AWW.16.11.2011: A foot massage of the dog’s spine…(or Um Passeio no Espinhaço do Cão)

                                                              Autumn colours

“I am aching all over”, said Ian;
“If you ain’t aching, it ain’t a good walk”, replied Rod…

Their kit dried and pressed, their spirits rekindled, their boots clean of mud and their eyes gleaming with anticipation, a surprisingly large congregation of Walkers met up in Bensafrim for another exciting day: ‘somewhat longer than before…’(dixit Rod). He was true to his word.
After some drivers of the opposite gender had finished parking near the appropriate places (some shunned gaps in which the Ark Royal could berth comfortably and opted for snug spaces with hard kerbs, feminish logic?) Paul gathered us for the usual Starters’ picture and we set off, the group having scooped up Janet and Terry M. ‘en passant’, welcome back!
The weather was perfect: a mild temperature, mostly sunny, a very light breeze and the odd dark cloud patch making empty threats; the air was clean and pure after the recent rainstorm, what more could Walkers ask for?
The morning went by uneventfully, apart from one climb that Rod described as ‘moderate’; the rest of us panted ‘the lying Thod!' as we peered up the hill to see ‘unfit’ Terry merrily tip-toeing and skipping along, another ‘lying Thod’! Lunch-time saw the group making themselves uncomfortable on piles of logs; the Leader had thoughtfully brought along enough food for both his hounds and there was no fight, for once…
The second leg of the trek took the group past many and varied puddles and mud pits that were negotiated with consumate skill by most, only Myriam having to adjust her footwear. Some very minor medical and surgical attention had to be extended to some tough Walking Wounded along the way and soon (finally! said some…) we invaded the café back in Bensafrim. Myriam and Paul had collected the RTC commemorative T-shirts and those were distributed to the Walkers who will wear them with pride In the Sagres restaurant, no doubt.
As dusk settled gently, the group members scattered towards their homes and waiting spice*: remarkable timing; well done Rod and thank you!  

The Starters:
Paul, Peter S, Chris, Ingrid, Andrew, Terry M, Janet, John O', Tina, Sue, Antje, Lindsey, Dina, Ian W, Yves, Hazel, Myriam, Rod, Maria.


 

 The Hungry Hounds: Tiggy, Sasha, Devana, Misty, Ember.

The Route:
  

The Stats:
Total Distance:         26.21 km
Total Time:               6 hrs 48 min.
Moving Time:           5 hrs 45 min.
Moving Avg.:            4.6 km/hr.
Overall Avg.:             3.9 km/hr
Total Ascent:            558 m.
Max Elevation:         223 m.

The Leader:
                                   
          Don’t be fooled: under this hard exterior hides an even harder soul…


The Leader’s Report:
There must have been some misunderstanding of the leader's walk description for 19 folk turned up...and there wasn't even a drop-out point identified!
At least it was a bright and warm morning following a week of rain as we set out from Bensafrim, very punctually indeed!
 

  
 Happy walkers

                                                                  
 
Off we went in a westerly direction along wide tracks until we turned off... Well, most of us did, except for those striding away in front who were too engrossed in worldly conversation... and climbed  up to the first ridge from where there were some great all round views.
 
 
 
            
 
 
We followed a path along the top for a while until we joined the main track from Bensafrim  towards Carrapateira. This was pretty uneventful until we neared the farmstead of Corte Medronheiro. Our leader was about to suggest dogs should be put on leads when a tinkling bell indicated the presence of sheep nearer than expected. The dogs inevitably heard this first and were gone in a flash...the luckless lone sheep was set upon by 4 dogs and appeared beyond redemption (or whatever happens to dead sheep) before the  hounds were called off. Before the discussion on how this delicate situation should be handled could be ended, the dead sheep jumped up and vanished from the scene.....just goes to show that sheep too know all about «playing dead» !
 
                          
                                                                         Gotcha! Not dead!
 
 
This was the end of excitement for the time being and we continued down into the Carrapateira River valley, already looking really lush and attractive. The river crossings provided no particular challenge...although the paparazzi had their cameras primed.
 
                                           Will she? won’t she fall in? foiled again…

 

                                                                                    Broody wet watel!

 
 

        Sue wanted nothing to do with the threatened lynching of the Blogueur…

We passed a cottage right on the track which had been taken over by a group of new world travellers (or whatever you choose to call them these days). Judging by the quantity of empty beer and wine bottles and general furnishing lying around there, life didn't appear to be too testing.  

                         
                  

 
One ring-studded individual involved in repairing an ancient 4X4 engaged us in conversation but the monosyllabic grunts gave little indication of what language he (or she) was speaking, so conversation was limited.
 On we went down the valley for a while before turning off to the north up a narrow track which ascended very sharply up to the Espinhação do Cão ridge.
 
 

                                                  More like the Grand National, but uphill…

Morning glory...................

                                                                          Hush now, big boys don’t cry!


By then there were increasingly strident calls for lunch, ignored of course until we came upon a large pile of cut eucalyptus, a van and a large forestry machine...
 
                                                                  There be Walker-eating Dragons!

Here we settled for lunch. Anyone hoping for a lift back in the van were in for disappointment: there was nobody around  and they had the keys.
 
 
                                                                  A quiet moment in the autumn sunshine
 
 
 
 

 I say, old chap, this is awfully tempting; prepared it yourself?
 
 
We continued for some kilometres along this stretch of the dog's spine with increasing mutterings about how much "in excess of 20.5kms" ( the walk's description) as our leader intended. He wasn't going to be drawn! 
 
                                                                            Ruins on the way…
 
 
Eventually we did turn towards home and wound our way back in a southerly direction. We joined a main track and continued along this until an approaching vehicle suggested we, along with the dogs, should move out of the way. This was only partially achieved, but the driver clearly had no intention of slowing down until one of the dogs obliged him to do so rather suddenly. We remonstrated for a while in Portuguese and others of our many languages until his polite response of  "well! get your f*****g dogs out of the road!"  rather pointed to him  being a most uncouth Brit!
 
 
                                                                                     Nearly there!
 
That was really the end of any excitement until we plodded into the bar. The 20.5 kms had of course been exceeded...by some 5.5 kms indeed !! Perhaps we were slightly nearer getting used to the RTC daily distances! 

...........Afternoon Delight

 

                                 Bar ‘Mon repos’

 
Well done Janet! After a couple of months lay-off, she complained not a word (she must have been secretly training in the Slovenian Alps!).
 
 
 
    
                               Soi-disant ‘unfit people’, yes well!
 
 
 

       The girl with the donkeys had a device to observe migrating birds and tits, she said.

 
 
                                                                            Look! some migrating lesser-spotted Walkers!
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              They migrated that-a-way

                       
Not at all exhausted either, was Myriam who immediately produced her ‘Accounts and Debtors’ books and proceeded to distribute, against strictly prompt payment of course, the RTC T-shirts.

                             
                                   Which migrant ordered the 42FF?


                                       

And finally: Please, will the custodian of the Walkers’ Patented Sécateurs bring them along to the next outing? Thank you.

 
                                Weary Walker, simply follow thy leader.

(*) Mouse > mice; louse > lice… Spouse > spice?