Days 76-82 - No-one Likes Clowns

Two weeks behind with the blog…it’s almost like we’re losing enthusiasm for it or something crazy like that…

Well we didn’t get involved in too many extra-curricular activities w/c 22^nd October, as Nick was busy chipping away at the rock face for most of the time and the weather wasn’t brilliant either.  There are a couple of notable things to mention though.

On Wednesday Nick decided to climb another mountain.  Don’t worry, this time he was dropped off and picked up again by Svenja and Thorsten and had a working mobile phone with him.  He arrived back later with no major incidents to report so you’ll be pleased to know that this blog entry is not going to consist of another of Nick’s blow by blow accounts of mountaineering.  Instead, it will mainly be our adventures in the beautiful and traditional Spanish town of…..Benidorm!

On Saturday we took the bus from Callosa to Benidorm to visit the circus I had read about on the internet.  (A non-animal circus though, because we are so not down with that).  Benidorm is pretty much exactly as the TV show portrays it - really not that great.  We arrived a couple of hours early so after a walk through the town we stopped in one of the hundreds of English pubs for a game of pool. 

I won…..just saying.  At 6pm we were sat in our seats with a tub of multi-coloured popcorn, ready for the show to begin.

The show was pretty good – highlights included some aerial acrobatics and a laser show.  Low points were the obviously the clowns.  No-one likes clowns.

The real entertainment though started when we left the circus and started to make our way back to the bus station.  As some of our die-hard blog fans who never miss an edition will already know, the main theme of our trip has been not the European culture, or even the Mediterranean food or climate.  It’s been Getting Lost Over and Over and Over Again.  I’m sure you’ll all be getting pretty bored of these stories by now so I’ll try and keep this one as brief as possible.

The route we took from the bus station to the circus didn’t seem like the most direct one we could have chosen, so when we left after the show I asked Nick whether there mightn’t be a better way to walk the return leg of the journey.  Nick consulted the oh-so- reliable GPS on his phone and found that there was indeed a “more direct” route.  Instead of the 2.4 miles we had walked to the circus, this return trip was apparently only 1.9 miles.  Great!  Or not…

Long story short is the GPS lied.  Again.  Consequently we ended up walking out of Benidorm, past vast amounts of farms and orange groves, and then climbed up the embankment to start walking along the side off the motorway, ending up 10 minutes walk away from the bus station with only 3 minutes to spare.  Bearing in mind this was the last bus back this was not good news so we sprinted the last section of motorway and off the exit ramp to arrive at the bus station just in time.  However Nick (who was obviously quite a few metres in front of me by the end of this race), shouted something mostly unintelligible to me over his shoulder as he reached the entrance of the bus station.  This was apparently something along the lines of, “Go and wait down there (pointing round the side of the station to where the buses pull out from), and I’ll go this way and find out which is our bus then hold it for you.” 

 

Now, what he actually said was an absolute maximum of five syllables and there was no pointing involved so, whose fault was it that I remained exactly where I was at the entrance to the bus station, after only hearing the words, “Wait” and “There” meaning the bus left without us?  Not mine.  Two important lessons were surely learnt here:

Lesson One: 

After more times of trusting the crappy GPS on Nick’s phone and consequently getting lost than either of us care to remember – we will NEVER again rely on it.

Lesson Two:

 Even in races against time such as this, enunciation is always key.

So, off to the tram station we went in the hope that there would still be one running to Altea where we could get a taxi from back to the finca for around 30 euros.  Not being able to locate any sort of path leading to the station though, meant that we simply had to walk along the tram lines until we arrived there, dashing down the bank when one approached from behind at very little warning.

All’s well that ends well though, as when we got to Altea we had the best tapas of the trip in a little restaurant on the sea front before heading back to the finca in a taxi.  Result.

Days 71-75 - Six Pathfinding Problems and a Paella

We had a day off so I decided I would have a bit of an adventure to explore the nature all around us. The idea was to climb up Lizard Mountain and then run along the mountain ridge up to the higher peaks for some spectacular views all the way down to the sea near Altea, and then back along the valley floor alongside the river. I had done a rough plan of the route via Google maps and it was supposed to be 16 miles in total (the “supposed to be” might be a little clue where this is going), so setting off at 9am I told Becki I should be back some time around 3 in the afternoon. By the way Becki doesn't think the mountain looks as much like there's a lizard climbing it as I do, so here's the evidence highlighted with excellent MS Paint skills, judge for yourselves. See also, "Steven Seagal" Loves Eco Fairs...

