Cortijo de la Civila

This Sunday’s walk was more of a training exercise for an attempt at reaching the summit of Mount Cielo. It was a walk from the Nerja caves as far up the mountain as we could get in two hours. The thinking was that we would at least reach the Cortijo de la Civila. An abandoned cortijo that according to local legend, takes its name from the lady occupant who liked to dress up in the Guardia Civil uniform.

We parked at the start of the track and headed up the trail. Stopwatch set and pedometer on we started the ascent. The weather was perfect for walking but not for viewing the sights. It was a cool, grey day. You couldn’t see the peaks of the mountains as they were above the cloud cover.

It took us 35 minutes to reach the crossroads where the left track takes you to the El Pinarillo picnic site and the track heading straight up to Mount Cielo. On our attempt at the summit we will probably park here. However, the rather gentle climb to this point was a good warm up. From here, the track becomes noticeably steeper.


Misty view of the sea.

We followed the track as it snaked its way upwards. At one point not to far up we saw a rough path cut into the mountain on the bend of the road. It looked fairly steep and we were unsure where it went. We decided to stick to the road. A quick check on Google Earth later showed that the path was a great little shortcut that would have saved us 10 minutes. There are a few of these short cut paths as you climb the track. We decided to take the next one as it looked clear that it met up with the road further up. A few minutes saved. Each path was clearly marked with Cairns and the usual coloured markers. However, they are only marked going up, as we found out on the way back having missed a couple of the short cuts.


Monica making a Cairn.

All the way up we were guessing how much further the peak of Mount Cielo was. You still couldn’t see because of the cloud cover. In truth, we had no idea in which direction the peak was. After an hour an a half of climbing we seemed to reach a peak. To the right you could see the ridge of the mountain. We decided to see if we could walk along it to try and see the view through the mist. Alas, the trek across the ridge looked easy from the road but it turned out to be a more difficult proposition. Not wanting to scramble across the ridge and be disappointed by the lack of view due to the weather conditions, we headed back to the road.


The Ridge.

The path starts to descend as it cuts a shallow valley through the mountains before heading North and you begin to ascend again. I’m not sure if it was a trick of the mind and our weary limbs but the track seemed to get steeper. It was at this point Monica gave the first suggestion of turning back. Let’s see what is round the corner first. Through the mist we could then pick out the ruins of the cortijo.


The Cortijo through the mist.

We reached the cortijo with just under 10 minutes of our planned 2-hour climb. Someone had started to build another cortijo next to the ruins but had either fallen out with the idea or they didn’t have the proper permission in the first place. We had a quick look around and decided to stop for a quick break.

Buoyed by reaching the cortijo within our time limit and feeling a little refreshed, we decided to head on a little. Monica wanted to see if we could walk in the clouds. Ten minutes later and we reached another marker point. A sign pointing up the mountain. It read “Sendero. Pico del Cielo”. Amazingly, there were two 4x4 jeeps parked up on the right. My first thought was how the hell did they get up here? Monica was on a different thought pattern, “Cheating bastards!”. The look on Monica’s face was more of grudging admiration for skiping a two-hour hike up the mountain. I cut short any ideas she might be having “There is NO WAY I’m driving the Fiesta up here!”.

The sign gave no clues as to how far the peak was. We couldn’t see it. The mountain to our left was covered by the clouds. “That must be it! It doesn’t look too far.” Monica claimed. The path headed towards the cloud covered summit but soon disappeared out of view. The pedometer stated that we had walked 6.5 kilometres. All up hill. We headed back down the mountain satisfied with our training session.


Taking a well earned break.

We arrived back at the car some 3 and a half hours after setting out. A total of 12.54 Km recorded on the pedometer. That translates to 936 Kcal (must be worth a few beers!) and 18,721 steps. All I know is the next day was painful getting out of bed. Thanks to Google Earth, we discovered that we were wrong about the peak we thought was Mount Cielo. In fact, we had probably only got half way. If anything, the rest of the way looks like a steeper climb. The height of Mount Cielo is 1508Mts, making it a good 164 Mts taller than Ben Nevis. I reckon that from start to finish, we climbed 607 Mts. We had a further climb of 700 Mts. From our intended start point for the ascent it will be a total climb of 1,134 Mts. Oh well, un poco mas del entrenamiento!

