Friday 8th April Vallada to Casa Benali

Just to be absolutely clear I have no idea what's coming next, I have no more than a vague impression. To be honest the "taking each day as it comes attitude" is even more pronounced when you have someone else walking with you. Because they are slightly more worried about accommodation than you, they end sorting what is actually the only real challenge, finding somewhere to stay. All I have to do is walk and wait for whatever surprise the walk throws up.

As I mentioned yesterday I had formed a vague impression of what this stage of the E4 was going to be like, wide valleys and wide moorland like tops and was OK with it. Having crossed the wide valley in which Vallada sits, with a new motorway and, I guess, a new high speed rail line at the bottom, the route took us into a gorge. The gorge which was gentle at first, soon became the most dramatic I walked along so far on the E4.

I'm still trying to work out what the gorge is a called but we started going through it about 9.15 and it wasn't until 12.30 that we the route climbed us out of it. Because it meandered the views were literally changing every 20 or 30 metres, particularly as sometimes you walked along the very bottom of the gorge and sometimes a little way up along the side.

Borranc de Bocquilla

Borranc de Bocquilla

Great shapes climbing out the gorge

As well as the gorge the other feature of the day was the heat. To be honest, despite the constantly changing views the climb out of the gorge was a bit of a relief, the heat had started to make it feel claustrophobic. Up higher at about 700 metres there was a bit of breeze but no shade at all. We did find a restored refugio to have lunch in but there was still a lot of walking to do.

Worth mentioning, given that I have moaned about road walking, that this is now a distant memory. In Murcia, but particularly in Valencia, the GR7 has been as off-road as you could hope for. In fact today, as I ploughed through endless waist high rosemary bushes, prickly scrub oaks and other unnamed exfoliators I started to think dream of a nice bit of metalled road.

So today's walk was 29 kilometres and involved a climb of 1100 metres. At about 26 kilometres we were at the bottom of the valley, out of water, with another three hundred metres to climb. This was a blow but we still managed to get to the top and find the road and ring for a taxi which we hoped we would be waiting for the call and would respond immediately. Nearly but not quite, he was on another job and would be at least an hour. We sat under a small tree, very thirsty, but with no options. Then heaven sent, a man turns up on a motorbike, a man in a uniform with lots of impressive badges but not a policeman. After a quick diagnosis of our situation he decides to ring the taxi driver to instruct him to get to us faster. He can't get through, no signal on his batphone. Instead this superhero shoots off down the road on his motorbike and comes back with a full bottle of chilled water. Barely giving us time to express thanks he shot off to do someone else a good turn. I'm in love with the Spanish.

Superman

Actually the taxi driver was a nice guy as well, wonderful chilled black Mercedes, which told us that, at 5 o'clock the outside temperature was 30 degrees. The taxi driver took us 20 kilometres down the road to Engura, there is nowhere to stay on the trail, and will take us back again tomorrow.

By the way, last night I did the numbers, I have now done 1,000 kilometres, only 4,000 left.

Thursday 7th April Bocairent to Vallada

Having spent most of my working life suffering from chronic lack of sleep (inability to disengage the brain), one of the joys of massive amounts of exercise is that this isn't normally a problem. Even in a different bed every night, with a lot of unfamiliar noise, I'm dead to the world. For some reason, however, it didn't work like last night and for once a 26 kilometre walk with 1500 metres of climb didn't feel like the best thing to be doing.

As usual had agreed to meet Christine Durrant, my walking companion at the moment, in a bar at eight in the morning for a coffee kick start, and two coffees were enough at least to get me moving. It was a lovely morning, the old part of Bocairent looked great, but soon we were out of the town and travelling across a huge expansion of what looks very similar to moorland in the UK accept it was dry and had been burnt to a cinder by a disgruntled bombero (nicer word than fireman). He started three separate fires to prove to his ex-workmates that they couldn't do without him.

Bocairent

Fire damaged mountain side

After that it was a long descent into a broad valley via some ancient Moorish mule tracks, brilliant walking particularly as by now we had left the cinders behind. The only problem was the initial boost provided by the double coffee shot was a long way behind me, the temperature as we descended into the valley was shooting up and there was a middle distance and slightly depressing challenge of having to climb up the other side.

