Andalucia 2008
Day Five: 12th October
Weather: Warm sunshine above the clouds, cold when the sun went down!
Route: Marooned on La Maroma
Map: 1:50k 18-43 Zafarraya area
A walk from El Alcazar upper campsite, up beyond the remains of the old Alcazabar remains and onto a ridge. Walk up to the old mule track, then up a dry river bed and onto the summit area. Take the wrong route down and become benighted and walked off the mountain by the Guardia Civil Socorro en Montana: probably walked about 10 miles, but ascended at least 5000ft!
I don’t know what to say about today, it has left me with very mixed feelings. But the overriding thoughts are ‘how could I have been so stupid’, and I feel deeply embarrassed by the whole episode. But first to the walk, I’ll leave my recriminations until later. My route today was taken from Roger Jennings ‘Wild Walks’ – and he does know how wild it was. He has several booklets for walking in Andalucia and they include many of the national park areas – www.bookshoppasatiempo.com. One thing I did the next day when I was jotting down notes for the walk was compose a list of suitable monikers – dipstick, chump (my favourite), arse, tosser, merchant banker, Muppet, knob, twerp, nincompoop, stupido, eeyore, wazak, berk, idiot, incompetent, ya-bollocks, cretin, buffoon, git, and plonker. That was enough to be going on with, and I’m sure you can think of a few of your own!
I drove over from Riogordo at 10am (which was too late in the day to start a hard walk) and I was walking by 11am. Finding the starting point was not the easiest as the area is quite remote. I followed the signposts to Alcaucin and then followed the instructions in the guide book to make my way around the narrow streets that wind up the hills that took me to the campsites. I knew I was on the right track when I passed the statue of the Ibex, and carried on up the rough track to the upper campsite. You cannot go further than here in a car unless you are the mountain rescue team!
Looking north from Alcaucin
Just past the Ibex statue on the way to the campsite
The upper campsite is in an idyllic location at 2570ft, sitting in the cleft of a steep sided valley amidst a pine forest. There were good views to the north, although the Sahara mist was persisting from yesterday. I followed my own advice for a change and had a good drink of water before setting off and this probably saved me later on in the day. The low cloud was tumbling through the valleys, lending an air of excitement to the start of the walk. Once I had crossed over above the campsite I passed by a chained barred track, which I would pass through later on, unchained – doh. I wound my way up in peace and quiet along the path soft with pine needles, up through the forest in delightful dappled sunlight. Gone was the intense summer heat, replaced with temperatures of 20-23deg, and a pleasure to walk in.
Lovely colours in the mixed forests
The path up through the forest
The first thing I noticed today was that it was like walking up through a herb garden. The native trees here are spaced out enough to allow plenty of plant life below the forest canopy. Due to the dry climate of the Mediterranean the plant life usually exhibits narrow spiny leaves, small leaves, grey/silver coloured, and higher up the slopes some succulents – all to avoid heavy evaporation losses in the hot dry months. As I crunched up the path and brushed by plants I got a lovely aroma coming off the plants such as rosemary and thyme. There was a lot of sage, colchicums and some euphorbia growing well, which much be a delight in the springtime – maybe I’ll come back then. The path up through the forest was not too steep and wound its way up a gulley, across the worst of the gradient. Eventually I followed a track around and came out of the trees and up onto a ridge that runs up to the North West. The ridge acts as a fire break of sorts, and is mainly loose scree and scrub with an occasional tree to get some shelter from the sun. From this point on I began to notice the insect life a bit more as they were flitting around me. Orange butterflies never stayed still long enough for a picture until higher up the slopes, where it was cooler and they stopped to sunbathe. The grasshoppers had vivid blue wings as they leapt out of the way, and there is no way you could get a picture unless you caught one and pulled it’s legs off – and that wouldn’t be very nice. The shrubs here grew on a poor rocky soil made up of shaly slates (limestone higher up), and they grow in small mounds and become increasingly spiky to protect themselves from grazing animals. The ridge slopes steeply upwards and I gained height quickly but slowly if that makes sense!
