4 wheel drive taxi ride from the start which I’m off to bright and early tomorrow.
Good thing/bad thing … Whilst walking the beach this evening I was witness to a procession of white robed figures who proceeded to disrobe on their way and walk naked into the sea. Fairly surreal, or possibly normal in these parts.

CAMINO SANABRES: A quieter pilgrim way

With all the media attention on the Camino Frances, the main pilgrim route to Santiago across Northern Spain, in the last 5 years or so,it has become a victim of it’s own success .

In the summer months especially it has become a bit of a too well worn path with thousands of pilgrims competing for beds in the alburgues and remote landscapes decorated with a string of rucksacks trudging towards the horizon.

Having walked the Frances 10 years ago and wanting to return via a less crowded route we chose a branch of the Via de la Plata, the silver way, that comes up from Seville . 40kms north of Zamora, you have a choice to either carry on to Astorga to join the main trail or veer west along what becomes the South-Eastern Way.

Also known as the Camino Sanabres it is the longest Galician leg and from where we joined it at Puebla de Sanabria it’s 250 kms to Santiago.

It’s a handy route for those with a couple of weeks to explore the Way and reach Santiago with more than enough kms under your feet to qualify for a Compostela at journeys end. In fact, for those in a hurry, the required 100kms are achievable from Ourense, a 30 min high speed train journey after flying into Santiago, followed by a 5 day walk back.

For those with more time or energy on their hands (and legs and feet) there are buses and trains travelling east from Ourense to different stops along the route.

Arriving at Puebla de Sanabria we discovered pretty quickly that the high speed train track being built between Galicia and Madrid was going to be crisscrossing our Camino for awhile , causing a few diversions here and there, but soon we were passing through the first of many beautiful and ancient Galician villages, Terrosa where an old fella, spying us, rushed into his house to retrieve many ledgers for us to sign and stamps for him to print into our Credential or pilgrim passport.

A few kms later we were booking into a privately run albergue in Requejo where we met a couple we were to spend much of the next 10 days with when we had dinner at the resturante up the road offering 3 course pilgrim menu and lashings of red wine for €7.

Next day we climbed and climbed into the mist on ageless tracks passing under vast new roadways to reach the highest point on the Camino at 1320mts. We continued through the soft rain over the uplands and another pass into Galicia without much of a view. As we descended the weather improved, the construction and traffic noises faded and we felt we were on the Way.

An overnight in Vilavella on the softest most formless mattress we’ve ever been trapped in was followed by a short but beautiful 12.5km stretch on ancient original stone paved camino.

We crossed sparse moors with gritstone outcrops looking a little like Cornwall or Hampi in India.

A lovely old trail with beautiful wild flowers, blue sky and sunshine led us to a very well appointed municipal albergue in A.Gudina.

Arriving early we had the place to ourselves but as the day went on it filled with fellow pilgrims which resulted in a night of snoring and wheezing, encouraging us out pre sunrise next morning

for a 35km stretch over the high ground with views far and wide of rounded green hills and a many fingered lake.

In the afternoon we were revived by coffee and cake in the old ramshackle village of As Eiras where the local Camino Assoc had a little volunteer run cafe in one of the ancient stone buildings.

The architecture in these deeply rural Galician villages is one of the most attractive features of the Camino and has survived almost unchanged for hundreds of years.

Surrounded by well managed coppiced and pollarded forests of chestnut, walnut and oak, rich agricultural land and colourful and productive flower and vegetable gardens, the people may have been poor and isolated but were obviously rich in the fruits of the earth.

After our weary bodies had rested overnight in a stylish new municipal albergue in Laza it was another long haul uphill through forest

to reach Albergueria, an ancient hamlet with a bar and hostel adorned with thousands of scallop shells signed by pilgrims.

Being a sunday we were joined on the Way by more walkers with day packs enjoying the tranquil woodland paths and highland trails.

An overnight in another new hostal in Vilar do Barrio ( all municipal albergues in Galicia cost just €6) and another bargain and wine soaked dinner at the plain and simple restaurant opposite gave us the energy the next day for a 36km hike down more medieval pathways to Ourense.

With only a little over 100kms to go we decided to have a day off in this large town and enjoy the free public hot spring pools with which it is blessed. One of the largest supplies of geothermal water in Europe have been used to create half a dozen sets of stone lined pools, complete with parks and gardens along the banks of the river Mino which winds through the town. Open all and everyday they are a great social magnet with many old folk bathing and chatting each morning for hours on end.

A day of rejuvenating soaks in different pools of ranging temperatures had us ready for a long, steep uphill stretch for 4kms followed by a section on old cobbled and sandy trails through ancient oak and chestnut woodland, over gorsey moorland and past well tended gardens of vegetables.

The stones beneath our feet resinated with the lingering energy of countless previous pilgrims over the thousand years before we passed by and the religious purpose of the Way was often brought home by the shrines and statues that lined our path.

We came upon Casa Caesar where a friendly and generous pilgrim guardian welcomed us into his home and plied us with all manner of homemade food and drink, showed us a vast collection of momentos and photos and regaled us with stories and anecdotes we couldn’t understand. You don’t get those experiences on most hiking routes.

Fortified, we carried on to Cea, famous for it’s wood fired bread ovens, another beautiful and ancient stone village.The albuergue was a skilful blending of antique and modern looked after by a hospitalero sporting a fine moustache and Galician beret.

The next couple of days flew by as our bodies, by now “track fit”, walked on automatic. Perfect walking weather. Hot and sunny when we were in the woods and cloudy with a cooling breeze when crossing the open high ground.

The trail was the by now familiar mix of little fields, forest, hamlets, gardens, paths, road, tracks, a little more built up now we were approaching Santiago. In Toboada we came upon a medieval church which was full of interesting symbolic art.

The weather changed on the afternoon of the second day and we got caught in a downpour on the approach to Banderos. Luckily the strangely designed modern albergue there had heaters blasting hot air into the dormitory and we were soon dry again.

Another day over farmland and through forest followed by a final climb of 200mts got us to our last albergue of the trip. We speculated on weather the Galician government gave the design of these to keen young trainees as this one at Outeiro was another modernist block.

Our final leg into Santiago was only 16kms but we were on the trail early. The hills were wreathed in mist and the trees all dripped with recent rain as we made our way down to the roads leading towards the suburbs. The rural feel and mixed farmland lasted right up to the city gates which we entered from the south east and avoided the crowds of pilgrims coming from the Camino Frances until, suddenly we were in the cathedral square and it was time to celebrate our achievement and part company with our fellow pilgrims.

Santiago de Compostella at last!

Steve Barham

Rambling Man