AWW 15.02.2012: Hilke’s Winter Paradise; a Walk around Paderne

 

Of council trucks and narrow roads early in the morn’…

 

The day had started well: all gear correct and stowed, all passengers picked-up and stowed; away we drove with a song and a smile; alas, we soon came upon a dark cloud of diesel smoke hiding an asthmatic council truck on its way to ‘work’ in first gear on a very narrow road…Meanwhile the Walkers, noted as they are for their patience and understanding of such things, had taken the Starters’ photo, counted the heads and were preparing to set off; we caught them just in time.
Under Hilke’s assured guidance, the usual assortment of fit, less-fit and unfit enthusiasts and their dogs, their numbers boosted by a visitor from the McWilson clan, made their way out of the village and ‘up them thar hills’ under the purest of Algarvian blue sky.

At this point, it is appropriate to record that the Blogueur received many entreaties from the aforementioned clan leader: he MUST not make any mention of Scotland’s defeat at the hands of the wily Welsh! The Blogueur will respect this demand.
Up and down some gentle paths, mostly,

through some brambles and over rocky and slippery trails,

across nearly dry streams we went when it was noticed by the more observant Walkers that Terry M was whittling away at some branch that he had amputated from a bush. Still, never question these computer types! Walk and watch the whittling…

All was revealed as we stopped for a spot of lunch by the riverside: Terry is showing early signs of Alzheimer’s and had left his cutlery at home! The whittling had indeed produced some quite respectable wooden forks (à la Robinson Crusoë) that he and the Blogueur used with their meal. (Menu du jour: Yamms and ham, ‘fraises dans leur jus avec crème et meringues’, coffee and biscuits).

The leader soon had the troop moving again at a gentle but determined pace; we even caught up and overtook other stray walkers clutching maps and guides (amateurs!) on the way back to Paderne. The hounds had behaved themselves, so had their masters and the café was very welcoming; all in all, a most delightful walk, well done Hilke (and Lindsey ‘in absentia’).

The 2-legged Starters (most of them):

14/16 of the Starters: Myriam, Paul, Dina Bob, Ingrid Chris, Hilke, Terry A., Heriot (Ian W’s nephew), Janet, Ian W. Tina, Rod, David.

Skulking behind the cars: Yves, Terry M.

The 4-legged starters:
Rusty, Ember, Misty, Alfie, Sasha, Tiggy and Rosie.

The Route:

The Stats:

Total Distance:            17.5 km
Total Time:                  4 hrs 41 min
Moving Time:              3 hrs 52 min
Overall Avg.                3.7 km/hr
Moving Avg.                4.5 km/hr
Total Ascent.               127 m
Max Elevation             256 m.

The Leader:

Her report:

This was to be a walk with Lindsey and me leading, but my co-leader would have to go skiing and nearly break her pelvis in a fall. So, it was to be my responsibility alone. Luckily we had reccied it once more before Lindsey went skiing.
In the starting photo you will see only 14 people; two more, who had forgotten to book in, had not dared to be there in time for it and only sneaked out of their car to join us when we walked off. But otherwise nothing to report, the start was a peaceful event.

A fresh wind made us walk briskly through the little town and climb up the first ridge offering us lovely views of rolling hills and paths lined with almond trees still in full blossom.

A winter without rain but with a lot of sun had helped to keep the flowers. When the sun got a bit stronger and warmed us up, we all said that that weather was what we had come for to the Algarve.
We found a very agreeable spot for lunch, the Algibre still had water here for the dogs, and a bank with grass and rocks for us to sit on.

Yves and Terry M. once again had their luxurious French meal with tablecloth and three courses and had to be reminded that this was a walk and not a gourmet restaurant.

               

When we crossed the Algibre a bit later, there was no drop of water left. When we crossed it last winter, there had been too much water to cross and we even had to do a loop to cross it on a bridge. 
Some excitement seized the group when we saw a rather big group of sheep up the hill and the shepherds throwing sticks at two dogs looking like Rosie and Sasha. But after some calling and running about we realized that our dogs had behaved very well and were nowhere near the sheep.