Problem #1: Despite being the start of a chain of 5 peaks and overlooking some cool waterfalls about halfway up, no-one ever took the time to build a path up this mountain.

So I had to go old school and make my own path. This meant the usual combination of climbing, dodging thorny plants and trying to avoid causing rockslides. There are only two rules you need to guarantee you get to the top when making your own path up a mountain 1.) Keep going up, & 2.) Don’t fall. So after about an hour and a half of diligently following these I made it.

First thing I did on reaching the top was startle an eagle, not deliberately mind you, this isn’t some kind of new game I’ve invented, although if it were, my scorecard for ‘animals started while turning up places they didn’t expect me to be’ be would read; Eagle, Deer, Spider, Snake (any animals a sensible person would keep as a pet e.g. rabbits, dogs etc don’t count). Anyway this is the view from the top, you can just about see the finca where we’re staying, and the nearby village of Bolulla. At was at this point as I looked along the ridge and it became apparent; there wouldn’t be much running.

Problem #2: It turns out mountain ridges area  a lot longer, steeper, narrower and windier up close than they look from far away……who knew!

In fact even walking along the top was ruled out in favour of climbing for large parts. After reaching the second peak I spotted the ruins of a fort so went down to investigate..

Now there was only the big peak left to climb, and after another 45minutes I could look down over the entire chain.

Problem #3: No route down the other side towards the sea, the smooth mountain slope was interrupted by small but still big enough not to want to fall down cliff faces at regular intervals.

So I had to find another path down to the sea. Which I did, but…..

Problem #4: Like most paths in Spain, they have long forgotten the lessons the Romans taught us, and spend  large portions of the time winding in the opposite direction to the way you want to go.

But on the plus side, now on a less steep slope and an actual path we could finally do some running. Finally at about half 4 in the afternoon I arrived at the beach, ok it’s a little later than planned but it’s a nice flat 5 miles along a well marked path down by the river all the way home, I’d be there in less than an hour.

Problem #5: Even where there is a path marked for public use, people still sometimes build gates, build fences, dig away the path, or leave angry Alsatians rendering the said path un-negotiable.

So after 4 failed attempts to find routes along by the river, and 4 times of having to track back along the way I’d just came I decided the best option was just to follow the road that ran nearby the river, which surely would go to the next village along.

Problem #6: See problem #4

Now the road did eventually go to the village I wanted but only after it went to another one further away and up a hill first. But finally the end was now in sight, it was just a race against time before it got dark. There I was only 200m from home, when Thorsten’s car appeared down the road, apparently the combination of being gone for over 10 hours, making up your own route, and it starting to get dark makes people start to worry.

Final adventure stats:

Distance covered: 24.5 miles

Mountain peaks climbed: 4

Total Height Ascended: 6405 ft

Time Taken: 10 hours 15 minutes

Girlfriends to apologise to for making them think they needed to call mountain rescue: 1

And finally lessons learnt:

Drawing straight lines on top of a Google map does not constitute ‘planning’ an actual route.

On to a new day and we were back to work in the morning at the finca. That evening we had a giant paella. The whole thing isn’t for us, I know I can eat but that would be pushing it even for me!

Apparently the traditional Spanish accompaniment for Paella is lots of wine, and it would be rude of us not to join in with the local customs. This was especially funny when Becki decided it would be a good idea to have a drunken video chat with her mum and sister, I’m sure they won’t let her forget that in a hurry!

However as should have been expected this resulted in waking up the next day not feeling so good, which meant we had to make a trip down to Altea for the slightly less authentic Spanish ‘Full English Breakfast’ as a hangover cure.

Thorsten and Svenja’s friends arrived during the week, and on Sunday all of us went down to the nearby harbour to check out the big yachts. Altea harbour is a favourite haunt for owners of big yachts because its built right on the meridian line, so as they pull in to moor they get to see their navigation panel read 0:00:00 which I guess is kind of like when you were a kid and you used to wait for your digital watch to read 11:11:11 except it costs you about £10million more to see.  Also it means you can stand on your boat and jump backwards and forwards from one hemisphere to the other.  I don’t have any actual evidence that anyone who owns an 80ft yacht does this, but surely you’d have to.  After a wander round the marina we finished the week off by heading back into town for Pizza.

