Bocairent-Ontinyent-Xátiva

I was in two minds about the plan for today. The original idea was to split the trip to Xátiva into two shortish days, stopping in aeola de malferit overnight. However when I looked at the map again in the light of my experience yesterday I could see that there was no real route that I could take once past Ontinyent apart from a busy road. Then I had the bright idea of staying in Bocairent in the nice hotel for another night and walking to Ontinyent to catch the train to Xátiva.
Of course what I had forgotten was that there is a general strike in Spain tomorrow so no trains will be running.
Showing remarkable agility of mind I changed it again and decided to do it today.
The walk out of Bocairent was excellent; up a steep winding path to the ermita de santo cristo, with the stations of the cross marking the route. After the church a walk over bare mountain top, very different to yesterday's walking through wooded country. Then down through a dramatic gorge to the road into Ontinyent.
I got to the station in plenty of time for the train at 3:46. Three quarters of an hour later I'm in the bustling town of Xátiva, in a hotel room which stinks of smoke. Shortly I'll go to find some food.
That's the end of this stage of the route. I don't much feel like carrying on at the moment but I'll probably have forgotten all about the pain in a couple of years time.
Thanks to everyone who's posted comments: it gladdens my heart to read them.

Alcoy-Bocairent endurance test

Well, today was a long and eventful one and no mistake.
I Started out at 10.00am from Hotel Reconquista, and climbed up to an old factory in a gap between imposing salmon-pink stone cliffs. The gap continued through into a gorge with a small river. It was very beautiful. Then a house in the gorge with no access except the path. Two mules were tied up outside so I suppose they delivered the groceries Further on up the track became a roads then a track again. A group of walkers! I might have known they'd be English. On up towards the peak, Montcabrer, which is 1390 Mtrs above sea level. I got there at about 12:30 but already there was a group of about 90 Spanish teenagers on a school outing. It's impossible to describe the sheer amount of noise they were making. You'd have thought they were attendees at a boxing match. They went eventually and the group of English walkers took their place. They were somewhat quieter.
The view from the top of Montcabrer was stunning: two vultures wheeled overhead and far below a hang-glider. All around, other misty mountains disappeared in the haze.
It was tempting to think that the hard
Part of the walk was done, but therein was still a long way to Bocairent.
I tried to ring the Casa rural I was hoping to stay in but couldn't get a signal. When I did the guy at the other end told me they lived in Valencia and couldn't do anything at such short notice. I called on my friend and he sorted another hotel out for me. I had to get there by 7pm though.
The rest of the way was mostly along forestry tracks: eventually I got to a gr7 sign for bocairent. 3 hours and 25 minutes. This was at 4:00pm so I was a bit alarmed. No way I could get to the hotel by 7.00pm.
I decided to take a shortcut. Whe. I got to the point on the hill directly above the town, I took a side track leading to a house. I knew itu was unlikely to be occupied during the week. There was a short stretch between the house and the road below which had no path, but it didn't look too steep from the map.
Well it wasn't too steep but it was completely covered in dead pine tree branches, gorse, ivy and brambles. I did get to the road but it took about an hour and my trousers were ripped to shreds when I got there. So were my hands and legs. That's the trouble with short cuts: you never know what you're going to get. 7:00pm now so I rang the hotel to say I'd be a bit late. No reply. I finally got there at about 7:20pm and knocked on the door. Still no reply. I noticed there was a hotel on the way in so I booked a room there without enquiring the price. It's the hotel l'estació, and it's very nice. It's called a silence hotel. I'm too tired to do anything except lie on the bed in silence. I might stay here tomorrow too.

Hoy Estoy en Alcoy

I spent some of yesterday (a day of rest) wandering around Castalla, which is a pleasant enough place, and some of the time studying my maps to see how to get from Bocairent to Xativa, which is not on the gr7 but is where I want to finish. I was also looking at whether to break today's walk which is about 29km for the whole trek from Castalla to Alcoy.
I more or less made up my mind to break at Ibi for the night. It's a small town on the other side of the valley from Castalla, and stopping there would make two fairly short days.
This morning I started out in good spirits and soon put the industrial estates of Castalla behind me. As I climbed up into the sierra de la parque natural del font rojo, and through a pass to the other side of the mountain, it occurred to me that I'd have to come down and go up again the following day if I were to break my trek in Ibi. So I began to rethink the plan.
By the time I got to the point where I'd have to make a decision I was still feeling pretty chipper so I decided to carry on to Alcoy. It was a great day for it: again there was a cool, and, on top of the mountain, a cold breeze blowing which made walking very pleasant, and visibility was good too. This was only the second day of mountainous terrain and I got up to 1207 mtrs - not quite impressive as or sounds as I started in Castalla at 750 or thereabouts.
A lot of the walk was through pine forests - not thick dark pines but mountain pines spread out from each other. I'd chanced to read an article about processionary caterpillars yesterday: it seems they have extremely irritating hairs which can cause severe pain. Evidently dogs can lose their tongues if they eat them and even die if not treated. Moths lay the eggs in pine trees and they grow in a ball at the end of a branch. When the caterpillars hatch out they march off down the tree in single file: hence the name.
I was much more careful when I walked under the trees today than I have been up to now.
Soon enough I was descending on the other side of the mountain and could see Alcoy down below, only moments away.
I'd decided to devise my own route down the hill into Alcoy because the gr7 skirts the left hand side of the town. So I came down another track which claimed to be private and possibly belonged to an enormous country house 'Masía de la Mota' why ha a high fence and security cameras around it. Most of these country houses are derelict, so I was interested to see one still in use and evidently owned by the bourgeoisie - probably friends of Tony Blair. (I've just looked it up - it's a hotel).
Ages later I was on the outskirts of Alcoy and by happy chance stumbled across a via verde - the old train line into Alcoy. This took me right into the centre and I'm now in the Hotel Reconquista and about to sally forth for an evening meal.
Ps there are no restaurants that I could find in Alcoy so I ate an indifferent but cheap meal in the hotel.

