AWW 08.02.2012: Perambulations on Picota

High and cold, but sunny side up!
Pre-AmbleAt the request of the Leader, this Blogueur is happy to oblige: there will be no mention in the following story of the appalling defeat inflicted by a ‘woeful England XV’ upon the brave wee laddies at Murrayfield!

The Blog for a chilly but lovely walk up Picota:
A crisp morning, a splendid gathering of regular and very welcome new faces making for jovial company all day: the Leader could not really ask for more. After the usual grappling with gorillas and their pods, the troop set off in an upwards direction. The banter was very pleasant, if interspersed with some heavy breathing at times; quite what caused it is difficult to determine because the twisty nature of the track hid many people from view at various times. Indeed, at one point, our Leader found that he was discoursing to himself, the troop having fallen well behind…
In spite of being a Walking Wounded (this yoga lark can be tricky), Young Alex was her spritely self and demonstrated an astounding knowledge of crocodile-taming techniques: apparently, one has to split their whiskers? More as we get it…
                                                                   The unassuming crocodile-tamer
As promised in the pre-walk NoToW (Notice to Walkers), the views enjoyed from the route and particularly from the top were magnificent: the keener-eyed among us could even detect the Cape St Vincent lighthouse, they said. But, it was chilly…

          The Scot of the Algarve-tic

At the top, some very kind souls extended their generosity to the Blogueur who had lost his pack-lunch somehow; the finger of suspicion pointed to Paul but he vehemently denied any wrongdoing. The only conclusion must be that the dogs are a lot cleverer than we think: Misty had a telling twinkle in her eyes.
The way down from the summit was fraught with tricky passages and various obstacles that did claim one or two Walkers’ pride. Poor Tina slipped upon some grass and fell upon her wrist (factual accuracy is no respecter of rhyme); willing helpers swathed it in Savlon and offered to kiss it better before she soldiered on womanfully!

Up front, the leader was by then nearing the Caldas de Monchique where he retrieved his bicycle clips from the restaurant (I think that this is the correct version).


Once the FFF* had re-grouped, the bar was alive again with all the stories of the day and inquisitive comments about the sticks of Frangipani liberally distributed by Janet; thank you for these!

                                                                       V for Victory, apparently…

A good day out: thanks Ian!

The Starters:

Liz, Ingrid, Chris, John O’, Tina, Dina, Alex, Paul, Antje, Geoff, Myriam, Ian, Terry A, Rod, Frank, Yves, Janet, Sue, John H. (We later collected Claire and her hound).
The Panters:
Sasha, Twiggy, Misty, Rusty, Shelly.
The Track:


























The Stats:
Total Distance:                 13.78 km
Total Time:                       5 hrs
Moving Time:                   3 hrs 50 min
Overall Avg.:                    2.8 km/hr
Moving Avg.:                    3.6 km/hr
Total Ascent:                    706 m.
Max Elevation:                 788 m.

The Leader:

His Report:
19 hardy walkers and 4 dogs met at the Foz de Banho café at 09.30 armed with lots of layers, gloves, ice axes and toques (The French Canadian word for close fitting knitted stocking cap). In the hat count of Toques versus Tilleys, the woolly hats won hands down. After the obligatory photo in front of the grinding stone we set off under an intensely blue and clear sky. Past the Longevity Resort and up to the Schoolhouse where we picked up another walker and her dog.
The first stop was on the huge boulders of granite where we caught our breath and got the first view of the sea which was very clear.

Onwards and upwards we followed the path, which has been taken over by mountain bikers and cleared of brambles and other obstructions.
(Except for some logs: RCB)

Crossing the Logs

All plain sailing, so to speak until we got nearly to the top, where we gathered at the coldest, windiest place on the hill before setting off down the track to Monchique, where we skirted the north side of Picota. At this point everybody was wearing all the clothing they brought with them, such was the cold wind. Most people were unrecognisable.

Once we got around to the east of the mountain and out of the wind it was quite warm and outer layers were removed again, only to be put back on as we battled our way through the wind to the summit. Fortunately, a few metres away from the summit on the south side and out of the wind, we sat around in the sun for lunch. Pundits agreed that the view was as clear as could be remembered. Even the last wind turbines before Cap St Vincent stood out clearly.
Setting off in a howling gale down from the summit, we quickly moved down to where the path was out of the wind, past Chris's corner (where we lost Chris when he was on the telephone) and on down to Idelina's garden, with the oranges and lemons on the same tree and the rich well tilled soil. When we got to Quinta de Hortensias we were met by the gang of angry dogs, but we were too big a pack and they slunk away without a challenge. Also Geoff used his gizmo which emits high frequency sound waves to deter the hounds.
Walking through the Caldas de Monchique we came across some processionary caterpillars on the road out of the village, and steered pretty clear of them. Back to the Foz where we unfortunately had to sit out of the sun in the cold. A quick drink and then off to the haven of a warm car.
 
Note-worthy moments and things:


The objective

The grunt…

The pause

The reward
 Familiar faces?




 


The Blogueur could not possibly comment…
Some views, courtesy of Ingrid, Myriam, John and Paul


                                

                                                      



Algarvian vista!

Somewhat tricky descent.

Bravely going where hobbits and rabbits lurk…

Poor Old Rusty nearly did not come out of the cistern
Post-walk recuperation and Caption Competition:
‘What is Antje (or anyone else) saying?’
Please send your entries to the ‘Comments’ section?


Post-Amble: Myriam calculated that the average age for this outing came in at 66 years, 2 months and 21 days (for those that have disclosed their ages!): thank Heaven for Little Girls who bring those numbers down!

Tail-piece: ‘Who are these Walkers browning my portals?’
                                     

*FFF: Fabulous Four Floozies
“We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.” Didion, Joan
“Spring is not the best of seasons. Cold and flu are two good reasons; wind and rain and other sorrow, warm today and cold tomorrow. Whoever said Spring was romantic? The word that best applies is frantic!”