APAPS 23.13: Season´s Grand Finale

 I chose this week´s overture "Don´t Fence Me In" because both at the start of this walk and at its close we had no choice but to walk along tracks with fences on both sides preventing entry into recently established avocado plantations, whereas both Hazel and I can remember the good old days when we  were not fenced in. After the music, then straight into Yves´ characteristic blog.

APAPS GRAND FINALE – September 27, 2023.

The day dawned with little enthusiasm at first but that soon changed as His majesty the Sun peeped over the horizon into a pure azure sky, unspoilt by not a ‘wisp o’ clood’ or owt else not welcome here…

Indeed, as this Blogger/Snapper was busy trying not wake Casa Esperança and its occupants from their slumber a cheery cry came from the semi-darkness of the climbing vines: ‘Over here, it’s a much better view!’ Too late, the picture was locked in the Instamatic and the warming rays were gently punching through the dregs of the night’s gloom: a masterful performance from the Sun King, worthy of inclusion to the ‘Cirque du Soleil’ programme.

Out on the track, a most discreet screech of brakes announced the arrival of more merry-makers: they had ever-so-nearly overshot the entrance to the Estate! This went unnoticed by the worker-bees swarming in the kitchen, preparing coffee (over two litres of the dark stuff disappeared!) and more tea than is brewed in China. The excited babble was rudely interrupted by a piercing whistle and a mildly stentorian voice announced ’TEN minutes!’ The babble resumed with renewed vigour… By then, it was pretty much a case of ‘all hands to the pumps!’ slicing tomatoes and mushrooms, counting the beans lest we’d been sold short and collecting the discarded stones from the cherry-tomatoes. The Blogger still wonders whether these stones are ammunition for catapults and slings: alien big cats have a habit of straying and spraying into Young Figaro’s territory…

Those not watching the clocks were surprised again by a second blast on the whistle ‘FIVE minutes!’ was the cry that time; stunning theatre routine!

Some old hand who had been on ships before was heard to mutter that ‘breakfast had been replaced by THREE blasts on the whistle and that did concentrate minds on time-keeping… The naysaying ‘influencer’ and his ‘influencees’ were relieved that there was no third blast when the clock struck at the appropriate time, only an instruction not to leave the Leader too far behind!

And so the Troop set off with joy in their hearts, a hop and a skip in their step and nary a slip-up. It all felt too good to be true: it was! We hardly travelled a furlong that we stopped and gathered around a deceased Silves Python lying in the track. 

There was indeed a great deal of conjecture how the unfortunate critter met its fate but some observant soul observed some strange hieroglyphics super-imposed on the critter’s natural markings. A quick ‘shoofty’ in Google revealed that hieroglyphics read ‘MICHELIN’ across some flatter and wider areas of the poor thing. “C’était la vie…” ssaid Hissing Ssid with hiss lasst gassp…

(It was possibly a Portuguese Horseshoe Whip Snake about which Wikipaedia inter alia says:-

Threats it faces include being run over by traffic, poisoned by agricultural chemicals and being captured for use by local snake charmers.

Snake Charmers !!! )

Sometimes, a helping hand is needed when shooting directly into the sun

Be that as it may, the Walkers were sauntering ahead at quite a clip, much to the dismay of the Leader struggling at the back, then at the front, then at the back again depending on the whims of the many Walkeresses and their curiosity in all things edible or potentially edible.

Thus, we collected some avocado pears from the last windfall; it says here, Ociffer! 

And some succulent plants sprouting aerial roots; and some nuts from a walnut tree, unripe but tasty, apparently; one Walker was given some and enjoined to break them but his defence was that a man does not break his nuts and HIS they were, too! The Walkeresses lost interest and walked on.

Enough about the Blogger! We were approaching a couple of houses in the middle of a large space when someone notices some tall reeds; no water, no ducks, no frogs or Frogs, just reeds by the side of the road: the Troop decided that this was an excellent picture opportunity! Ok, said the resigned Snapper and gender-based parties were organised for the photos; ‘them’, the girlies and ‘us’, the non-girlies Lo! 

