John Hayes Walks

Wednesday 13th April El Rebollar to Chera

Mi hija Hannah described me as supertramp in a tweet with reference to my all night walk, slightly double edged to say the least but it did set me thinking. My head teacher at junior school, Miss Gledhill, had a slightly unhealthy obsession with the poet John Masefield, who before George Orwell, hit the road and wrote Diaries of a Supertramp. Perhaps being bombarded with Masefield has lead me to this. In addition as a teenager I had an obsession with the pre-electric Bob Dylan (what a sell-out he proved to be) who of course modelled himself on Woody Guthrie (check the picture on first album cover) who of course, possibly not out of choice, was a famous hobo. It all fits.

To be honest the all night walk has left a bit of mark. Although it was fine at the time the memory of it is disturbing. Particularly this morning I really felt that I needed to get back from Supertramp to well resourced walker. Maybe the totally wrecked sleep pattern has given me a bit of a jet lag sensation, I'm "Lost in Translation" (which for some reason is a favourite film) and quickly need to get from Woody Guthrie to Bill Murray.

Today provided the antidote opportunity, short 20 kilometre walk to Chera with accommodation booked at other end. Had a double breakfast and got a taxi to El Rebollar. There is a public transport option but I wasn't messing about.

Not long after the start I had to cross a railway line. This can't be happening, John Masefield gets his foot stuck on a railway line and looses it and boxcar Guthrie's railway connections are just too obvious to mention. Manage to walk across it safely when just for a few seconds I think the route takes me across the High Speed Route as well, then I see a bridge and start to calm down.

After that things get better. The route takes me across fields of vines which happily are starting to sprout leaves and then through a valley into hillier country. Essentially you're contouring around the Sierra de Tejo which at the top is over 1100 metres. The route is well marked and looks used. All of a sudden in runs into a two metre deer fence. Just to get the message across the deer fence has panels of steel reinforcing laced into it, the stuff they use in concrete.

To the north of El Rebollar

Block Trail

Hidden Waymarks

Approaching Chera

Now I don't want go anywhere if I'm not welcome but after going up and down the fence looking for the please come through gate, I realise that the only way to get to Chera is once again to climb a deer fence. The absence of "welcome walker" signs are reinforced inside when I realise that someone has gone the trouble of painting over all the GR signs. Not sure but I suspect that this has something to do with hunting. Although, given the almost total absence of anyone on the walk so far, the chances of suddenly bumping into a hunter was virtually zero, the clear inference that I wasn't welcome did spoil an otherwise nice walk. I did see three captive deer but they failed to realise that I was on their side and shot up the mountain.

The deer San Quentin must have been 10 kilometres across and finally emerged about 5 kilometres before Chera. There was a open gate across a cattle grid, the gate was open because a satellite dish installer was visiting a house and had to get access. Either side of the gate were turnstiles to let pedestrians through. On the other side the GR signs started again and shortly after there was a sign pointing me down this route to El Rebollar. No idea what's going on.

In Chera the municipal auberge I had a room booked in was closed until tomorrow but fortunately there was another one in this very small town.

Chera is an interesting little town, population about 2,000 I guess. Have seen 5 bars, a baker, 2 little "supermecados" one selling meat as well, and a chemist. Non of the above look prosperous. On the other hand the road to the town has been completely reconstructed, not a dual carriageway, but high quality non-the-less. In addition to the road the immediate approach to the town has a new street lighting scheme, parking bays, bus shelter etc etc. Neither the road or the new facilities seem to get any use.

Missing my water reservoir. Particularly miss the fact that the pipe which goes over your shoulder and connects to a strap on your bag made you look you look like a serious walker and less like a tramp. Also had a certain ghostbuster, Bill Murray, look to it.

April 11th and 12th Cortes de Pallas to Requena

Having a rest day in Requena, about 8 kilometres away from the GR7 for reasons which will become apparent, so a double day blog.

The two big news items, firstly an equipment failure and secondly an accommodation failure.

