March 2018 – Page 2 – Walking without a donkey

Walking without a donkey - travels in Spain

Olocau near Valencia, Spain.

12/13 March 2018

wp-1521048965043..jpg — Olocau – looking down in the evening sun I see stainless steel pools and whitewashed Piccasso cubes of village.

I am house-sitting for G. outside a village in the Sierra Calderona Natural Park, approximately 40 kilometres from Valencia, on the south-eastern Mediterranean coast of Spain. The family love animals and each time I visit there are more additions to the collection: to date, three dogs; 5 remarkably plump and be-feathered chickens; copious fish (their murky golden forms almost hidden from view) in the deep pail, and a snake.

G. was a bridesmaid with my eldest daughter, then about 3 years old, at my sister, C’s, wedding. G, C and I all went to the same school in Kent, England, though I am the elder.

wp-1521048965020..jpg — One day’s offerings from the chickens.

The last two days contained more strong rain, but also temperatures of 18 plus degrees, so the aim of boosting my Vitamin D levels after a Scottish winter will realise that, and the virus I came with is all but disappeared leaving only the vestiges of a phlegmy cough and occasional shortness of breath.

wp-1521048965027..jpg — The Iberian blue sky – see why I like coming back here!

In fact, regular readers of Walking Without a Donkey will recognise that I am almost back on form when I note that during yesterday’s walk ‘I heard the silence’ again. That is to say, I heard the wind soughing and my own tread hollow. Hollow but sometimes with an accompanying rattle as stones dislodge, and other times with a pine-needle crunch. What I guess I mean is, I remembered to listen to the external environment not just the chatterings inside my own skull.

wp-1521048965036..jpg — Silver grey olive trees contrasting with the mountains’ green.

Yes, the rushes were faintly shushing; the birds gently twittering, and the dogs panting as they ran between the frothy almond trees in the late sunshine.

wp-1521048965031..jpg — Gorgeous evening shadows showing off the dogs in their best light.

I carried my full rucksack for the two evening hours, to see if I could manage. I will be walking approximately 25 kms per day for the 30 or so days I am planning to finish the Via de la Plata camino, and I will also have some food and an extra water bottle, so this was hardly representative, but doing it uphill, at the end of the day when I was tireder, and while I was still not 100% healthy would, I reckoned, give me an idea. It turned out to be most useful, sending me back with a check-list for the future and the mildly asthmatic sensation whilst unpleasant, prompted me to keep looking after myself to get properly well for the main focus of my trip.

wp-1521048965009..jpg — Cairns mark the right path. I add my own choice of stones as I was taught on the Scottish hillsides.

Living with the dogs is an adventure: the puppy is a very active guard-dog and two nights have been disturbed by her growling and barking. It actually makes me more nervous of being away from other people rather than less, but I expect it is wild animals roaming their sweet nocturnal ways amongst the brush and nothing to worry about.

Every day the things Sophie has stolen from around the homestead get more and more chewed up, and I find little pieces of them scattered around – the black plastic filter from G’s former pond; an almond from the bowl on the kitchen worktop which has taken her three days to get into; that trowel that may not ever be useful again!

wp-1521048964992..jpg — Louis, the arthritic overweight dog – he is the most excited when I am getting ready to take them out, bless him!

Probably G. does not lie on the terrace that much because the dogs are a bloody nuisance when I try to meditate or do yoga. They are monstrously affectionate, especially by pressing their noses and tongues into my hands while I attempt to be still. I am sorry to admit this, but I realise I am not really a dog person, I like my cat better, because being licked by them is just not my idea of love.

wp-1521048964987..jpg — El Puntal des Llops (say yops) with its divers signs and billboards, many in incomprehensible Valenciana.

The next day’s mini-trek was backpack-free and I found my way, without trying, to El Puntal des Llops, a Roman settlement dating from 5-11th century BC which thwarted trip I had attempted a few days earlier. Louis and I took it gingerly on the steep approach (from the back), whereas Sophie went up and down at least four different ways in the time it took us!

From the top I could see the city of Valencia and the Mediterranean Sea! There was the backdrop of various Sierras in tones of grey against the blue heat-haze. And, closer to home, the orange escarpments; roads like the soft fabric carpet my brother had for his toy cars, the one with hyphenated road markings; the differently-shaped trees, some pointed, some broccoli-shaped; and shadows thrown by clouds the exact shape of my two daughters’ sister-tattoos.

