I had been quite anxious about today's walk. Guy designates it "difficult;" my limit, "medium-difficult." There were descriptives like: it is hard to find your way, the path is overgrown in places, the clouds can descend very quickly over Mt Maroma; there were 1060 meters of ascent, 860 of descent, quite concentrated:
(not impossible, but a lot in 17.5 km.) and the time estimate was almost seven hours, which for me, with such difficulties, would mean at least eight. "You know what," I mused, "I am going to take the road." I can deal with three and a half hours on a highway.
It turned out to be a rather nice walk. The road was not a highway at all, more like a serpentine country road, one lane, but a car coming in the other direction could pass if everyone had their wits about them—and the views were lovely.
I met Doggums who wanted to come with me:
And, oh-ho, what is this! (Here on in, Misterio del Día.)
Max identified the last print as that of old-man Moses. Is this his, too, or are we in a different era? Very suspicious!
When I arrived at the hotel I told the proprietress about my unwillingness to do the mountain route. She then told me that a couple of years ago a woman got lost on that route; no, she did not die. When friends realized that she had not shown up by dinner time, they notified the Guardia Civil, who searched for her by helicopter and found her two days later. Scary story! I asked, "Is tomorrow's route the same?" She said, "No!"
Went to tiny grocery store where the clerk was decked out así (like this):
"Where did you get that sweatshirt?" I asked. She just shrugged; she had no idea what she was advertising!
My Spanish has improved over the past couple of years; I have even talked on the phone—definitely not my favorite thing to do! But very gratifying all the same.
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