Carnaval 2009

Dancing to keep warm.


The Trojans.


Puppet on strings.


Thirsty work this carnaval.


As full as a mop.


Transformers.


Downtown Rio.


After the desfile, time to party.

Senderismo de Nerja Club

To help kick start our walking programme for 2009 we decided to take a look at the “Senderismo de Nerja” club. Our first walk was a brief introductory walk starting from the Maro bus stop. Here we met our guide Donna from Life Adventure. She explained that the first couple of walks would be fairly easy to assess everyone’s fitness before tackling more challenging routes.

We headed towards the original n340, over the old bridge before descending to the barranco. This is the start of the old smuggling route from the coast to Granada. We headed under the old sugar factory aqueduct and up towards El Pinarillo. Along the way Donna explained why she had changed the programme. Apparently she had numerous complaints from the last walk, up to Mount Cielo. Apparently, a number of people had to turn back, as it was too difficult. They were clearly not prepared for the challenge and god knows what they were expecting.


The old aqueduct.


The only steep part of the walk.

When we reached the trail to El Pinarillo we headed back to the caves. A quick two-hour walk. Not a bad way to ease us back into the walking season.


On the smuggling route.

Valentines Night in Nerja

There are many lovely restaurants in Nerja to choose from. For Valentines, we had decided to go to the Thai restaurant in town to remember the great times we had on holiday. No need to book. The papers say that romance is dead and buried due to the “crisis economica”. Nobody is going out. Nerja is a ghost town.

The signs were ominous walking down Burriana. The restaurants seemed busy. The further in town we got, the more people we found. Where had they all come from? Sure enough, on arrival at Lan Sang it was fully booked. We roamed the streets in search of a place and ended up in La Marina for a tapa.


A bit of Spice love?

A bit of quick thinking was required or I was on for a beating. We wanted a bit of spice so why not the Indian on Calle Carabeo? What more romantic setting could you wish for than this beautiful street with views across the Mediterranean? The fact that a) the restaurant is on the wrong side and b) the street is being dug up for sewer works was just bad luck. A few spicy poppadoms and a few beers and all that was forgiven... After a promise of a few cocktails at H2O later!


The Romantic Calle Carabeo.


Cocktails at H2O.

Vamos de tapas con la escuela

It’s a sort of tradition that we go out after my Spanish lesson and go for tapas in the centre. I’ll try to speak in Spanish and normally Monica has had enough after about 10 minutes and its back to English. However, tonight might be different. We are going on the tapas trail with the school.

We met outside the school and headed for the first bar. I was hoping to go to a new place. A traditional, serviettes on the floor, local bar. Alas, we headed for the most famous tourist tapas place in Nerja, Bar Redondo, or to us Guiris the round bar.

The Spanish conversation was at a basic level. Being the “resident” student I was under pressure to speak Spanish. The other students were on residential courses and had only had a few hours lessons. One of these was Philipe from Switzerland. He already spoke French and English, probably German too. He was on a 14-week course with 2-hour lessons a day. This was his second week. His previous knowledge of Spanish was “Hola” and “Una cerveza”. However, even after such a short time he seemed to understand most of the conversation taking place. Puts my efforts to shame.


The Tapas Group hit the town.

I soon drifted away from the teachers and ended up in the “naughty corner” with Philipe. He switched the conversation to hushed English which suited me fine. I was living up to my role as the worst Quorom student ever. The school try to hide me away, as I’m hardly a good advert for them.

After a few beers at Bar Redondo and a few more at the Posada Iberica the group were in party mood. A cold February evening with hardly a soul out on the streets, not even midnight and we headed for Tutti Frutti. I tried to explain to Philipe that this was the party zone of Nerja. The locals party hard until sunrise here. As we reached the empty plaza Philip didn’t seem too impressed. Early days yet!


