Alcaucín and El Robledal

The plan was to trek up the Río Chillar and head to Frigiliana but the storms put paid to that idea. Instead we thought we would try a walk near Alcaucín. This is another of the "Pueblos Blancos" in the Sierra Tejada region. It seems that the town is expanding at a rapid rate judging by all the building work.

Alcaucín town hall.

We parked the car at the beginning of the town and had a little wander around. It’s a typical Spanish pueblo with narrow streets built way before the invention of the car. Many of the houses had religious displays of saints above the door or in special display cases. Above one of the town’s fountains was the figure of San Sebastian who must be the local saint. Walking up to the end of town where our proposed walk started we came across an old tree that looked like it was from "Lord of the Rings". I swear it had a nose!

Visiting from Farngorn Forest?

Typical of our luck, the weather was a bit dodgy. When we left Nerja it was a fine sunny day. In Alcaucín, the rain clouds covered the hill tops. We decided to have a coffee in the main square to see if the clouds lifted. They didn’t appear to be moving. So we decided to abandon the walk and try our luck at El Robledal.

El Robledal is an oak forest set behind La Maroma. I say behind as I normally view this mountain from the other side when on the golf course. La Maroma is the highest peak in the Sierras Tejada and Almijara standing at 2065 Metres. It has a table top peak and is usually snow covered in winter. The walk we were going to do was a gentle stroll around the forest, not going up the mountain.

La Maroma from the golf course.

Getting to the start point was a bit tricky. The guide book told us to look out for the "Hotel Los Caños de la Alcaiceria" between Kms 85 & 84 of the A335. Trouble is they have renamed the road, and the way-markers. Luckily, "Tom Tom" was out of date to and still classed the road as the A335. We just set a location somewhere roughly at the point of the hotel on the A335. It turns out that using "Tom Tom" would give us a laugh later in the week, at my family’s expense!

On the Acequia path.

The start of the walk is at the "Área Recreativa" some 5km down a dirt track from the hotel. Here, we parked the car an headed off past a small white cortijo, heading to a water point. It appears that the area is used by campers, complete with BBQ areas and shower blocks. We followed an old Acequia path through the valley and headed to the "turismo rural" bungalows. These were built in 1994 for hikers exploring La Maroma but they appear to have never been used. One of the doors had been kicked in so we went in for a peek. It’s a shame they have never been used at it seems an idyllic place.

Inside a bungalow.

Behind the bungalows is one of the treks to the summit. However, we double backed slightly to a gate on the right to cross the stream. Here we zig-zagged up the hill to a rocky peak with beautiful views of the area. Then it we had to find another path to the summit that was to be marked "La Maroma". It was supposed to be 300 metres away. What seemed more like a kilometre we stumbled across a path, but no signpost. It turned out to be the right path but we were slightly nervous for about 30 minutes. The longer we went without a signpost, the more we felt we were lost. Anyway, we soon came to a T junction which was marked in the guidebook and 20 minutes later was back at the car. A nice, easy stroll. Next time we will go for the summit!

View from the hill.

La Tormenta

Friday arrived. The day of the new arrivals. A storm was brewing, literally. It started with a few thunder storms during the night. By 9am we thought it was over. I took Monica to work just in case it started raining again. It never rained. It absolutely bucketed it down! The time of arrival at Málaga airport for the assorted "hangers on" was 10:30am. By 10am the storm started. We watched from the terrace as the rain poured down. "There in for a rough landing" laughed papa, "It couldn't be worse". Oh yes it can.


The view from the terrace.

The lightning strikes started to take there toll on the electric. The rain got heavier and heavier. A river was rushing down the road. The force of the water taking rocks and other debris down the road. It was relentless. By the time it came to pick Monica up from work at 2pm, it showed no signs of breaking. It was getting worse.

I made a quick dash to the car. The road was covered by a torrent at least a foot high. The amount of debris under the wheels was unbelievable. I managed to get the car out and slowly went downstream. At the top of Cardiac Hill, the Guardia Civil had closed the road. That's when I thought it was a bad idea to venture out. Hail stone was now bouncing off the bonnet. Hail! in Nerja!

