About one kilometre down the valley towards Benissa is a lavender garden that is open to the public only on Sundays. Being a fan of the lavender fields of Provence, Francine was keen to stick her nose into this one. There was even talk of a lily pond so, under clear skies, off we set shortly after it had opened (10:00 AM).

The approach road was narrow but a sheer delight, with attractive haciendas, apparently without the normally ubiquitous barking dogs of Spain, overlooking the Val de Pop with a backdrop of scrubby hills. We are, of course, very early in the season and, somewhat unsurprisingly, once inside the garden there turned out to be precious little lavender in evidence. Most of what I saw I’d have described as weeds wild flowers. With this and a sign asking visitors to present themselves at the kitchen in order to cough up their 3, it is probably best described as being very informal.

The few small water features provided no entertainment at all but, while I was waiting for Francine to finish playing with the lack of lavender, I was entertained by another Sardinian Warbler singing at me from a nearby tree.

Looking for some not-too-distant afternoon entertaining following lunch, we decided to head back down to Las Salinas,  what I incorrectly tend to refer to as the lagoon, in Calpe. say “incorrectly” because it is actually a salt flat so I imagine the water is at best brackish. Curious, therefore, that we had found a pair of Red-veined Darters there on our previous visit. Calpe is usually a couple of degrees warmer than our valley, being lower. Not so today, though, it was about the same temperature and considerably more windy. To cut a short story even shorter, we found absolutely nothing.

Somewhat deflated after what we considered to have been an unsuccessful Sunday, we made our way back for a consolation litre or so of rosado.

In the immortal words of Dick Dastardly, “double drat!”

Spain is one of those European countries where languages get mixed up. Here, it’s a little like driving into Wales and suddenly being faced with a mixture of road signs in Welsh as well as English. I’m not a fan of this practice, largely because I can’t read twice as much fast enough. 😀 Driving through Belgium is even worse with three languages getting mixed up. Personal difficulties aside, the two languages sharing this part of the world, the names of which seem to get confusing as well, are what we foreigners regard as Spanish (which I think is Castilian) and Valencian (which I think is also more often called Catalan, depending on precisely where you are). Hmm. Anyway, the point of all this is that, Jalón is called Xaló in Valencian.

This weekend, Jalón was hosting a local festival called Xalónia which, if I haven’t completely confused the issue, you will now understand. We took our little charge, el perrito, down into town on his lead for a quick look. Being relatively early (~10:00 AM) for the Spanish, things were just getting set up. The main square was already looking delightfully agricultural – it seemed rather like a large farmer’s market – and another street was filled with food vendors preparing for an influx of punters later. We were happy that a sunshade was necessary along the entire street. Things would hot up later. In true Spanish style, the music was due to start at 10:30 PM and go on most of the night.

Currently, however, the future Xalónia punters were more distracted by the regular Jalón Saturday morning event of the rastro, which is a flea market of countless stalls set up along the southern bank of the Jalón river. It’s a colourful affair but a tad busy for the likes of us, being difficult to keep poor old el perrito on his lead out from under the clod-hopping feet of the aforementioned punters, all of whose concentration is focused elsewhere – on the fleas.

Back at home, I was pleased that, at long last, the sunshine brought a butterfly visitor to the house garden. I’d suffered the additional weight of my macro lens on this trip hoping that this little chap, which we first spotted last year, would once again put in an appearance. This species is attracted to the pots of Geraniums that Yvonne keeps on the steps of the naya. Being a Geranium Bronze (Cacyreus marshalli), that would seem like a natural enough habitat. A little irritatingly, this character insisted on resting with it’s wings half open and half closed so that neither side was well presented and caused all sorts of depth of field problems. Still, it’s quite a pleasant shot.

With almost a week of mostly sunny, clear weather in the bag, we thought we’d try a walk up the Jalón river, that is to say, towards Alcalalí. I suspect that the river flows a little too quickly for for the most part for there to be much, if any, dragonfly activity [especially when local German ladies are trying to drive cars across a ford during heavy rain] but there’s an area that widens where the flow slows; that might be worth a look. There’re some fields beside the river, too, which might be worth a look and el perrito could get some exercise.

We strapped el perrito to the back seat of the car and set off. Spain has a few interesting laws one of which is that dogs in cars must be restrained, so they (should) get clipped in to a seat belt anchor point. Neither are you supposed to travel with bags of shopping on the rear seat. I imagine that both these laws are designed to stop loose items flying either into the back of the driver’s head or through the windscreen in the event of an accident.

As el perrito’s excitement level increased, we parked at our start point. It’s only a mile or so from home but we needed yet another 5 litres of rosado to see us through the weekend, hence the car. Scamp fair dragged us off and into the walk.