Elda-Castalla

Today was the first day of walking over mountains. Fortunately, my friends from Gandía came across and we walked together. I realise it makes a big difference being with people: it makes the journey much easier when you have company.
We started on the outskirts of Elda to avoid the industrial estates which are normally an inevitable and tedious part of the walk. the road soon rose into the hills, past an impressive sand dune which we learned was brought there by the wind. Again as we walked I was impressed by the amount of houses in the countryside, both weekend cottages and proper houses. A big
contrast to Murcia.
The road carried on up through pines and occasional orchards of almond trees. I was amazed to see cultivation this far up, but my friends reckoned that it would be old folks looking after them and once they died the orchards would fall into disuse.
A delicious lunch of bocadillo de atún con aceitunas, looking down the mountainside to Elda.
We searched for fossils in the soft mudstones by the side of the track on the way down to Castalla but found none.
Castalla is a nice small town with an imposing castle on a rock. I'm staying in hotel San José, which has a profusion of furniture and lighting. What it doesn't have is any hot water, which made showering a refreshing experience. I'm staying here on Sunday and starting out for Alcoy on Monday. I might split this walk in two at Ibi, which isn't that far from here.

El Pinós-Elda

Last night I had lasagne and beer in the room of my Hostal. It was all very reminiscent of an American movie where the good guy is holed up in a seedy motel and has to eat convenience food from the 24 hour store. In fact it was exactly likely that.
However I slept well in spite of various aches and pains.
This morning I had an unusual but nice breakfast of pan tostada con tomate ( see picture) and set out feeling apprehensive at the prospect of another 20 mile walk.
It was perfect weather for walking - a cool breeze took the heat out of the sun for most of the day.
It was interesting to note the difference between the agriculture as I walked away from Pinoso: where in Murcia most of the cultivable land was given over to massive estates of vines and fruit trees, here there were far more smallish plots and a great many more houses dotted around. The countryside looked a lot more lived in, and I saw people, which came as a bit of a shock after Murcia.
I could have done without the final few miles into elda through the industrial estates, but on the whole the walk was a very pleasant one.

The other picture is of a chumbera cactus with loads of new leaves just popping out. They're what prickly pears come from.

Venta Román-El Pinós

Another day of walking. I met a man on a horse this morning. I think he was riding the GR7 route, for he had a blanket roll on the horse, a traditional water bottle and a large dog walking with him.
I'm now in Alicante in the Comunidad Valenciana.
Pinoso, or El Pinós, is the first small town across the border from Murcia, and is not entirely prepossessing. There seem to be quite a few English people here: the Costa Blanca news is on sale, and I heard English being spoken in the street. I don't think I'd want to live in Pinoso if I were to emigrate to Spain.

Cieza-Venta Roman

My efforts of last night to dry out my clothes were largely successful. Today you would never have known it was raining yesterday. The sky blue, the sun shining.
I felt quite tired, and the walk out of Cieza was horrible, along the main road and through an industrial estate. They call them industrial polygons here but they're still pretty awful. Once into the countryside the route took me past acres of vines and peaches, planted on an industrial scale. The road was unmetalled but good, and easy to follow. To help me along I listened to flight of the concords and Frankenstein, kindly donated by a friend.
At Venta roman I caught a taxi back to Cieza and the comforts of hospederia San Sebastian. Tonight I'm going out for a slap-up meal and damn the expense.