The start of the ridge
And looking back down towards the campsites
The start of the old mule track
The track to the bottom right is where I was picked up later
on
The views down to the start were good but restricted due to the mist tumbling down the adjacent steeply cleaved valleys from higher up, but it was clear on the ridge. I persevered upwards and picked up one of the many animal/goat tracks. They were very indistinct but as long as I stayed on the top of the ridge I couldn’t really miss the way up. Eventually I reached a small saddle as the ridge joined another from the west and the track coming up from the campsite (the chained off one). I had a breather here and prepared for the next move up an old mule track, which gently zigzagged up the slope. They knew how to wander up the slopes those old donkeys. As the air got cooler the butterflies slowed down enough for me to get a few snaps, as the grasshoppers continued to boing around in front of me. I made steady progress and as the mule track levelled off I stopped for some light lunch and a drink – thankfully I didn’t scoff everything I had, saving some for later. The surrounding hillsides were steep all around and the limestone was gleaming brightly in the afternoon sun. It was extremely tranquil and I didn’t meet anyone or see anyone for most of the day. The mule track wound around the hillside and ended where the valley split into two.
A butterfly at sunbathing
Looking down from the mule track to the campsites now far
below
The higher mountains come into view as the mule track gets
to level ground
Try and spot the marker post
My route guide told me to ignore the wooden marker post to the left and instead follow the lush valley up towards the higher ground. It is remarkably lush given that the valley is dry and full of boulders and rock outcrops. Many of the plants were very spiky and full of thorns, which required pulling my socks up as high as they would go – another picture of sartorial elegance, but I’d rather keep my legs from getting shredded. It was definitely an interesting route, and the grasses here were sharp bladed reminiscent of many festuca type grasses at home – I’ve never come across such vicious plant life for a while, but thankfully I didn’t stumble across any snakes or scorpions. I was making enough noise to scare any away as I worked my way up the stream bed, up and over boulders and rock outcrops – the maximum climb up was about 10-15ft, but it was very straightforward. At the head of the valley the ground widens out and flattens off, becoming more rubble strewn. There are several fenced off areas with some newly planted trees, and these are to regenerate the scrub here and try to prevent overgrazing. The fenced off areas are in adjacent valleys as well, so shouldn’t be used as a marker for your return journey! Looking ahead I could see some metal posts and a couple of small stone cairns higher up the slope. I made my way across to these unsure if they marked the route or not, and I picked my way across the rocky ground avoiding the worst of the vegetation, with the gradient easing off.
The lush valley ahead
Looking back at the mule track on the right
One of a few rocky slabs on the way up
The small folded rocks were mineralised veins in the
limestone
A tree propping up the rocks
Continuing up the lush valley
The ground begins to level off
The summit area comes into sight
It was still tough going as I had been climbing now for a couple of hours, and as I crested a rise there was another big lump in front of me to be negotiated. The views now opened up and I could appreciate how big this mountain is – bigger than anything I had climbed up in the UK. There was a deep valley away to my left and in front of me was a sparsely vegetated, rocky scree slope leading up to the summit. It was still guess work as the marker posts and cairns were few and far between and didn’t exactly stand out. The plant life here changes again to small alpine plants – just like walking through the local garden centre, and there were a few in flower as well. Up towards the summit I could see some roughly built shelters, and the clouds billowing up and over the top, spilling down into the adjacent valleys. I got to the top after 3hrs of hard slog (enjoyable slog) and found a large trig point, which was very befitting to my highest ever climb at 6744ft. I set the self timer on the camera and sprang up the monument – and for a change it turned out ok. I explored the summit area for a little while (which was good news for me later on) and imbibed some more water. I had 1 ½ litres with me today and had drunk a good litre before setting off.