Ancient Moorish mule track

No option but to bring out the big guns - Van the Man - aka Van Morrison. Pull down the hat, plug in the Ipod and let the heat do its worst. With Astral Weeks and the rest of the catalogue, the walk was transformed and I was motoring.

Suspect I could get a few days of this sort of walking, huge wide open countryside, wide tops and wide valleys. Not quite so dramatic as the last few days but the long views provided by this moorland type of scenery make it very attractive and you can crack on.

Hot and wide open countryside approaching Vallada

As it was today's walk was a good one, particularly liked Moorish mule track already mentioned, the well restored "fincas" (big farm houses) in the valley, and having climbed up to the moor again, crossed it, the really steep descent down into Vallada. Vallada doesn't have the magic of Bocairent but has everything you need. We are staying in the Giners tourist apartments which were fine.

Finca near Vallada

Wednesday 6th April Alcoi to Bocairent

What a disaster. To concede an early goal was unfortunate but predictable but then to loose a player after 15 minutes made the outcome painfully inevitable. The Tottenham/Real Madrid game was on terrestrial television in Spain so not much atmosphere in the bar. Most people seemed to be Barcelona fans who initally were gunning for a Spurs victory but who then politely lost interest as things deteriorated.

Anyway a great walk today was some consolation. 27 kilometres from Alcoi to Bocairent with 1,000 metres of climb. Another Natural Park to travel through, this time the Sierra de Mariola.

The first highlight was a wonderful gorge, the Barranc de Cinc, immediately outside Alcoi, huge sandstone cliffs which got tighter and tighter leaving an exit at the end which was on a few feet across. It was so close to the town that sound of the police sirens echoed around it.

Gorge to the west of Alcoi

After that it's a long steady walk up to the Montcabrer, which at 1390 metres, is the third highest mountain in Valencia. The scenery was fantastic, classic limestone, and the views were amazing both back towards Alcoi and across the huge valley to the sea. If the weather had been a bit clearer than apparently the sea is visible. The ridge walk along the side of Moncabrer was perhaps the most dramatic bit of the E4 so far although the pictures don't do it justice.

Climbing up to Montcabrer

View from Montcabrer - in the distance the sea

Path running to the north of Montcabrer

The rest of the walk couldn't compete with the first third but it was still really good, nearly all of through pine although with the occasional patch of holm oak. Got a glimpse of a red squirrel and then spent ages trying to find it only to discover that it had been nonchalantly watching me all the time perched right on top of old telegraph pole.

Red Squirrel

Borcairent looks like another ancient town crowded around a hill, this time with a church rather than a castle as a focal point. Staying in a Casa Rural right in the middle, very nice but I couldn't figure out how get the sound system in then shower working, I kid you not.

Bocairent

So great walk, perfect cure for a miserable evening last night. Anyway we are only 4 goals down, still everything to play for next week.

Postscript

Bocairent is a really beautiful place, lots of tall terraced houses and little squares all surrounding the church and it's oversized tower. Another to add to the list of places I've seen where I really need to come back and have another look.

Tuesday 5th April Castella to Alcoi

I must admit that I was starting to think that I had seen all the fireworks in Andalusia and that the landscape was not going to be as interesting at least until I got to the Pyrenees. Today's a walk, however, had just about everything and has raised my expectations as to what else I might see in Valencia.

In total the walk was about 34 kilometres with 1000 metres of climb. We started walking at 8.15 and were in Alcoi by about 4.30. The weather was warm but not too hot, a good walking temperature.

Walking through the gorge to the north east of Castalla

Castalla sits in a fairly broad valley going roughly east to west and the first thing to do is finish crossing the valley and get to the mountains on the northern side. The route takes you to the mountains, parallel with them and then through them, firstly via a gorge and then, turning east, along a gentle valley. Particularly at this early part of the day this was a really nice walk, a mix of pine trees and cleared fields.


Once you get to the top of the first pass, at about 900 metres, you see the higher mountains on the other side of the second valley which form the centre piece to the Parc Natural del Carrascal de Font Roja. Getting up to them involves a brilliant ridge climb which levels out at 1200 metres. The climb is about 500 metres and although it wasn't that clear you could just make out the Mediterranean to the south and the passes crossed on the three previous days. Towards the east you can see Alcoi and to the north tomorrow's walk to Bocairant.