A day of rain

It was raining all last night and it carried on raining all of today. I started out cheerfully enough but as the day wore on I got more and more cold and wet and more and more tired and fed up. I was passing through some beautiful scenery - massive red sandstone lumps of rock rising up on my left and pine forests all around. As I climbed higher the rain turned to snow, then rain again as I came down the other side of the mountain.
A reservoir appeared in front of me, lie in spite of the lowering grey of the sky above. I walked over the dam and through tunnels taking advantage of the short respite from the rain to take a picture of the water.
The route carried on over more hills and through orchards of pink and white white blossom. No people to be seen anywhere. Water was cascading down the mountain sides everywhere and more than once I had to ford swollen streams.
By now I was pretty wet in spite of my top quality waterproof jacket (£25 from tk maxx). The red sandstone have way in places to white clay which stuck to my boots and made its way up my trousers.
I started climbing the final Jill before Cieza at about 4:30 and descended down a zig-zag path (actually called that on the map) into Cieza at 6:00.
I hardly felt a fit resident of the hotel (see picture) which is very stylish (an c18th palace I think).
I've spent the whole of the evening washing and trying to dry things out. Everything was soaked through and probably will be tomorrow.

Snow!

Still raining in Calasparra

Moratalla - Calasparra

A simple breakfast of pan tostado con aceite y cafe con leche, in a bar where most of the men were smoking (really strange to see this - we've all got used to smoke free pubs) and drinking carajillo (coffee with brandy) or even coffee with brandy and anis and something else I couldn't identify.
It was a beautiful morning walking out of Moratalla; dappled sunshine on the mountains, and the promise of a good day ahead.
Once outside Moratalla I met nobody again. Today is the fiesta of San Jose in these parts, so I guess not many people were out and about.
I followed a brand spanking new road for a while, which i thought must have been renovated because it was a back road to calasparra but instead it stopped at a semi-derelict farm. I couldn't quite understand this: the only explanation I could come up with was corruption of one sort or another: even so I would have expected a large estate with walls round it, not a few broken down buildings and a two up two down cottage.
The track continued across a field and alongside a river - I got a bit lost here but soon recovered the path. The signage for the path is much better so far than it was in Andalusia 7 years ago , and apart from that minor detour it's been really easy to follow.
I reached calasparra without further incident at about 3 o'clock and made my way to the hospedaje Constitucion where I'd booked a room. Not that there was any need - it seems to be empty. They put me in room 101.
I'm very favourably impressed with the place. because they told me I speak very good Spanish.
Had a great scratch meal of salad and judias.
It started raining here at about 6pm and it's been raining since. It's forecast for rain tomorrow as well.

Caravaca de la Cruz to Moratalla

The first day and an easy walk in beautiful clear sunshine on old roads through orchards of almonds and peaches flowering in white and pink. Even so I was quite tired by the end, and my hips ache a bit.
My friend from Molina gave me a lift in the morning to Caravaca, and a sandwich of jamón Serrano. I also took charge of a large tub of home-made membrillo, which is a kind of jelly made with quinces. It goes really well in salads and with strong cheese. Anyway it weighed a kilo and a half and I was a bit alarmed. With that, three oranges and the water my pack was a lot heavier than I thought it was going to be!
I climbed up to the sanctuary of the true cross in Caravaca, remembering the end of my last walk, and taking a couple of photos of myself in the same
place.
After working out where I was meant to be going I walked out of the town and soon picked up the signs for the gr7.1. The route follows the same way as the Camino de la Vera Cruz, which I've just learned goes all the way to the north of Spain to join up with the Camino de Santiago.
Just outside Caravaca I came across a woman riding a horse. It was startled when it saw me and reared up. The woman scolded it in English. Apart from her, one runner and three mountain bikers I saw nobody else on the route.
Completely out of the blue another friend texted me to tell me he was driving down to meet me in Moratalla. I'd expected to see him when I was nearer Gandia where he lives, so I was really pleased.
I got to moratalla a lot sooner than I expected at around three oclock. It took me a while to find a pensión and I was sitting on the corner of the street waiting for the owner to turn up when my friend drove up entirely by chance having seen me in my stupid hat.
More drivel tomorrow.

Arrived in Molina de Segura

Not really part of the walk but here I am in Spain with old friends. The whole extended family is turning out to meet me this evening, and judging by the quantity of meat that's been bought I'm in for a banquet. I remember one of the first times I came to Spain to this same place - I think it was at new year - and the amount of goat that was cooked and eaten in one evening.
This evening we had tuna salad, mussels, jamon Serrano, roast potatoes, lamb chops, lamb gigot chops, oranges, coffee beer wine and whiskey.
Everyone was talking about the economic situation in Spain. 50% youth unemployment, loss of social services, old age pensions being cut and so on. It all sounded very familiar. What's different, for Spain at least, is the acceptance and lack of protest. My
friends think that it's because the left
failed to counter right wing politics and the corruption of the spanish state and now the right is able to blame the left
for the dire economic situation while they continue the politics that produced it.

A journey through Murcia and Alicante

In a week I'll be continuing my walk along the gr7 long distance path through Spain. This time I've only got two weeks so I'll be going from Caravaca de la Cruz to Xativa, about 200 kilometres. At this rate I'll get to the Spanish border by the time I'm 90!