Competa April 27

 Today the plan had been to do one of two circular routes near Competa, but wiser now, having been up in them there hills and literlly knowing the lay of the land, I nixed that idea without any qualms and looked for something easier.  Success!  A Wikiloc walk had an easy—  3 1/2 hour walk, suitable for the whole family: 

that was seemed pretty much like a straight line to El Morche, a spot on the sea.  Great idea!  Walk there, take a taxi back, have plenty of time for housekeeping and such.

First hour or so, just fine.  Not exactly out in the country but pleasant with nice views and a kitten hiding under a motorcycle"

And a lot of low-cost advertising for places to stay:

Eventually, one was supposed to go off the pavement onto a dirt path to the left.  There was only one such possibility, but my devices were dinging and a voice like a whiney Alexa kept saying, “You are about the leave the route.  You have left the route.  The route is 50 feet behind you.”  This is not what you want to hear.  Besides, it uses up a lot of battery.  This path was behind a house, and I thought I heard a door open, so I rushed over and saw an elderly—yes, definitely older than me—lady in bathrobe and slippers.  She did not speak Spanish, but she did speak English (there are a lot of ex-pats here).  She told me that yes, that was the correct path— Well, how do you like that, OutdoorActive and GyPSy— but that she had never walked it. 

Oh, said, lady had beautiful flowers; she was, after all, British:

Feeling quite cheered, I started down the path, which very soon was no path at all, and I became quite nervous because it was a steep downhill, and the ground was loamy, and all of a sudden, I was in the middle of nowhere—it is amazing how quickly this can actually happen— and could not see what lay farther down.  So I turned back.  Coming in the other direction an elderly man out for a constitutional greeted me.  I asked him if he knew about that path.  He said it was impossible—something about a windstorm obliterating the path—and started going on about all manner of crazy ways I could accomplish what I wanted to do, other than walk on the highway, but that it would take over five hours, so I just walked back to Competa., whose streets are not paved with gold but are very pretty:

Second aborted walk.