Cold Soak Meal for Backpacking

For over two months now, every day that I have been home, a dehydrator has been running nonstop in my kitchen.

My daughter is currently hiking the Continental Divide Trail.

And soon I will leave town to meet her somewhere in New Mexico to hike and camp with her for a couple of weeks on her grand adventure.

At some point after I made the decision to go, I decided I would make dehydrated camp meals for us like Kandace did for our Ouachita Trail Trek back in 2020.

Cut to me texting Kandace three days into this project:

I don’t think I thanked you enough for making all of our food for the Ouachita Trail. 

I had NO IDEA HOW MUCH WORK IT WAS.

She reminded me that we went on our hike in the middle of a pandemic when we all had more free time.

But still!

It’s a lot of work.

And also the first used dehydrator I bought was a waste of space and did not work properly.

After three days of blowing slightly warm air around, I threw it out and bought another one.

This time I went in for a much more serious model. I had meals lined up and waiting their turn to fill up the 9-tray appliance when it arrived.

It takes up like half of my kitchen space and runs all day and all night.

Today it’s dehydrating a lentil salad that I remember enjoying mid-afternoon on the trail like half a decade ago.

A lot of the meals I am working on are dinners that will need hot boiling water to be rehydrated.

But this week I’m focused on some protein-powered lunches that can be reconstituted with cold water.

I used French speckled lentils for this salad because they hold their shape better than regular brown lentils.

The dressing is a lemony fresh thyme flavor.

I hope we like it because I have nine trays of it dehydrating at the moment, which wildly, is just 8 servings.

So on 4 different days, we will pour a half cup of water into little ziplock bags of dried out bits, and hopefully it will taste heavenly.

Or at the very least, I hope it will power us through the rest of the day’s miles.

I’m nervous about my ability to walk the long miles with a big backpack again. (I’m worried about the purple bruises that appear on my hips at night when I take the pack off.) But I’m also excited.

There’s nothing in the world like being out in the middle of nowhere, far away from civilization for days (weeks) at a time.

I wrote these words from Walt Whitman down in my journal this week:

Now I see the secret of the making of the best of persons,

It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

It’s almost time for me to go eat and sleep with the earth again.

Wish me luck!

PS. Here’s the recipe for the Lemony Lentil Salad just in case you’re planning a backcountry adventure of your own.

Cold Soak Lentil Salad Recipe

Adapted from The Dehydrator Cookbook for Outdoor Adventures

by Julie Mosier

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons rice vinegar, unseasoned
4 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 teaspoons lemon zest
1 teaspoon agave, or ½ teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon fresh thyme
¾ teaspoon salt, divided
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1½ cups lentils, picked over and rinsed
3 celery stalks, cut into ½-inch dice
1 cup matchstick carrots
¼ cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley

Directions

In a small bowl, combine the oil, vinegar, lemon juice, lemon zest, agave, thyme, ¼ teaspoon of salt, and the pepper. Mix thoroughly and set the dressing aside.

Put the lentils and the remaining ½ teaspoon of salt in a medium pot over medium-high heat. Cover the lentils with the water and bring the water to a boil. Partially cover the pot and reduce the heat to a gentle simmer. If needed, add another cup of water while the lentils are cooking. Cook the lentils for 25 to 30 minutes or until they are soft but not mushy. Drain the lentils, rinse them in cold water, and set them aside to cool.

When the lentils are cool, transfer them to a large bowl with the celery, carrots, and parsley. Place all the vegetables in a large bowl.

Add the dressing to the vegetables and mix well to combine.

Dehydrate

Spread the salad out evenly on the dehydrator trays fitted with sheets of parchment.
Place the trays in the dehydrator. Set the dehydrator to 135°F and turn it on. If your dehydrator has a built-in timer, set it for 6 hours.

At the 6-hour mark, check the vegetables. They should be firm and should not feel moist. If necessary, continue to dry the salad for another 4-6 hours.

Measure the total amount of salad, divide it into four portions, and place each portion in a zip-sealed bag. Label and date the bags. Store for up to 1 year.

To Rehydrate, add a scant ½ cup of cool water to the bag. Mix it well, cover, and let it sit for 15 to 20 minutes. Stir the salad again before eating.

Enjoy!

The post Dehydrated Lentil Salad (Cold Soak) appeared first on Alison Chino.

Thank you for the music.

I welcomed spring this year with a beautiful week on the Portuguese Camino.

We walked a trail that is familiar to me, from Porto to Valença.

We made it to the border between Portugal and Spain, and then we crossed into Spain just to say we did.

Six friends. 80 miles. 12 pitchers of Sangria. 28 Porto Tonicos. 16 plates of gambas. (give or take)

And SO MUCH MUSIC!

In between visits to the Camino, I forget how much I love the energy of this network of paths.

But once I get on the trail and see a yellow arrow or a Camino shell, my heart is all aflutter with Camino memories.

When I am on the Camino, all my other Caminos are present with me.

All my fellow pilgrims, past and present, are walking alongside me.

This Camino evolved out of a couple of desires expressed by my somewhat regular group of early spring walkers.

We wanted to go back to Portugal. Three years ago we walked the Rota Vicentina in Portugal and we all loved it.

And we wanted to hike somewhere (in Europe) that would be warm and sunny in March.

So we chose the Portuguese Camino. Once we settled on it, we reached out to other past spring walkers until we had a group of six.

We met up in Porto. Some arrived early, and some arrived late (delayed flights!), but eventually we all made it and were walking together.

Four of us started from the Porto Cathedral in the afternoon and walked out along the River Douro to the sea.

We did a short day just to stretch our legs and (for those based in the US) to reset circadian rhythms.

By late afternoon we were in Matosinhos having Porto Tonicos by the sea.

It was a perfect way to ease in. And Matosinhos was an easy hop from the airport for our late arrivals.

We stayed in a crazy bunk room that first night. (It’s fine. No one sleeps well on the first night anyway because of jet lag, right?)

We loaded up on coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice the next morning while we waited for our final hiker, Kelsy, to arrive.

And then we began together, ignoring a few tiny raindrops and the clouds.

We walked along the sea all day. Sometimes we walked on cobblestones, sometimes on pavement, and then most blessedly, on these wooden boardwalks that are so much easier on the joints than concrete.

Even with the clouds it was a beautiful day, and we were in high spirits to be walking together again.

This was the first full day of walking and it was all about catching up with each other and hearing what’s new.

I love to walk by the sea, and one day I want to walk the full Coastal Way in Portugal, but I so loved my time on the original route in 2022 that I wanted my friends to get to experience that as well, so we really just had this one full day by the sea (and a half day the day before).

Because we knew it was short, we tried to soak up our surroundings.

There’s a balance to stopping enough to take everything in, but not so much that the day drags on for too long.

We stopped to rest a couple of times, once for a snack and a leg stretch (and a nap for Kelsy who had literally just gotten off an overnight plane).

Then later in the day we stopped for a late lunch before leaving the seaside.

The sun even came out for a little bit. The little bits of morning rain were long forgotten.