Walking is not exactly a technical sport so a bit of kit actually failing is very unusual and I suspect some will find it interesting. My water reservoir sprung a leak. The alternative name for a reservoir is a bladder but the idea of a leaking bladder is particularly unpleasant so I'm going to stick with reservoir. I know exactly how the leak came about and it's a clear design fault, really exciting, so I will have probably write a separate blog on it.

Anyway as I was leaving Cortes de Pallas the bottom of my back felt a bit damp. This has happened before, usually when the bag has been left on it's side, so I didn't worry. After about 10 minutes I decided to investigate and sure enough there was a leak.

What to do. It's a relatively busy road walk out of Cortes de Pallas, I didn't have anything I could put the water in and I reasoned it was slow enough not to matter. After about 35 minutes the do nothing option was becoming untenable,it was starting to look like I had a leaking bladder as well as a leaking reservoir, an impression reinforced by the underpants which were drying on the back of my backpack.

Leaking Bladder

Nothing to do but find an old bottle, put a chlorine tablet in it, drain the reservoir and change my clothes. Down to less than a litre of water but a half way stop on the route where I might be able to get more. I thought that was all the excitement I was going to have for the day.

My original schedule had involved walking all the way through to El Rebollar and then somehow getting to Requena which is where the nearest accommodation is. Christine Durrant thought she had found an auberge in Milares and had booked and paid for it in advance. They were going to refund me her costs when I got there.

Apart from the wet clothes the walk, despite being along a road for the first 5/6 kilometres, was interesting. This area has a lot of infrastructure, a nuclear power station, a reservoir at the bottom of the gorge and another one at the top, power cables everywhere.

Cooling Towers

After a while you leave the road and start the first climb up the side a very impressive gorge. Climbs are a feature of the walk and heading north I'm definitely crossing the grain of the landscape and will complete five climbs before I finish. The other feature is a lot of overgrown forest paths, difficult to follow despite good marking, the GPS is really useful. Just before I get to the top I see my first snake sunning itself on a rock. A light yellow or olive colour with black markings all along it's back - about a metre long.

Gorge to the north west of Cortes de Pallas

Ancient Cave Hose

It's a flat top for 2 or 3 kilometres and then down into the next valley. The restaurant at Venta Caeta is open so I stop for lunch at about 12.45. It was Sunday yesterday, I was on the road at 7.45 and have very little food on board.

Leaving the village the second climb goes to the top of the Col Rodona, again through a really thick forest trail, down the other side and then up again on the third climb. It's then a long and meandering descent on a much better trail down to what looks like a campsite but not yet open and with access to a road. It's now about five o'clock and I'm starting to look for Milares. Slightly worrying is a table of services at the campsite for the GR7 which doesn't mention Milares accommodation.

Worry not, after about 30 minutes a GR sign saying 45 minutes to Milares and an auberge. The GR route takes you on a complex route (ignoring the direct one along the road) and eventually I'm in Milares. It's about six houses, non have mains electricity and there is absolutely no one there. Having wandered around a bit I ring the number Christine Durrant gave me for the accommodation but no answer. I wander through the village and eventually find a sign to an auberge, find the auberge but it's long closed. It does however have a different name to the one Christine has booked so the evidence is not conclusive, although the chances of two auberges seem a bit remote.

Decide to go back to small village on the other side of Milares to see if the auberge is there. This place at least has mains electricity and dogs start to bark at me - life at least. At the end of the village there is some activity. As I get closer I see it's a man spraying the back of his small lorry with a high pressure hose. The lorry, would you believe it, has something to do with bees and the man is dressed in gear you associate with a nuclear disaster, I decide to leave him to it.

On the way back I see some elderly people with some sheep, they tell me where Milares is and tell me the auberge is closed. One final brain wave, I ring up Christine and John Durrant. Encouragingly they are confident that the auberge does exist, they had spoken to them yesterday, and they will SMS me the details. The connection is very bad.

I march back to Milares awaiting the SMS and determined to turn over every stone to find the auberge. My confidence starts to slip, no SMS and no auberge. I get back through to Christine by which time she had worked out the problem, the auberge is in Milanes, or somewhere with a slightly different spelling.