The picture of the girlies was boxed without much difficulty, barring having them all to look vaguely in the direction of the camera; but when it came to the non-girlies, things went belly-up! Another girlie from another tribe decided to join in the fun and parked her car betwixt the non-girlies and the girlie holding the Snapper’s equipment! The resultant pictures speak for themselves…

(If I can just interrupt momentarily, Yves´ specific instructions accompanying the next three pictures were as follows:-

Should you decide to enclose the pics of the chaps standing by the reeds, please put them in a sequence: car almost full-frame >> chaps heads above the roof of the car >> chaps in their grandeur… You may wish to mention that the photographer is a very small lady who had to jump up and down to secure the middle picture and did so with remarkable success?

I hope that I have met his requirements.)

Talking pictures? Whatever next? Devices to speak into and make contact with other folks possessing similar devices? Sending sounds (phonics) over distances (tele)? The Blogger’s mind boggles at the possibilities!

To make her point unforgettable the driving girlie (a friend of Maria´s who when we have met previously  also appeared to having problems driving her car) went about 50 metres down the track, turned back and repeated the stunt! The non-girlies were scratching their chinny-chin-chins wondering what had been said or done to incur such vengeful retribution; but then, that’s girlies for you!

Soon after this interlude, there came a parting of the ways because our Chef de Cuisine and her Executive Sous-Chef had perforce to head manfully back to Casa Esperança to make sure that the Masses, and the Walkers, would not go hungry!

The many tracks so well known by the Leader eventually took us to a junction where an old friend was still waiting after a number of years; the simplest of cairns gazing benevolently across tracks and meadows, a house in the distance, under a tree to shade from the fierce Algarvian sun… Perfect!

Yves´ personal cairn, untouched for 5 years now

An old ruin with possibilities ?

We soon reached the Grand Airbnb establishment; that sporting no fewer than 16 bath-rooms eventually: perhaps the builder/owner had better roll-up his sleeves, at the age of 78 he may be overtaken by events beyond his control and leave the unfinished project to his descendants? 

Senhor Joaquim Candelas Manuel

He seemed very happy to meet his long-held friends: a long pause was called for anyway while Myriam entered into negotiations with him.

Offer

Counter-offer

Price accepted. (I hope Myriam knows what she is doing)

More about Senhor Joaquim can be found at this WAGS blog from earlier this year.

https://wags2022.blogspot.com/2023/05/wags-2023-05-08 relatively -speaking-or.html

Few Walkers noticed the presence of a number of bees and some wasps, yet we were standing only a couple of metres away from an open hive and the honey-combs were propped against an unfinished low wall, to dry out? Who knows? The buzzers were not telling!

Then some cross- country.  We marched on past barking dogs, past orange groves now looking suspiciously like avocado trees,

 through some scrubland where some regretted not listening to old hands’ advice and Always (!) wear long trews when walking behind the Leader, often ahead of him, too…

Climbing gently towards the next junction, the Troop came across another grove or twenty of avocado trees: it was soon noticed, and photographed that there were tomato plants bearing fruit right by the side of the track! 

and melons

This caused great excitement but the Leader was having none of it; time and breakfast wait for no-one, onwards! In the usual cacophony, his instruction went unheard by the Blogger and a Walkeress too busy admiring some gnarled peppers. A small tractor tractoring a small trailer put-putted its way towards the hapless pair; the driver turned the engine off, dismounted the small beast and engaged in very friendly banter: why! He even allowed the Snapper to box a memory of him holding up his pride and joy! 

That was not sufficient! He insisted that we took away with us some of his finest produce! The Snapper has just enjoyed some for his supper and splendid they were!

And then homewards. There was a small brown flash across our track when Hissing Ssid’ss (r.i.p.) youngesst sson ran to the shelter of some rubble and soon after  Casa Esperança opened its drive, doors and delights to the hot, dusty and ravenous Troop…

The ensuing feast was truly magnificent: someone might even recall it all in print?