We had a gorgeous lunch by the sea and then about an hour to go to get to our hotel for the night.

We stayed in a hotel that had an indoor pool and spa, a big step up from the bunkroom the night before! Three of the gals were even able to book last minute massages!

I spent over two hours in the pool and sauna. We had it all to ourselves and there was a large water spout in the pool that shot water at such a high pressure that it was like a thera-gun but with water. It was delightful!! Zoë discovered it and then we played in it for an hour at least, laughing that we were re-engaging our theme from last year on the GR7 of making love to the water.

But the true theme of this year’s trip was still coming…music.

We weren’t totally tuned into it yet, but there were hints as the hotel lobby area played total bangers all afternoon. We had to walk down a hall that was at least a mile long to our rooms and you could not help but dance as you walked down it to the music they were playing.

The next morning we transferred from the Coastal Route to the Central Route and started walking north on the original Portuguese Camino.

It was still pretty cloudy, but warm enough to be in shorts. (Among our group we vary in our desire for sun or shade, so someone is always happy!)

We carried on along the cobblestones to Rates, the site of Saõ Pedro, one of the oldest Romanesque churches in Portugal.

After Rates, we walked on towards Barcelos, the destination for the day.

We made one coffee stop in the morning and then a stop for lunch later on. When we stopped for lunch, I hoped we had only about an hour left to walk.

(I’ve learned that it’s better to have LESS to walk after we eat, especially if there are drinks at lunch.)

We ate lunch at a tiny bar that didn’t even have menus, but the waitress kindly listed off several sandwiches you could have for lunch.

I asked if I could have a salad and she said sure! It was a different combination than other salads I’ve had on the Camino. I’m used to the ensalada mixta in Spain, but I’m happy to have a salad in almost any form.

This one had hard-boiled eggs, chickpeas, tuna, olives, corn, tomatoes and melon.

Later that afternoon, I had some tired girls with me as we crossed the bridge over the river into Barcelos. We’d come 13 miles.

Barcelos is one of my favorite stops on the Central Portuguese Camino, probably because of the sweet Pilgrim Blessing they do at mass there, but also it’s a beautiful town on a river. You could easily spend a couple of days wandering around.

After we checked in and showered, we went to sit in the main square for the afternoon before going to chapel and dinner.

The pilgrim blessing was as sweet as I remembered it.

We laughed so hard at dinner that night and I think it might have been the result of a combination of tired + joy.

The next morning we set out in the rain. You have to put your rain covers on at least once in a week in order to justify carrying them, and gratefully, this was the only time we needed them.

I was so excited on this day because we were headed to Casa Fernanda, which is one of the most beloved stops on all Caminos. I couldn’t wait for my friends to experience Fernanda’s special brand of Camino hospitality and I was curious about who else we would meet.

This was one of only two nights on this trip that we were sharing rooms with other pilgrims.

The rain continued through the morning but broke around midday.

We made our usual coffee and lunch stops.

It seemed quiet on the trail, maybe because of the weather.

We had seen several other pilgrims leaving Barcelos, but we soon spread out over the trail.

We ate lunch at a place that was full of mostly locals as it was off the beaten path a bit.

They had two lunch plates you could choose from and one of them came with veggies and rice, so I asked to have just the rice and veggies, which was plenty.

After lunch, we only had a little ways left to walk to reach Fernanda’s house.

When we arrived, there were already three or four other folks there sitting in the garden.

We sat down and joined them, and Fernanda mixed up Sangria for us all to enjoy.

While we visited with each other, Fernanda made croquettes and chorizo with bread in her outdoor kitchen.

Then we all dispersed to take showers, do yoga, take naps, etc.

While we were doing yoga in the garden, four German students arrived to take the final spots in Fernanda’s back garden hut.

They threw their packs in the room and came back out to join us.

We were thoroughly entertained by this foursome, who sang several songs in German for us after dinner.

This night ushered in our music theme. We all took turns sharing songs and then sang ones we all knew until I was literally hoarse.

Then Fernanda’s husband Jacinto pushed the kitchen table back to make room for us to all dance.

And really, a kitchen dance is the best kind there is.

I had to take a shower before bed because I was so sweaty!

The next morning we came to breakfast a little tired, but excited for the SUNNY day!

We told Fernanda and all our other new friends goodbye and set out on the trail.

This day we were properly in the countryside and the sunshine all day, so it might have been my favorite.

It’s hard to say. There was something to enjoy every day of this walk!

But on this day we passed one million beautiful calla lilies. We’d seen a lot of them already, but never this many together.

And we stopped for coffee (and other bevvies) at a place where we could sit in the sun and eat from a giant bowl of kiwis that were just the right form of ripe!

I think we ate about 20 of them between us.

We were headed to Ponte de Lima this day, which is another favorite town on the Portuguese Camino.

You enter town along the river underneath the most lovely promenade of trees.

As we sat down to order lunch by the river a gal who was a contestant on the Spanish version of the Voice was setting up to sing for the afternoon. She was live streaming on Tik Tok or Instagram and she was so great.

We stayed for a long time listening to her and singing along to songs we knew.

It was one of those perfect sitting-in-a-square moments that I live for after a good walk.

Finally we pulled ourselves away from the riverside restaurant when our private concert ended to go check into our rooms, which had lovely views of the town.

We went and walked on the bridge at sunset before dinner.

The town is named after the bridge and the river it runs across.

It was a gorgeous night.

Then we went to dinner, and we interrupted a sweet lady’s 80th birthday party. We had to sit outside at first because the place was packed and the whole party was singing along with a man playing a guitar. Then as the guests started to go home, our waiter squeezed us inside. The temps were dropping and we were cold, plus we were so curious about what was happening inside.

One of the birthday gal’s friends started singing Fado songs a cappella. The whole place got quiet as her voice filled the room. I have read that the best Fado is a spontaneous experience and so I was so excited we were getting to listen in. When she finished, we all applauded and I went over to thank her and ended up meeting Alice, the birthday girl, and all her friends, one of who had come over from Madeira from the event and told me I need to come hiking there next.

The whole evening was one of those wild, magical experiences that you aren’t sure was real after you leave. Did that really happen? We asked ourselves after the portal we had stepped into closed after Alice and her friends paraded out at the end of the evening, after many hugs and kisses goodbye.

But I have a small reminder that it was real: a book of poetry that Alice had written and self-published for the occasion. When she discovered how close our names were, Alice and Alison, she inscribed one of her books to me, and now I’m using it to study Portuguese.

The next morning the sun was shining again as we crossed the bridge to head up the hill on our biggest climb of the week.

We left Hayley behind to hang around gorgeous Ponte de Lima on this day because her knee was hurting her so much.

As we walked over the hills into the next village we heard a choir singing. We couldn’t figure out where it was coming from at first, but we finally decided that the music was coming from a church that was far away on a hill. We think they were projecting the service on a speaker on the outside of the church, maybe because they know pilgrims are walking by and will hear the music.

