The Stiff, the Lame, and the Winded
Imagine. The movie, brutal and unforgiving, by Sergio Leone. The music, haunting, echoing, guitar, whistling and trumpet, by Ennio Morricone. The scene, a suffocating afternoon in the high Sierra de Grazalema.
The camera lingers on the vultures circling over the desolate hilltop pueblo of Zahara de la Sierra, before zooming down from the ruined castello to the insalubrious village saloon where the barkeep swats flies to pass the time.
Suddenly, with a roar of powerful engines, a gang of marauders sweeps up the narrow village streets.
A startled wild cat spits from the undergrowth as they pass. Squealing to a halt outside the saloon the cavalcade disgorges its crews who, beating the dust of the Spanish plains off their leathers, burst impatiently through the swing doors shouting raucously at the servile barkeep “Dry Oloroso, dry Oloroso, chilled. Quickly, quickly.”
(Pity that some of these desperados were laughing and could not manage a wee bit more menace)
Their Capitán, a grizzled survivor of many campaigns who knows these mean streets of old, quells the bibulous noise with just a single glance, and speaks:
“This is what we do.”
But, of course, this was not a Spaghetti Western.
On the contrary. it is a balmy early October evening and an international cast is gradually assembling at pueblo branco Zahara´s welcoming multi-star Hotel Arco de la Villa, overlooking the limpid blue Embalse de Zahara-Gastor, in order to take part in a production of an entirely different character.
They move their assortment of Louis Vuitton portmanteaux and RyanAir cabin bags, cool boxes and carrier bags, high-heeled Jimmy Choos and Decathalon loafers, rucksacks, ponchos and anoraks, Salomon boots, Tilley hats. shillelaghs and walking poles, cameras, lap-tops and mobile phones peaceably into the hotel where the lobby provides more evidence of camomile infusions than of dry sherries and there are more demands for the hotel´s wi-fi code than for shots of the hard stuff. And the Leader does not even have to draw everyone´s undivided attention away from their electronics, because his instructions have already gone out by email. Obediently, all have ordered their choice of Plato Principal on arrival and all will meet in the bar before dinner at 8.30.
This was in fact the start of the shooting of
the J Roderick Frew extravaganza
a WAGS WASPS ENTERPRISE
“El Camino de Via Verde de la Sierra”
Starring: Andrew Antje
Chris Deirdre
Hazel Jim
John Jyll
Lyndsey Maria
Mike Myriam
Paul Rod
Rosemary and Sue
Photo Credits: JPR Associates
2nd Unit Director: Mike
Casting Director: J Roderick Frew
Historical Research: J Roderick Frew
Geographical Services: J Roderick Frew
Gastronomy : J Roderick Frew
Key Grip: Sue Frew
Make-up: Ewe Kooed-Knott
Logistics Co-ordinator: J Roderick Frew
Produced and Directed by J Roderick Frew
Reviewers have without exception been enthusiastic:-
“A triumph in the genre of British on-the-road films, a worthy stable-mate for Genevieve and Summer Holiday.” The Economist
“The debt of the auteur to Hope and Crosby´s Road to Rio is palpable.” The Financial Times
“Rivetting.” The Peterborough Platelayer
“Quixotic – hypnotic.” Grimsby Telegraph
“A nostalgic glimpse of what once might have been.” Schweizer Eisenbahn-Revue
“Visionary.” TUST*
*= Tunnelling and Underground Space Technology journal ( I kid you not.)
But enough already. This introductory cinematographic metaphor has been beaten to death. On to the real thing.
Day 0 5th October 2015
Dinner at 8.30 in the hotel, you will recall.
The Menu
which, being translated, is Chicken, Venison, Lamb, or Hake.
Apparently, that´s a view of the Postre de la Villa………..the pudding, that is.
Day 1 6th October 2015
A somewhat damp morning and, after breakfasting and outwitting the hotel´s toasting device……………………….
……………….15 hardy souls set out to do what they had come so far to do. First, 9 easy kilometres in convoy to Algodonales; then 17 tricky kilometres over a narrow winding track to La Estación de Coripe for the official Starters photo shoot.
Mike and Jyll left to explore other locations and the Frew car led a reduced convoy over the hills westwards towards Puerto Serrano, throwing in en route a guided tour round the fascinating side streets of Montellano. If you are ever in that part, do not fail – what am I saying? – if you are ever in that part again, do not fail to seize the chance of studying the traditional, modern and post-modern wrought-iron artistry of the window grilles that mark this town out. Arriving eventually at La Estación de Puerto Serrano, we could at last start the walk but not before Maria had done some preliminary limbering up.
La Estación de Puerto Serrano
What we were walking along was a railway route with a lot of tunnels, some viaducts, and a few stations, but apparently it had never had either rails or trains.
Hills to either side but the walking was gentle, despite occasional warning signs.
“There may be trouble ahead”
but there wasn´t.
An unnamed plant
At the first of many tunnels
Remains of a Moorish caravanserai, maybe ?
Antje, Lindsey and friends at El Arroyo de los Azares
where Paul inevitably had managed to locate a nearby geocache
Goats crossing Rio Guadalete
On the Viaducto de los Azares
Of course, there were lots of opportunities for tunnel photos, one very much like the other
but the Oscar has to go to Paul for this image, impressive for its atmospheric lighting and depth of field:
Winner of The Tunnel Vision Award 2015
And now Statistics Time - Day 1 (courtesy Paul)
According to the official Vias Verdes site, on this stretch we had done 2 viaducts and 9 tunnels, the final one before Coripe being 900 metres long under the Cerro del Castillo.. And so we reached La Estación de Coripe again, where we found the café overrun by schoolkids but lacking the Peases and their car.