Another good Spanish Lesson in the pub.

We went to the only bar that seemed to have any life, “Thebas”. Apparently it’s pronounced in one word not “The Bahs” as I thought. I was expecting some traditional Yorkshire pub with pictures of sheep and wellies hanging from the walls. Well it didn’t have a Spanish feel to it although the crowd were mainly locals. The DJ was playing all 80’s music. Time for a few beers and a bit of a dance before heading home.

Another Lazy Sunday

Finally, the rains have gone. A return to blue skies just in time for my latest outing on the golf course. Today's competition was a better-ball stableford. Good, I could do with some help on the course.

I was partnered with John Kilroy and we took on the Captain and Bob Willett. It seemed that the latest change in the weather had gone to the captains head. He turned up in shorts. The rains may have gone but it was still a chilly day. There was still snow on the mountains and the wind was strong. Strong enough to force the captain to don a pair of trousers on the third hole.

The golfing day went really well. I hit some great shots and more importantly, John hit more. Whenever I had a bad hole John was on hand to rescue the hole, and vice versa. We ended up cleaning up on the competition. We beat the captain's team by one point. There would have been a riot if they had beaten us, especially after the "rub of the green" incident.

The captain's drive on the 16th was sliced right, over the creek and ended up near the 12th green. A very helpful lady (at least to the captain) came to save the day. Before the Captain could ask if it was his ball, she had picked it up a thrown it back to him. The ball landing rather neatly on the 16th fairway. John was not happy and had a word with the lady. "Learn the bloody rules of golf!". The poor lady retreated rapidly from the scene.

Still, we had another points to take first prize, and 3 euros from the captain. John was happy enough with that result. Maybe it's just as well that I didn't remind him that the captain's good fortune helped them square the back nine saving them an extra euro.

To Play or not to play?

Today, as I look out of the window, I can see nice blue skies with the odd cloud on the horizon. There is a bit of a breeze but no danger of rain. Near perfect golfing weather. But what about the coming weekend? When should I play?

The first port of call is the Spanish met office website to look at the 5 day weather forecast. Its grim reading. Today, Wednesday and Thursday look fine. The weekend is a disaster and it looks wet. 60% chance of rain on Friday,80% chance on Saturday, 95% on Sunday.

The Meteored web-site concurs. Light to Moderate showers on Friday through to Sunday. However, Málagaweather.com offers hope. They only give a 3 day forecast but Friday differs from the others. It gives a 0% chance of rain! I wonder what they say tomorrow?

Manchester night out

A nice treat for Monica this weekend. A night out in Manchester! Monica was really looking forward to it. Not because of the location but because her friends from London had arranged to come up for the night.

Monica told me that they were due to arrive around 3pm. Really? That just happens to be the exact time that Latics kick-off against Stockport in the eagerly (well for me) awaited local derby at Boundary Park. No chance of talking her round so we caught the 3:45pm train to Piccadilly. I was gutted!

We arrived shortly after 4pm and there was no news from the London mob. No reply to the voicemail or text to both Sue’s and Carlos’s phones. I began to suspect a conspiracy as we sat down for a coffee at some over-priced Starbucks clone place. We decided to head into town for some “shopping” (definitely been set-up here) when Gary rang and saved the day. They had arrived just after lunch and went for a few drinks. The others fancied having a siesta before going out later. Apparently we weren’t expected until after 7pm!

We met Gary and headed to the Waldorf to watch the FA cup clash between Man Utd and Spurs. Typically, we had missed the best bit of the match and had to watch wave after wave of united attacks before they predictably equalised and took the lead in the space of two minutes, much to the dismay of Sue’s brother, Rob, a Spurs fan who turned up at that point.

After the game we headed back to the hotel to collect the other two. They were awake and smoking their heads off in between supping vodka and red bull. They looked well on the way before we had reached the bar downstairs for a quick one. The plan was then to head down Canal street for a couple. “Isn’t that the place Papá said to avoid?” asked Monica. It sure was.


Sue, Monica and Carlos at the Hotel Bar.


The girls in the mood to party.