The most splendid end to the APPAS adventures for this summer!

See you soon again? Be good!

The Track and various Statistics

Dennis´s Stats

If it looks as if Dennis covered 7.74 km compared to the rest of us who did 6.7 k, it is probably because Dennis´s Stride Setting is greater than what he actually took going up tracks and across country.

The Breakfast

A highly disciplined affair and delicious, to boot. Disciplined because Hazel had issued clear instructions to her many helpers and they all did just what they were told. in fact everybody was so disciplined that when we took the first group photo which was no good,

and they were asked to re-position , they did so within seconds

Chris, Fabrizio, Ingrid, JohnH, Samantha, Paul, Dorothy,

Myriam, Antje, Yves, Dennis, Hazel, Maria and Daniela.

Non- walking Chris and Antje, Paul and AWW Emeritus Ingrid had joined the ten walkers.

The meal was ample and delicious and there was a sufficiency of drink too. Many thanks to Hazel and all her assistants for all they did: all we need next year is for a lady to dispense the Bucks Fizz and other drinks, and then all the men can relax.

Hazel´s apple crumble

Figaro looked in for a moment or two

The toast was given to Absent Friends with special thoughts to two who have gone before.

The collection for Hazel´s charity - Bom Samaritano Children´s Home, Portimão - raised Euro 190; thank you all.

And that´s it for 2023: season over; Hallelujah, which is of course one of Myriam´s ear worms and therefore is our closing music.

APAPS 23.12: Let There Be Light

 

The regular Reader of these pages will have noticed, I am sure, a common theme running through the opening lines of Yves´ Blogs which is that , when he wakes up early, it is dark and then he goes in search of the sunrise. Not that he is seeking enlightenment; far from that. He needs light to make his camera work. So, before we go on to this week´s blog, I will play you an overture and while it is playing (about 7 minutes) you can pass the time looking appreciatively at his latest gallery of early morning studies.

Catching the sun

Over now to Yves; a modest man, he does not like to boast

The day started because it really had to; it did not really want to as the weather was in a strange mood: reasonably warm but overcast and unclear which way it would go…

Still, at silly o’clock this Blogger was on the bridge in Silves in the hope of catching the rising sun gently bending its beams around the shoulders of the storks and other birds living in their apartment block by the large hotel. Time ticked away as traffic grew and the good denizens of Silves set off to their places of employment to finish their night’s slumber… Still no sign of the sun peeping over the hill to illuminate the birds. The Castle was showing off its ‘red grès’ walls in full glory against the azure sky; the cathedral was bathed in a glorious glow that picked out its maroon details in a delightful fashion. Near the Ponte Romana, some ducks and seagulls offered to stand in for the storks but they did not have quite the same appeal: mottled grey on grey pavements and grey walls against a greyish white bridge simply did not cut it.

There was no option but pack away the camera and head for the car-park to join the throng, a small throng, a posse, a small group of Walkers for the morning’s adventures.

The Leaider was pacing anxiously at the spot where he had advised the troop to meet. Why, one trooper actually moved her car from a perfectly good parking space to be nearer the Cap’n. Soon the crew had gathered, all six of them, and the Starters’ picture was taken. 

Ritual satisfied, the Leader set off towards the river, followed obediently by the faithful; as he reached the edge of the high bank, he took a picture of something interesting, turned around and faced the group who had gathered behind him. Who was more surprised: him or they? There had been mutterings of giving him a gentle shove into the water to add some real action-pictures to the blog but the Blogger/Snapper can only be in one place at a time and the Leader remained dry, up on the bank. There will be a collection at some point in the future to subsidise someone to attend the Open University Course on ‘quantum blogging’ –the Leader has been given fair warning!

Various signs enroute

Across the Roman Bridge past the sign that states that no pedestrians are allowed and onto the track; if there ever was ONE characteristic feature of the WAGS troop in its many guises and varying numbers, it must be the ever-present banter at a fair volume -10+ but not quite a Marshall 11.