Undeterred, we had refreshments and then a detachment of drivers set off back to Puerto Serrano for the other cars, managing to bypass the magnetic attractions of Montellano this time round. Somehow, thanks to the directions of the Logistics Co-ordinator, all made their various ways back to Zahara in reasonable time to prepare for dry Olorosos at the bar and dinner at 8.30, this time down-town at Bar Nuevo where Rod had arranged the menu, the choice of plato principal comprising, if I remember correctly, pigs cheeks, chicken, and dourada, preceded by colourful tapas.
There always comes the time of reckoning
Back up the hill, well satisfied
Day 3 7th October 2015
A brighter morning than before and, after the by now familiar engagements with the breakfast toaster, the convoy set off on the route over the hills to Coripe. This being a Wednesday, the café at La Estación, like the rest of Spain, was closed – so no coffee boosters were possible. The necessary logistical priorities were laid down after which the key vehicles drove via the little village of La Muela on a deserted road towards Navalagrulla, passing en route a dead oak tree ominously tenanted by a motionless group of vultures.The only thing at Navalagrulla is its Estación, a desolate ruin devoid of amenities, unlikely ever to have served coffee or indeed anything at all, not “closed” like the rest of Spain this Wednesday: there had never been anything there to open.
At Navalagrulla, the start of the second day´s walk
But the walking group,now down to 12, remained in good spirits as it set off and it all proceeded pretty uneventfully. Gradually the large rocky Peñón de Zaframagón came into view.
The large numbers of griffon vultures circling the crags became obvious, as did an increasing number of lycra-clad bicyclists weaving their way among us. Equally noticeable were the pungent aromas coming from an extensive cattle ranch and goat-rearing establishment.
By and large, however, the cyclists were courteous, and the young kids in their enclosure seemed attractive enough and their bleating certainly made an appealing sound.
Our path was now leading us around the Peñón with our leader assuring us that we would get even better views of the vultures the further round we went. When we arrived at the long Viaducto de Zaframagón, this prospect did not at first seem to be the case, and our attention was diverted to a desultory and ultimately fruitless attempt to help Paul find another of his geocaches.
El Estrechón. What, no vultures?
El Viaducto Zaframagón. Where´s that geocache?
But the longer we lingered on this diversion, so the vultures began to take a closer and closer interest in us.
Here they come
Buitres Leonades –Griffon Vultures
200 breeding pairs, no less! Don´t start ruminating on what all these birds and their broods find to eat in these remote areas ( dead goats? calves? sheep? Maybe the occasional desiccated cyclist? ) - or this might transmute into an Alfred Hitchcock film.
No worries
The geocache search abandoned, our group began to show signs of revivification, the vultures lost interest in us, and we moved on to a sit-down lunch, undisturbed by bird life, at the nearby Centro de Interpretación Peñon de Zaframagón. This being a Wednesday the Centro was of course, like the rest of Spain, closed.
Rosemary and Sue, deciding that lunch was for the wimps, didn´t deign to stop and sit down, but marched determinedly on towards Coripe. We did our best afterwards to catch them up but could not, and they got there first, to a warm Pease welcome.
For a description of this last part of the walk, what words better than those from the official Vias Verdes leaflet:
“Ni carreteras ni pueblos perturban la placidez y la armonia de un paisaje en el que e único sonido de fondo lo ponem las pajaros y las chicharras.”
And now Statistics Time – Day 2 (courtesy Paul)
According to the official Vias Verdes site, on this stretch we did 2 viaducts and 10 tunnels.
Then back to Zahara, in plenty of time for early evening drinks in the plaza before dinner at 8.30 at Mesón Los Estribos (House of the Stirrups) where our Gastronomy Advisor presented a carefully chosen a menu including :
Tapas,
Trucha Regional (Trout lined with bacon),
Ternera al Horno ( Baked Veal/Pork? with dried figs, plums and apricots),
and Pollo al modo de mi Abuela (super-sized My Grandmother´s Country Chicken) – as Rod says “how Grandma got through all that beats me!” – we needed doggy bags.
Oh dear. Was it something someone said?
The Master Chef Moment
An evening of excellent food, good wine, and good company wound up with applause for the Chef, appropriate words from Mike thanking Rod for all he´d put in to organising the trip, and some glasses of caramelised vodka ( do I remember correctly?) on the house which sent us on our way home through the floodlit pueblo in fine form.
Final Tally
Tunnels: 19; Viaducts: 4; Kilometres: 29; Moving Time: 6hrs 23 mins; Moving Average: 4.7 kph; Dry Olorosos: unrecorded.
Postscript 1
Clicking on the smaller photos should, if you are lucky, bring up larger images.
Postscript 2
Information on the Vias Verdes of a more authoritative nature than given in this blog can be found at www.viasverdes.com
Postscript 3
Following Paul´s comment (see below) about the limitations of tablet devices, the larger photos have now been shrunk so as to fit within the exigeant boundaries of his blog space; but, if you wish to experience the full Todd AO Cinemascopic effects intended for your computer, clicking on those pictures should bring up the originals.
“Begin at the beginning,” the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”
(Lewis Carroll)