If you want a day-trip from Valencian busyness, hire a car and park at the bottom. Then take your time to wander up this easy (though stony) path because the site is free and open all hours, and even if Roman walls do not turn you on, the view is ‘to die for’.

On your way down you can look out for the rock detail which this landscape offers: tiny thread creases like my skin after a lotion-free day in the sun; or the face of that elderly man, presumably Himalayan, they kept incongruously showing in the film Mountain; like bricks which have been scored but never sandwiched. See the striations of muted colours: orange brown and pink, and be careful as you put a hand out to steady yourself – it could be a brittle paper-dry pine trunk or a hair’s breadth of cheese-cutting wiry green grass.

At any moment you might be touching deadly sharp bamboo shards or the soft curlicues of what we call ornamental grasses.

wp-1521048965023..jpg — A stalk with a bulging bud. You can almost guess the flower will be orange from the tone of green.

I can hear today’s book in my head inspiring me as I tramp: Eats Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss is not just a wealth of punctuation information which I am hoping will have rubbed off on me as I come to write, but is artfully written and its humour made me laugh out loud three times!

wp-1521048965015..jpg — Everyday a new flower has erupted. Today sprays of delicate white petals with a precise black line down the centre of each, though my camera cannot capture its beauty.

It is getting dark when I make my way home and although I have not seen a soul for two days, I several times think there is a man to my right. When I turn to look closely he has been turned into a tree. This is the landscape wherein fairy tales and bible stories were invented – bushes which could be burning with the word of God at every corner; abandoned houses where witches lie waiting for gingerbread children. Perhaps it is the silence combined gunshots ricocheting around or simply my own fervent imagination!

wp-1521048965039..jpg — Even these leaves remind me of Hans Christian Anderson illustrations – sorcerer hands with long bony fingers which reach out to touch the unsuspecting on the shoulder.

Olocau Tourist Information website.

Walking without a donkey - travels in Spain

Olocau, Spain Mother’s Day weekend

10 / 11 March 2018

Thanks to the honest shop assistant in Curry’s in Edinburgh where I went to buy a tablet so I had larger keys than my mobile to type with, I am writing this using my new Bluetooth portable keyboard. At less than a tenth of the price, it weighs 197.3g and folds up into a 4×6 inch slim size so is ideal for my rucksack. I have also finally found the brain space to think to download a photo resizing app. I hope my daughters are proud of my technological abilities when forced to manage alone. It is all down to their patient teaching throughout childhood!

After 24 hours without adult conversation (I am lucky that I never seem to get lonely) I slept well and my wrist, which I thought I had broken when I slipped on the bathroom floor the night before last, was considerably better.

I therefore reinstated my morning meditation, stretching, porridge and Duolingo routine which of course makes things better. It does seem a little incongruous to be breakfasting on oats and lunching on veg and chickpea soup as at home, but it suits my digestion and is good prep for the upcoming walking.

Louis asleep in Sophie’s kennel. Sophie chews everything if she’s left inside at night.

I thought I had lost the snake and panicked. Luckily I discovered him hanging from the roof bar of his glass case. As yet no poo to clear despite it being 3 days since his weekly rat.

A group of T’s friends, 12 year olds in trunks and trainers, caught me typing away in my knickers (it was hot!). I tried out my Spanish by way of explanation that he was not here, but they stayed anyway, all turning somersaults on the trampoline at the same time. They helped themselves to the pool, towels, water and other toys until I had had enough of their boisterousness. They are obviously used to being welcomed.

Saturday’s walk was a bit of a disaster. I tried to visit Llopps, the ancient ruins on the top of the hill nearby, but it is reached by way of a small road. I discovered that the puppy has probably never been on a lead before so she was none too happy with me insisting and we had to return to the house. Not before the three of them had raced up someone else’s drive and the owner had shouted and cursed at me.

There was a spectacular storm with sonorous thunder and torrential rain which certainly put paid to my asparagus picking plans and left deep orange puddles everywhere.

Saturday night was film night as a result: It turns out that I have already seen ‘Today’s Special’ before about a sous-chef who aspires to greater things but needs to embrace his native culture in order to bring them about. I enjoyed this quote in which Samir explains why he is still in New York: ‘I had some plans that changed.’ The wise old ‘magical’ character replies: ‘I had a million and one plans that changed. Even the ones that worked out didn’t work out the way I had planned.’

Usually the river bed is completely dry but today there was some moisture.

