Another Monday and another walk with our new found Monday walking group organized by Helen. We awoke to a fairly solid overcast and, given our early start time [09:00], life was a little on the cool side. The weather forecast suggested that conditions would brighten up at 10:00. Having assembled again in Parcent, we followed Helen in a 4-car convoy to our start point behind Murla.

We set off and were soon walking through a gate in a long wall. This was the wall that more or less surrounds the historically interesting place on today’s route, the Sanatorio de Fontilles. Fontilles is also referred to as a Leprosarium and, perhaps less charitably, as a leper colony. “Don’t panic, Mr. Mainwaring!” Fontilles was established in 1902 and played a key role in treating leprosy in Spain. Some literature says “eliminating leprosy in Spain” although there are apparently still ~20 cases a year, though mostly from immigrants. The exaggerated reputation that leprosy bore was why the wall, which scales some impressive mountain slopes, was built around the site.

The weather forecast was wrong. We continued on our upward route through Fleix with a few spots of rain dampening my sombrero, then continued up to Benimaurell at 540m, 340m higher than Murla. With the undulations of the route, we’d amassed a total ascent of ~400m. We called into a colourful local bar in Benimaurell for a coffee. It looked absolutely nothing from its exterior but inside we were greeted by Spanish/Mexican music which the locals were enjoying along with their coffee.

By now the sun put in its overdue appearance and we returned downhill to Murla for a total of 13.3kms/8.5mls. It was a good step and naturally, refreshments were needed. The Cooperativo in Parcent filled the bill nicely.

What, another walk this week?

‘T was a cool morning. OK, in places it was downright cold. As we drove up the twisting and turning hairpin-rich road from Pego towards Vall d’Ebo, the car irritatingly bonged a warning to inform us that it was a mere 3°C outside. Shortly thereafter it fell to 2°C outside. Good job we’d brought fleeces with us.

We skirted Vall d’Ebo and continued climbing to Alcalá de la Jovada, which is at an altitude of 650m/2100ft. Mercifully the mercury had not continued to fall as we climbed. Vall d’Ebo is probably in a frost hollow. It was still cool, though, maybe 6°C. We parked and joined another six Costa Blanca Mountain Walkers for The Landing Strip Circuit from Alcalá de la Jovada.

The Landing Strip Circuit is another of the CBMWs’ blue grade walks. This one looked like being nothing particularly taxing which, for my third walk in a week, was perhaps no bad thing; it is billed as 8.8kms with 210m of ascent. It was a mixture of forest tracks, which we could have driven up, and lightly wooded paths, which we could not.

The mountains in our neck of Spain are all quite similar and all quite attractive. The interesting feature along this walk was, as the title implies, an aircraft landing strip. This is no ordinary landing strip, however. This is a landing strip used to refill fire fighting planes used when either Mother Nature or some inattentive/malicious bozo sets fire to the landscape.

About half way around the walk, we reached the top of a gentle gradient to find, at the top of the hill, a flattish, straight-ish, partially tarmacked, gravel-strewn runway. Beside said runway were a couple of large water tanks, the upper one of which had a pipe running into it, presumably to fill it with the water required for forest fire fighting. What was not clear to me was where the water came from that got into the pipe that fed the tank – there was little higher ground to provide any run-off so where’d it come from? I know not.

We finished the walk, having covered 9.5kms after a few missed turns, with an obligatory beer – the temperature had warmed to something like 10°C so, being hardened mountain walkers, we sat outside – before Francine and I left our walking companions and headed across into another valley and to Benalí for a bite of tapas for lunch.

What a pleasant way to be able to spend a Saturday in January, despite being a little cool … by Spanish standards.

After a morning of chores and since the sun was shining, Francine and I decided to limber up our legs in the afternoon. We chose to start in Jalón and wander around some of the roads and tracks on the southern side of the valley, those which we look at from our balcony in Casa Libélule.

We parked down in town and began by ascending the stations of the cross in Jalón, the only steep-ish bit of what was going to be a casual walk. As we began descending from the not-very-high high point, we startled a squirrel – in this part of the world, they are all Red Squirrels – who scampered up the nearest tree trunk and eyed us suspiciously. Francine, who was intent on scouting out potential almond blossom orchards, had her camera with her and managed to snag him, albeit on a landscape lens.

Descending further down the side of our very modest col, we became the startled ones, this time by seeing a dragonfly flitting about in a sheltered sunny spot. Expecting the dragonfly season to have ended, I did not have my camera with me but borrowed Francine’s. Once again the non-wildlife lens was pressed into wildlife use just for the record. Being 12th January, this certainly was a record, for me, anyway, being a new latest date for my European sightings. It’s a Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum), extending my season and answering the question I posed by writing Last of the Few? a week or so ago. Apparently not. The biggest surprise to me here was not so much the date but the location; we were quite a distance from the nearest water of which I am aware.