Looking back down the way I came up
Low scrub on the way across to the summit scree slope
The adjacent hillside, with the summit up to the right
The final haul up to the summit, up the rocky scree
Looking back down to the north east and the plains of
Zaffarraya
Nearly there with the cloud rushing up and over the summit
La Maroma trig point comes into view
Made it – phew – feeling really good right now!
The summit shelters that I would revisit later
Clouds swirling around to my left
Starting out down from the summit
So far so good, but despite the good weather, the day took a very dramatic turn for the worse over the next 3hrs. As I left the summit area full of confidence, I obviously wasn’t paying enough attention to my whereabouts – pretty stupid considering how high up and where I was. I think the euphoria of being on the peak had left me short of concentration – not for the first time either and it was a very hard lesson learnt. I had consulted the route notes but started too far left from the summit and then compounded this error and wandered too far left on my compass bearing. My only mitigating circumstances were the fact that the clouds/mist was swirling up the valleys from below and somewhat obscured my route down. It didn’t become apparent to me that I was in the wrong valley for some way down, as I had passed by a fenced off area and the riverbed seemed familiar. The valley sides were steep, but they were on the way up as well. The first note of discord for me was when some pine trees came into view. As I didn’t pass by many from beyond the mule track, I thought it odd and finally realised my way was blocked when I couldn’t pass by a thorn thicket and the ground looked pretty much impassable beyond. So I cut away to the north-west and decided to climb up the valley side into the next valley – my reasoning being (flawed or not) was that I had veered away too far to my left off the summit.
I wasn’t paying enough attention from here
Everything seemed ok from my viewpoint
The vegetation looked familiar
And then some misty cloud rolled in
Then all of a sudden it didn’t look the same
No way through these thickets
Back up to the left – a steep climb. Starting to worry.
Hmmmmmmm
Higher up now and none the wiser
The valley sides were steep and bouldery and as I worked my way through a thickly covered patch of ferns and scrub, a wild boar broke away not more than 6ft in front of me – too quick for the camera and thankfully more scared of me than vice versa. It was a very impressive sight and a bit smelly, and that was the first and last sight of the boar, although I did see signs of earth turned later on. The climb up the valley side was the steepest of the day, but I felt secure in my footfalls, and it was fairly easy work on the rockier patches. I gazed down into the next valley and paused wondering if this was the right valley, and also acutely aware that time was ticking on and my progress wasn’t exactly fast. From my viewpoint I decided that the valley looked ok and could lead me out and down to the mule track (how I wished for a proper map & GPS at this moment – chump). The descent down to the valley floor was again steep, but I managed to avoid any rocky pitches and scrambled down to the small dry riverbed, deeply notched into the hillsides. I followed the same sort of going as the previous valley, with the way ahead again looking promising, until I came to a rock slope of 20ft or so. I scrambled down via a small tree and quickly became aware that the drop below was precipitous – probably 200ft or more. I also noticed a climber’s rope and thought to myself that this was now becoming very wrong. As I climbed back up the rock face and tree my pedometer pinged off and clattered down into a crevice, but I ignored that as time was really ticking along now. Once I was safely back into the valley it was time to take stock of my situation – I was disoriented and unsure of my whereabouts. I checked my water supply and still had enough if I rationed myself, and I was down to my last few sweets and some fruit - the boiled sweets kept my mouth moist and reduced the need for constant water. I also stopped taking pictures so I didn’t waste any unnecessary time. I made the decision to call my daughter Olivia in the UK and asked her to call the hotel to inform them of my situation. Also to reassure everyone that although I was up the creek without a paddle, I wasn’t about to croak and even if I ran out of time that I would be OK – mentally I was reassuring myself as well. I was a little tired with all the ups and downs of the day by this time as this was more ascent than I had ever covered before. I sat and pondered what to do next and gave myself a rest. The hotel proprietor Peter phoned me and said he had received my message from Olivia. I told him I was ok and that I would call him again a little later to let him know my progress.
A young Ibex (I think)
I stayed on this ridge up to the head of the valley
I knew the campsites were down there, but how to get there?