 

And finally, while we were having dinner we spotted what looked like a large green spider scuttling across the dining room floor. On closer inspection it turned out to be this cheery little fellow. In case the scale isn’t clear he’s about 6-7cm long and makes the loudest clicking sound you’ve ever heard an insect make!

Days 67-70 - Please Don't Rain On Our Parade

Sunday 14^th October and we had heard that the good weather was officially coming to an end soon, with heavy rain and thunderstorms forecast for the next few days. 

In the evening Thorsten dropped us down to Callosa, a small town 6km away from the finca so that we could see the parade which marks the end of the annual festivities of the Moors and Christians. 

So, after a trip to a nearby petrol station to buy a light snack consisting of a bag of madeleines and a couple of cans of pop, we settled down at the side of the road next to group of women dressed as pirates, and waited for the parade to begin.

There was a large group of kids hanging about in the middle of the road, and at first we thought they were just causing trouble and getting in the way of the procession but it turns out they were there for a reason:  The first thing to come down the road was a group of people with giant freaky plastic heads.  The children’s job was to run away from these people – not too difficult as they were advancing on them at a zombie-like rate of motion.   We’re not really sure what all this was meant to signify.

  

After this strange start to proceedings came row after row of people dressed in brightly coloured sparkly outfits, interspersed with floats full of children throwing confetti onto the heads of the spectators (or in some cases just dumping it straight onto the road).

This was all very well and good but it all got a bit samey after a while as the people weren’t actually doing anything to warrant the raucous applause they were receiving from the onlookers.

They were literally just walking past in a row, dressed in sparkly clothes.  Our favourite parts were when the horses arrived, doing a little dance as they passed by, and in particular this guy who's sole job was dragging along a wheelie bin and scooping up the horse poo.  Thorsten informed us that a different man fulfils this role every year and it got us wondering whether someone volunteers for this position just to be part of the action, or if it was perhaps the forfeit given to the loser of some annual local game.  Anyway we decided to take a picture of him, as probably no-one else was paying him much attention.

After a while we got fed up and went for a beer in a nearby bar. At the table next to us was a crazy old drunk guy who when his food arrived, kept giving me really evil looks like he thought I was going to thieve it or something – I mean I wasn’t even hungry, we’d just had all those madeleines.  He then started talking to/at us and kindly informed us numerous times that we were in the Mediterranean, which was really helpful because prior to that we’d had no idea.

We quickly finished our drinks and headed into another bar situated in a small plaza, having first checked through the window for anymore geography-obsessed elderly people.

In this plaza is a church which looks a lot like a castle.  We have seen a few of these in Spain and it seems that wherever one of these church/castles is situated, it’s some kind of law that a smaller plastic replica must be built just next to it.

A few beers and some tapas (standard) later, we realised that there were a couple of minor flaws in our plan to casually ring the number for the taxi company that Thorsten had given us and arrange for a lift home:

Number  1:  For the last couple of days Nick had been trying to connect to Orange and put credit on his phone and had so far not been successful.

Number 2:  Neither of knew the Spanish for “Could we please have a taxi from A to B?”

Obviously Nick’s suggestion was to walk back, but first we thought we’d try going to a payphone and simply making ourselves understood by just repeating the road name we were on over and over again (obviously preceding this with “Hola” for politeness’s sake), and hoping that someone turned up.

Nick drew the metaphorical short straw and rang the number and after a couple of minutes of putting into action our repeating the road name over and over again plan, the man on the other end of the phone just started a conversation with someone else, leaving us none the wiser as to how we were getting home.

Contrary to what either of us would have bet on however, within a couple of minutes our taxi arrived and we were on our way home.  When we arrived we found a note on our door letting us know we could have the day off tomorrow, so after a brief celebration we went to sleep.

The next day we took it easy in the morning and in the afternoon went for a walk to Bolulla, the nearest “town” to the finca.  Not really much to write about here to be honest – with a population of only 400 people there was not a great deal going on.

On Tuesday after taking care of breakfast duties, Nick began the mammoth task of chipping away at part of the finca’s rock face , removing all the clumps of mud and weeds to reveal the grey stone underneath.

I tidied up around the grounds, sweeping leaves, doing laundry and generally being my usual helpful self.  Later that day the torrential rain we’d heard was on its way eventually arrived and didn’t stop for the next few hours, effectively ruining all my hard sweeping work and creating a load more laundry to do the next day.