What to do?

I could either go back and throw myself on the mercy of the sheep people (who had not offered to help despite my predicament) or press on. I pressed on.

Climbing out of Milares

This is about 7.30. I didn't really know how far El Rebollar was but knew I would have to get there in good time to organise transport to Requena. Dusk is now arriving and it takes me just under 90 minutes to climb to the top of the pass. It's now dark, half moon, but the sign is clear enough, El Rebollar 3 hours. It's a small place and arriving there at midnight seemed a pretty desperate plan.

As it happens the walk was OK, the path was fairly clear, and it's amazing how much you can see with even a half moon. After another hour I arrived at a old cottage, which had a flat grassy area in front of it. I decided to put all my gear on and see if I could sleep. Flat, smooth surfaces by the way are very unusual around here, the standard surface is rock, or packed soil, covered with rocks.

I did nearly go to sleep but the forest is a noisy place at night what with the owls, larger things crashing through the trees and my stomach. At one point I was convinced that my stomach was sneaking up on me.

Eventually I was just too cold and had to walk just to warm up. This didn't take that long and I wanted to go to sleep again but no flat, remotely comfortable surface presented itself. I did sit on a rock for a bit and some animals came rushing past, had to be deer or possibly even boar.

Had to decide whether I wanted to hang around on the mountain or head into town. Didn't really know what the final approach to town was going to be like or indeed the reception I might get at this time of night from the Spanish dogs. Stayed on the mountain until 3 (found another flat place) and then headed down. Only one dog in El Rebollar and two on the outskirts of Requena. Not counting the roaming around the Milares conurbation, I had walked 50 kilometres.

Was in the centre by 5.30 and watched the town wake up. Two very heavy smokers with terrible coughs ejected from somewhere at 5.45, hospital workers changing shift at 6, the first bar open at 6.30 with the first drinkers in there almost immediately. I kill time with a couple of coffees and manage to get into Hotel Avenida by 7.45.

I had originally planned to do the whole thing in a day but always knew it would be a mega challenge and was pleased when Christine found an alternative. Christine's mistake was an easy one to make and I'm sure I will make similar ones before I'm finished. The particular issue with this stretch of the walk is that there just isn't any accommodation.

Sunday 10th April Casa de la Callado to Cortes de Pallas

After yesterday's bee attack, last night's all night disco and the loss of my walking companion (and lift back up the mountain), I needed a break and sure enough, bang to order, I got one.

Getting a taxi a eight o'clock in morning, even if you can explain where it is you need to get to, was always going to a challenge. In the bar, over a cafe con leche, the barman was as helpful as he could be but fortunately the conversation attracted the attention of one of the other customers. Trying to show him where I was going with my IPad was really difficult, took me ages to find the right maps and when I did he kept spinning it round and the maps of course wouldn't stay still. Eventually he worked it out, told me to get in his car and took all the way up the mountain, at least 20 kilometres. Unexpected gifts, particularly from strangers are the best.

My Guardian Angel

I walked back up the trail for about three kilometres to at least cover some of the ground I missed yesterday. It was then downhill to Cortes de Pallas, about 26 kilometres. The weather was exactly the same as yesterday, a little bit misty in the morning working up to be very hot.

The scenery and trail developed in tandem. Initially I was heading downhill and then on the flat and on a metalled road travelling through a fairly wide valley. Saw some deer (saw some later as well) which is the first time since Andulucia. The valley starts to narrow, you get closer to some really impressive sandstone cliffs and then your now on forest trail.

The valley has been running north to south and after about 18 kilometres joins another valley/gorge which is running west to east and you turn right round the mountain towards Cortes de Pallas. The scenery which had been steadily improving is now really dramatic. At the bottom the gorge is a long reservoir and on the other side is a hugh sandstone cliff. Sitting on top of one of the peaks along this cliff are the the ruins of a castle. To the south and into the sun are the highest cliffs I think I have seen so far on the GR7 higher even than the cliffs approaching Cazorla.