The rest of our walk was pleasant enough and Francine spent some time eyeing up a few possible almond plantations in readiness for almond blossom time in February. I’m not sure anything really stood out and grabbed her but it’s difficult to assess before the blossom bursts.

‘T was a pleasant walk of 3mls/5kms or so. Enough to keep the legs limbered up and we did snag our latest European dragonfly ever.

With my legs looking forward to a further work out [should that be walk out?] and with Francine taking drugs and on the mend, we both fancied renewing our acquaintance with the Costa Blanca Mountain Walkers. The really useful thing about the CBMW group is their grading of walks. The group contains a few folks that I could describe only as very fit mountain goats who embark upon walks that I wouldn’t want to touch with a Leki walking pole. Very sensibly, these folks borrow the typical ski run grading system and apply it to their various walks which are categorized as green, blue, red or black. The grading takes into account a combination of distance, total ascent and quality of the surfaces underfoot. Somewhere in there there’s probably the sheerness of the drop on either side of the ridge, too. What a very sensible idea.

Today, Jo was leading a blue walk from Castell de Castells. It was described as a 10km walk on good tracks taking 3½ hours with a total ascent of 387m. The ascending was apparently all up front, i.e. before anyone would get too knackered. Castell de Castells is convenient for us, being about 25 minutes further up our valley. Sounded perfect.

Mornings in Spain can seem a bit tricky, timing-wise. It’s because Spain is rather stupidly [IMHO] on Central European Time, even though its longitude is much like that of Britain. Spain is essentially an hour too advanced. Thus, much of the morning can have vanished by the time one galvanizes oneself into action. We just about managed to get our act together in time to arrive in Castell de Castells a few minutes before the 10:00 kick-off.

We joined a friendly band of seven others at the start. Weather conditions were dry but with passing clouds; probably more cloud than blue skies. The temperature was cool in the shade but warmer when the sun appeared and when we were out of the shadows. Actually, it was a good temperature for walking uphill, which is what we began with. I needed just a t-shirt and a cover-up shirt. Having gained all our height, the walk was then a steady descent round a loop back into Castell de Castells with views of the village for much of the time.

Both Francine and I were walking in newish footwear. Both sets of footwear and Francine held up well, I’m happy to say. It was good to be back on foot again. The only thing that might have improved the day would have been Castell de Castells having a halfway decent bar, which it apparently does not. We returned to Benigembla, which appears to be regarded as CBMW Central, to slake our thirsts.

A couple of years ago we did do one of the red routes but we’ll need a little more practice before we tackle one of those again.

We had been put in touch with a Monday walking group, a group led by Helen who organizes walking holidays under the banner of Balanced Life Holidays. fancine had made contact and we were both keen to join in but on the day poor Francine needed to seek some medical assistance so our  car was spoken for. However, a friend offered me a lift so I could go and join in.

We met at nearby Parcent at 09:00, when conditions were decidedly cool, before driving up over the Col de Rates and into Tarbena, where the walk was centred. We set off in cool sunshine but the initial ascent up to the first peak, topped by a fort, soon warmed up both legs and lungs.

It soon began to feel good being back out walking again. The last couple of years have been a little troubled vis-a-vis walking, first with myself suffering from an 18-month attack of plantar fasciitis, followed by Francine damaging an Achilles tendon. I now always add a Scholl gel insole to any new shoes or boots and Francine still has to be careful about choosing her footwear. At last, though, we think we’re both up for it again.

The climb was worth it for the views back over Tarbena. Apologies for the crappy phone camera picture …

… [note to self: which I really must set back to 16×9, I hate that 4×3 nonsense.]

That first section was a there-and-back job with us descending back into Tarbena via the same route. We then struck out on the opposite side of Tarbena to ascend another small peak with similarly impressive views. I was taken by this sort of buttress-shaped rock formation seen across one of the orchards as we worked our way to the ascent.

Along with us, the temperature had now climbed enough for me to discard a fleece in favour of a cover-up shirt. It was, of course, necessary to sit together in a bar enjoying a refreshment. 😉

‘T was an enjoyable walk in a new, friendly company, an experience that I’d be keen to repeat. Hopefully, Francine will be with us next time. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for good conditions next Monday.

On 22nd December, the day after we arrived in Jalón, a search along the local river produce half a dozen or more Darters still active in the warm winter sunshine. Some debate ensued in a Spanish interest group and I’ve finally settled on the decision that these late season fliers are Common Darters (Sympetrum striolatum).