We made it to the top of the hill around noon and sat out in the sun for rest. Lizard time, Kelsy calls it when we have little naps in the sun. I’m a fan.

Then a little while later, we had lunch on the side of the trail at a little cafe. I love the Camino for its MANY roadside cafes.

When we got to Casa da Capela, where we were staying for the night, the big surprise was that there was a pool and it was open! It was absolutely freezing but Zoë and I jumped in anyway and then headed straight to the hot tub.

Our host served a yummy dinner, lots of bits at the beginning…bread, cheese, meats, olives.
And then a vegetarian hash with eggs and potatoes and I don’t even know what all, but it was delish. As was breakfast the next morning.

We loved this spot, just a little bend in the road between Ponte de Lima and Valença.

Our last day of walking came oh-too-soon. We only had a short 8-9 miles to go into Valença.

It was another gorgeous day, with lots of final arrows, shells and photos.

I think this little taste of the Camino definitely had these gals wanting to come back for more.

We had a very sweet week together and I would go right back tomorrow and do and all over again.

We ended in lovely Valença with the beautiful blue tiles and textile shops everywhere.

Valença’s old town is preserved within its medieval fortress walls.

We had lunch in a sqaure, did a bit of shopping and sitting in the sun.

A final bottle of Tinto Verde.

A last wander at sunset, across the bridge into Spain and back again to Portugal.

One more dinner together. And one more sleep.

Goodbye Portuguese Camino! We’ll be back one day!

Many of the photos in this post come from my fellow hikers: Kristie, Zoë, Koko, Hayley and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

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The post Return to the Portuguese Camino appeared first on Alison Chino.

Every time I go for a hike with a group of folks I send out a packing list.

People don’t always follow it, but they can’t say I didn’t try to help keep those trail pack weights down once we’re out there hiking.

I love to travel light.

It is freeing on any trip, but especially on one where you are carrying everything with you every day.

Also when you’re moving to a new place every night, it’s so much easier to pack up again every morning if you don’t have much.

I tend to explode when I unpack, so less is always going to be better for me.

Every time I go these days, I weigh everything and try to get it down a little bit more.

For example on a recent trip I didn’t need a sleeping bag liner, and I decided to leave the rain pants and fleece layer at home when I looked at the weather. So my total pack weight with water empty, and wearing trousers, underclothes, base layer, fishing shirt, boots, phone in my pocket and trekking poles in my hands was 10.9 pounds/4.95kg.

That’s a record I think. We’ll see if I can beat it this summer, but I’m hesitant to go to the Alps in any season without my rain pants. Plus for most mountain huts, you need a sleeping bag liner.

Here’s what I bring on a hut-to-hut hike…

Alison’s Hut-to-Hut Packing List

Gear:
24 liter Osprey Sirrus Pack 1.2kg
Water bottle: 32 oz Nalgene. 120g empty/600g full
Sleeping bag liner: 160g

Clothes:
Black Montane Hiking trousers (w/belt) 195g
Black Montane Hiking shorts (sans belt) 110g
Plum sleeveless wooly tank 80g
Short sleeve wool base layer 75g
Long-sleeve wool base layer 175g
Columbia fishing shirt 145g
Fleece zip up mid-layer 239g
Plum Montane Rain Jacket 200g
Gortex Rain pants 230g
Ultralight Down Jacket 110g
2 pairs of underwear 20g each
1 forclaz black tank 75g
1 icebreaker sports bra 30g
2 pairs of Darn Toughs 115g (together)
Leggings 200g
Thin wool gloves 55g
Blue Patagonia beanie hat 36g
Blackberry baseball cap 63g

Shoes:
Hiking boots 1070g
Xeroshoes sandals 240g

Personal Hygiene:
Small fast drying towel 45g
Small bar of soap
Toothbrush and toothpaste tablets
Moisturizer, lip balm, sunscreen, meds, ear plugs
Total weight for toiletries: 400g

Other:
Trekking poles (not pictured)
Backpack rain cover (included in pack weight)
Journal 50g
Pen 8g
Phone 204g
Charger/charging bank/headphones 340g
Passport 36g

Small wallet with credit cards/etc
First aid kit 400g
1 roll KT tape 100g
Headlamp 65g
Picnic silverware kit 30g (Just the spoon 8g)
2 Protein bars 52g each
1 nut butter 32g
1 tube electrolytes 50g
Deck of cards 75g
Small stuff sack 38g
Swimsuit (I use my sports bra and shorts)
Knee brace 20g
Bandana 30g

Here are a few more photos of what I’ve packed on trips over the last few years.

If you’re planning a hiking adventure soon and have questions about packing, hit me up! I LOVE to talk folks into packing less.

Before you know it, you’ll be back at home and wishing for the simple days of living out of a backpack. Embrace the vagabond energy while you can!

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At the beginning of March, Taido was lecturing in London, so we decided to go over early and have a little getaway together. We do this a few times a year whenever one of us needs to be in London for something. Taido calls it “a London Jolly.”

It’s cheapest to take a London Jolly from Bristol by bus, but it’s so much more pleasant on the train. We went on the train this time to Paddington Station.

We started our time in London at The Globe Theatre to see The Tempest. The plays are at the indoor theatre in the winter, which I had never been to, but y’all…it is INCREDIBLE. It’s called The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse and it is entirely lit with real candles. How is this even possible? At intermission (called the interval here in the UK), they lowered the candelabras and changed the candles out to fresh ones. The actors even held candles as they acted.

The entire production was the most fun theatre experience I can remember. Half the actors were hidden in the audience. Someone would pop up next to you and interrupt the play and soon it would become apparent that they were part of the show. At one point, Prospero stopped mid-sentence to tell a woman in the audience to stop filming the play. He was very cross and went back and forth with her for an uncomfortable minute before she put her phone away. Then about 30 minutes later, the lady, for whom we were still suffering second-hand embarrassment, got up and joined the play as one of the actors. So clever.

It was wildly fun and I would return in a heartbeat to see whatever is showing at this theatre.

After the show, we went to the Mithraeum, an ancient Greek temple that was discovered after bombing during World War Two. It’s in the basement of the Bloomberg building. Someone on one of my tours told me that you can visit it for free, so it’s been on my London list for a minute.

Then we made our way back to East London in the neighborhood we always stay in. We stay right around the corner from Brick Lane, where the best bagels in the world are on offer 24/7 and curry restaurants line the road. Also it’s an easy bike ride from Columbia Road Flower Market if I happen to be there on a Sunday morning.

This time we walked to Dishoom in Shoreditch for dinner. Dishoom is a Bombay-inspired London staple that has now made it’s way to many other UK cities and even is opening in New York City(!), but we still don’t have one in Bristol. I resisted going there for a while, because of the hype (there’s always a long wait outside), but Taido convinced me that it lives up to its reputation and he was not wrong.

We loved everything we ordered: Gunpowder Potatoes, Black Dal, Chapati, and Broccoli Chili (Chilli) Salad.

