Our hotel - Puerta de la Villa.
Breakfast was plentiful and European in variety, although we did get up with enough time to catch up on the journals. I got a decent amount of sleep although it was intermittent from 0100 until we got out of bed. We left our window open all night to freshen and cool the air in the room. We listened to the rain falling and later to water dripping off the eaves of the roofs to the quiet streets below. Not long after we got up, the roosters out in the countryside began to crow.
The weather was raw and unsettled with occasional light rain. Nick and Bruno distributed the lunch making amongst the walkers – Jonathan got the olives, but they had handed everything out before I got assigned a course. Taxis took us up out of the village to the trailhead at a picnic area/park. With only two vehicles, it took 2 and a half trips to get us all to the starting point.
While waiting for the second round of folks to arrive, I put on my rain gear as the rain had gotten heavier. From our vantage point overlooking the town, the clouds were broken and intermittent, but where they were coming through the pass between the two peaks, it seemed more constant. The first part of the hike was up the mountain side at a gentler rate than the Poquiera valley where Bubión is located. We stopped several times to take in the vistas and take pictures. The rain let off while we were climbing, and when we reached the saddle between two peaks (different two peaks than mentioned before), the village of Algodanales (al-godon = cotton) could be seen basking in the sun in the distance. As we walked along the backside of the mountain the weather closed in, more fog than rain. This was windward side of the mountain and the clouds/fog landed here first, being the first mountain range that these westerlies see in Spain.
Our hotel - Puerta de la Villa.
The clouds coming through the pass.
Teague, Joyce, Cindy, and Judy bundled up against the weather.
Out in the valley, beams of sunlight.
It's a bit fuzzy, but a pause on the trail.
Looking down to Grazalema from the trail.
The trail heading up the hill.
More weather coming through the pass.
But sunlight out in the valley beyond.
Pausing at the saddle between the peaks.
Caroline (seated), Rich, Marilyn, and Jonathan.
Reviewing the latest photograph.
Shelton and Janet.
The trail leading off into the clouds.
Another view out to the valley.
Heading up the trail.
Looking back down the trail.
Walking along the mountainside.
Country Walkers on the trail.
Algodanales basking in the sun.
The trail reaches the forest of Spanish fir.
The clouds provide atmosphere.
Jonathan on the foggy trail.
Another break in the fog to the valley.
The rocks and pebbles form an angular pattern.
One last look out to the valley.
Teague heading down the trail.
I'm not sure what the berries are, but they provided some nice color.
Jonathan pausing to adjust his hat.
Bruno, Teague, and Harvey.
The fruit from a strawberry tree - right before I ate it.
The trail dropped rapidly with switchbacks - Cindy and Harvey.
Coming down the trail.
Janet, Harvey, and Teague.
Heading up the street in Benamahoma looking for the bar.
This stick has been in the mud.
The bar scene.
More bar scene.
Judy.
Judy.
Judy, Bruno, and Rich.
Caroline.
Cindy offering some cheese.
Joyce.
Waiting for the taxis to take us back to Grazalema - Caroline, Teague, Cindy, Nadji, Deena, and Marilyn.
Jonathan writing in his journal.
Ralph and Shelton relaxing in the hotel before heading out to dinner.
Dinner - Caroline, Bruno, Jonathan (setting up for a photo), and Cindy.
Jonathan, Cindy, deer head trophy, and Teague.
The other end of the table - Rita, Nick, Judy, Nadji, Shelton, Janet, Harvey, Deena, and Joyce.
The trail followed a precarious (to me) route on the edge of steep drop-offs. During these stretches, I’d focus on the trail immediately ahead of me. This stretch of the path took us over another shoulder of a ridge into a forest of firs of a variety that was unique to the area. The path continued downward through the trees and eventually came to another saddle between the peaks where the winds were gusting wildly. We followed the access road downward to the village of Benamahoma.
At one point, Jonathan and I were dawdling along when Jonathan commented that he couldn’t hear anyone behind us. I had been making a point to stay with him as he was in fact the hindmost walker on the trail. When I mentioned that fact to him, he was by me in a shot and I spent most of the rest of the trail following him.
We reconvened in a bar in Benamahoma where we laid out our lunch. On the trail a couple hours earlier, the group had decided to wait until now to have lunch. So over a couple of beers, we had our lunch of air-dried tuna, cured salmon, cheese, tomatoes, bread, with marzipan and almond cookies for dessert.
Afterwards, the bar owner, who was also one of our taxi drivers in the morning, drove us 15 km back to Grazalema, where we took a snooze for about an hour before taking a shower and tottering down to the bar for a glass of wine and to catch up on writing.