Sun begins to set on Candelaria.
Sun is lower over the town as the lens is starved for light.
Sunday, two weeks back, we hiked some 10 miles and over 2,000 feet; Monday we drove for six hours; Tuesday
another big hike of over 2,000 feet again, nine miles and on a very rocky trail. That afternoon, with aches
and pains nagging us from the pounding, we decided the next day would be a light one. By that evening,
we commenced our search and found an interesting hike but could not determine the start point—things are
not always clear for us in Spain. Result: We ended up on a great hike that took us to Pena Negra, the Black Rock.
Above the rock is a fire-watch-station. We think that’s what it is. The only person there was a man smoking
and in touch with the base station. Of course, our conversation was limited. Although we did not see any fires,
but then we are not qualified 'watchers', the views were amazing.
The fire-watch hut comes into view as we approach, free-climbing from the rear.
The hike commenced from our apartment, not the official starting point or our room would be constantly full
of strangers in smelly boots. We walked over eleven miles (return) gaining some 2,600 feet. It was a rest type
of day—our editor has developed a wicked sense of humor or is going batty. The problem is she is leading
me ‘up’ with her. Fortunately, the day was fantastic. The following day, an official rest period, we headed
back to Pena Negra, but not the whole way, to view a sunset and loosen the muscles.
Jen rests at the peak. The dam below we saw from across the range, the day before.
Flora on the mountain, colorful and thick.
Homeward bound after visiting the peak.
We walked through the town of Bejar, passed a castle, hotels, always restaurants, stopped into a gas station
for relief (is that necessary? Always!), a youth hostel and finally reached the open spaces where the flora
were delightful. The vegetation at higher elevation is thick greenery, interspersed with yellows and today,
a smattering of reddish bushes. Quite remarkable. As an aside, something we like in Europe, although we use
the service occasionally and for drinks only, are the restaurants positioned in remote places. Continuing
with another aside, we find similarities between the Spanish and Italian nations although both languages
are Greek to us. Perhaps one should not make wisecracks about Greece especially while they negotiate
out (in) a slippery situation.
The sunsets in Spain have been spectacular. This is on a mountain behind a bullring we
passed on our return.
The oldest bullring in Spain, not quite an 'old woman'.
A view into the valley from the black Rock.
The food situation is either: easy if one is not fussy or difficult, if one wishes it to be. It seems that meat
is a big deal in the country as well as cheese. For someone who is squeamish about meat, blood and innards,
it’s off-putting to see hams, animal heads etc. hanging in shop windows, over sidewalks and in the supermarkets.
We prefer seeing the cows with their heads attached, in the fields. Of course, that’s an opinion and we admit,
not rational although the Hindus will understand it. It seems I’m more comfortable over at the vegetable counter
or bakery department and yoghurts, too. Of course, should I get locked in the ice cream fridges, I would be like
the proverbial pig. Anyway, we do fine. We eat a lot of salads; we eat a lot of salads; we eat a lot of salads,
eggs, pasta, bread and the occasional Coke cero (zero). There’s that Spanish of ours rearing itself. It's difficult
to watch the editor prepare dinner after a tough hike; it makes me feel very uncomfortable. Fortunately, one learns
to cope and facing away from the kitchen is a good remedy or just closing the eyes works well, too.
Good night from Spain.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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