At this stage after two wrong valleys I decided to retrace my steps up to the head of the valley and try and pick up the path from the top as my route down here was too dangerous. This time I stayed higher up the valley side and I saw some young Ibex running around. I knew I was in the wrong place as they don’t generally stay around where people are. All of a sudden sat up on the ridge I checked my watch and my mind went from walking mode to survival mode and what decisions I would have to make soon – I had a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach as I probably already knew what I would have to do. I looked up to the summit and it seemed a long way off still, and I knew that daylight would disappear at 8pm. One thing I didn’t have with me today was a torch (and I usually carry one whenever I am out walking – chump) and as there were only 2hrs maximum daylight left, and I was going up the mountain I decided that I would be needing some help. My heart was telling me otherwise but my head ruled the day and told me I had been stupid enough. My thinking was it is better to let the MRT know sooner rather than later, so that they could prepare in good time and know that they would be walking me down not carrying me down the mountain. So I sat down on the ridge with the sun still shining and clouds swirling lower down the valleys and phoned the hotel to raise some help. It was very mixed emotions for me at this stage but I tried to stay calm, and went through a few scenarios in my mind. I didn’t have to wait long for a call from the Guardia Civil MRT, and Jorge came on the line and we talked through my situation. I told him I was up on a ridge above the tree-line heading up to higher ground and described what I could see around me. He told me to stay calm and walk slowly, and that the helicopter would pick me up from the summit at 8pm. I wondered if I could make it back up there again, but thought I would be ok as the adrenaline kicks in and helped me along. A few minutes later I had a call from a fraught sounding Spanish lady (probably from having to speak English) yelling at me to stay on the line. I had to calm her down and then described where I wasn’t. I carried on up along the ridge gaining height gradually, telling myself to keep going and thinking about spots where I could sleep if necessary. But I reasoned with myself that now that the MRT knew my situation, they would be coming to get me whatever happened, and that I should just concentrate on what I was doing not start worrying unnecessarily. I made another call to Peter at the hotel to tell him what was going to happen and to pass on the news to my wife. Peter was great through all of this and helped me along even though he had a restaurant to run as well – something to tell the guests though. Eventually I made the head of the valley and moved up to higher ground as the gradient eased off. It was now 7pm and I knew I would make the summit in good time, but there was no way I would have made it back down in daylight hours. I tried to figure out where I was in relation to where I had ascended earlier, but because I had crossed two valleys I was unsure and knew I had made the right decision to call for help. So I set a course for the summit once more and dragged my sorry ass along the slopes, trying to stay positive. At this point my phone had a low battery warning (chump) and no reception, so I couldn’t let anyone know I would be up on the summit in time. As I made my way up to the summit for the second time today, the sky was clear and a glorious sunset was beckoning. The clouds were still rolling along lower down but all the time clearing, which was good news for me and the MRT team. The hotel proprietor Peter had been in touch with the MRT and described the route that I had taken that day – which is why you should always let someone know where you are going.