On Sunday, my kind friends Emma and Eduardo took me once again to find asparagus for the tortillas. This time we got right up into the mountains (approximately 50km from Valencia), driving around the S-bends of the treacherous CV-25, through Old Marines (where I once found myself mistakenly after 4 hours of walking in 30 degrees heat), and then Gátova with its elegant church tower, until we branched left past the Roman Bridge to the picturesque Fuente de la Alameda. With simple space for picnics, I recommend this day-trip.

We wandered between the stepped slopes, almonds trees dressed like Cinderella going to the ball, and olives looking dashing in their own immature silver-green garb. However, the changeable weather – brilliant blue skies interspersed with showers – revealed that the season is still too young at this altitude, and the trip was aborted.

Driving through this landscape, it is as if Paulozzi’s giants have come to life and hurtled rocks at each other, leaving them strewn randomly. It was nice to listen to the constant gentle Spanish in the front of the car – this couple seemed to have so much to say to each other.

Prickly pears starting to errupt on the sides of the quilted cactus pads.

Later I trekked around familiar and new ground with my canine companions for a couple of hours, admiring the wild flowers and feeling my legs getting stronger.

I enjoyed my tortilla later. Thanks to G’s healthy free-range chickens, this is the true colour of my feast.

Walking without a donkey - travels in Spain

Olocau, Spain – March 2018

The ranch style property I am looking after.

This trip I am going to try to blog daily or every 2 days and see what it is like, so it will be in real time for my friends and relations. It also means I will not have lots of writing to do on my return. Let me see what the difference is doing it this way and if I keep it up!

8 / 9 March 2018

I arrived into the familiar velvet Spanish air and exhaled deeply. It is possible that Spain might have been my home in another life because I think if you had flown me here blindfolded and then put me out of the plane I would have recognised that sensation.

Spanish garden plant: a succulent in full flower in March.

My phone was out of battery like many of my air bnb guests when they arrive in Edinburgh, but I was pretty sure I’d find a charging point easily at Valencia airport and I did. It was on the front surface of a broken bar and the Señora asked me if I wanted anything and accepted when I said no. This was quite a contrast to the Ryanair hostess who would only give me hot water if I paid for it!

Vegetable plot with the Sierra Calderona in the background covered in trees.

In fact I was so hungry that I did have a decaff mini cup in a while – black with sugar, something I never do at home – and it hit the spot as I looked to see if my hostess had left me a message.

Almond blossom with a few nuts from last season.

Georgie happily met me soon afterwards which allowed us to start to catch up on news since I visited to house-sit in July 2017. Lots has happened since then, so we sat up until midnight over the vino rojo and delicious Spanish/Thai curry she had prepared for us.

I slept well, amazed at how tired this virus was making me, but my chest was clearing the more I rested (KD supports LU of course in Chinese Medicine), and my eyeballs were not quite as sore when I moved them. This illness has an emotional cause which has given me quite a shock – I am not sure I have ever had one like it but it is definitely a sign that I am now letting go and moving on.

I woke to the chickens clearing their throats outside my window, and the sun was shining on the surrounding Sierra Calderona.

Later G took me round and updated me on the house and menagerie before she left me in charge of the house. She showed me how to feed Severus Snake: ugh! Not easy to watch or contemplate doing myself, given I am a vegetarian and it involves a rat as food.

The new puppy bought me a goldfish she had fished out earlier, presumably as a welcome present.

My daily walk was for strengthening (preparation for the camino in 10 days time), to try out my new trousers, and reacquaint myself with the gorgeous area where I am house-sitting.

I have visited here in December and July, but this is a different landscape again.

Previous Olocau blog 1 and 2.

What a wonderful place this is! At ground level there is some green grass (all was of course dry in July 2017) with violets, clear water, and jumpy insects which look like little logs for the second they are still.

Spring water for irrigation and dogs to bathe in.

At eye level flutter cabbage whites and flies with whirring wings. There is straggly rosemary with lilac flowers, scratchy silver bushes left over from last year, and egg-yolk yellow broom (see photo above).

The first half of the walk along Les Macollades (a route with ancient olive trees and irrigation channels for the vegetable and fruit plots) was amidst almond blossom orchards and orange groves. I picked up two windfalls and juiced them when I got back to boost my immune system – delicious.

Towering above me were the rosy hued crags, some of their tops softened by trees in full leaf, and some jagged and sharply pointing heaven-wards. I taught myself this landscape last year to avoid more calamities of the getting lost variety, and thankfully my Body Mind remembered it well. This time the dogs were perfectly behaved – maybe Pollo and Louis recognised me too.