The crawl through town was a nightmare. The Guardia civil were out. They closed the bridge near the Supersol for fear of the bridge collapsing. It transpired that the basement car park at Supersol was completely flooded. I managed to get to Monica's office and decided it would be best to sit out the storm there.


The bottom of our street.

Almost an hour later the storm passed. We got in the car for the journey home. There was no chance of going up our street. I had to ditch it behind the apartments at the back. Walking around to our apartment we saw more devastation. Trees blown into the road. The river going down to the beach had burst through a retaining wall. Neighbours were out on our street attempting to build a dam to divert water away from the cars.


The dam!


The beach road.

Later in the afternoon and the weather was calm. The sun beginning to break out. We ventured down to the beach. The carnage was hard to take in. Many of the business had been flooded. The force of the water had moved cars down the street. Several channels had been cut through the beach. Driftwood and debris had been swept into the sea, as far out as 500 metres from the shore. The paseo was blocked with mud. At the far end the last chringito was destroyed by a landslide. A wooden hut on the beach had been swept down towards the sea. It was a disaster area. It looked like it would take weeks to clear up.


Crossing the paseo to the beach.


Copacabana now on the lake.


The "All that Jazz" end of the paseo.


Channel through the beach. One of several!


The remains of the Chiringito.

The very next day saw a return to the normal Nerja weather, The clean up operation was well underway. Large lorries taking away the debris from the beach. We even saw people heading to the beach as if nothing had happened. Unbelievable. We had to check it out.

business as usual.

The calm before the storm

With mama and papa here we decided to take things easy before the rest of the "hanger-oners" turned up on the friday. Calm before the storm? How apt!




Mama & Papa relaxing on the beach.




After a hard days sunbathing, Mama & Papa enjoy a jug of Sangria or three. Papa's enjoyment cut short when he had to dip his hand into his pocket.


Another Sangria session at Copacabana.

The Arrival

This is a public safety announcement.

Would the residents of Nerja, Málaga please take care. I can confirm that public enemies numbers 1 and 2 have landed. Mama & Papa have hit town. Jet2 did all they could to delay the arrival but alas they arrived.

May god have mercy on all our souls and guide us through the next 18 days. People of Nerja, I have yet more bad news. Re-enforcements are due to arrive on Friday. Take all necessary precautions. Take care of each other Nerja.

XXX DISCLAIMER XXX

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead , is purely coincidental. Furthermore, for the benefit of the legal representations from Stokvis, the author would like to categorically deny any allegations that Norman Burkett is actually present in Nerja. Thank you.


Martin Lewis enjoying a San Miguel!

The trek to Peñabon

We woke early on Sunday morning for a quick breakfast at the hotel and then off for our first walk complete with walking sticks. Shame about the rest of the preparation. I had forgot to bring a rucksack so we were limited to one bottle of water each. Not to worry, the first walk was only 3 hours the girl behind the reception assured us. The map she presented us with was a hand-drawn effort that Sophie would be ashamed of. Again, she assured us that we couldn’t go wrong.

Trevélez.

The walk was to the summit of Peñabon. An impressive looking point that didn’t seem that far away. If we were feeling up to it, we could extend the walk to Piedra Ventana, another hour. To get an idea of the scale of the ascent, Trevélez stands just shy of 1500 metres. This is in the shadow of the highest peak in Spain, Mulhacen standing at 3482 metres. Peñabon seemed the easier climb at 2200 metres, with Piedra Ventana higher at 2536 Metres.

On the trail.

The walk starts along the same pathway we took the day before to the river. Then it was heading up the hill looking for an acequia. Luckily, I kept looking back as I couldn’t see any sign of a waterway ahead. We had passed it by 50 metres, it was tucked away, hidden by bushes on our climb. We walked along the acequia heading in the direction of Trevélez on the other side of the valley. The map indicated that the path went further south than the town before starting a zig-zag ascent. However, as is normal with our trips we missed the turning. Another 45 minutes added on to the walk.