There were birds – Martins, Swallows and Swifts – zooming about over the river so there must have been insects of some description but almost nothing that was of interest to us. To be precise, I did see one Small Copper (Lycaena phlaeas) and one Brown Argus (Aricia agestis), neither of which cooperated very well, but I snapped them for the record.

We tried a lane through fields further from the river and spotted two Hoopoes making off into the distance but other than that, nothing. It’s weird; there were areas of land lying fallow with wild flowers, scabius and the like, which I’d normally expect to be a haven for butterflies, but nothing. I’m wondering if spraying the orange groves and vineyards in the valley might cause the scarcity of critters. There do seem to be bees, though. Confused.

Back at home with our rosado, Francine spotted a couple of small dark specks on el perrito. Exercise wasn’t all he got; Francine removed two ticks, fortunately before they have fixed themselves to their prospective new host.

There was some wildlife, then.

Bereft of life, that is.

The Bernia is a roughly Snowdon-height mountain, that is to say about 1000m/3000ft-ish, to the south of the Vall de Pop where we are house-and-dog-minding. There is a spectacular circular walk around its peak but we were a little too tardy setting out today to attempt that. However, the drive up to base camp at the start of the walk is quite pleasant and last year, on our previous visit, we had had some success scouring the surrounding scrub for wildlife. Given the clear morning, we thought we’d try again.

Nada, nichts, rien, nothing! We were a few weeks earlier last year but, whereas then we were stalking butterflies such as the Green Hairstreak and the diminutive Panoptes Blue, this time we couldn’t find a thing. To be completely accurate, two butterflies buzzed past in the near distance but didn’t settle. Many of the daisy-like flowers appeared to be infested with tiny red mites but it was otherwise extremely dull.

There are two roads up the Bernia, one from either side, and Chris and Yvonne had told us of an iris garden part way up the road we had not used. With no critters to amuse us, we decoded to descend on that other road and call in to the garden instead. At least there’d be something to interest Francine.

We found the correct turn – there aren’t that many to cause confusion half way up a mountain, let’s face it – and coughed up our €3 each to the jolly Englishman to get in.

Now, look, I know irises, they’re those blue flappy flag things named after my mother. I had to think again. Here were gaudy irises in a rainbow of colours with huge, frilly blooms. They defy verbal description (by me, anyway) so here’s a selection in a attempt to get the message across.

The garden also boasted a circular labyrinth. It wasn’t quite on the scale of the famous labyrinth in the cathedral at Chartres, but it was an interesting idea being constructed of multi-coloured flowers. Avoiding the small pathways between the beds, here’s a shot trying to concentrate the colours.

I know we suffered from poor weather for our first week but Spain had had a good spring up to that point. We’ve seen massed wild flowers and now, massed cultivated flowers. We see and hear bees buzzing but there seems to be a paucity of wildlife.

Because of the last week of heavy rains, the Jalón river had been more of  a raging torrent. When we took Scamp for a wander around the town. we came across an interesting variation on the idea of car parking. The driver had reportedly tried to drive through the local ford while the river was in full flow. Not a great idea, as it turned out.

Now the weather finally looks more settled, today we headed out for a favoured walk of ours. This route starts in the nearby village of Senija and heads up the hill lying behind it to a sizeable cross planted at the summit. We’d done this walk on our last visit (a few weeks earlier last year) and Francine had spotted a tall orchid spike. She was keen to try to find it again in the hope that it would be more advanced. We’d also seen butterflies, particularly up at the summit, and I was keen to repeat that encounter.

The climb is a pleasant, not-too-strenuous leg loosener, even lugging backpacks full of the camera kit necessary for our intended quarry. On the ascent we encountered very little, one or two elusive small butterflies but certainly no large orchid spike. At the summit, however, we cramped the style of a couple of young lovers on a picnic and, sure enough, found Swallowtail butterflies flitting around. The nice thing about Swallowtails is that they do tend to settle occasionally and do so with their strikingly marked wings open. Very considerate. There were several specimens of two distinct species, Swallowtail (Papilio macaon) and Spanish Swallowtail (Iphiclides feisthamelii) and it seemed to me they were defending territories. Given our success at the summit of this mountain two years running, it seems like a Swallowtail hotspot. It’s a little curious to me that we see nothing on the way up, just at the top. Nonetheless, we were happy to have found them again.

We left the young lovers to the remains of their picnic and made our way back down the track. This shot shows Senija in the valley with Benissa beyond with the Gibraltar-like rock, the Peñon d’Ifach, in the distance at Calpe.

