Quite a daunting sight, some 5 miles to the peak with a near vertical last section. Should
provide some perspective together with last photo, of the hike, some 10 miles and over 2,000 feet
elevation gain following the route we took.
Magnificent scenes across the way as clouds, mist and haze create a captivating sight.
Sometimes life really is complicated, on other occasions it's difficult but most of the time it should
be an incredible journey and experience. Of course, one of the tricks is not to interrupt the journey
prematurely—a call for judgment and wisdom. We hear many of the older generation saying that life, especially
the latter years, is not for the faint-hearted—we understand it. We remember our parents telling us that
our school days were the best days of our lives. We think perhaps, they meant the easiest notwithstanding
Latin comprehension. To conclude, all the days of our lives have the potential to be incredible but never easy.
There is always one additional proviso, at least one: A person should be blessed to experience good health—the rest
is up to the individual. Where are we going with this? Hmm! Haven’t a clue really or perhaps it leads to a time
before we ever reach a mountain trailhead and then occasions on the trail, too.
(continued at the end)
From part-way up, the village of Casares on a pedestal, so typical of the country,
catches early morning light.
Editor reaches the peak after a treacherous climb before the summit. Of course, it's even
worse on he way down...but wonderful.
Following in the footsteps of the editor, a tough path to follow.
Showing off sun-tanned arm at the summit.
More reserved editor prepares for breakfast at the top, a great incentive.
Almost surreal scene that puts one in a trance...or maybe it's the climb. Nevertheless, a
personal favorite with the haze or mist...Not unlike the Cascades of North America.
Usually touch toes each morning but must have forgotten earlier. It's getting a lot easier these days
since I learned to bend at the knees. Behind, that is, to the rear is the Mediterranean, in fog.
Reaching the lower summit after a treacherous ascent as the wind picks up velocity.
The village of Casares from the peak. Almost every village is built on a hill.
The strange thing is they all use Spanish style architecture—oh, of course, this is Spain,
not California.
Leaving the relatively easy peak as we get ready to approach the treacherous slope
of sand and loose stones, at an acute angle.
That evening, we identified the mountain and therefore the hike from our patio 7 miles away. Our route
took us to the higher peak, the one to the right. The village below the mountain, Casares, was clearly visible
in the earlier pictures.
We touched down in Madrid, collected our luggage and sought the car rental hall. We communicated in a fashion,
found a couple of issues that were difficult to explain and understand but we dealt with at least one and set
off for Granada. Following an inter-continental flight without shut-eye, it’s never a great start to the day.
Loading the car, finding the exit and joining the morning peak traffic in full swing presents, should we say,
interesting times. Without having much time to understand the road signs, the way the system works, fellow drivers
and a host of other factors, the morning takes on its own flavor. We have driven in a number of countries and each
experience has a similar feeling. It is not exactly comfortable but with a co-pilot, a map, a willingness to ask
for directions, one usually succeeds. The alternative is not pleasant to contemplate.
In Spain, the freeways and highways are first-class—a high standard. The real problems are in the towns and villages
as the signage is poor, the roads are narrow, twisting, have frequent name changes while the street signs are
cleverly hidden. Thus far, our directions have been, especially for us, on the mark. However, it’s that last mile
into the town that gets us—it has happened on three-out-of-four occasions. Our latest had a different flavor to it.
We arrived in Bejar, an hour or so west of Madrid, having left from the extreme southern part of the country.
(For those who know less of the language than ourselves, admittedly not many, remember to pronounce the ‘j’ as an ‘h’.)
The narrow, extremely narrow streets, often two-way, are a challenge but they work. After stopping to ascertain
the way to the apartment twice, we were not making much progress as the language barrier is just that, a hurdle.
However, the last person we asked caught up with us and signaled to follow him—it turns out we had got within
a short block of the establishment.
We found a parking space down the street as there was nowhere else to leave the car. Arriving at the front door,
we noticed it was closed. Worse than that, it was locked. We tried the buzzer to the rooms. Nothing. We approached
a few people in the street including the hairdresser next door. She spoke less English than we speak Spanish…and by
a wide margin. Jenni noticed the telephone number above the door and we planned to ask someone to call for us.
However, we first had to find someone passing—it was siesta time—it often is. Then we had to make sure the person
had a ‘phone and thereafter, was willing to use it. I approached a young woman and communicated in my best
Spanish which included mostly, gesticulating which I’m told is my strong suit. Apparently, I said or motioned
incorrectly because she slapped me—I exaggerate. She tried the numbers for us. We realized that we would need
to explain that we had reservations and were not seeking an apartment ‘cold’. In fact, you can’t find a cool
apartment in Spain this time of the season. No luck.
She walked away and we think her phone rang. She asked our name which we provided in the Spanish
equivalent: Henny and Heffrey Lazzzarow. It worked. The clerk would be coming soon. Phew! It could have been
a tough night. We once mentioned that these occasions turn out to be growth experiences…and we sure have
a lot of them. We enjoyed our first night in a loft apartment that was cute and comfortable. Stay cool!
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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