Hidden way-marker!

The turning was not signposted. The only clue was old footprints in the track. So I became chief trailfinder, closely inspecting the track to pick up the trail. After a good 2 hours walking we came across a gate that had been kicked in. Is this the end of the path? We decided to continue onwards. This took us past two rock slides. A slight risk of vertigo if you looked down. Another turning missed adding more time to the climb.

The first rockslide.

After a brief pause to catch our breathe and renew our resolve we made the final ascent to the peak. The views from the top were breathtaking. Well worth the struggle climbing up the mountain. In total it had taken nearly 3 hours to reach. Probably an hour of which was wasted on wrong turns. The descent down was a lot quicker. The only casualty being Monica’s walking stick. "Made for the toughest mountain terrain in the world". Yeah right!

On top of the peak.

We rewarded ourselves with a few cañas and tapas in town. Sat on the terrace we had a wonderful view of the peak we had just scaled. It looked quite impressive. So much so we ordered more beers to congratulate ourselves on a job well done.



View of Peñabon from the bar.

Exploring Trevélez

After recovering from the journey to the hotel we set out to explore Trevélez and the surrounding area. We headed back to the plaza along the narrow streets that we arrived by. I still cannot believe I managed to get the car down there. We found a tourist information board that highlighted a short walk that headed to the river and ended in the lower barrio. A perfect start, only 2Km.


The widest street in Trevélez.

The walk was past the hotel (the street appears narrower every time I walk down it!) and along a dirt track heading towards the river. The temperature was perfect. It was early evening and the clear, cool mountain air was invigorating. The scenery was striking as much for the mountain views as the amount of greenery. A beautiful place.


The path to the río.


One of the Cortijo's.

The track passed a few cortijos with assorted livestock taking shade from the evening sun. We soon reached the river. A number of locals were dipping their feet in the stream. A popular spot for a picnic. However the locals had cheated by driving down a dirt track that we were to take back to the lower barrio. Shame on them!


Monica crossing the río.

The track led us to the Plaza de Iglesia and the church. A strange looking church. Then it was on to find our place of worship, the nearest bar. First we stopped at the local store. We have decided to start a collection of fridge magnets from all our weekend trips. Sad! We also purchased a couple of walking sticks. Monica went for the ultra modern graphite ski stick. I went for the traditional wooden can with "Trevélez" carved in the handle. Now, wheres the bar.


La Iglesia parroquial de San Benito.

We stopped at the taverna Gonzales. The restaurant upstairs looked promising for the evening meal. Nice terrace with great views over the town. Being called "Restaurante Gonzales", we assumed it was part of the same place. When Monica asked for the menu the waiter informed us that the restaurant was nothing to do with them. The town seemed full of establishments named "Gonzales". With a population of less than 900, maybe they were all related. A bit like Diggle? Monica kept commenting that all the local women had the same features. Later I swear I heard dueling banjo's in the distance.

After our gentle walk around town the beers went down nicely. Accompanied by a tapa of Jamón Serrano from Trevélez naturally. It was so nice that a wasp decided it wanted a piece. It landed on Monica's head. Not wanting to scare her "Don't panic but just do that" I said flicking the top of my head with my hand. Monica looked wary, warier still when she realised I was slowly moving backwards away from her. As realisation dawned on her as her hand brushed against the wasp she let out a blood curling shriek that echoed all around the Sierra Nevada. The waiter came over to see what the fuzz was about. He wasn't bothered about the wasp, just concerned as to why Monica had thrown half her beer away.


After the wasp attack.

Our walk back to the hotel was a perfect test for the walking sticks. It was a bit steep. But the aroma of Jamón in the air made the hills bearable. It seemed that every warehouse was a secadero filled with Jamón in the curing process, and every new building seemed to be for a new secadero. The more the merrier!

