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.