Back at the house we’re minding, we’d been catching the occasional glimpse of a strange (to us) bird. It appeared to have a black cap which extended to just below its eyes and a largely white breast. As we were sitting on the naya relaxing after our walk, one of these birds flew into one of the garden shrubs and proceeded to hop about disturbing the branches, mostly concealed, of course. Eventually it did hop out from its cover and I managed a grab shot. We think this is a Sardinian Warbler (Sylvia melanocephala). Given the red ring round the bird’s eye, I’d say it’d been hitting the rosado as much as we have. Nice of it to drop in for a visit, though. 🙂

It seems that yesterday afternoon’s spell of sunshine and temperatures approaching acceptable were a flash in the pan. Today we had flashes of different nature, those that accompany heavy downpours and precede claps of thunder, which el perrito definitely did not appreciate, even though we did get back just in time from a walk to avoid the worst of it. I’ll resort to completing the account of yesterday’s productive little excursion.

Our wander around Calpe produced more than just things with wings. As we were seeking the start of an nicely constructed boardwalk jutting out into the lagoon, I presume largely for the birders, Francine spotted a Bee Orchid that I wandered straight past. There were actually several. My eyes are much more attuned to movement whereas Francine’s eyes seem to key into colour more than mine.

The boardwalk may have been a good idea but so would a sign have been. We went down a couple of blind alleys through the bushes before finding it. Here, Francine found several spikes of another orchid, as yet unidentified. Our nature library, after all, cannot be transported within easyJet’s 20kg allowance for our one bag, so it’s stuck at home. Billy has some advantages.

Very satisfied with our first possible nature ramble, we made our circuitous way back to the car via Calpe’s seafront. Unusually for the Mediterranean, there were breakers hitting the shore; a sign, I assume, of the disturbed weather system still affecting the area. A couple of fishing vessels made their way back to the harbour – there’s a thriving fish market here – being mobbed by flocks of seagulls as they approached.

The 18°C we recorded in Calpe dropped steadily to 15°C as we climbed back up the 250m/750ft into the Jalon valley. The sun was still shining,though. What a pity the weather didn’t continue into today.

Monday dawned with more solid grey but the rain was mercifully missing. Yesterday’s rain was still around, though, covering the garden plants in raindrops. Since it was actually dry outside and raindrops were my only interesting subject, I experimented with some flash photography to try to make them sparkle. [Don’t ask me what the plant is – looks like a cross between a cabbage and an artichoke. :D]

To the south of us lies the Bernia, a 3000ft/1000m (ish) mountain. Surprise of surprises, in the early afternoon, we spotted what looked like a patch of blue just visible in the sky beyond it. In that direction lies Calpe, a costal town with an impressive lump of rock resembling a mini rock of Gibraltar. It also has a lagoon that is worth investigating for wildlife. Being about 250m/750ft lower than our valley floor, it’s also warmer. We headed out in the hope of something to point our cameras at.

The lagoon at Calpe is a popular spot for birders. It is known for attracting flocks of Flamingos, though these tend to be more associated with the Camargue than with Spain. There were a few in residence today but they were some way out in the middle. I was more fascinated by its population of Black-winged Stilts (Himantopus himantopus) which I’d seen last year but had failed to get a decent picture. This time I concentrated on flight shots so their impressively long legs might show up.

The blue sky advanced, the sun emerged and the temperature reached the dizzying heights of 18°C/65°F. The first interesting critter to appear in our new found spring-like weather was a very handsome Painted Lady butterfly (Cynthia cardui). Shortly afterwards, Francine became very animated when she spotted a dragonfly which promptly disappeared. Fortunately, after we’d been barked at by a stupid dog, our elusive Odo reappeared and settled on the ground just ahead of me. It was a not-fully-mature Red-veined Darter (Sympetrum fonscolombii) – the abdomen was not yet fully red. In the bushes, we found his potential missus, too. 🙂

Our next winged critter was my star attraction for the day, though. A blue butterfly zipped past us and settled in the grass nearby. Unusually for blues, it settled with its wings open and we managed to get several shots of a well displayed topside. Don’t quote me but I think this delightfully marked creature is Lang’s Short-tailed Blue (Leptotes pirithous). We had encountered them last year but not as cooperatively as this. Upon closer examination, this beautiful creature turned out to be a new one for our catalogue, a Long-tailed Blue (Lampides boeticus). [Well, I did say not to quote me. :)] A little further along the track we found another more traditionally displaying its underside.

Better!

On previous dog-and-house-sitting visits to Jalón, we’ve travelled close to the dates when Chris and Yvonne left and returned. We were a little like ships that passed in the night. This time we flew in earlier to give us four days to do a few things together before they departed leaving us in charge. Unfortunately, the meteorological gods have caused it to rain pretty much the whole time we’ve been here so we’ve actually been able to do very little.