The journey to Trevélez

The journey to Trevélez took us up the Granada road and its unique 3-lane system. Its either 2 lanes down or two lanes up depending upon the time of day. Unfortunately for us it was 1 lane going up. Its always a bit scary with the occasional traffic cone knocked out of position and right in the centre of the lane.

In the Alpujarras and onto the narrow winding mountain roads. Average speed 40Km per hour. However, you can spot the locals, whose average speed appears closer to 80Km per hour. Its more of a formula one track for me, meaning no place for overtaking. Unless you're a local. We were witness to a couple of dodgy overtaking manoeuvres. The best being by a local white van man trying to pass an obvious Guiri in front. Said Guiri was carefully negotiating the bends and seemed to be cautious of the drop. That must explain his driving in the centre of the road. Surely he wasn't blocking white van man from overtaking? With a loud blast on the horn and a creative piece of overtaking on the bend, white van man was gone. I decided it would be more prudent to stay well behind the Guiri.

We arrived in Trevélez after 2 hours of travelling. Trevélez is split into 3 sections or "Barrios". Bajo, Medio y Alto, meaning low, middle and high. An increase of 200 metres in altitude between the lower and upper sections. Our hotel was in the middle section, Hotel La Fragua II. However, we didn't have a map and Tom Tom just represented the town of Trevélez as a dot. We stopped at the first bar we saw in the middle section, Meson de Julio, what a good name!


In the bar.

We asked the girl behind the bar for directions. She directed us to the plaza and told us to ask for directions there. Its a bit complicated. Doesn't sound good. After finishing our beer we headed to the Plaza. No one around but I saw a sign for the hotel. A very narrow road on the left with a no entry sign that read "Excepto Residentes". Well, we are residents so lets go for it. How narrow can the street be? Too narrow it turns out. How people manage to drive down them is beyond me. I hate to thing what would happen if you met a car coming the opposite direction. But the narrow streets was not the hardest part. That was reserved for the driveway to the hotel. The steepest driveway I have ever seen. Think "Quickedge" and imagine it steeper. Much Steeper.


The driveway.

The trouble was there was no where to turn around. I wasn't reversing back out of the streets. It was hard enough going forward. So we went for it. The car stalled half way up. 3 attempts later and we gave up. The smell of burnt rubber mixed with a near burnt out clutch polluted the air. We ditched the car at the bottom of the track and went to the hotel for help.


Hotel La Fragua II

Help came in the form of Miguel. Obviously a veteran at parking Guiri cars at the hotel. He reversed the car down the track and back up the street and stopped. Surely he is not thinking of taking a run up, turning a near 90 degree corner to go up the drive? Yes he was and yes he did. He grinned at us as he passed by to park the car "Es facil". The car is staying put for the weekend.



The track leading to the driveway.

Monica was made up with our room. The terrace had wonderful views of the mountains. The room was decorated in a rustic way. She was ecstatic when she found a few complementary items from the hotel. A sewing kit and a compact mirror. Two things to scrub off the birthday list.


Nice one!

A surprise trip to ...

I decided to surprise Monica by taking her away for the weekend. Where to? Well, it was supposed to be a secret. Except I'm not very good at keeping them from her. Before I had even booked the room I had let out the secret of the surprise trip. Well, I had to make sure that she had not planned anything for the weekend. But she won't know where we are going. "I'll know everything by Wednesday night". She probably will.

The fact that she never found out the destination was not down to any new found resolve on my part. It was thanks to Monarch Airlines and a 5 hour delay to the flight which meant I didn't get home until gone 1am. First thing in the morning "Where are you taking me?". No chance I'm giving it up that easy.


The secret destination....Trevélez.

The secret destination was Trevélez, in the Alpujarras, in the Sierra Nevada country park. Trevélez is the highest pueblo in Spain at 1,476 metres above sea-level. One of the reasons for choosing here was to take in the fresh mountain air. Monica had complained of it being too hot at nights. The high altitude is also the major reason behind its next claim to fame, Jamon. Another good reason to go.