The next morning, while Taido was lecturing, I did the Regent’s Canal walk that goes all the way from the Thames River at Limestone to Little Venice. I have walked part of it before, but never this entire 10-mile stretch in one go. I stopped in Camden for lunch, spent a little time reading in the sun on a bench and then met Taido for dinner at Bondi Green, a restaurant I love that is super close to Paddington Station. Even as much as I love Bondi Green, I was wishing for the same dinner from Dishoom after walking all day.

Around 7pm, we hopped back on the train and headed home to Bristol.

A successful London Jolly for sure.

In the days following our time in London, I was still dreaming about our meal at Dishoom so I started experimenting with copycat recipes. I was excited to find that the Broccoli Salad is actually available on Dishoom’s website (as well as several other recipes).

When we were in London, I picked all of the hot pepper out of my salad (I know…I am such a lightweight when it comes to spice), so I have adjusted my recipe to not include the peppers. And I added sunflower seeds and pomegranate seeds.

I have made this salad every week since we got back from London nearly two months ago, and I’m still not tired of it. I love to eat the leftovers for lunch the next day.

Here’s my version of the recipe. Feel free to add a red chili (chilli) pepper back in if you like!

Pomegranate, Pistachio and Broccoli Salad

Salad Ingredients:

2 medium heads of broccoli
150 grams (3/4 cup) roasted pistachio nuts
50 coriander leaves
8 mint leaves
50 grams (1/4 cup) roasted pumpkin seeds
50 grams (1/4 cup) roasted sunflower seeds
50 grams (1/4 cup or 8-10) pitted dates, chopped small
1 pomegranate, seeded

Dressing Ingredients:

50 milliliters (1/4 cup) lime juice (the juice of about 2 limes)
8 thin slices of ginger
1 teaspoon salt
40 grams (3 tablespoons) sugar or honey
25 milliliters (1/4 cup) rice vinegar
150 milliliters (3/4 cup) mild olive oil or vegetable oil
10 mint leaves

Instructions:

Cut the broccoli into very small pieces. Make the dressing by mixing all the ingredients with an immersion blender (or in a blender). Pour over the broccoli.

Note: I like to do this step early in the day so that the broccoli has time to marinate in the dressing, which softens the broccoli a little so it’s a little less raw, but still crunchy. You could also blanche the broccoli for one minute and then drop it in an ice bath, but letting the dressing marinate has worked well for me.

In the meantime, I chop my dates, seed the pomegranate, toast the nuts and seeds, and tear the mint and coriander leaves.

I like to leave all these ingredients in separate little bowls during prep, and then I toss it all together just before serving.

Makes about 6-8 servings.

Enjoy!

The post Pomegranate, Pistachio and Broccoli Salad appeared first on Alison Chino.

12 miles 

 2500 ft of elevation up and  3000 ft of elevation down

We woke up to sunshine on the last day of our walk on the GR7.

I had originally planned for us to only walk the five miles to Pampaneira. However it seemed like such a shame to not spend the whole day in the sunshine, so I extended the walk to Soportújar. We would go 12 miles instead of only five or six. We couldn’t do two short days in a row!

We fueled up early on this day. Two twin brothers ran the hotel where we were staying. They served us the usual toast with ham, cheese, tomato and olive oil. The bread for this toast was delivered fresh every morning in each place we stayed.

I (per usual) also asked for hard-boiled eggs and we kept our hosts busy with our requests for multiple coffees.

Whenever I would say, does anyone need more coffee?

The answer was always YES.

These brothers were so kind and patient with us!

We finally drank our last sips of coffee and got out of their way.

We descended out of Capileira quickly. It was cold so we were anxious to get into the morning sun.

It’s hard to describe how steep the descent was that morning. We first dropped into the valley, crossed the Poqueira River and had to climb back out.

Then once we got to the other side of the gorge, we went downhill for the rest of the morning.

The day was so beautiful that it made me a little teary. I am always sad when a walk ends, but this week had gone by so fast and this day was so gorgeous, I sort of wanted it to go on forever, a sentiment I would later make me laugh.

The Poqueira Gorge or barranco, as it is called in Spanish, is absolutely stunning. The hills climb steeply up both sides of the river and are covered in olive and almond trees.

When I see terraced farms on steep hillsides, I wonder at humanity. Honestly, how did we ever begin to farm this kind of terrain?

When I got home from this trip I read a book called Driving Over Lemons by Chris Stewart, which is about one family’s experience of moving to this part of the world to work this land. It’s a good read, both for how funny it is and because of the glimpse you get into the world of the folks who still live and work up in these mountains.

It felt like we spent the whole morning losing all the height we had gained throughout the week.

We got down to where we could see Pampaneira, but it was still probably an hour before we made it into the village.

We had a small break when we got down to where we crossed the river again.

I pulled out my fig log and cut off little chunks as treats and hopefully motivation for the final push.

Everyone was hungry and ready for some lunch in town.

Pampaneira isn’t very high on the side of the gorge, but it was still a short climb for us to get into the town.

This village is a popular stop for folks who are visiting Alpujarran pueblos blancos, so it had more people in it than we had seen all week.

I think one of the draws might be the local chocolatier. She certainly got our business.

We had a quick wander about town and a snack in the square. I gave everyone an hour to spend in the village, most of which I spent in the square people-watching. We managed to drop a fairly astonishing amount of money in Pampaneira in one hour. I might have instigated a bit of panic shopping by not giving everyone more time. But sooner than everyone wanted, it was time to push on and continue our hike, with backpacks just a little bit fuller.

Bye Bye Pampaneira! We hope to see you again one day.

We had to drop back to the river and cross it a third time before rising again. Before we left the gorge, we could look back and see both Pampaneira and Bubion in the distance behind us.

The towns got smaller and smaller as we climbed away from them. The trail map for the afternoon looked fairly easy. Instead of climbing up for a long time and descending for a long time, the trail went steadily up and down. It looked like a gentle ramble.

Unfortunately, the steady ups and downs were on a rough trail that wasn’t nearly as traveled as the one we’d been on in the morning. And they were not long drops or climbs but they were steep. So it was a lot of work.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun beat down and it was not long before we grew both tired and hot.

And so I got my wish. This day DID go on forever.

We kept on hiking for hours and hours before we finally arrived in the witch-themed town of Soportújar.

Truly, the town has witches everywhere. I’m not sure why but it’s quite cute. You can even visit Hansel and Gretel’s house. (Not a Spanish fairy tale, but who cares?)

We made a quick effort to see the town before we posted up in the main road and ordered food and drinks like we hadn’t eaten all week.

I remember having the best salad of my life. (I’m sure that how good it tasted had nothing to do with the extra hours of walking in the sun.)

But even though it was a long last day, I was grateful to feel like when we left the GR7, I had given my all.

It always feels good to push hard on the last day. I’m sure my fellow hikers agree, now that it’s behind us. We left the witchy town in a taxi to stay in a town where we could catch a super early bus back to Granada the next morning, where we spent one more day together touring the Alhambra before saying goodbye.

It was a grand adventure, and I’m so grateful to this sweet group for joining me in the Alpujarran hills! Let’s do it again soon y’all!

