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“Walking? Why? You’re not fat!” This was the reaction to our 2005 New Year’s resolution, for a walk a weekend (more or less). I didn’t like to turn down a compliment, but “not fat” doesn’t mean “fit”. Besides, there is more to walking than turning fat to muscle; there is sunshine and space; seeing the countryside; time out and even time together. Cheap, free entertainment – what more could you want? |
Setting yourself a new task per New Year may seem silly, but then it’s as good a time as any to decide what you want to change; and after the party round and mayhem of Christmas, that time-out bit seemed a great idea. are a bit silly. Of course, like most resolutions, ours started well then wobbled a bit. Our first walk got halfway easily; then our guidebooks authors got bored and put in something like “Find your way home!” We learnt a bit of terrace mountaineering – stranded among the avocadoes we had no choice. Then there was the rained off walk (my fella grumbling “I knew this’d happen” as we squelched home); the walk interrupted by water diversion walk; and the didn’t quite- happen-walk where, five minutes in, we found we were passing a cortijo full of friends and ended up spending the afternoon enjoying a few beers with them.
But the hills here make such wonderful network of valley folds and finger ridges, linking the puzzle of white town to white town that the more you go out the more you want to. When I was (a lot) younger I walked in Scotland, Wales, the Lake District and the Peak District, with all the effort of travelling to them and putting up with cold weather, wet weather, wet and cold weather, filthy weather, freezing weather and walk called off for safety weather. On the edge of the National Park, at the gateway to the Sierras Tejada, Almijara and Alhama, enjoying weeks of clear skies, I’d have to be crazy to pass up the chance of getting out in the country. From Frigiliana to Torrox, from Sayalonga to Sedella, the Sierras offer superb walking country whether you want a slow stroll or a full day’s hike.
We were surprised to find the walks didn’t turn into a chore: rained off weekends were a disappointment, not a relief. I started to want to race to get in the long walks while we could – late winter and early spring before the heat set in. Of course, the Spring and Autumn monsoon-like rains would dampen anyone’s enthusiasm, but the clear days couldn’t be better. It’s warm enough to enjoy, but cool enough to pant uphill, and the views, which are absolutely brilliant, aren’t hidden in the summer heat-haze.
Walking gives you free time: time spent outdoors, time away from work and daily worries. Walking gives you a sense of space – the chance to explore this extraordinary countryside and the fantastic, incomparable views. “Walking?” said my mother-in-law. “You don’t want to do that. You never know who you’ll meet!”
It’s true that, given perfect-season meets perfect-place, you’d expect to be fighting for leg room. I remember on a sunny bank holiday almost having to join a queue to walk along Striding Edge in the Lake District. But not here. We met maybe three other walkers, a farmer and a couple of goatherds. True, I saw the odd party of walkers from a distance. But with so many possible routes, there really is space for everyone. We picnicked by Río Cájula and heard only the water; we rested above the Fabrica de la Luz and heard only the gentle hum of bees.
We couldn’t convince my mother in law though. “We don’t see anyone all day! We’re lucky if we see a goatherd! You can’t imagine how peaceful it is!” we told her. “Ah, but that’s when you need to worry,” she replied. “Next minute there’ll be hordes appearing over the hilltops, like in Zulu when they all suddenly appeared over the top, at Rorke’s Drift!”
There’s not much you can say to that. Still, film fantasy aside, all this peace and quiet has made us attempt the impossible: behaving sensibly. Well, more or less. I admit to “off-roading” – map-less and fancy free in a macho, “who needs a map when you can aim up-hill” moment. It was great fun, but very, very steep. We scared a local goat-herd when we appeared from nowhere: when he recovered he told us off good and proper: “Muy peligroso; muy peligroso!” and insisted we should return the long way round. We only walked about 5 km and came back shattered. My ankle hadn’t appreciated the orienteering (I limped for a few days) and we were both pulling bits of prickly thorn bushes (they can get right through jeans and socks as if they’re not there) out of ourselves all week.
So, now to be sensible. I aimed to wear a layer I could decently take off and to carry a layer to put on. We took map, compass, torch, (mini) first-aid kit and mobile (though that was out of range most of the time. We normally stuck to the main routes, always took a snack (oranges, dried apricots, bananas) and often indulged in a whole picnic. I’m not sure the picnic bottles of wine (our haversack has a wine-bottle shaped pocket) was sensible, but we always took water. My partner being a strapping young thing, I’m not the one getting weighed down! Oh, and, absolutely essential, a camera. Have I mentioned the views?
All this being sensible didn’t stop us doing more than we planned or less: there’s no point getting over-tired or cold if you can short-cut back; no reason not to go on if you’ve time and energy for a few more miles and you’re having fun.
So did we keep the New Year’s Resolution – a walk a weekend? Did we hell! By March I found that with every walk I seemed to be getting less fit, being more tired and taking longer to recover with every week. And then I found I was pregnant. Walking trips were, per-force, curtailed or postponed. That was a good two years back though, and I was just talking my husband into getting out there again. My brother is due out in Spring, and he is as mad as a goat; maybe we could arrange a babysitter and go out walking with him. Where are my walking boots? Or…maybe I should be less ambitious, or I’ll have to postpone again. I might try finding some pretty but easy walks to share with a two year old, for the time being. Yes, that’s it – my tame new 2008 resolution. What’s yours?
Rose Jones
