AWW 28.03.2012 The Great 14-18 Debate *

‘Somebody stole the track! There was one here last week…’


‘Twas a bright, fresh morn’ when the Monchique hélipad became alive with the merry cries of happy hounds and their owners: the Walkers had arrived for another chapter in their quest for that elusive ten-spotter!

                                                          

 
Misty celebrated her reunion with the Blogueur in her usual effusive manner and left her paw marks on his T-shirt (the present Mrs. Blogueur was not impressed…);  still the Walkers, their numbers boosted by some returning faces and some new ones, set forth into the sunshine, cobbled streets and steep climbs.

                  

 
All went well for a while: the air was cool and progress was brisk-ish; we reached Foia at a canter, almost, before the Leader applied some ‘corrections’ to his recce. The Walkers, being made of stern stuff, followed unquestioningly –most had not a clue where they were headed in any event- through dense undergrowth, down precipitous slopes, over stones and boulders: excellent fun!

 
               
As befits an occasional Leader, David L made a point of signalling to the group the presence of a very large and mean bramble bush: those of us who saw his brave display of Son et Mouvement as he fell into it will never forget it! Thank you David!

           
         The rest before the fall                                                                     Thespian sacrifice…


The Leader saw to it that we arrived to the planned lunch-spot at about lunch-time. We could almost hear the water-fall when the feminish chatter stopped as they paused for breath.

                 
                      Les Quintuplettes (dixit the Ass. Blog.)

Fed, watered and rested, the group was now looking forward to a gentle amble back to the café: alas, once more the fates took a hand in the proceedings and somehow we missed our ETA (technical term for beer-time). Where did all these climbs come from? And the cows? Must have a word with the Captain, sometime…
All in all, a pleasant way to spend a Wednesday; perhaps a Lady Walker will explain what she meant when she exclaimed that ‘some men don’t seem to care how long it takes!’
Thank you Monsieur le Leader.

 

Les participants:  John H, David L, Maria, Val, Yves, David H, Dina, Rod, Frank, Hilke, Ian, Mary, Ingrid, Hedley.
Les chiens: Misty, Ember, Rosie and Shelley
La Piste Footsie:

Les Statisques d’Ingrid (translated from the original Belgish):
Distance totale*:                  17.9 kms*
Temps global:                     5h 56mins
Temps de marche:             4h 45mins
Lenteur globale:                 3 km/h
Lenteur de marche:           3.7km/h
Altitude maximale:             906m
Ascension globale:               774m
Le Leader:

                                     
It will be noted that despite this Blogueur’s steadfast efforts not to mention the Noble Game, the Leader contrived to find a tree shaped like a spoon made of wood…

Le Leader’s Report:

We mustered at the café Descansa Pernas, which was thankfully open, and those who needed a fix had one. Everybody arrived in good time and we set off at 09.30 under a blue sky and a stiff breeze. Climbing up through the steep narrow streets to the Convento surely cleared the lungs and resulted in us having an early stop to disrobe. We moved fairly quickly up through the desolation where a forest of eucalyptus trees had been felled, stripped of bark and branches and all the detritus left on the ground to prevent anything growing and provide fodder for a forest fire.

 

 

We skirted Foia on the south side walking through a good path in the heather and getting a full view of the south coast, which was not very clear on the day.

 

Half-way along the path we ran into a heifer, which was in the same place when we got back on the return journey.

 

Beauties and the Beast

                                 Heifer, moi? Them dangly bits ain’t udders, don’t you know?

 

Soon we reached the communication masts and listening devices which adorn the top of Foia and the café at the top, where the ladies were given time to powder their noses before we pressed on past the Area Militar, the white football-like tower and radar facility to the main road to Foia.

 

 

There, the Leader had a rush of blood to the head and tried to take a "shortcut" to a track he was heading for, but he ended up in brambles 2 metres deep and there was blood on the ground.

 

The two gurus

 

Rod found a way through and we continued on a decent track towards the Barbelote waterfall.

 

Dr. Doolittle, he talks to his animal…

 

We had lunch near the waterfall and although there was not much water, we listened to its tinkle before we also went to tinkle nearby.

 

                 

After lunch we laboured up the track and arrived at a ruin with lots of cows and a couple of bulls not far away.

 

‘Ils ne passeront pas!’ said Ermintrude…

 

‘M**de!’ said the Walkers as they trudged up Cowpats Alley…

 

At that point we went off piste again, but this time it was easy walking on grass before we reached the tarmac road that took us to the top of Foia and back to the café.

 

 
  Nice and easy… And this is why we do it…

 

 

        

 

Le repos du baladeur

 

While drinking a caneca of Super Bock, David How, a visiting friend of the Leader appeared to nod off, but went grey and could not be roused. Yves took charge of getting him into the recovery position lying on the ground and the ambulance was called. David revived immediately and called for his unfinished beer, but was kept lying down. The paramedics got him on a stretcher and put him in the ambulance, which after a few minutes set off for Hospital Barlavento near Portimão. David was given oxygen in the ambulance and was accompanied to the hospital by Maria, who helped to translate for him where necessary.

He was classified on arrival at the hospital as third level "urgent" and kept under observation until the doctor saw him. He had an ECG, which showed that his heart had had "an event" and would need further tests on his return to UK. He returned home at about 22.00 and claimed to be absolutely fine. This morning he felt none the worse from the walk and is raring to go.

 

Le Coin du Gourmet: In due déférence to the warning of steep climbs ahead, lunch was kept light and nourishing: salade de printemps avec fraises et mayonnaise aux câpres et jambon fumé dans un bun croustillant, suivi par fruit énergétique and washed down by a local Chateau-la Fontaine 2012…

                                                  
                                                   Spring has sprung!

Oxtail-piece:
                                          
                                                                     La Vache qui ne rit pas!

On a serious note: This walk was troubled by a couple of small incidents that came to happy conclusions, fortunately. Perhaps, this is a signal from Above that we ought to review some of our operating procedures: some of you ain’t quite as young as you were! Please DO use the Bogueur as the channel to pool ideas and suggestions to ensure even better standards of safety during our outings? Many thanks for all points raised for discussion.

 

*Reference the title of the Blog, the Leader had promised 14 kms but the Contradiction of GPSs settled for 18 kms at the end of the walk! At least that is Yves story!