At the back, the Leader and the Blogger had more than enough material to chew on with the Rugby World Cup and politics but what kept Les Girls babbling so excitedly? Do they even remember?

Needless to say, as we approached the gates of the Adega, someone simply had to give the bell-pull a gentle tug; the ring was so soft that people inside failed to hear it; either that or they had heard the tsunami of banter coming their way and they had battened down the hatches? Who knows?

Spot the bell ringer

(In fact somebody did eventually open the big door but by then the guilty party had nipped round the corner.)

With breakfast ordered for 10.00 o’clock a.m. in the morning, the Leader was taking no risks: he kept a wary eye on his time-piece; so far and no further lest we are late back! That simply would not do, would it? Not in a new venue for our famished troop!

Accordingly, as we reached the ‘Stairway to Heaven’, the Leader stopped and intimated in his mild but persuasive tones that we should turn back now. Lo! He was practically talking to himself: one fit young lady was well on her way to Heaven, one slightly less young lady was busy making friends with a couple of stray(?) dogs, the Blogger/Snapper was encouraging them upwards while another lady was contemplating the state of a re-discovered Nora by the side of the track. 

The re-discovered Nora

It had been there for years and years but brambles bushes had kept it hidden from view.

Going Up

Hazel on her way to the top

Hazel reported: "Here is the video I took.  Just to remind you, I walked up 176 steps plus or minus n down totalling 352 steps. Going up was not difficult as I took my time and stop when necessary. Coming down was easy with caution as the steps was narrow toward the last sections. "

She took this photo of the ruin at the top and this video of the view.

At that juncture, a swarm of small but hungry mosquitoes took a very keen interest in us: that was the cue for a couple of ladies to take their leave. Naturally, they had to be escorted lest some marauding javali or cyclists put them at some peril or other: the Snapper volunteered for that duty.

The splinter-group –not the sprinter-group, as some of us might say it- must have grown seven-league boots: in no time at all, we had left the Leader and the Heaven-seeking girlies so far behind that they were out of vocal reach.

Be that as it may, Senhor Rod made an unexpected appearance round a bend in the track: he had been ordered to walk by his doctor and walk he did, manfully, too! Greetings and wishes were exchanged and he pressed on towards the Leader’s party. 

Rod appeared, immaculately attired as usual

The break-away group raced on towards N´anda´s Café, arguing as we went as to what a sun-shade should be called: a parasol? An awning? An umbrella? The irony of it all was that the argument was between non-native Engrish speakers!

It was tempting to get back to the cars and refresh soul and body before breakfast but alas, some prize ejeet had allowed their dog to make a very sizeable offering near the Blogger’s car; the ensuing clean-up took much longer than thought initially: it WAS a sizeable present! Having reassured the worried crew at the Café, the Blogger dashed through groups of tourists, past their ‘guides’, dodged some ‘Citadel’ sellers, forced a couple of motorists to slam their brakes on at a pedestrian crossing, waved apologetically at a kid who fell off her scooter –no helmet! as she tried to swerve past the now stationary cars and hid among the Happy Eaters inside the Café, Phew! The angry mob outside, brandishing large wheel-spanners and colourful brollies failed to spot him and dispersed; the entrance to Lidl car-park was almost free again…

All in all, what started as a very gentle amble along the Arade in full flow had turned into another mildly exciting outing for our bunch of geriatrics!

Thank you for being there; it was fun!

Be good, until next week?

(there was one incident which the Blogger could not possibly known about, because he and his Splinter Group were already nearly home, and that was when the Laggards (Hazel, Maria and Rod) came back past the big gates of the Adega Convento do Paraiso, one of the gates was open for some workmen to get in. The Laggards were permitted to look inside the property and they saw, in a nearby ornamental swimming pool a crocodile, I kid you not, a crocodile !

 A rival to the Silves Python - the Arade Croc !

The Track and the Statistics

The Breakfast

N´anda´s, a new venue, where Paul joined us. Plenty to eat; most people seemed satisfied.

"Now where did I put my camera?"

"All´s well that ends well."

And a gentle piece of closing music