Trevélez Jamon.

The altitude and the 10-15 degrees difference in temperature would prove to be my downfall. Monica, determined to get the destination out of me, used her cunning. "Shall I pack my costume?". I wasn't falling for the old "Is it by the coast" line of questioning. My resolve crumbled when she asked if she should pack her dress for the evening. The last time she wore it for a night out she suffered from the cold, and that's in Nerja in August. "You might want to take a cardigan" I advised casually. The twinkle in her eye told me she was hot on the trail. "So we are going to the Alpujarras then!". I not saying where though.

The plan was to hold out until I picked her up from work on Saturday afternoon. The secret never lasted beyond Friday evening. A few beers down my neck and I spilled the beans. I let it slip that it was famous for Jamons and that was that. "Trevélez!". One day I will manage to keep a surprise secret.

Andy and Kelly's Wedding

Mr & Mrs Meredith.

The day of the wedding had arrived. Andy wanted us at the White hart for 11:30am, an hour and a half before the ceremony. Things could get a bit messy. Craig had arranged the minibus for us at 11:00am. Not to worry, its A1 so should get here at about noon. Surprisingly, it turned up on time.


The church at Lydgate.

The minibus turned up minus one best man, Rawdo, and one usher, Craig, having a few technical difficulties with the attire. Craig had broken the bow tie already. First job of the day was to fix it. The second was to find out what had happened to Rawdo. "He's forgotten his shades" was the reply. Now that might be a crisis on the Costa del Sol, but Lydgate! I hope he hasn't forgotten the rings.

Off we went to pick up the last usher, Lenny, for the 2 minute trip up the road to the White Hart. "Fiver each lads!". Cue violent protests from Lenny. "I could have walked it in 5 minutes!". But not in your penguin suit Lenny, who had already confessed to looking like a plonker.

All was quiet at the pub. Only Mick and Clare were there, waiting on the doorstep. Very unusual, Within 10 paces of a bar and Mick is waiting for us outside? Must be a problem. The bar didn't open until 12:00. Bush was having none of it and wadded in anyway. 5 minutes later we were comfy inside on the the first pint with the clock not yet turned 11:30am. No sign of Andy, somethings never change.

With the pub steadily filling with wedding guests, Andy and his brother Paul eventually arrive. We were already on the second pint. Need to slow down. After downing a brandy for his nerves, Andy proceeded to give us, the ushers, our duties. First job was to fold the order of service sheets. Next, to attach the button holes. No safety pin disasters here. They were attached using magnets. One problem though, a shortage of magnets. A quick look at Craig's lapel solved it. He had used all the magnets for his button hole. We were instructed to arrive at the church at 12:50pm, ready to meet the guests. No problem, time for another pint.

All we had to do was meet the guests on the door, hand them a service sheet, politely enquire "Bride or Groom" and direct them to the left or right. The problem was half of the guests were already inside when we bothered to turn up. It was left to me to go around the church sheepishly to pass out the service sheets while Craig and Lenny stood on the door. Before we knew it the bridesmaids turned up and off we went.


All set for the off.

The service flew by for Andy and Kelly. Kelly arrived in a flood of tears. Andy fluffed his lines. The woman priest doing her best to calm the nerves. We endured the agony of singing two hymns. And the further agony of waiting for the couple to go and sign the register so that I could leg it to the toilet.

Outside for photo's. Paul Shaw had took it on himself to become the photographer's assistant. I thought he came well prepared, even a step ladder for Andy. The mass group shot outside the church. A little kid mischievously attempting to cripple the photographer by kicking his ladders away. "Right, just the bride and..." before the photographer could finish there was a mass exodus to the bar.


Stepladder for the Groom.