Climbing up Menejador (1352 mts)

The next bit was may favourite involving a gentle descent down through ancient woodland. Trees included different types of evergreen oak, Valencian and Holm, as well as maple, flowering ash and white beam. This was a special nature reserve inside the natural park and the ancient woodland had perhaps survived because it was hard to get with a steep valley on one side and limestone cliffs on the other. At the end of this stretch was a very nice visitor centre.

In the Font Roja Natural Park

It was then a steep descent to the bottom of the valley, a wrong turn which took us to a wonderful but impassable gorge. Retracing our steps we found the right route into Alcoi only to loose it again after about three kilometres. Deciding to take the road for the last stretch we were rewarded with some really interesting victorian industrial buildings clinging to the cliffs above the town.

Gorge near Alcoi

Alcoi is quite a big place with a population of around 150,000. It looks a great place, lots of fabulous turn of the century buildings including some which look like the Guadi buildings you see in Barcelona. I was particularly impressed with the street lights.

Amazing street lights in Alcoi

Monday April 4th Elda to Castalla

After three pretty average days today's walk was a distinct improvement. The weather was a bit fresher and the route went higher. Not a long day, the walk was only 22 kilometres, but with over 600 metres of climb I was above the 1000 metre contour for the first time for a while.

After finding your way out of Elba, walking along roads for a couple of kilometres you then go through a slightly scary tunnel underneath the main Madrid Alicante motorway. The tunnel was slighty scary because it was long, pitch black, and in the middle, mysteriously parked was a black BMW with sleeping occupants. How the car got there and why the occupants considered a motorway subway a good place to have a sleep is question I would prefer others to ask.

Although not spectacular the walk got better and better and views looking backwards in particular got bigger. Walking along forest trails you were travelling through increasingly mature pine woodlands, occasional olive groves, fields of barley and open hill sides which perhaps had been the victim of forest fires. Not a lot or wildlife after the abundance of Andalusia but I did get a picture of a bird which is a bit of a mystery. My assumption was that it was a Jay, there are a lot of Jays here, but do Jays have a crest?

View back towards Elba

Hooper 

The last bit of climbing was a lot steeper than anything I've done for the last few days, made worse by the fact that Christine Durrant, who is walking with me at the moment, is a very fast walker. The stiffness in left ankle had completely gone but has reappeared in the right one. I'm a bit disappointed with the lack of advice from my medical team at home but I have been able to get huge Ibuprofen tablets which in the UK would only be given to a horse.

The top wasn't quite a pass and you had to walk for another couple of miles before the final descent into Castalla. On the way in we saw deer and boar but in strange place which seemed to be half zoo, half farm. Much preferred the glimpses I got in the Cazorla.

Captive 

Castalla definitely fits with the emerging model that the more prosperous a place looks the more it's been hit by the recession. Relative to its size the extent of the development looks massive. The castle towering above the town looks completely restored, as does much of the old town centre but the huge housing development on the southern edge of town has come to a grinding halt.

Castalla

We are staying in brand new hotel, the Don Jose. Got here in time for lunch and well set up for a longer walk to Alcoi tomorrow and the big game.

Lingering Impressions from Andalucia

Trying to remember where you have been when you stay somewhere new every day is a challenge. New experiences start to crowd out the old and I feel I need to nail down what I found interesting and different before it all goes.

It goes without saying that the things that surprised and interested me are a reflection of my own experiences and who I am. It's also influenced by the nature of the experience I'm having, largely on my own, at the beginning of a long journey and critically with only a limited ability to communicate with the Spanish.

Spain is a modern democratic country, the best footballing country in the world, and London is full of young confident and attractive Spaniards. It feels almost impolite to say things which are negative. I was however surprised at the poverty in Andalucia. Walking through Andalucia also made me reflect on the some differences with England and how, in many instances, Andalucia compared favourably.

Andalucia is a poor part of Spain. It's per capita income is less than 75 per cent of the Spanish average which itself is 10 per cent less than the UK average. The Spanish labour market is famously inefficient with an uncompetitive and expensive formal sector and a huge unskilled informal sector. I suspect the informal sector is particularly large in Andalucia in general and in the agriculture sector in particular.

