"I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge
Cry 'Good for David! Silves, and the Algarve Way!"
(somewhat after Shakespeare)
Let us first set the scene:
The place: Silves:
The hour: 7th April 2009, shortly after the crack of dawn.
Dramatis Personae:
Dear Leader: David Littlewood
Dedicated Followers: Ian W., Lindsey, Dina, Hilke,Tina, Alex and Ingrid.
Sharp at 9.30 a.m. the DL's band were assembling at the Silves Levada crossing when they were joined by an individual purporting to be a Man From The Ministry sent to check up on the activities of this walking group - such had been the speed of their progress across rough terrain in recent weeks that suspicions had been voiced in certain quarters that perhaps non-pedal forms of transport had been brought into play. Naturally, this pronouncement went down like the proverbial L.B., and said MFTM (who turned out in fact to be John H. incognito) was immediately penalised for such a lame attempt at humour so early in the day by being appointed Blogger for the day.
Be that as it may,the main topic of pre-walk banter arose from the fact that the weaker sex were not only clearly out-numbering the other sex on each stretch of this expedition (a ratio of 2:1 this day) but, being the keener of the DL's disciples, were likely to provide more finishers of the complete route than the men. I'll leave it to Tina and Ingrid to aggravate wounds to male pride with salty comments later.
The Bees' Knees(click to enlarge)
Our route
The official stats, courtesy of the DL:
Total distance 15.4
Moving time 3.29
Moving avr: 4.4
Overall avr 3.6
668 metres of ascent
The two starting photos were taken with the assistance of Hazel and Vitor who must then have been amazed to see the 7 DFs racing off, like Shakespeare's greyhounds, but prematurely in completely the wrong direction, north up towards the Silves windmill, whilst DL and MFTM remained static beside the levada, studiously synchronising watches, calibrating GPSs,seeing that the paperwork was in order, etc., etc. DL's language was unprintable but John H was sent off in hot pursuit of the ? errant/foolish virgins ? ( M.P: please clarify correct terminology).
It took 10 minutes before the group could at last set off westwards along the levada ( “but the levee was dry”: cue music: American Pie), where we were not the only walkers abroad.
Onwards to Monte Branco, where a sharp right turn north brought us up to the Old Farm and to views eastwards of the long, long ridges we had trudged the previous Wednesday. Thereafter, speedy progress was made, updulations indeed but nothing untoward. Cistus-hybrid spotting was rewarded with the triumphant find of some 8-dot Cistus as well as an Algarve Way cistus mark blending in cleverly with its surroundings .
But suddenly, on a well-marked Algarve Way/Via Algarviana track, we were blocked by chains across the road and then by deliberate obstacle-creation down an escape track by way of felled tree trunks. (Co-ordinates N37.14.228 -W8.26.935).
Obstacles
Anyway we clambered down, over, and under the barricades ( I was going to say “manfully” but that won't go down terribly well with Dave's Babes, will it?) No, no! It was the rendition of “Let's Do The Limbo” (cue music:Denzil and The Wrigglers-1957) by Tina and Ingrid that encouraged at least one struggling male to make it through the barricades and down to a quiet valley stream. And there what a couple of years ago had been a restful green area stream-side has now been scraped clear of all trees and vegetation and left barren. Difficult to guess what can the plan be? It seems possible that somebody is trying to close off a reserve for Shooting Tourists, whether they merit such a fate or not.
Anyway, once across the stream, steady walking took us past items of floral interest up to a sheltered area for luncheon at 12.15pm.
Is that a gentian?
I do believe it isWe hesitate to mention here that MFTM was cold-shouldered at lunch and made to eat apart, only being admitted back into polite company after dessert.
BoycottedPost-prandial conversation was about what the best preventative diet is for residents of Montinhos who are much bothered by mosquitoes. Ian W. apparently has been told that a diet of bananas is best, but his trouble is that he doesn't care greatly for bananas. John H. recommended tincture of whisky, Ardbeg in particularl. Hilke swore by Laphroaig and/or Lagavulin. Ian was not convinced. (Subsequent internet searches indicate thata diet of coconut oils is favoured, but surely many of us will speak up for the Whisky Industry? Advice direct to Ian, please).
Impressions of a Leprechaun
Lunch over, we moved steadily on westwards, with a couple of diversions. In more gentle country, a van from Solar Algarve stopped by us to ask if we knew where a caravan they were looking for was, but we didn't. Then a pause while Lindsey and Alex between them sent a coded text message to Andrew to let him access his house alarm; few of us were sure whether this was to help him to get in or to get out, but time will tell.
The Next Day's Objective
The Magnificent Seven plus One
Then, mercifully, a long downward track giving us views over to Picota, the next day's target, eventually brought us to the floor of the Odelouca Valley, its river, its crossing ,
and its BRIDGE.
Just look at it! Can anyone tell us “Whai” it is there at all? Apart from one dodgy-looking ladder, there's no way to get on to it; it has nothing in the way of approach roads at either end, so what traffic if any it might serve is unclear; a seemimg white elephant indeed.
The river was none too deep and the crossing was effected in our usual variety of styles. Your conscripted blogger kept his boots dry, thanks to Myriam's supply of triple-layered lixo bags, while Ian and others claimed that their feet were much refreshed by the cool waters.
A short walk up the hill to the waiting cars at 2.05 p.m. (only five minutes past the designated end time - just think what that ten minute mis-start cost the group in terms of record moving averages - wouldn't 1.55 p.m. have made Paul envious?) and then a few clicks down the road to the Ourique Bar for a glass or two.
All was well that ended well, and the MFTM had found no cause for report or complaint, no unsporting resort to camels, rickshaws, sedan chairs, charabancs, rocket propulsion or other animal or mechanical device - just human leg power all the way. His offer to auction off a once-used only set of triple-layered bags for the use of the next days' walkers was, nevertheless, not taken up.
(Thanks to Ingrid and Lindsey for photographic contributions.)
"The more destruction there is everywhere, the more it shows the activity of town authorities."
(Gogol: The Government Inspector.)
5 comments:
The suggestion that the MTFM was boycotted at lunch must be the most barefaced untruth perpetrated in the history of the AWWs. That gentleman decided for reasons of his own to march 50 metres down the hill, to sit in solitary state with his sarnies. Perhaps he was sending back covert reports on the innocent band of strollers munching their lunch on the hill above?
Although the Babes have been provoked more
then once, I will restrain myself...
No comments!
Gosh, there's no hiding place these days!. Of course I was sending back covert messages, messages to my Babe at base. One of them, if I remember correctly, was " Where on earth did you pack the egg and cress?".
"Egg and cress" inded! Typical bl. man. The sandwiches I gave him were ham with chilli mustard, avascado spread and onion garnish, lovingly wraped in light green cling-film, and he then calls for egg and cress!
Babe at base
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