This identification makes sense. The Common Darters are the last on the wing in the UK where they often persist into November and occasionally, if conditions are good, into December. Such was definitely not the case this year.

In 2016 [Xmas 2015 trip] I did find a few individuals flying in Jalón on January 3rd, which was then my latest ever European record. Today, on January 4th and with an afternoon of bright, warm sunshine, I couldn’t resist another look along the local river to see if I could push that date a little further.

The first two spots where I had encountered them before Xmas produced nothing. I continued to draw blanks at the final two spots until, as I had given up and was returning, I spotted a lone male perched and hunting from a sunny stem at the ford where ovipositing had been going on previously.

Here he is. He even posed advantageously. He looked a bit lonely, possibly the last of the few, though there may well have been others that I’d missed. This handsome character now becomes my latest European record.

It was a slightly breezy but, having found odos still flying at Jalón shortly after we’d arrived, we thought we’d go and check out one of our favourite haunts, the Marjal de Pego-Oliva. At this time of year, the fun is not so much in the species one finds – there’s really only one likely – but seeing just how long end of the season can be stretched.

We found no signs at our first stopping point, so continued to the main parking area and took to our feet. As we were walking along the initial stretch of the river, which had begun by looking distressingly quiet, one dragonfly zoomed past us only to disappear over the reeds. It looked like a female, brownish, and was in all likelihood a Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum). It gave us cause to continue, though.

We saw nothing more along the river, but conditions were less than perfect, being very breezy. We struck out into a reeded area – well, bamboo, really – along a boardwalk where conditions were a little more sheltered. Francine spotted something fly but we lost it in the confusion of vegetation. Further around the curved boardwalk conditions improved further and we spotted several dragonflies basking on the warm boards. Bingo!

These were clearly Common Darters which rated as a new species on my list for this location. Happy camper.

One of our first purchases when we arrived in Jalón on Thursday 21st Dec, was the main event for our Christmas dinner. There are several pleasant things about running away from a British Christmas, not the least of which is the much lower key affair that Christmas is in Spain. From a culinary point of view, though, it’s also good to get into a country where more unusual [for us] food items are available. A traditional Christmas dinner in Spain tends to centre around sucking pig. They are available prepared and packed in all the supermarket, both frozen and fresh. Fortunately, since a whole sucking pig would too much for us, even though our friend Jim would be joining us, half sucking pigs, split lengthwise, are also available. We found a suitable looking fresh one with a best before date of 26th December so we didn’t need to freeze it. He was 3kgs and 28€ but, hey, it’s Christmas.

Christmas Piggy 2017 was a bit larger than we’d attempted before but fortunately he just about fitted the almost useless oven. [Note to self: if we ever start spending longer here, we should buy a better oven.] I sat him on a bed of vegetables – celery, carrot, parsnip and onion – mainly to keep him off the bottom of the thin roasting pan and stop him burning; they weren’t going to be edible after 2½ hours. Here’s Christmas Piggy wearing some SPF 50 ear covers to stop them burning, too.

Following a random recipe, I also put some water around the vegetables which would “help keep the flesh soft”. It did. I have a feeling that it also kept some of the skin soft, which was a shame. One of the delights of a roast sucking pig is crisp, wafer thin skin. We did have some but I think last year’s attempt sin agua worked better. Anyway, here’s Christmas Piggy after 2½ hours sporting an intense Spanish sun tan.

While Christmas Piggy was relaxing, we demolished blinis topped with cream cheese and a selection of smoked fish: tuna, cod and salmon, all decorated with a little red fake caviar to give them a festive look.

Having next demolished a good chunk of the now relaxed Christmas Piggy, we set about seeing off Francine’s excellent Tiramisini. She first made those last year and they’ve become an instant favourite. Yummy!

Finally, some cheese followed by a brandy or two to settle the stomach.

Un Feliz Navidad. 🙂

That’s what I call my little December friend in Jalón: Sympetrum conundrum.

For a few years now, I’ve seen a Darter at a few points on the river that flows through Jalón. The first time I saw it was on 23rd December one year before we had bought Casa Libelule. Since then I’ve seen a red-bodied darter a couple of times in December, once even on 3rd January. Initially, it looked to me most like a Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum).

After my initial sighting, earlier in the year I’d seen and clearly identified the Desert Darter (Sympetrum sinaiticum). This species looks quite similar to the Common Darter but for a couple of dark markings. I wondered if my suspect might be the Desert Darter somewhat changed, being more advanced in age in December.