It was around 2:15pm when we started the second session. We were based in the new extension at the back, the Oak Room. The seating plan caused a few chuckles and sparked a flash point between Bush and Andy. Bush, one of the best men, was not on the head table. He was not happy. Any gathering with Bush and Andy would not be the same without a major bust up between them. His wedding day proved no exception. "I feel like I've been stabbed in the back" Bush growled. To compound his woes, "I've been put on a table with 8 strangers" he cried. "What, not even sat with Denise?", "OK, I've been put on a table with 9 strangers..."

The great seating row was finally solved when Baz & Paul Shaw graciously offered their places so that Shane and Denise could sit with us. The next trauma was the discovery that the meal was not being served at 3pm, but 4pm. So the canopies took a bit of a hammering. A quiet liked the salmon ones. Several more beers and I had begun to slur my words. Not even half three and I was in deep trouble.

The meal was wonderful. A Salmon and spring onion potato cake with cucumber salad and tartar sauce starter followed by lemon sorbet to refresh the pallet. Not that this impressed Lenny. "I'm starving, is that it?". The main course didn't go down well with him either, Roast rump of lamb with fondant potato and a caper and tomato compote. "Not much of it is there!". Topped off with a desert of crème brulee with shortbread biscuit. Lenny and given up at this point, although he was having a good go at polishing off the wine that accompanied the meal.

In between bitching about the small portions, nouvelle cuisine is lost on Lenny, the subject of "Facebook" was mentioned a few times. Lenny wanted the perfect profile picture. So he went for the Daniel Craig look, bow tie hanging loosely around his neck. Less said the better.


Facebook profile picture attempt 2.

It was soon time for the speeches. Andy was first up to thank everyone. Kelly eventually took over and dished out presents for everyone. Thanks for the aftershave! Kelly's dad made an emotional speech praising his daughter and accepting Andy into the family, even if he was a Gooner. Time for the best men speech, all three of them. Paul started off in a calm, professional manner, completely at ease in front of the guests. Then it went downhill rapidly. A little like the England cricket team, a total tail end collapse. It was not helped by a certain nameless person spilling wine all other the cue cards. Rawdo stood up to speak, and forgot to turn around. I can't tell you what he said as he had is back to us. He quickly moved on to Bush. He made a few jokes about "Geeky Andy" and toasted the Bride and Groom.


Andy with the Best Men, Paul, Rawdo & Bush.

As the evening reception started the room began to start spinning. Not sure I'm going to make it to 12pm. Even more drinks and the DJ stops the music. Can't be over already? Must be hallucinating. Elvis walked in the building. He launched into all his classic songs. He worked the crowd well. Anytime the dance floor fell empty he went straight into the crowd. There I was minding my own business chatting away when Elvis walked by. Good photo opp!


Special guest all the way from Vegas...

I am determined to go the whole night without visiting the dance floor. I was a bit unsteady on my feet. That plan went out of the window when Denise grabbed me and frogmarched me to the dance floor. Bad mistake. A few minutes later and bang! I fell and landed on top of Denise. Safely tucked back in my seat just in time to hear Bush tell Craig to change the taxi to 1am. "Bar's open till half twelve". Great. I slowly drift off into unconsciousness at the table....


Before hitting the Dance Floor.

Pre-wedding nerves

I have no idea if Andy or Kelly had a touch of the pre wedding nerves. However, there were plenty of them in the Schofield household. All to do with the outfits for the day, and a little matter of the best man's speech to finish off.

Denise was worried about her new outfit. Would it show off her cleavage too much? I assured her that all would be fine. Shane put it more bluntly and said that the Lads would enjoy an eyeful. Anyway, Denise had a backup plan, another dress that would still go with her new hat. In the end she decided for plan B (Still give the lads something to look at though!).


Denise in outfit B.

Shane on the other hand didn't have a plan B for the speech. He did have two other "Best Men" to share the duties with. However, planning seemed to go awry somewhere, only one practice session and that was before the speech had been finished. "Do you think it will be OK?" he enquired. "Course it will", I replied with the straightest face I could muster. Lambs to the slaughter.


Planning works! Denise relaxed enjoying the day & Shane..nervous!