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!

[Scotland Revisited.]

Last September, Francine and I spent a desperately wet, windy and dismal two weeks in Scotland. Eight of those days were on the shores of a sea loch at Bunree on Scotland’s west coast. We were told we should have been there a few days before, which were supposedly very pleasant.

It’s happening again. My post yesterday mentioned landing at Alicante in some welcome sunshine. The sunshine was actually unexpected. Although Spain has been enjoying particularly fine weather this spring, the forecast for our arrival was, shall we say, not great. Having been pleasantly surprised yesterday, today reality struck. Host Chris found a local forecast and announced that we should expect:

• 20mm/¾in rain overnight
• 30mm/1¼in rain on Thursday
• 40mm/1½in rain on Friday

Sure enough, overnight, though I slept soundly after our long travel day, I did hear rain. This morning we were faced with conditions that I never expected to see in April in Spain.

At Bunree in Scotland, there were mountains on the opposite side of the loch but we couldn’t see them, most of the time. Here in Jalón, we are surrounded by mountains of a similar height on either side of the valley and now we can’t see them, either. (There are mountains in both these photographs.) The wind is still lashing down from the north bringing with it almost horizontal rain, the palms are thrashing, there are small waves on the swimming pool and we can’t see through the rain-spattered windows. It’s a paltry 13°C/55°F outside, the fire’s alight and we’ve put our fleeces on. It seems there is a nasty low pressure system sitting over Italy sending this crap our way.

This is painfully reminiscent of Scotland last year. We really must have a weather jinx.

Given the atrocious spring in the UK thus far this year, we’ve been looking forward to today with eager anticipation for some time. Today, we were flying to Alicante, Spain, once again to look after our favourite perrito [little dog] and house in Jalon. The only downside was that our easyJet flight was to depart Luton airport at 6:20 AM.

Our early departure meant that we were roused from slumber by Francine’s mobile phone at 3:00 AM – at least the alarm tune is gentle – to complete last minute packing, sponge bags and so on, and secure the house ready for our delightful neighbour, Liz, to drive us to the airport. Now THAT is above and beyond the call of duty and we were very grateful. Sure enough, Liz was awake and we began our journey at 3:45 AM.

At 4:15 AM Luton airport was relatively calm, one might even say quiet. Checking in on-line is all very well but, with hold baggage, it is still necessary to join what is effectively a check-in line to drop off the bag. At least there was now one snaking line for multiple desks. That and security went well and we were soon raiding Starbucks in the departure lounge.

Boarding was interesting: easyJet now does allocated seating. Very few people, it seemed, were now paying for “speedy boarding”. Well, with an allocated seat number, why would they? It’s not as though getting onto the aircraft first gives you a better choice of seat any longer.

I like flying from airports without jet ways/air bridges; there is something more romantic about walking across a tarmac apron beneath the aircraft’s wing – well, almost – and clambering up steps into the plane, even if it is cattle-class throughout. Embarkation went smoothly, we grabbed our allocated seats and were soon off.

We were seated in the rugrats section. Oh joy! A smoking ban on planes has improved life greatly. The next civilized advance that we need is a ban on screaming. Actually, the little screamers weren’t too bad, especially with the two jet engines running at take-off power, and the aural pain was further lessened by a shortened journey with our landing ~35 minutes ahead of schedule. Losing 35 minutes from a flight timetabled to take  just 2hrs 30 minutes  requires one heck of a tail wind, I imagine. Clearly, the wind was coming from the north. Fortunately, our hosts had realized we’d be blowing into town early and were there to meet us in a welcome spot of Alicante sunshine.

With the day already feeling long, our only agenda item was a trip to a local supermercado for some supplies. Normally, the most important stop would be to the local wine shop for 5 litres of our favoured rosado but Chris and Yvonne had alreadytaken care of that one. It’s gone up! For the last few years we’ve been paying €4.95 for 5 litres (including the plastic container) but now it’s €6.00. Apparently, taxes have increased substantially as part of the Spanish economy’s austerity measures. No matter, we’d get only a 750ml bottle in the UK for that money.

So, just food it was and, just inside the supermarket entrance, we were greeted by this intriguing sign promoting “¡¡Novedad!! Fartons artesanos”. Hmm? [Novedad = novelty/newness.]

With a superhuman effort we resisted the novelty home-made fartons in favour of a whole monkfish, which was also something of a novelty for us, its head being still attached. You wouldn’t see a whole monkfish on a fishmonger’s slab in Britain. As a nation, we’re far too squeamish for a head that ugly to be put on display and must have our sensibilities protected. These days, it’s hard enough finding any fish not already filleted in Britain.

We’ve arrived. Getting up at 3:00 AM was a bit of a novedad, too.