This is the sixth in a series of posts about hiking the GR7 in Spain in the Alpujarras. Many of the photos come from my fellow hikers: Kristie, Eve, Zoe, Alexis and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

If you enjoy reading about my walks, consider subscribing to get future updates.

The post GR7 in Spain Day 6: Capileira to Soportújar appeared first on Alison Chino.

6 miles 

1500 ft of elevation up and 800 ft of elevation down

We had a slightly later start on Day 5 of the GR7 as we were not trying to cover as many miles.

I had a second loop hike above Capileira in reserve in case we arrived with a lot of steam still in our engines, but after the long slog of Day 4, we were all more than content with a shorter day.

A little rain was predicted in the morning with heavier showers in the afternoon. We hoped to be done hiking for the day before any heavy rain arrived.

It started to sprinkle a bit on us as we left Pitres.

However, as soon as we put on our rain jackets and pack covers, the rain stopped.

We had a steady climb out of Pitres and then a meandering wander on the trail towards Capileira.

Capileira is the highest of three villages in the Poqueira Gorge, the other two are Bubion and Pampaneira. We would descend part of the way into the gorge today to Bubion, then climb to Capileira.

Then on our final day we would hike down the opposite site of the gorge to Pampaneira and on to our final stop on the trail, Soportújar.

When we got to a big rock formation called Peña de Angel, we could see down into the Poqueira Gorge.

It was fun to be able to see our destination so early in the day, especially since we had opted not to carry lunch.

We descended quickly into Bubion and started to look for a food spot.

These three villages are so high that they are consistently colder than the lower villages we’d been through.

But we were grateful that the heavy rains had stayed away.

In town there was not a lot open. The restaurant I had picked out would not be open until 1pm, so we found a coffee shop that was still serving breakfast and just starting to have some lunch on offer. The owner told us there was a vegetable soup on offer, which several of us ordered.

The Spanish tortilla I was hoping to have for lunch was not an option, so I asked if it would be possible to just have hard-boiled eggs.

It’s unusual to have eggs for breakfast in Spain, but I’ve started asking if it’s possible to have hard-boiled eggs. I have found this off-the-menu request to be more likely to be accommodated than if I ask for eggs cooked some other way.

Everyone else said they also wanted an egg. The waiter was a little taken aback when I asked for six hard boiled eggs, but he brought them to me anyway and then was relieved that I was sharing them with friends.

We also had more cafe con leche of course.

We left Bubion happily fueled up for the last mile or so of our hike up to Capileira.

The sun even came out for a little while as we made our way up the hill. Part of the trail had washed out from heavy rains in early March so we walked some on the road. One side of the road had fallen away down the side of the hill, reducing the traffic to one lane.

But we found our way through a small wood and over the road into the next town up.

Even though Treveléz is officially the highest village in the Alpujarras, somehow Capileira feels higher. The views down the gorge make it feel like you are way up high.

And the village feels like a remote, far away place.

I loved all the villages we visited on this walk. They each had their own charm. But I think if I had to choose one as my favorite, it would be Capileira. Maybe it was just that we arrived here earlier in the day and had more time to enjoy it.

Almost as soon as we got into town, it started to rain harder. So we checked into our rooms and then went to find a warm spot to enjoy being out of the weather.

We found a bar around the corner where we posted up for the afternoon playing cards before going back to our rooms for naps before dinner.

Before dinner we did a little shopping in the small village. There were beautiful handmade rugs and baskets for sale along the main street.

At dinner, I asked for salad and was grateful for some lettuce with my other pickled veggies from jars. These veggies are a standard part of mixed salads in Spain, especially at this time of year. Spring had not quite reached these high villages.

The rain was still falling when we walked back to our rooms, but the usual end-of-dinner offerings from random, unmarked jars of spirits kept us warm. Capileira’s offerings came in lemon or coffee flavored. Both were delightful.

Even with the short day, I fell asleep quickly. I slept hard in this sweet village perched high on a hill.

I could not believe we only had one more day of walking! The week had gone by so fast.

This is the fifth in a series of posts about hiking the GR7 in Spain in the Alpujarras. Many of the photos come from my fellow hikers: Kristie, Eve, Zoe, Alexis and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

If you enjoy reading about my walks, consider subscribing to get future updates.

The post GR7 in Spain Day 5: Pitres to Capileira appeared first on Alison Chino.

11 miles 

2650 ft of elevation up and 3625 ft of elevation down

Alternate title for this day: Does anyone see the trail?

After waiting for what seemed like forever for breakfast at our lodging in Trevélez, we finally set off on Day 4 of the GR7 after 9am.

We climbed to the top of the quiet village under a cover of clouds, and warmed up quickly in the cool morning air.

When the village ended, we still kept climbing up through mountain farms.

We passed sheep and horses. Dogs and cats.

We criss-crossed the edges of steep slopes, crops planted unfathomably on hills.

Farming already seems like awfully hard work to me on a flat plain, but mountainside farming must be hard on a whole other level.

We rose high above the town of Trevélez fairly quickly.

Early in the day we missed one or two of the GR7 marks and had to back track to find our way.

The red and white markings are usually easy to spot, but there are places where the markings have faded and other places where they are marked along overgrown tracks that no longer resemble a worn trail.

We determined that perhaps this section of the GR7 is less-traveled than the previous days.

For the beginning and ending parts of the day we traveled along a dirt track. Waving goodbye to Trevélez, we looked across the valley at the trail we had been on the previous day. We were drawing a big U-shape with our footsteps with our entrance into and departure from the jamon-themed village.

After a while the trail curved away from the valley and we could no longer see the town behind us.

And soon after leaving the dirt track, the trail seemed to disappear.

It would later reappear, seemingly out of nowhere, complete with clear markings, only to disappear fifteen minutes later.

I used my GPS to follow where the trail should be but often we would have to turn around and find a different way because the way was covered in large branches or impassable overgrowth.

It was slow-going to say the least, and a bit frustrating. We stopped for a snack on a wide expanse of rocks. Someone must have placed them there intentionally at some point, but what for we never figured out.

The rocks served as a good resting point. While the gals had some snacks, I went to scope out the next stretch of trail, looking for the least overgrown way forward.

We later discovered that the recent heavy rains had washed away parts of our trail and covered other bits with lots of debris, which we navigated as best we could.

There were a few falls, several slips and many scrapes and scratches as we traveled the miles between Trevélez and Pitres. It was a trying day to be sure.

I would rejoice when we found a marker or a clear bit of trail. Then I would feel downtrodden fifteen minutes later at losing it again.

We made our way forward, slowly but surely inching closer to our destination.

We stopped for lunch after finally reaching a dirt track again.

When I sat down to eat, I practically fell asleep on my pack.

Apparently getting lost is very tiring!

I was relieved to discover that after lunch we could just follow the dirt track the rest of the way down into town if necessary.

It was a long way down into town, so we stayed on a trail that was shorter than the road. However it crossed the switchbacks of the dirt road over and over again so it was always nearby if we needed it.