Long north-south running ridge

Cortes de Pallas Reservoir

Castillo de Chirel

Meanwhile the forest trail has turned into a forest path. Most of the time it's good albeit tough walking as the trail is close to the cliff and inevitably there are a lot of ups and downs. The shade is also welcome as it's now getting towards 30 degrees. The scenery is amazing. Gradually the trail gets more overgrown and you're ducking under all sorts of spiky things you collect more and more rubbish in your bag and down your neck.

Eventually the path propels you onto the road above Cortes de Pallas. Lots of bars and I order a large beer and the menu of the day. Have arrived 5 minutes before they stopped serving. Staying in the Hostal Casa Fortunata and no sign of a disco. By the way no bee consequences apart mild panic whenever I hear a buzz.

Saturday 9th April Casa Benali to Casa de Callado

What a dreadful day, joking yesterday about taking each day as it came and not really planning ahead came back to bit me big time. Just about everything went wrong.

Planning on this part of the GR7 is really difficult, there is absolutely no accommodation on the route, and I had changed my mind several times about what to do about it. One option I played with was walking through all the way to Cortes de Pallas but that would have been about 55 kilometres. Some itineraries split the route at Casa de Callado but the GR7 doesn't actually hit a metalled road until for another 6 kilometres making that the logical place to leave the trail and get a lift. I had worked that out during the planning but because I didn't check it last night I had forgotten and had Casa de Callado fixed in my end as the end of stage.

To add to the scope for confusion, Christine Durrant's husband John had agreed to pick us so we had to know exactly where we were to be able to arrange this.

The walk started well enough, it was sunny, but a breeze kept it from being too hot. It was also a bit hazy which perhaps suggested that it was going to get hotter. The first couple of hours involved a long but steady climb along a forest trail. a climb of just under 500 metres, and then a walk along the ridge before descending into the next valley.

Heading down towards Caroche

Caroche

In the distance was the mountain of Caroch, which at 1126 metres was our target. This involved going right down to the bottom of the valley and then climbing up another 500 metres to the pass near Caroch.

It was now getting really hot and after lunch in the shade we started the climb. I saw this line of bins in the distance and worked out that they were probably bee hives but thought nothing of it, was listening to an interesting set of Yale lectures about the history of Europe. All of a sudden I was being attacked by bees, never happened before and it took me a few seconds to work out what was happening, absolutely horrible. Dropped my bag, I tried to beat them of with my sticks and then my hat but they just kept coming. They were getting in my hair and flying straight at my face. I felt like running but where to and my bag was on the floor covered in bees. Eventually my mind cleared enough to remember that I did have a weapon, mosquito spray in my bag, and focusing on this rather than the bees, I was able to open the bag and find the spray and let rip. I sprayed everything with it and, apart from a really persistent bee that had got into my hat, they at last retreated.

It felt like I had been stung all over but it is was not as bad. Christine had some anti-sting cream and some anti-histamine and I'm sure that helped. I was a bit shaken up however and for the next hour or so started to concentrate on the location of the bees hives, there are lots, rather than the route. As it happens it seems there were two GR7 routes, one for cyclists around the Caroche and one for walkers almost over it. We took the former rather than the later.

By the time we got to Casa de Callodo we had probably walked an extra 5 kilometres and because I hadn't checked the map properly last night thought than John was meeting us here. The phone signal was very poor and it turned out he had gone to the wrong place anyway. We decided to stay put and wait for him to get to us which involved an 8 kilometre drive along the bit of the GR7 we should have walked to finish our stage.

Not a very nice trail for driving, although the views looked great, better than we had seen all day. I very much doubt that I will be able to persuade John and Christine to risk their car along the route again tomorrow so may have to sacrifice this bit of the trail. Feel really annoyed with myself and a bit fed up.

Postscript

Stayed in Hotel Murphimer in Ayora, a hotel which should have been condemned rather than given two stars. The discotechque looked so derelict it seemed impossible to think that it was going to be used. It was and although I didn't wake to the noise until about 3.30, John and Christine decided to leave and return home. Looks like I will walking on my own for next week until my own Christine turns up.

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

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.