I’m sure most people who had never been down Canal street have this wild idea of the village people clones roaming around, flashing pink neon signs and “Carry on” style innuendo banter all around. Well, the proof is in the pudding, as I never told Monica that it was the Gay Village as we entered the first bar, “Crunch 2”. She didn’t have a clue. The atmosphere was relaxed and mixed. Everyone was out to have a good time.


Carlos, Monica, Sue and gary on Canal Street.

After a few drinks by the canal we went in search of the Indie club that Gary had been to before. It was the “Fab Café” on Portland Street. On entry I was immediately transported back to my student days. The club pays homage to a number of science fiction programs most notably Doctor Who, with the Tardis and a Cyborg watching over the DJ. The DJ looked as if he was playing his favourite tunes in his bedroom, oblivious to the crowd on the dance floor and in the bar. Great music!


In the Fab Café.


Carlos strutting his stuff on the dance floor.

By the end of the night most of the London crew were completely wasted. We headed back towards the hotel in search of food when disaster struck. Carlos went flying head first into a rubbish bin. A deep cut on his chin, blood everywhere. Luckily, he hadn’t knocked any teeth out and the Alcohol had dimmed any pain. We forgot about the food and headed back to the hotel to patch him up.

Sophie and Jess

We can't go to Manchester and not see the terrible twosome! Now they have a new addition to the family, Mason. A cute little puppy! Problem is the next time we see him he will probably be as big as the kids!


With Sophie and Mason.


Jess and Sophie.


Jess having a dance.


Jessica and Sophie love Auntie Monica!

Shane's 40th Birthday

Our first weekend away in 2009. A pity for Monica that it would be a freezing cold trip to Manchester. Shane gets the blame for this one. Fancy having your birthday in January. After picking up a shivering Monica from Manchester Airport it was off to the pub for a beef curry to warm her up.

Shane had booked his party at the Stanley Square club in Stalybridge. He was preparing all the food himself. Well, he asked Papá to make his “World Famous” potato ash (Three pans of the bloody stuff) and Denise was in charge of the buffet. Relations in both the Burkett and Schofield households were stretched to breaking point due to this classic Schofield scrooge tactic. Mamá and Papá were at each other’s throats whenever the words “potato ash” were heard. Meanwhile Denise had kicked Shane out of the house after botching up a simple task. “I ask him to do one thing….”. That was your first mistake Denise!

We arrived at the party around 8:30pm. An hour later than I had told Rawdo and Craig so we received ironic applause on arrival and plenty of abuse. They soon turned to their favourite baiting trick of discussing their tax returns with me. Rawdo was gutted that he had an astronomical tax bill of £80 for last year. Never tip a taxi driver again! The timeless “lets all laugh at City” response is as reliable as ever, even with their billions in the bank.


Rawdo and Craig depressed about their tax liabilities.

Mamá and Papá were sat with Uncle Martin and Auntie Lyn on a nearby table. Papá sitting restlessly, getting up every 5 minutes to check on the potato ash. He still managed to burn part of it. “I’ll mix that in when everyone is pissed” was his plan. Seemed to work as two and a half pans were consumed over the night. Shane giving the Ash his thumbs up and will probably finish off the stuff for lunch.


Mamá, Lyn, Martin and Papá at the party.


Shane likes the Ash.

The DJ was busy playing all Shane’s favourites from the 80’s. The problem was his playlist consisting of OMD et al didn’t seem to get anyone on the dance floor. People finally got up when the DJ succumbed and put Wham on and classics from the sixties.

We were soon treated to one of Shane’s master classes in public speaking. He thanked everyone for coming (“Cheers you lot”); presented flowers to the women who had helped prepare the food and the room for the party (“Come and get yer flowers then!) and hoped that everyone would enjoy the rest of their evening (“Right lets get pissed!”).


Shane gives another masterclass in public speaking.

The evening came to a close around 12:30am for us. Shane and a few of the party headed off to Stalybridge to carry on. We were in no fit state to continue so headed back home with the family. All to do again tomorrow night!


Shane and Monica.