At some point we caught up to a cat that walked with us most of the way down. Our new companion charmed the girls so much that they perked up at the end of a long day.

Between our late start and the slow progress of bush-wacking, this day seemed to wear on forever.

We reached a point where we could see Pórtugos, a town that was just a mile or two before Pitres. We decided we would stop in Pórtugos for much needed refreshment and call it the end of the day.

While we rested, we expressed much gratitude for finally being off the mountain.

Then we decided to take a picture of how we all really felt at this point in the day.

Laughing, we filed into Pórtugos and found a young waiter willing to bring us veggies and drinks even though the restaurant was shutting down for the afternoon.

We ordered up a big plate of patatas a lo pobre (poor man’s potatoes) with eggs on top.

The waiter laughed at our bad Spanish and at how ravenous we all were.

We never wanted to leave, but eventually it was time to walk the last mile to Pitres and find our hotel.

Pitres was so quiet when we arrived that for a moment, I wasn’t sure it was inhabited.

I interrupted an older gentleman’s nap at the hotel in order to ask for our rooms. He was sleeping around the corner from the desk in an armchair.

After I disturbed him a second time for the wifi code, I told the gals that we needed to let that poor man sleep. No more questions.

Which was fine, because they all crawled into their beds for naps as well.

After a warm shower, I went to make dinner arrangements. After the previous night’s terrible meal and the morning’s disappointing breakfast, we were overdue for some yummy food. I felt we had earned it after the day we’d had.

Thankfully, in Pitres, there is a master chef from Malaga who came to the countryside for a quiet life. He opened this beautiful restaurant overlooking the mountains in Pitres and serves up his gorgeous creations each night to the lucky few who wander into the village and find him.

We were the only ones at El Jardin del Mirador that night. I had to drag the gals out of bed and up the hill to the restaurant. We walked up there feeling like we could just as easily have gone to bed rather than have dinner at all.

At El Jardin de Mirador, there are tables outside with beautiful views, but the temps were dropping as we arrived so we sat inside the small cozy spot.

Our host listed off the various dishes he could make for us and everyone chose different ones so we would have a variety.

He cooked all the meat on his grill, and then he would come inside and hand our plates through a little window from the kitchen.

We were all revived as we enthusiastically oohed and ahhhed over every dish that came through the window.

The chef told us he had been in Pitres for several years, but that he had grown tired of the small-mindedness of the village.

Everyone in this town would rather just have a pizza place!

He said he was headed back to Malaga soon to open a new restaurant there.

When we discovered that El Mirador was in its last season, it felt so special that we had spent an evening there.

It was like we found a secret (and temporary) door that opened onto the best meal of our whole week.

We promised to come find him in Malaga when we next returned to Spain.

He couldn’t believe how far we were walking. Then he told us that we were sure to be in the rain the whole next day.

Oh no, I said. It won’t rain on us. 

At the end of the night, he poured out goodbye shots. It was Zoco, a Spanish liqueur made from sloe berries.

We giggled and talked on top of each other all the way back to the hotel.

It’s amazing how a good meal and a lovely evening can wash away even the roughest of days.

This is the fourth in a series of posts about hiking the GR7 in Spain in the Alpujarras. Many of the photos come from my fellow hikers: Kristie, Eve, Zoe, Alexis and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

If you enjoy reading about my wanderings, consider subscribing to get future updates.

The post GR7 in Spain Day 4: Trevélez to Pitres appeared first on Alison Chino.

11 miles

3000 feet of elevation up and 2200 of elevation down

We woke up early for Day 3 of our walk on the GR7 in Spain.

Because we had our breakfast already prepared in the fridge we could choose the time, a small luxury when you’re at the mercy of B&B hosts and their schedules.

So we had a 7:30am breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, toast, yogurt, granola, fresh fruit and a cheese and cured meats platter. It was a massive amount of breakfast compared to the previous days and we ended up packing up some of it into our equally massive sack lunches.

Then we strapped on our packs and started to climb out of Bérchules into the hills.

I love going uphill in the morning if there is a little chill in the air. The cold pushes you to climb just a little faster so that you warm up.

We were going to cross our highest point of the week so we had a lot of climbing to do. 

We weren’t climbing the Mulhacen but we were going to hike up to what would be our best view of it. 

High in the Alpujarran hills, I expected that we might even spot snow. 

After a good start at climbing we stopped for a midmorning break on the hillside. We broke out the rest of breakfast and even a bit of lunch though it was still before 11.

After our break we walked steadily uphill and came to a forest where we did indeed find some snow that had not yet melted. The shade of the trees protected some little frozen patches.

It certainly wasn’t an amount to have fretted over as I had done just a bit when I had arrived in Granada and glimpsed the snow topped Sierra Nevada, living up to its name. 

It was just enough snow to be fun, exciting to glimpse evidence that we were right at the beginning of the proper hiking season. 

We had the mountains all to ourselves. We passed no other hikers on this day and very few on any of the other days, which is unusual for me when hiking in Europe.

I don’t know if there is a high season for hiking the GR7, but I wouldn’t imagine it is in summer when the temperatures soar above 90 degrees F, even in the mountains.

We felt like we were hitting the trail at the exact perfect time, even if most of the villages were very quiet.

At the high point of the day (6600 feet), we took lots of photos while the Mulhacen darted in and out of the clouds behind us.

We were all feeling the exhilaration of making it to the highest point of the week.

The mountain vibes were in full effect!

I think we all managed to leave this spot with a new hiking profile pic. 

It was a little early for another food stop so we carried on along a dirt road that started to descend.

When our tummies started rumbling, we found an outcropping of rocks just off the trail for our picnic. 

We were all super excited for our packed lunches as our host in Berchules had gone all out. 

Besides the usual sandwiches and crisps, she included many small treasures: little foil packs of sliced cucumbers, dried figs, hard boiled eggs and little juice boxes.

After our feast, we had some naps, or at least resting our eyes.

We had used a lot of energy on the climb.

After naps, it was time to descend. 

And descend and descend. 

Oh how my knees miss climbing when it’s time to go down. 

Grateful for the trekking poles that save our joints, we kept descending until soon we could spot Trevélez in the valley below. 

The mountains seemed even bigger, while the town seemed to stay far in the distance.

Trevélez is the highest village in Spain.

The village is famous for hams. Jamon de Trevelez is famous all over Spain and especially all over Andalucia. The hams cure in the mountain air in warehouses.

And I believe the pigs are corn-fed to make the taste of the ham even better.

Eventually the village got close enough that we knew we were almost there.

We came up over one more hill and then wow, we were so close!

Finally, beautiful Treveléz.

To get into town we crossed over a river, and so true to our trip theme, we had to make a stop to make love to the water.

After the long descent, it felt so good to soak our feet in the freezing cold mountain water.

I got all the way in up to my knees to help with inflammation.

After we checked into our rooms, we found a cafe with a table in the sun and immediately ordered up some drinks and of course, some Trevélez jamon.