Today was no different. Well, in truth, it was a little different in that it was the worst day so far. We awoke to the now familiar sound of rain, the same solid clouds more or less on the deck and a very un-Spanish feeling 7°C/45°F. I spent a cold, wet morning with Chris learning how to clear the swimming pool of dirt deposited by all the rain, then backwash the pool’s filter before dumping the excess water – the pool was now overflowing – so that the pool filter could once again do its job effectively.

This afternoon Chris and Yvonne were flying back to the UK so we were scheduled for the Valencia airport run. Following an excellent brunch of morcilla [Spanish black pudding/blood sausage] and baby broad beans, we braved the continuing cold rain to load the car with suitcases – this always upsets Scamp, el perrito, who is smart enough to know something’s afoot – and headed for Valencia airport.

It is 150kms/90mls to Valencia airport from Jalón. The car was buffeted by gusty winds and the windscreen wipers were going all the way. Driving past the coastal hills is usually an attractive journey but not today, the coastal hills being obscured by low clouds in multiple shades grey. We drove past water-sodden vineyards and orange orchards. The countryside resembled the winter scenes of England rather than spring in Spain, except for the oranges, of course. 🙂

Guided by Chris, we negotiated the poorly signed, tortuous approach to Valencia airport and delivered our passengers in good time for their Ryan Air [spit, spit] flight to Bristol. The windscreen wipers ticked off our return journey to Jalón through the continuing rain. The day’s temperature had topped out at a blistering 9°C/48°F. Unbelievable!

We’re home alone. El perrito greeted us and sat with us but kept a constant eye on the road and driveway beyond the glazed door, watching for his owners to return. He was not settled, poor little fellow.

I snagged a swift satellite shot of the weather system that’s been disturbing the Mediterranean. It shouldn’t be here. Let’s hope it goes away very soon.

When the near constant rain stopped later yesterday afternoon and we wandered down to Jalón town square for a beer or two in the scarce sunshine, we watched a small stage being set up. The waitress delivering our beers explained that tomorrow was Dia del Romero [Rosemary Day].

The last Saturday of April is when this holiday is celebrated. Apparently the ladies walk up into the mountains to gather wild rosemary. Traditional buns or small pies are eaten. In the evening there’s a fiesta in the square, hence the need for the stage. Well, why not – any excuse for a fiesta. The next day, folks go to mass and to a benediction for the bouquets of rosemary, which is intended to protect against crop damage from hail.

On this Dia del Romero, we awoke to some good sized patches of blue between scattered clouds, some sun and slightly increased temperatures. My spirits lifted, I donned sandals and even considered zipping off the legs of my convertible trousers. My optimism was short-lived; after an hour or so, the clouds had regrouped and succeeding in capturing the whole sky. The rain returned. The ladies weren’t going to have a great deal of fun gathering wild rosemary, I suspected, and it looked as though the fiesta would be decidedly damp.

All I can say is, the way this weather is going, the locals are going to need all the crop protection they can get from any quarter.

For some reason, a friend on Facebook has recently been posting stuff about haiku. From what I can gather (I don’t “do” poetry), a haiku is a verse of three lines containing 5-7-5 syllables. Inspired by this, here’s one that I think qualifies and which sums up our current predicament.

Constant rain in Spain,
Pour another drink for me,
I feel better now.

Today began pretty much as yesterday left off, with grey skies and monotonous rain. Oh joy, this was not why we flew to Spain. Just to add insult to injury, we learned that temperatures at home yesterday had exceeded 20°C while we languished in something more like 14°C 1000 miles further south. 🙁

Host Chris wasn’t much happier, either. He’d examined his pool and discovered that the rain we were suffering had been dirty and that the pool, which was now overflowing, would need cleaning. That gave us an excuse for a trip to a local pool supply merchant, rejoicing in the name of Ju Ju Ju [pronounced hoo-hoo-hoo], to get the requisite materials. I was surprised to see Weber BBQ kettles in stock, too – presumably these are swimming pool accessories – but what a price; a little Smokey Joe was over €90/£78/$120. Yikes! At least another country thinks that barbecues should still be charcoal as opposed to gas, though. I’d be getting my pool cleaning lesson before being left in charge.

To everyone’s considerable relief, including the resident canine, mid-afternoon brought hope as the rain stopped and a few breaks began to appear in the formerly solid grey. The blue gaps made headway and the prisoners were able to get out into the exercise yard in search of sanity-restoring diversion.

No self-respecting insects would be fluttering around in these temperatures so, photographically we were stuck with the flowers. Francine and I both settled on a bottle brush, which had been collecting the rain. Here’s a combined study in red and rain drops.

After exercising a few pixels, we even managed a family walk into Jalón for a beer or two in the local square. We’re not getting too excited, though, since the forecast is for this rubbish to continue up to and including Monday. Growl!