Days 61-66 - Steven Seagal Loves Eco Fairs

Week 2 at the finca and on Sunday we went on a trip to the nearby town of Altea. We think it used to be a fishing village back in the day, but is now more of a posh tourist destination. We arrived in the middle of an eco-fair so had a bit of a wander round the stalls selling eco-friendly soaps, hippie clothes, jewellery and little wooden animals.

We sat down on the grass for a while to listen to a bongo band, and watch the locals dancing about. 

While there we spotted another doppelganger for our trip…..Hippie Steven Seagal. (see below)

There was also a guy doing some kind of mime show/amateur dramatic performance but we refused to give him any of our valuable attention.

Next we made our way through a series of cobbled streets all lined by small whitewashed buildings. As we would alter see on our way back through these were in fact lots of clothes and jewellery shops and several restaurants, but this was about 4pm in the afternoon, so at this time everything was closed while the Spanish had their nap.

Overlooking the town at the top of the hill was a large blue domed church, and for some reason a fake-plastic castle sat right in front of it. 

All the signs asking visitors not to touch any of the religious ornaments in 5 different languages made us think the church was open to the public, however as I made my way round it became apparent that there was in fact a coffin a the front and everyone else was stopping to greet and talk to the mourning people on the front row. Now maybe that’s just how they do things in these parts, but being unsure and not wanting to have an awkward moment when I arrived at the front and was asked ‘Who the Hell are You’, I made a hasty retreat….still at least I can cross ‘Crashed a Spanish Funeral’ off my To Do list.

 

After a tour along the beach front down to the marina, we made our way back to the eco-fair where we had arranged to meet up for a lift back to the finca. However not conforming to our racial stereotypes in the slightest, our German hosts were surprisingly unpunctual and were nowhere to be found. Still on the bright side the delay did give us time to catch the Barca v Real Madrid match at a local bar.

A couple of days later and we set off on another expedition, our intention this time was to climb ‘Lizard Mountain’ which we can see from the finca terrace. I’ve decided it’s called Lizard Mountain because the rock faces looks like there are two giant Lizards crawling up the side, however if you want to look it up it’s possible the Spanish may have named it something else.

We had been told there was a path up from the village round the other side of the mountain, but that would mean at least a 3-4 mile walk before we even started the climb (and the same back again) so we decided we would see if there was a path up the side nearest to us……the short version of the following story is there wasn’t.

Looking across from our side of the valley we could see a path snaking its way up the mountain, all we had to do is find where it met the road on our side. The first route we chose down the hillside looked promising, but after 10-15 minutes of walking we came to a lone caravan sat on a dead end. 

So back up a little bit and along the next path, this one came out into an orchard, and at the bottom we were only about 20m away from the dry river bed which the mountain path surely linked too. However that 20m was filled with a small cliff edge (only the height of a couple of people but probably too high to jump), and rows and rows of thorn bushes embedded in it…so back we went again to look for a third path through. This one took us down into a ploughed field, but there did seem like there might be half a path at the bottom and we weren’t going to turn around and go back a fourth time so scrambling over a few rocks and ever so slightly making our own path, we made our way down onto the dry river bed.

We then spent the next hour walking the length of the riverbed looking for a way to get up onto the path we had seen earlier on the mountain which we were now right next to. However our old foe, cliff faces covered with thorns, blocked the way at every turn. However that said it was actually quite fun going along the now dry river, clambering over boulders and pushing our way through the overgrown plants made us feel like explorers searching for lost reassure, we didn’t discover any gold, but we did find this rock shaped like PacMan which in many ways is just as good.  

Eventually we arrived back at the point where the river flows again (where we started our trip to the waterfall last week). Although we could now have continued on up to the mountain path by this point the journey had put a strain on Becki’s back so we would have to leave it there for today, but for anyone who remembers the rule about mountains you know we’ll be back here before we move on.

This last part is a bit like those ‘and finally’ sections they have on American news, so here are a couple of little random things I’ve found over the last week. 

1.) After being given this coin in change in the ice-cream shop in Altea, I assume pirate money is legal tender in Spain.

2.) While doing my morning sweep of the pool area, I found a perfectly formed outer shell of a cricket. Now my theory was the cricket shed it skin leaving this behind, but according to Svenja and Thorsten, the crickets here don’t do that, which if they are to be believed only leaves the possibility that something else sucked out all the insides!