I don't understand the olive oil industry, but wonder if it's one the factors explaining relative levels of poverty in Andalucia. What Saudi Arabia is to crude oil, Spain is to olive oil and the oil fields are in Andalucia. Despite the commodity crisis, and the shortage of just about everything anyone wants to eat, there is glut of olive oil. 12,000 olive oil workers have demonstrated over the last month demanding that the EU puts olive oil into storage to push up prices. Producing olives is a hideously manual process, harvesting involves shaking olives from a tree and collecting them in nets, and as a farmer's boy I can tell you that most of the equipment being used came of the production line before I was born 55 years ago. Yet you see more olive trees being planted. I couldn't help but think that the attachment to a particularly type of agriculture was making people in Andalucia poor.

Perhaps linked to poverty I have left Andalucia with the impression that people live in crowded towns in each others pockets. The countryside feels empty. There is no English sprawl or villages neatly positioned three or four miles from each other. Instead you have towns 15 or 20 miles apart, very often clinging to a rock with a castle on top, and just nothing inbetween. Inside the towns there is hardly any "spare" space and distance between the inside of a house and the hustle and bustle of a street is a 9 inch wall.

Living in each others' pockets may or may not be a product of poverty, but a lingering impression was that the Spanish may actually be OK with it. Call me sentimental, and maybe looking for the evidence, but I was left with the impression that these places actually worked well, that there was lots going on at a community level, and that people were looking after each other.

I guess from an English perspective you are left with a slightly unnerving impression that the value we put on space and distance from our neighbours is not necessarily one which is shared by the Spanish. It may even be that the Spanish are not particularly social it's just that the English are antisocial.

As someone with a passing interest (perhaps literally) in local government I also wondered whether an apparent willingness to live in each others pockets made a difference to the way local democracy worked. This is a country where there is lots of local government, where separate administrations exist at really local levels but where otherness of local government which seems to be the English experience doesn't exist.

As I bash on through Murcia and now into the region of Valencia other things start to come into perspective. Not sure yet, bit I suspect that relatively speaking the walking in Andalucia was exceptionally good. How long will it be before it's as green again or before I see as much wildlife. I also suspect that the boom which hit the rest of Spain didn't quite get to Andalucia, but nor did the bust.

Sunday 3rd April Pinosa to Elba

Today's walk was 26 kilometres in overcast, warm and humid conditions, often on roads through countryside which was not very memorable I'm afraid. Not exactly inspirational.

The presence of British immigrants in Spain, evident for the first time yesterday on the approach to Pinosa, becomes increasingly apparent towards Elba. Two characteristics seem to distinguish them from the Spanish: firstly a love of gardens, which are often huge; and, secondly a willingness to pour money into old rotting buildings. There are huge numbers of wonderful old farmsteads all ready for the Grand Design treatment and as you get closer to the bits of Spain where the British congregate than these buildings start to get rescued.

Abandoned "finca"

Apart from the weather being a bit more overcast it was a very similar walk to yesterday's, a gentle climb up out of Pinosa, a short descent and a walk across a wide cultivated valley, another gentle climb and then a long descent into Elba.

At the beginning of the walk across the valley you go through the pretty village of Casas del Senyor. Particularly interesting were the chimneys which emerged at street level from the houses in the terrace below and, later on, the beautiful aqueduct, which I guess dates back to the time of Moors.

Walking on the roof

Moorish Aquaduct in Casas del Senyor 

This dry landscape gets particularly ugly as you approach towns and was especially ugly during the final walk to Elba. The abandoned terraced fields, extensive fly tipping and the municipal tip made everything look completely unloved. Amongst all this, and with an impressive gate, sat Elba's cemetery, already big but with scope for significant expansion.

Huge gate to the crematorium near Elba

Elba by the way is the largest town I have been to so far, a population of over 45,000, and the Spanish centre for the manufacture of shoes.

With a Spanish resident as a walking companion and I'm getting my eye in for signs of the recession. I now understand the difference between the "for sale" sign for property which is being sold in the standard way and a property which has been repossessed by the banks and is subject to a forced sale. You can get very good financing terms with a forced sale. If I needed any further evidence of the immediacy of the recession I got it when I arrived at the hotel which had been booked only a few days ago but had now closed.

Signs of collapsed housing market everywhere