It was enough to induce the deepest despair over what on earth things are coming to: a veritable descent into the slough of despond. And all this after a morning that had started out so well. Ochone, ochone !
But let me start at the beginning.
The pre-walk blurb had been as follows:-
“The next APAPS walk will start at 7 am Wednesday 6th July from that bare patch of land on the left just past the small bridge on the road which starts at the Silves Cemetery and goes to São Marcos. It will not be a long walk, even by our summer standards, but what it lacks in length will be compensated by the ascents, which we will take gently.
“Breakfast at Snack-Bar Terinho Pára e Fica afterwards, approx 9.30 am –where the highly efficient Ana has promised that there will be fresh bread, eggs and tomaytohs and real butter.
From Silves Cemetery, turn right onto M 502 at the corner where they are now building what is apparently going to be yet another super-market. Drive 2 kms, and just after you cross the small bridge, swing left off the road just where there is a modest little sign pointing to Sao Bom Homen. Park here. If you don´t like mosquitoes, bring anti-mossie spray because they made their presence felt this time last year.”
Then four different versions of the co-ordinates ( “coords” to the cognoscenti) were provided, sufficient for the needs of the most demanding of GPS users.
And at a little before 7 am there we all were.
The Starters
Whether Aristotle ( a.k.a. Yves) will still be happy to wave the Portuguese flag after Sunday evening´s football remains to be seen but, for the time being anyway, there was solidarity and nary a Taffy in sight.
Track and Elevation
Statistics
Distance: 7.35 km; time: 2 hrs 20 mins; total climb:285 metres.
We set off in a reasonably disciplined fashion at 7 am, the day was cool, cloudy and breezy, there were no mosquitoes and, really, things could not have been better. Someone even struck up a song “Always On My Mind.” Who sang that? Answers at the end of this blog.
After an initial climb to get the blood circulating, we swung gently downhill on a long sweep round to the south-west, past Dog-House Corner, to drew level with Monte Branco. Along this stretch, vast areas to each side had been cleared of eucalyptus (let´s hope they don´t just replant with the same) so that the bare bones of the terrain were visible. Now, after one hour´s walk, we could see a path ascending a ridge which had been invisible from below when we were last at this spot. So, at the Turn For Home, we took this unrecce´d route for a change and avoided the usual potentially mosquito-infested valley trail. It was fairly steep going up the ridge but, as promised, we took it easy.
Mutual support at the top
Then another hill and the windmill was in sight.
Oop at t´mill, it wasn´t anywhere nearly as breezy as it had been last time when Maria had nearly taken off……………………..
29th July 2015
… .. this time we could enjoy the view and keep our hair and hats on, and our eyes open.
Aristotle now began to wax artistic with his camera and to remininsce about Cervantes and Don Quixote.
The old windsails (detail)
Coming down from the mill, on the hillside, we met a farmer resting from foraging for leaves to feed his kids at home. (No, this is not another shock–horror story about the effects of the brutal brussels sprouts munching Troika´s austerity demands on ordinary Portuguese family living standards – his kids are of the capriform kind, a.k.a. capra hircus.)
The farmer at rest
The artist at work
Back down on the flat, the Leader generously offered the group the chance of one more hill but, as the promised hour for breakfast was fast approaching, the vote was against him and we returned to the cars, and thence straightway to Cafe Terinho Péra e Fica where at exactly 9.30 am we received a warm welcome from Ana and her baby.
The breakfast itself was truly delicious –home-made bread, home-grown deeply flavoursome tomatoes, eggs, presunto, bacon, real butter plus a special offering of a doce de tomate made by Ana, if I have got it right, to a Romanian recipe of her grandmother´s.
All eyes on Ingrid´s breakfast again
Pao caseiro com veridadeira manteiga e um doce de tomate
But, oh dear, the people! the behaviour! Do you remember the old days when, sitting down to a leisurely country breakfast in front of a heartening platter of devilled kidneys, coddled eggs or smoked haddock, one could usually rely on enjoying a civilised conversation with one´s fellow gourmets about the latest City gossip, Test match triumph, or society scandal? Even this morning we had Aristotle in primed-up artistic mode all ready to enlighten Hazel even further on the intriguing Life of
with a learned discourse on piarsesquared roots. And what do you think happened?
Out came the smart phones. Off-colour remarks were exchanged via WhatsApp with some people in some unpronounceable café in Lagos. Last week´s blue innuendoes about Brasillians were outdone this week by remarks about (and I translate into French to avoid embarrassment - these off-colour matters always sound a trifle more delicate when expressed in French), remarks, as I say, about chameaux and doigts de pied. Ingrid blushed again. Then Antje and Maria even made Yves blush talking about their maternal memories.
“ but I said nothing”
Pictures arrived from aforesaid Lagos café ( of a perfectly acceptable-looking but seemingly machine-made tosta mista), and then complaints wafted in from darkest Henley or possibly deepest Dorsetshire which I feel I can safely transcribe.
Rod Frew: “Hey! my battery keeps running out with all this gibberish flying around – obviously too much breakfast and too little exercise.”
A: “Neither. Just dirty minds.”
X: “Rod, Ana from Péra e Fica sends you her regards.”
RF: “I was expecting rather more than regards.”
A. “Wishful thinking.!”
RF: “ Most of it is, these days.”
X: “Speak for yourself, old man.”
RF: “Sadly I was.”
So there you are. WhatsApp has taken over the world and civilised discourse has bitten the dust. Ochone, ochone indeed.
Afterword.
No literary allusions this week but, with luck, a bit of music.
Always On My Mind
It was suggested that this had been a hit for the Nolan Sisters, but Google tells us that the leading versions were by Elvis Presley and Willie Nelson. Oor Wullie´s is the best to mymind. Try this link:-
Even the markers aren´t what they were
Acknowledgements to Myriam and Yves for the pictures
3 comments:
Paulo a Pe9 July 2016 at 07:05
I cannot comment as I wasn't included on the circulation of this blog (though others in absentia were), but rest assured it would only have been laudatory, except for the vexed issue of starting coords.
JohnH9 July 2016 at 12:39
But the complainant declined to join the APAPS on the grounds, if I remember correctly after all this lapse of time, that he did not wish to get up so early in the morning for a walk and a breakfast, and that he would do it his way. Fair enough, but he can´t have it both ways. Maybe, now he is getting an inkling of just how tasty the breakfasts are in the Silves area, he is going to change his mind and join us. And, if he does, great - he can then start doing the Blog again!
Yves9 July 2016 at 09:35
"No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness."
A.
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