A lovely soft light towards the end of the day
Looking back down from the summit slope
The trig point from my summit shelter
A lovely picture of the setting sun – but I’d rather not
have been here at this time
Benighted – give me the moonlight…
I took a few pictures of my surrounds at the summit and the sun setting over La Maroma, then settled down out of a chill wind into the summit shelter. I put on my outer layer, pulled the cords tight to make it windproof, wondered how cold it would get up here, drank the remainder of my water, and ate the rest of my food. That warmed me a little and as the minutes started to tick away my mind started to race away. Many thoughts crowded in of family and friends, how I had got myself in this situation, how lovely it was up here! The primary thought was positive in that I had told my family I was ok and whatever happened tonight I would be alive tomorrow – but the thought ‘stupid me’ was high on the list. But as the sun went down, I had a strange perturbed feeling to be up here without light. But I did stay positive because I knew they were coming to get me (I didn’t know GPS meant ‘Get Pete Selwood’), so I tuned in my I-Pod to while away the time and distract my brain from thinking dark thoughts. I knew I would feel the disturbed airwaves when the helicopter was approaching and I didn’t have the volume up too loud. So I sat back and began what seemed a long wait. After about 10 or 15 minutes I peeked above the shelter to have a look around and get my circulation going as I was starting to shiver and my fingers felt like they were dropping off. To the north west of me I saw a huge thunderstorm flashing in the distance and I thought to myself – arse! I knew from my work that helicopters don’t fly when there is a risk of thunder (I missed a call telling me that they weren’t flying - no mobile reception). So I re-evaluated my predicament and decided that I couldn’t stay on the summit as it was getting colder and that the MRT would be setting out to walk up the mountain. My luck improved as the moon shone out on the summit area illuminating my way. I knew that if I set out on a compass bearing (by the light of the phone) from the summit trig point this time I could make my way slowly down to the marker posts and on from there. I was confident I could walk down without hurting myself as I had already been over this ground three times today, and the moon lit my way most of the time. Periodically the clouds would scoot by and everything would be in darkness again, but I took my time and tried to focus ahead of me. I could see three streams of light stretching up into the sky far below me to my right and demised that this was a reference point for the MRT and that they were on the way up the hill. A little while after I had left the summit I could see lights moving up the mountain, which was a great relief to me as you can imagine. I set the flash on my camera and snapped off shots at regular intervals, so that the MRT could see whereabouts I was. I was mindful to stay a little further right and above the hidden valleys and veered further right than previously. This turned out to be a good move as the MRT were coming up the next valley to the one I had ascended, and if I had found my route up I would have missed them. I continued to set my flash off (I had to delete about 50 shots from my camera later) and the torches were getting nearer, so I bellowed out ‘HOLA’ as loud as I could. I was calm now as I knew salvation was close at hand, and moved slowly across to the ridge in the general direction of the torches, but also mindful that there was a fairly steep valley to the right if I went too far. After a few more flashes and shouts I met up with the MRT led by Jorge (who sounded off his airhorn) – phew what a relief. Not quite a Dr Livingstone moment but close to it. They took very good care of me, were very professional, polite and caring – all I wanted was water and hadn’t realised how thirsty I was. Once I was refreshed, I was given a head torch and was led off the mountain – 2 in front and three behind. They went at a fair old lick for my tired legs but I kept up with the pace, and even they went off course once or twice – mind you it was very dark. We followed a route down that was sparsely populated with marker posts, that stayed up above the valley floor (this met up with the mule route and the marker post that I was instructed to ignore earlier), and if the guide I had been using had mentioned this route, it would have saved me a lot of trouble and embarrassment. But once we had reached the mule track I knew it wasn’t far back to the vehicles, and it was easy walking down a good path. We all got down safely and back to the land cruiser by 22:20, I filled in a few details and took a couple of pictures. We swapped e-mail addresses and I promised to give my passport number to the local Guardia in Riogordo. I watched as they disgorged their equipment back into the land cruiser, and then said ‘muchos gracias’ five times over and the day was done.
Salvation – Jorge is the man in red – all heroes to me
I sat in the local policeman’s land rover and he gave me a lift down the track and back to the campsite car park some 12 hrs after I had left it! He even guided me back down the rough track into Alcaucin so I didn’t get lost again. I took a few minutes to compose myself, had a good drink of water and then drove back to the hotel. I was mighty relieved to get back and see my wife, and apologise for causing a little bit of angst. Peter had arranged some superb tapas and several beers for me to tuck into, and food never tasted so good. I beat myself up over this for the next few days, but I guess I’m not the first to become benighted. In fact it’s got a nice ring to it – ‘arise Sir Rambling Pete’ – you chump! My final thoughts are with the Mountain rescue teams – they deserve all the plaudits they get wherever they operate - they are all brilliant. Y para Jorge y sus amigos - espero que todo usted vuelva sin peligro de las montañas. Yo gracias del corazón