The gals said it was delish, and I took their word for it since I don’t eat meat.

Once we’d rested for a long while, we wandered about the village.

I took so many photos of these handmade pot covers.

The whole village was decorated in these brightly colored crocheted pot covers and banners.

And of course, with hams.

You could purchase both in just about every shop.

In fact, this village had more shops than any of our previous stops so my fellow hikers found some treasures to fill the very little space left in their backpacks.

There were large warehouses where the hams were hanging to cure.

But we never saw any live pigs, which confused us until we realized that the hams are sent to the mountain village to cure, but the pigs aren’t actually raised there. Zoë discovered this by asking the locals questions in Spanish. Since she couldn’t remember the word in Spanish for “pig”, she asked (to the immediate amusement of everyone around us) “Where are the hams that are not dead?”

You can buy anything in the shape of a ham in Trevélez: earrings, key chains, magnets. You can even press the shape of a ham onto a penny as a souvenir.

It was a good thing we ate such a lovely snack and drinks in the square when we arrived because our hostess wasn’t quite open for the season yet. We realized this when everything we had for dinner was brought out from her freezer. It was not our best meal of the week, but we ate it gratefully and went to bed, super tired and dreaming of hams.

This is the third in a series of posts about a week of hiking the GR7 in Spain in the Alpujarras in early Spring (March/April). Many of the photos come from my fellow hikers: Kristie, Eve, Zoe, Alexis and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

If you enjoy reading about my wanderings, consider subscribing to get future updates.

The post GR7 in Spain Day 3: Bérchules to Trevélez appeared first on Alison Chino.

OR

alternatively this day could be titled:

Make Love to the Water

We headed out early on Day 2, our first REAL walking day on the GR7. We would cover over 10 miles with some more significant elevation drops and gains on our way to the next village on our itinerary: Bérchules.

We headed downhill out of Yegen into the morning sunshine.

It was a beautiful spring day, exactly the kind I dream about when I am training throughout the winter in the cold rain.

Much of our trail was made up of old donkey tracks that had been paved over, so we pounded the pavement for miles.

Whenever the tracks turned to gravel, my knees and ankles were grateful for a little more give in the ground, even if the dusty trails kicked up bits of rock into our shoes.

The trail markings on the GR7 are generally very good, but occasionally we had trouble spotting them. Sometimes the sun had faded the paint on the marker,  and the whole post blended into the mountainside. You had to get closer to spot it.

Soon the sun rose high enough in the sky to reach us on the trail and we warmed up fast, shedding layers and drinking more water.

After descending a while, we started to climb to Mecina Bombaron, a village that we had planned to stop in if there was an open cafe as it was the only one we would pass through on this day. Originally I had planned for us to sleep in Cadiar, but there hadn’t been a place to stay that was open for the season and would hold all six of us, so we were pushing on to Bércheles, skirting around Cadiar altogether, opting to avoid an extra 1000 ft drop down and back up again.

It was already a steady uphill climb to the next village without dropping down to Cadiar, but the cool mountain air made for such a pleasant morning of walking.

I wanted us to log several miles before the sun got too high, but a theme of this trail is that if you find an open cafe, you should go ahead and stop, even if you aren’t too hungry or tired yet, because there might not be another one for a long time.

So we took full advantage of the open bar in Mecina Bombaron and stopped for second breakfast. (Our first breakfast had been instant coffee, yogurt cups and fruit from the tiny supermarket in Yegen.)

Fresh squeezed orange juice in Spain is one of my most favorite treats, so I ordered up a round of jugo de naranja and cafe con leche.

We also had the ubiquitous toast with tomato puree, olive oil, ham and cheese before moving along through the village.

Mecina Bombaron carried on the “book” theme from Yegen, another nod to the famous author that lived and wrote there.

As we left the village, we stopped at a fountain to refill our water bottles.

An older gentleman was drinking from the fountain and told us that the water from this particular fountain was the very best in all of the Alpujarras.

Then he put his whole head under the fountain, turning it from side to side and just letting the water run down his face.

He gestured to us to follow his example.

I wasn’t quite hot enough yet to be dunking my head in the cold fountain, but he was insistent.

You can’t only drink it, you must MAKE LOVE to the water!

Clearly we were not convinced, so he continued,

If you do not play, you will miss your life!

I was trying to decide if I was going to volunteer when Zoe removed her her hat and stuck her head in the water.

The old man was so delighted and we all cheered for her.

Most of us had just met Zoe, but we all fell in love with her when she stuck her head in that fountain.

We were all laughing as we left the village to rejoin the GR7, and just like that, Make love to the water! became both a catchphrase and theme of our whole trip.

We would come back to it again and again.

I love a good swim on a hot day, especially after a hike, but now I will forever phrase the glory of a post-hike dip as making love to the water.

The day began to properly heat up as we carried on, so were glad we had all re-filled bottles at the fountain.

By the time we decided to stop for lunch, everyone would probably have been happy to find a little water to dunk our heads into, but we were up high and there was none to be found.

We did find the perfect picnic spot though, high on the trail and across the valley from our destination.

Bérchules seemed close enough to reach out and touch, but in reality it was further away than we imagined.

We ate our packed lunches on sunny rocks looking over the valley and just soaking up the beautiful day.

After lunch, we carried on down a road that seemed like it was heading away from Berchules in the opposite direction, but then Kelsy spotted a gate that had some faint markings for the GR7 on it.

We opened it up and took the small track behind it down into the valley.

The valley had a fairly steep drop off to our left so we couldn’t quite see how we were going to cross it, but the trail revealed itself as we carried on.

As trails often do.

Walking a new trail requires a bit of faith. Sometimes you have to move forward without being able to see what’s ahead.

You have to believe that the way will emerge as you carry on. There will be a way. You just don’t know what it looks like yet.

Then you come around a rock and you see the trail start to cut switchbacks back and forth across what seemed like an impossible ravine edge.

From below, we looked back up at the layers of rock we had come down and the trail seemed to have disappeared behind us.

A small river cut through the bottom of the ravine. We walked across the bridge over the river and onto the trail on the other side before I realized that we should absolutely not pass up an opportunity to make love to the water!

Y’all! We should go back and make love to that water! And so we did.

Because we don’t want to miss our lives by not playing.

And also icy cold water on tired feet is SUCH a balm!

Then we dried off, put our boots back on and climbed the hill to the village.

By now it was getting on in the afternoon and we were craving our post-hike drinks and snacks.

We hoped that everything wasn’t closed for siesta yet!

Fortunately there was an open bar in town, so we made our way inside and collapsed at a long table. The bar had some cheese puffs for sale on the wall. So we grabbed a bag and dumped it out on the table.

I think we finished them all before our drinks even came.

Clearly, we needed to pack more lunch tomorrow. We also ordered an extra large sandwich that looked like a giant doughnut. You cut it into pieces to have several small sandwiches. So clever.

After our bar stop, we found the hotel where we were staying, but they were having a plumbing problem. The water had been turned off in the entire hotel, which also included the restaurant where we were hoping to have dinner.