Now I’ve seen it again but this time with a different wrinkle – this time I saw a tandem pair ovipositing. I snagged a couple of less than perfect in-flight shots. To me, the male didn’t look quite right for S. striolatum and the female certainly didn’t, being largely grey, Neither looked quite right for S. sinaiticum, either. My so-called brain worked overtime and wondered about the Vagrant Darter (Sympetrum vulgatum), in this case it would have been the Spanish subspecies (S. vulgatum ibericum). There are significant differences between S. v. ibericum and a regular S. vulgatum, in that it’s even more similar to S. striolatum. Very confusing.

Without trapping and examining, particularly the genitalia, differentiation gets quite difficult between some species. After due consideration and consultation with others more knowledgeable than myself, much as I’d like to have snagged a new species, I now think my conundrum is “just” a Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum).

Enough scientific mumbo-jumbo, here are my Spanish friends still on the wing and ovipositing on 22nd December.

In our modern world one can clamber onto a crammed cigar-tube of a jet aircraft and swap the cool winter clouds of the UK for the relatively warm sunny Mediterranean skies of the Costa Brava in a little over two hours. The process is so quick, even allowing for the now slow immigration process thanks to the invention of infernally inefficient automated passport reading machines, that one would hardly know one had changed countries.

Travelling in a slow and leisurely fashion makes for an entirely different psychological experience. In the days of Jules Verne and Around the World in 80 Days, travel required effort and took so long on slower forms of transport that one knew one was in a very different country. Our journey to Spain this time, running away from what would hopefully be the worst of the British winter, provided us with a flavour of that older world.

We’ve travelled on the ferry from Portsmouth to northern Spain before, always to Bilbao. This time our booking had us entering Spain through Santander instead. The timings of our sea crossing made us do things a little differently.

Our ferry departed Portsmouth at 08:45 on Tuesday 19th December. Checking in at 07:00, we could, technically, have awoken early on Tuesday, left home at about 04:30 and been fine. However, relying on British December weather not to intervene and make us miss that ferry was a little too risky so we chose to travel down to Portsmouth on the afternoon of Monday 18th, staying in a handy-dandy Travelodge just two miles from the port. Heck, I even treated Francine to a meal in the adjacent Toby Carvery on Monday evening. Do I know how to spoil a woman or what?

Other than scraping the frost off the car’s windows, Tuesday morning’s departure was a relaxing, unhurried affair. We checked in, moved from one queue [line, for the benefit of Amerispeakers] to another and eventually boarded Brittany Ferries Baie de Seine. The Baie de Seine is not a fast ferry, taking 28½ hours to reach Santander. [More modern bateaux do it in 24 hours.] One can do an awful lot of Sudoku puzzles on such a journey. Such a journey may be verging on the tedious but it is relaxing, especially being able to retreat from Joe Public to the privacy of ones cabin. We docked in Santander at 14:15 on Wednesday 20th December.

The boats on this route are not modern RORO [roll-on-roll-off] ferries. Unloading them takes a while. from docking to exiting the port, one needs to allow an hour. We were almost the last vehicle out. We hit the road at 15:00 on Wednesday 20th.

In the past, arriving at Bilbao at a similar time, we’ve driven straight through to Jalón, a journey of about eight hours. Santander, however, is an hour further west so we’d have been getting to Jalón at midnight had we done it in one hit, mostly in the dark. Instead we chose to drive for about three hours and overnight in a very nice Parador hotel at Calahorra in the Rioja wine region. We arrived at 18:00 just as the sun was dipping beneath the horizon – perfect timing.

Parador hotels are great and Calahorra proved an interesting town to wander around before dining in the hotel. We found a delightfully bustling bar (what am I saying?) that sold us glasses of perfectly drinkable red wine for 90¢ each, and that included a tapa of bread and Manchego cheese. Barking!

We left Calahorra on Thursday 21st and drove the remaining five hours to Jalon, crossing the 1000m plateau before descending to sea level just above Valencia on the Mediterranean coast, then the final hour down south to Jalón. We’d done the whole day’s drive under crystal clear blue skies, unsullied by a single cloud, until 50kms from our final destination when the grey stuff reared its ugly head. We couldn’t believe it. Bugger! No matter, as it turned out the skies did largely clear again as we finally headed up towards Casa Libelule in Jalón. We were here by 14:30 on Thursday in time to do some shopping for the evening meal, after leaving our UK home on Monday afternoon.

Essentially we’d taken four days to get here. This was more like travel of old. It felt good, relaxing and entertaining. Well, maybe not the 28½ hours on the ferry. Thank Darwin for Sudoku. 😀