‘Not guilty!’ cried the dogs, to a man!

Luxury Lunch

 

When we came into Paderne and sat in the café, Lindsey came to see us, on her two crutches. Very special Swiss ones they were, with red lights in the grips and spikes for a good grip on snow and ice. A nice cup of coffee, some beer or hot chocolate finished our walk, sitting out in the sunshine.

The Super Crutches

 

 

Approaching Paderne

Beat that in England (or any other North European country)!!

 

Events and places, dear people:

Don’t ask…

Who’s the fairest of them all?

Ember keeping Rod under tight control…

Bucolic

Idyllic

Desertic

               
Idiotic…                                                                                  Here’s one he vandalised earlier…

 

Tail-piece:

Walkers can add their own interpretation…

 

‘I can sometimes sit for hours in a room with almost no thought; just complete stillness. Sometimes when I go for walks, there is also complete stillness; there is no mental labelling of sense perceptions. There is simply a sense of awe, of wonder and openness; and that’s beautiful.’
Eckhart Tolle

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!”

AWW 01.02.2012: Da Cova da Muda Caper, or the Fab Four ride again.

     

An early morning chill settles over down-town Alportel; inside one car, the day´s first banana is unpeeled, 9.05am; inside another, Geraldine snatches forty winks pre route march; outside, Maria dispenses the necessary coffee boost. 

The advertised 9.20 am kick-off stretches itself to 9.40 am before our Mafia head off to Cova da Muda (a name apparently meaning The Grave of the Mute Lady – does anyone know how that came about?) A group of thirteen, missing some of the stalwarts who survived the previous week´s St Vincent´s rock-hopping competition: Rod, Paul and Myriam – hors de combat: Yves M. le Blogeur – hors de quoi?: and Ian W. – probably busy recceing next week´s assault course up (and down again with luck) Picota. At C.da M., the statutory Starters Photo has everybody doing the traditional John O´ Wave.

Waving, not walking. (click to enlarge)

Da Usual Suspects 

Da Godfather:- David.

Da Gang of Four (about whom, more later):- Janet, Tina, Alex, Ingrid.

Da Foot-soldiers:- Maria, Geoff, Sue,Terry A, John O´, Jim, Geraldine, John H.

Da Mutts:- Rusty and the now mature Rosie (she didn´t run away once).

Da Statistics (grazie, Ingrid)

Distance 18.70 km:

Moving time - 4 h 37 m:  Total time -  5 h 28 m:
Moving avg. - 4.1 km/h: Overall avg. -  3.5 km/h: 
Total ascent -  645 m:  Max elev. -  526 m.

For once, no disagreement among the statisticians. Other stats for Paul´s consideration:-

Tilleys:- 3

Salomons:- 6 (or 3 pairs)

F:- 7

M:- 6 (outnumbered again).

Da Track

(click to enlarge)

Da Godfather´s Report

“Da Cova da Muda Caper

“For a walk that was clearly billed as no stroll in the park, the turn-out was most gratifying, with all making the meeting-point at the Bar Vitoria in Alportel (eventually), albeit with much complaining about roundabouts ( I can’t help it if roundabouts are the latest craze in the Algarve!!) The bar being closed, a small convoy then made its way to the start-point of the walk in the small hamlet of Cova da Muda, a couple of km. to the north. Much donning of boots and girding of loins passed before a start was finally made, about twenty minutes later than scheduled.

“The whole walk passed without notable incident, in very cool to cold conditions, but with bright sunshine throughout. That, however, suggests a dullness that was certainly not the keynote.

Corgas Bravas

“After an easy opening two or three kilometres, the tiny settlement of Corgas Bravas was sighted, and the ‘very steep’ ascent previewed in the preamble lay ahead.(It was at this stage that this Blogger innocently asked when last the Gang of Four - a.k.a. The Fab.Four or, to their familiars, The Four Floozies - had all been together on a walk. It seems that, apart from “one particular event”, the last time all four of them had walked together was in early September 2011).

