The alarm said ‘Wake up, it’s 05.00’;
The present Mrs. Blogueur said ‘Go away, it’s 05.00!’
The cats on the balcony said ‘Shove off, it’s 05.00’…
By consensus, it was 05.00 and Sparrowfart was beckoning!
Lindsey, who knows her geography, delivered some of the Walkers in good time at Meia Praia and soon the troop assembled for the Starters and Supporters’ picture (John wisely ignored well-meant advice to close his car door).
The late arrival
Chris had done an excellent job of the recce and we did not get lost once, plodding merrily in the gathering heat of the morning…
A manly group of Walkers
Morning colours…
Le Blogueur, aka ‘Twinkle-Toes’, ploughing a lonely furrow…
Those dogs that stayed with the Walkers behaved themselves remarkably well until, that is, a chicken crossed our path. The ensuing high-speed chase happened largely out of sight behind some hillock and as it returned, it was clear that the dog was suffering from mild dehydration: the animal was positively spitting feathers… The incident left the more philosophical Walkers to ponder the sempiternal question: ‘Why did the chicken cross the path?’
When some lady Walkers spotted oyster and cockle pickers, they exchanged various remarks about the efficacy of said molluscs in preparing for the Games but this Blogueur could only contribute second-hand anecdotes to their debate…
Approaching a level crossing, some wag pointed to the sign and said something about ‘Musket-ball trains’ and ‘TPV, Train à Petite Vitesse’: memories can be short, we travelled on that device not so long ago!
An excellent walk that was mercifully flat and short; in the heat, anything longer may have been much less enjoyable: thank you Chris and Antje, and all helpers of course!
The track, courtesy of John H.
The Stat, also courtesy of John H.:
Overall distance: 11.7 km.
The other Stat:
Total elevation/depression ratio: not enough for Ian W…
The Leader The Hostess
The Leader’s report
In future years the AWW's might consider having just a Sparrowfart breakfast without the walk, which each year becomes less interesting in the Meia Praia area, with new developments being completed that restrict access and roads and tracks becoming ever busier. Not that anyone noticed, as conversation continued unabated throughout the walk despite the ever increasing temperature towards the end. Starting out on time presented some difficulty, mainly due to said conversations pre-walk, so much so that even latecomers could catch up without difficulty.
The starters and the cooks
From memory, [says Chris] the Walkers were John and Hazel, Lindsey,Ingrid, Alex,Terry and Jill, Paul and Myriam, Philip,Yves, Rod, Dina, Frank, John O', Peter and Chris, with only two dogs, Rusty and Shelley qualifying as finishers. Joining us for breakfast were Joan, Mike and Jyll, Susan, Sue and Sonja. That only makes 24, I'm sure I counted 26 ! Apologies if I've missed anyone.
Following the traditional track, this time in the reverse direction for a change, quickly brought us to the shaded levadas and up to the only trig point in the area which conveniently appeared from nowhere, creating the impression that the leader actually knew where he was going.
Had he decided to follow his errant dogs at this point then the walk would have continued until early evening, which was when the pair decided to return home for supper, having skipped breakfast, something any self respecting AWW would never do.
Indeed!
It was too hot by now to even consider counting numbers of walkers, Philip and new dog Millie having already headed for home and said errant dogs having disappeared for the day. In any event there still seemed enough of us to continue along the banks of the Alvor estuary, leap across Beechers Brook.
Mayhem as usual at Beechers Brook
Nobody fell in, fortunately, and we trudged through the heat beside the well exposed oyster beds.
Pausing to re-group beside the now fully operational Palmares Golf course, we took advantage of the new underpass beneath the railway to head at a good pace for Casa da Oliveira, where it had been confirmed that the coffee pot was switched on. With only one small hill to tackle nobody expected low flying tree branches to be much of a hazard, although this was unfortunately the case for Ian W whose Tilley hat survived unscathed but the head beneath it didn't.
Terry did it…
Peter (and cod-piece) did it…
Myriam did it (she did not have to stoop too much, however)…
Ian nearly did it: his vision was blurred at breakfast, still… You must suffer for your Artz!
Exactly on time the hungry horde arrived to an excellent breakfast prepared by Antje, and her helpers Mike, Jyll, Susan and Sonja.
The dedication
The enjoyment
The never-ending chatter…
Ian S paid a fleeting visit, but having completed his business beat a hasty retreat. He had previously vowed never to eat a sausage again after last year’s extravaganza, so this was to be expected.
Ingrid made up for him; a change from bananas?
Thanks also to those who helped to clear up afterwards.
Where did you get that Hat?
Paul has warned that the video-clips attached contain scenes of (near) nudity and some unsuitable sex scenes… That is why these clips are featured so late in this post.
Kultur Korner: The term ‘Sparrowfart’ has long intrigued this Blogueur; its etymology seemed rather vague but some research has produced an explanation of sorts.
The Bard, no less, is said to have spelt his name in several different ways from Shakespeare to Chat-qui-expire; it follows therefore that when using French in his writings, he should also make smelling mistakes: e.g. ‘le bilbow’ [Henry the V]; thus ‘moineau’ of the genus ‘passereau’ became ‘sparrow’.
So far, so good but the other bit took a lot more digging: ‘le fart’ is known among older alpine skiers as the waxy mixture applied to the sole of skis to gain more speed. This operation is called ‘le fartage’ or ‘farter’ (v. tr.) in short.
The association of these words conjures up an image that only Brits of certain penchant can create: a little bird skiing downhill, hell for leather!
Messieurs, je vous tire mon chapeau!
Et finalement:
“Stupidity gets up early; that is why events are accustomed to happening in the morning”
Kraus Karl.
