Run 942 - 01 Oct 2006
Run 942 - Refujio
Sunday 1st Oct
Hare: SF Dick & Jerrycan
Charity Walk for APRONA and PAD’S
The Walkers
Mummy’s boy – Martin, Flakey – Frank, Streaky – Pia, Stiff – Steph, Shaggy – Ali
Tight Arse – Stuart, Septic – Johnny (we’re doin it for the kids)
Mork – Martin
This is going to be an epic – settle back and suffer
Having recced the route on his bike – Martin told us it was all plain sailing. It would have been easier rowing to Cueta (with hockey sticks).
The high winds stopped all telecabins, Tight Arse insisting it was easier to walk from Tivoli world than plunge to our deaths less than 50 meters in to the trek.
I had brought Jack, my trusty one-eyed dog, uncomfortably he eyed the No Dogs sign at the turnstile.
At eleven we swung dangerously, over the autopista - then began the walk along the route towards the Mijas masts.
The cloud disappeared and the great vista that is Benalmadena (all concrete and blue seas) began to fade away as we started our first ascent in to the trees. The climb took us to about four and a half thousand feet. Steph, with her ipod firmly stuck in her ears and my faulty grommets – meant we were making several stops to equalize and take in oxygen.
Meanwhile the pack forged ahead, Streaky like a whippet was up there – Martin (I’ll call him Mork to avoid confusion – you’ll know why later) Mork, the Irish wolfhound and the oldest of the pack led the way. Infact from my rear perspective everybody led the way.
Martin’s reccy consisted of a couple of hashes he’d done in the past being strung together with a cavalier amount of making it up as he went along. At that early stage it was all one big adventure.
Lunch at the top of the summit, we had supplies and plenty of water…hmmmm. Scouting round for the next track and finding our way on to the ridge at the very top – it’s true mountains really do go to a piercing V shape and we were winding our way along the narrow path. Photo opportunity –– turn one-way and you are seeing the whole of the coast – was that fuengirola? Turn the other and the sierras as far as Antequera and Nevada were stretched out in front of us. The sun was beating down.
Flakey found the path ‘hey there’s a helicopter pad there!’ pointing to our descent. Rocks and boulders were hindering Stiffs progress; in a heartbeat she was tumbling, going straight for the H sign. Thinking she wanted to opt out early! Clearly not the case, water in one hand, ipod in the other and somersaulting Avengers style down the rock face was not her intention. Our rescue team sprung in to action and all first aid kits came out. See photo.
From then on we took it easy, a track led round the back of the mountain and wound it’s way down to the town of Alhaurin. About this time we all ran out of water, synchronised dehydration – Septic brought morale to a high point with the new found anthem – ‘who we doin this for?’ – Kylie and Robbie style now…. ‘We’re doin it for the kids.’ Add dogs and cats.’
The final approach saw Streaky and Stiff head off undeterred by the gaping whole in her leg (the first tourniquet had to be undone for obvious reasons).
Stuart and Johnny strolled on, by this time with the pack stretched out, Jack had done his best to keep us all rounded up – so consequently had run twice the distance of all of us.
Coming in was a shambles, Martin telling us all we should have walked up to the weather dome – you need binoculars to see it, with no water supplies – an unlikely option. We circumnavigated Alhaurin till we found a firebreak to slide down.
Finca La Motta never looked so good –33km later, we had done the first leg. Hot bath, achy muscles lots of shandies. An evening of merriment, support guests and PAD’s veterans - a good nights sleep was assured.
Saturday – muscle fatigue,. A hearty breakfast and off down to Barranco Blanco then up to the highest track in the Ojen direction. This time with our new recruits – Golden Balls – Luke and Stiffita – Alia our youngest hashers at 12 and 8 respectively. And a good deal more heat. The type where you think a plane must be taxiing, the air rippled on the horizon, cicadas were sleeping and if we got a breeze it was heaven sent. This is again, where I started hallucinating, it’s easy – after so many kilometres of which the red dusty track stretched around for endless miles, and I was beginning to fantasize about meeting Spittoon along the way.
How many corners that are several kilometres long, can one go without wondering if this is a remake of The Prisoner. Reality show style.
Murderous thoughts about Martin start to take shape. Walking in a sweltering, overhead sun– no respite, no shade and no sodding breeze. Where the hell was the water we had hidden. A body could decompose in hours in this heat. Thank god I could hear the distant calls of ‘On On’ and faint sound of ‘who we doin this for?’ ‘We’re doin it for the kids’ add your own dogs and cats. My Jack by this stage was wilting, he was still running from the front of the pack then back to see I was still all right. When the front-runners found some shade under a bush, he’d lap up a ration of water and be off again looking for us laggers. In all of this Luke and Alia were amazing. Kids equals Resilience.
At last the crossroads in some trees and Maureen’s marvellous lunch. Trading, caramel bars for wafers and rationing sandwiches when we knew we were only a third of the way there.
This next part was the lowest we would all get, endless track, mile after mile of the same mountain, searing heat, the same view, why would Fuengirola not disappear, we had left Alhaurin at 10.30, at Four it seemed we had covered just a 100 meters. It was getting hotter. On the old Ojen to Enterrios track the valley much have reached over 100 and my temper to match.
Jack finally gave up chasing, dug a hole in a 1-foot patch of shade and refused to move. I tried to cajole him; nope he just dug the hole further and eyed me defiantly. I sat there despondent, the others had gone. My muscles had locked. I was with Jack. Then I had a fleeting moment of panic, supposed I was here on my own I’d have to carry him, with little water left and not a MacDonald’s in sight we could be doomed.
When we finally got going again, I rounded a corner and could see stick like semi naked bodies splashing about in water. That’s it…. I’d gone mad with the heat. Like a miracle, though Martin would swear he knew it was there. A mountain river had collected, in one of our endless ravines and with fresh crystal clear water I jumped in and Jack finally had a chance to cool down. There is a God.
Morale now at it’s high point, refreshed and body temperatures at once again normal levels we set off like Walt Disney characters on a happy ending. Not far to go.
On the 20Km point Alia had completed her mission. With still 10km to go it was a tough climb out of the valley. Hats off to the front runners all of whom marched Flakey and Tight Arse and Jack ran it…on the hottest and final day of September to find the steepest road in Ojen before the barman would pull a pint.
A generous 30Km had been covered. I knew I could not put Jack through another day – I was supposed to be helping the animals, not killing them.
The final day and Zoe the latest addition (Johnny wished his gonads were not blistered) joined us. I am now with medical walking stick and pain killers. Steph resembles wobbly legged, Forest Gump at the end of his walk. Mork, the Irishwolfhound albeit with pipe, still smiling.
The blister count after the vertical climb from Ojen to Refugio outweighed the plasters we had brought. Flakey advised Septic to sue Decathlon for breach of contract; his anti blister socks did not do what they said on the packet. He even had blisters on the blister. Pia, I think had the most and was stoic about the whole thing.
T-shirts were hung out to dry in the Hotel Refugio – Charles de Gualles memoirs would have been totally different if he’d have seen us.
Then we hiked up to the circle and Stiff Fanny’s Dick did us proud. Picnic all round and a short wait for the rest of the hashers to meet up with us. More photos.
I will be writing up the final hash, giving us walkers (so want to say wankers) a total of 10 hashes over 3 days. The official guidebooks say it should be a 4-day walk, Martin of course has said all along, it’s only 1.5km. So for the last and final part I need a rest first.