 

“All made the climb in remarkably good time and without apparent ill-effects, and stood to admire the impressive 360 degree views, at a final height of 516 metres. (Some of us, rather than admiring were in fact catching our breaths and trying to calm our racing pulses when the FF told me what that “one particular event” had been. It had been a Ladies´ Lunch for Four, but with a difference. Out of regard for the modesty of my readers and exercising the Blogger´s customary  discretion, I shall draw a veil of prudence over the descriptions of sartorial and sybaritic fantasies that followed: not good for the blood pressure at that altitude, I can tell you.)

“ A stimulating stride along the ridge followed, including the only leadership faux-pas of the day, when Terry’s ‘little man’, striding across the screen of his GPS, led the way on the same mistake that had been made a week earlier on the recce. Fortunately, the error was spotted quickly and normal service resumed.

The Barragem

“Eventually, contact was made with the N124 on its winding way up to Barranco do Velho, only to leave it again after a couple of hundred metres. After a further stretch of upland track, a descent was made to a very attractive small barragem which provided an excellent cooling-off spot for the dogs, and would make a good lunch stop, were it not for the lure of the café at B do V, only a short distance away.

“On this occasion, having taken note of the position of the sun, the Tia Bia was forsaken in favour of the café across the road (name, anyone?), where a very pleasant lunch break was taken. (The friendly lady behind the bar, remembering our group´s previous visit there last November, conveyed her disappointment at not seeing this time those two charming bearded gentlemen who had brought their own knives, forks, pommes frites and hot custard…

from the Archives

….. at least I think that was what she was telling me.)

Mass hysteria, or Waving again

“Thus fortified, steps were retraced to the lower part of the village, to pick up the old track leading down to the Javali road. After a short valley stroll, a further steepish climb took us back to our earlier height and another ridge walk with more excellent views, including an unusual view of B do V., revealing more about its setting.

B do V from the east

“The next stage involved a steady descent and a walk along the valley of the Ribeiro do Vale Formoso, with the very clear stream still flowing nicely in spite of the dry season.

(Here The Four Floozies condescended to pose for the paparazzo….

…all the while protesting that really their hearts were set on appearing on the cover of Vogue. Until then, dearies, Blogue will have to do. But how nice it was once more to hear their melodious chatter as they strode along singing the pop hits of past eras. The Fifties,or is it the Sixties? Help me out here, Janet,Tina.)

“The last climb of the day took us to within a short distance of the new fire-tower on the peak Menta (trig-point avoided) and its old mills, (Moinhos de Menta) now ruined and hidden in the trees.

Getting the low-down

“A steep descent followed to ‘close the neck of the balloon’ about 300 metres from the start-point.

The paparazza´s revenge

“The convoy of cars then made the return journey to the Bar Vitoria, now thankfully operational, and a convivial half-hour to conclude a very satisfactory day. (very good value at the café, said Janet the Purse.)”

And so ended a very pleasant Updulator Mark 2-type walk, that is, one which stuck to the tracks and had tables and chairs at lunchtime. What more can one ask for? And isn´t it extraordinary the range of conversation in these walks? For example, I was chatting to John O´ (who remains a remarkably modest man despite his connections with Swedish Royalty) about music, as is our wont. He was trying to persuade me of the merits of Leonard Cohen, Paul McCartney and Diana Krall, a jazz singer from Vancouver Island. Not entirely convinced but conceding that Miss Krall had class, I mentioned that a current favourite blues singer of mine is the not particularly well-known Madeleine Peyroux. To my surprise, John O´said that not only had he  seen her in concert but that he had once shared a sauna with her. Couldn´t top that!

Check her out.

<a href="http://www.lyricstime.com/madeleine-peyroux-muddy-water-lyrics.html" title="Madeleine Peyroux - Muddy Water Lyrics @ LyricsTime.com">Madeleine Peyroux - Muddy Water Lyrics @ LyricsTime.com</a>