A short, interesting, diverse, and tough one!
Bonjour à tous les Baladeurs du Mercredi en Algarve, présents ou en vacances!
Many of you have just missed a mini-classic, but fear not: it may yet be repeated…
There was a number reversal of last week’s walk: four ladies to seven gentlemen: the symmetry might have appealed to some but she was not here to be confused. Boldly going where he wants to, the Leader took the group to a ford where some did not wish to get their Fiat wet, rather leaving passengers to get their feet wet; who cared? It was a glorious day and the Walkers, spurred on by Hedley’s boundless enthusiasm set off upwards (where else?) through budding cistus and thorny bushes…
There was a number reversal of last week’s walk: four ladies to seven gentlemen: the symmetry might have appealed to some but she was not here to be confused. Boldly going where he wants to, the Leader took the group to a ford where some did not wish to get their Fiat wet, rather leaving passengers to get their feet wet; who cared? It was a glorious day and the Walkers, spurred on by Hedley’s boundless enthusiasm set off upwards (where else?) through budding cistus and thorny bushes…
It was clear that the Leader had done his homework and the group did not really become lost; only the path kept vanishing on occasions. Cue more bushes, prickles, thorns and curses from Walkers.
At times, the air was filled with the sound of slashing and swishing as they battled valiantly with the rampant brambles with their sticks scything and flashing; truly a magnificent sight, d’Artagnan would have approved! Some impromptu ascents were indeed very demanding and there was a lot of pull-me-push-you before the top of the ridge was reached for lunch; Sherpa Tensing would have approved!
Once the panting, bleeding and cursing had stopped, there was a consensus over lunch that the views are breath-taking (some recover more slowly than others). More perusal of the carry-along Google wotsit* led us to the foot of the barrage; luckily, no water came down the spill-way, perhaps it was low tide as some Walker was heard to remark (fiendishly clever, these Portuguish: tidal barrages!)A hop, a skip and another tongue-wagging later, the Walkers enjoyed again the cool beer on the terrace of the Café.
Important matters had to be attended to: namely the Leader roster for the next few weeks and there was just enough time for a small presentation: our Welsh (by association) Grand Slammer made the gift of a well-earned spoon made of wood to one of our Scottish representatives. He may keep it until next year when someone else might claim it but in all probability, the Wooden Spoon has found its permanent home…It must be noted, en passant, that the fellow-Scot charged with photographing the event managed to muff it (strange language, Scotch!); one wonders why there exists no record…Still, a very pleasant outing, thank you Leader, and thank you all for your valuable and extremely timely contributions to this Blog.
Important matters had to be attended to: namely the Leader roster for the next few weeks and there was just enough time for a small presentation: our Welsh (by association) Grand Slammer made the gift of a well-earned spoon made of wood to one of our Scottish representatives. He may keep it until next year when someone else might claim it but in all probability, the Wooden Spoon has found its permanent home…It must be noted, en passant, that the fellow-Scot charged with photographing the event managed to muff it (strange language, Scotch!); one wonders why there exists no record…Still, a very pleasant outing, thank you Leader, and thank you all for your valuable and extremely timely contributions to this Blog.
The route:
The Stats:
distance 9.71km
total time 4h15m
moving time 2h47m
moving avg. 3.5k/h
overall avg. 2.2k/h
max elevation 252m
total ascent 470m
S/M/L thorns: millions!
The Starters:
Janet, Yves, John O’, Hilke, Ingrid, Dina, Ian W, Terry A, Rod, Hedley (welcome back!), John H.
The Best Friends: Misty, Ember (still on probation).
The Leader:
The Walkers won’t notice…
The Leader’s Report:
Yet another cloudless day as this somewhat modest (in terms of numbers anyway) band set off from the Café Ourique... Well it was the Café Ourique but the name has been expunged for reasons I forgot to ask... by vehicles. We drove up the dam road to the bridge over the river and swung off down a track towards the river; the most considerate intention being to cross the ford and park on the other side to avoid wet feet before we even started. Terry declined to entrust his vehicle to the waters so his passengers were obliged (curiously without much audible -Myriam was absent- complaint) to swim. And so we set off up the valley towards the dam.
Wait for meeeeee…
We wandered (the pace was indeed such) along the ridge, well like all Algarve ridges they tend to be a string of hills with sharply lower bits in between.
And still, he moaned about the ‘Ref!
All the ground on the north facing side of the ridge towards the dam has been replanted by the dam authorities - Aguas do Algarve - indeed, with a selection of indigenous trees. Hopefully they won’t have withered through lack of water, so it should be an impressive backdrop to the dam one day.
We disappeared over the far end of the ridge into quite different scenery; pine trees giving way to inevitable eucalyptus but with periodic splendid views of stretches of the new lake with Picota and Alferce hills beyond.
Some of us may reminisce about long past walks along the Oudelouca Valley but the lake that has consigned them to the deep certainly has a different sort of beauty.
Having absorbed that, we set off along a track that headed back towards the dam. In truth: 'towards' it might have been but somewhat to the Leader's surprise it terminated in impenetrable jungle somewhat short of our goal, leaving the choice of retracing our steps or finding our way upwards through the almost vertical 'mato'. Never one for going back if it can be avoided, he chose to go up, convinced it would be worth it when we got there.
After many oaths and some bloodletting, but surprisingly few serious complaints, we did get there and the spectacle was indeed terrific.
We were perched right at the end of the ridge with a stunning panorama of the dam and lake far below us against a backdrop of Foia and Picota. There we stopped for lunch.
After that we descended down a network of tracks bulldozed for the tree plantation right down to the foot of the dam (going across was not an option for it is not yet open to the public). We passed right under the massive spill-way with the dam now towering above us and down along a track and footpath along the northern side of the river...well, river it hardly is because little water is being allowed to pass the dam.
We were obliged to cross back again shortly before completing the walk back down the main track beside the river to the cars and back to the nameless Café. A brief walk indeed, not even reaching double figures but one with unbeatable views of the new dam and lake.
Le déjeuner: Une affaire modeste: salade niçoise sans anchovies or olives (Lent! and watching the waist-line), followed by a Chocolate Moose with red fruit, meringue et crème fouettée. Easy: first, catch a moose and cover it in chocolate (some like it, I hear), then convince your wife that she wants to bake meringues for you; lastly pack it all very carefully and voilà: enjoy!
Tail-piece:
The ‘Big Haitch’ at the far end of the pitch, Portuguese style; even a Wooden Spoon aspirant could not miss that!
*: When the RCB comes back from his travels, he may tell us the correct technical term for a ‘Google wotsit’.
In fact I decided to spare a fellow Scot´s blushes by deliberately messing up the video of the wooden spoon bit.
ReplyDeleteCongrats on a very expeditious blog. We had barely touched down in Brum when it was zapping in from cyberspace. It seems the slower the average speed the faster the blog appears. I am a bit suspicious of the stats, seems to have been a lot of leisure time.
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