But our sweet hosts, a mother and daughter from the Netherlands, had prepared some other apartments they own for us. They usually rent them out by the week but they offered them to us in place of the hotel rooms.

They turned out to be so beautiful with balconies overlooking the Alpujarras and little fridges stocked with drinks.

We all said we would LOVE to come back and stay in them for longer.

We spread out over the balconies and soaked up the last of the sunshine.

We laughed about the day and looked at the map for the next day’s hike while our hosts cooked us the most beautiful dinner.

A Moroccan dish cooked in a clay tagine with beans and veggies.

They also brought us breakfast for the next morning and generous sack lunches for the next day.

We felt so spoiled and as I went to sleep I said a little prayer that our sweet hosts would be able to get the hotel plumbing fixed before the Easter Holidays. Apparently it’s really hard to get work done in these remote villages and our hosts were on the cusp of the busier season, so they really needed a plumber to come.

Because obviously you need working toilets, sinks and showers in a hotel. I was so grateful that we had not had to forgo showers!

After a hike, a shower feels so good. You just want to stay in there forever. It’s like making love to the water.

This is the second in a series of posts about a week of hiking the GR7 in Spain in the Alpujarras. Many of the photos were taken by my fellow hikers: Kristie, Eve, Zoe, Alexis and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

If you enjoy reading about my wanderings, consider subscribing to get future updates.

The post GR7 in Spain Day 2: Yegen to Bérchules appeared first on Alison Chino.

It’s often a mystery to me how a trail ends up on my list of ones I’m hoping to get around to. I heard about the GR7 in Spain from several sources, but I think the main reason I finally put it on the calendar and made it happen is that the portion of this trial in Andalucía is so far south in Europe that it can be comfortably hiked in early spring.

The GR trails are a massive network of trails all over Europe. I believe they started in France so GR stands for Grandes Randonnées, but in Spain they are called the Grans Recorridos. And they have different names in other countries, but mainly a GR is a long trail, a way to wander around Europe in the most delightful way possible…on foot.

The GR7 runs through France, Andorra and Spain. The portion that runs through the Alpujarras in the Sierra Nevada in the far south of Spain seemed like the perfect next journey for my crew of spring hikers who are game to head off just about anywhere I suggest within reason. We roped in a couple of new friends and off we went!

We met in late in March in Granada, where the sunshine was plentiful but the evening temps still required puffy jackets. Perfect for hiking. We could even see snow in the mountains in the distance.

We had an afternoon and evening in Granada before taking off for those mountains.

It was just long enough in Granada to want a little more time, so we were glad we had booked another day there at the end of our trip to see the Alhambra.

We wandered the old town and found our way to a drinks spot with a view of the Alhambra.

Some of us were just meeting and some of us hadn’t seen each other since last year so we had lots of catching up to do.

We laughed over drinks and then once we were too cold too sit outside any longer, we climbed higher to a Moroccan restaurant where we had dinner.

Before the food came we warmed up with the most beautiful pots of tea.

It was just the beginning of noticing all the North African influences in Andalucía for my group. The next morning we stopped for breakfast at a cafe with colorful lamps everywhere that reminded me of the teapots from the night before.

The Hike Begins

I had requested that we make a very early start from Granada so we would have time to stop for breakfast along the way. So at 7:06am we left our hotel and walked the two miles to the spot in Granada where we were catching the bus to the Alpujarras. I had planned only a five mile walk on the start of the trail that afternoon, so it seemed like a good idea to add a couple miles more that morning.

As I marched us through the quiet morning streets of Granada, my newbies expressed a little consternation to their friends about how quickly we were moving.

Kristie and Alexis confessed to me later that they had both reassured Eve and Zoe that I would not walk this fast all week. But it was cold and dark and I did not want us to miss our bus. The next one was at 5:40pm. So yes, I was moving quickly.

We stopped for a quick coffee and a classic Spanish breakfast: bread spread with tomato puree, olive oil, ham and cheese. (We would see A LOT of this breakfast in the week ahead!) Of course, I was tapping my toe and rushing everyone along so that we could get over to the bus stop and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The bus was late enough that I started to research other ways to get into the Alpujarras.

It was late enough that I asked random people at the bus stop where they were going and if they knew anything about the Alsa Bus to the Alpujarras.

It was late enough that any bus that came along, I boarded and asked if the driver had any information about the Alsa Bus to the Alpujarras.

I was starting to formulate a plan about what we could do for the day if we had to wait for the 5:40pm bus. Had we missed the morning bus? Had it come early?

I wasn’t in a panic, but my brain was in overdrive creating Plans B, C and D.

And then the bus arrived exactly 37 minutes late.

We got on. I let everyone know we would be on it for a while and the road getting into the mountains would have a lot of twists and turns. So several of my jet-lagged American friends fell asleep as we made our way out of Granada and up into the hills. After about an hour, we stopped in Lanjaron where I would spend a week the following September. Then we drove through some of the towns we would walk back through. The road snaked up and up, and I was amazed that the driver could navigate such a large bus around all the narrow curves.

After several hours on winding roads, the driver pulled over on the side of the highway and let us out in the absolute middle of nowhere. From the side of the road, I directed my sleepy friends up a small lane in the sun where we reached the very quiet village of Mecina Alfahar. I had hoped we might have some lunch there, but thankfully we all were prepared with snacks because there was a whole lot of nothing open in Mecina Alfahar, which would be a bit of a theme on this trail.

So we pulled out our oranges and snack bars and headed up the hill to find the trail.

We hiked a few miles in the hot sun before we reached the village of Válor, which thankfully, had an open cafe!

We were able to get some food (Spanish tortilla!!) and a drink I had recently learned about on a previous trip: Tinto Verano.

Tinto is red wine and verano means summer, so this beverage is cold red wine mixed with sparkling lemonade. It seems more common in Andalucía than sangria and I like it better. (But it’s hard to steer me away from a cold Spanish lager.)

After some refreshment, we carried on in the hot spring sunshine. Because of the bus and the late start, we were walking at the hottest part of the day, which helped us be motivated to get an earlier start the next few days.

All the villages have spring fed fountains with water from the mountains, so we would refill and cool off with a little splash here and there.

We rolled into Yegen a little after 4pm.

Ending the GR7 in Spain in Yegen on Day 1

Most of the villages of the Alpujarras are pretty chill. But Yegen is next-level quiet.

Its claim to fame is that British author George Brenan lived here in the 1920s. I had never heard of him but his book South From Granada is a bit of a British classic about Spain and I later read it. The most amazing part of his story is that when he lived here, the village was only accessible by donkey or foot, so if he had visitors, he would walk all the way to Granada to escort them back to his house. He regularly WALKED the journey that took us over three hours by bus. I had to pause reading the book on multiple occasions to just wonder at his wild scrambles across the Alpujarras.

But now, even though you can drive a car to Yegen, the village is probably less populated than it was in George Brenan’s day. There is a tiny little supermarket at the bottom of the village that we explored to restock our snacks for the next day and for breakfast because our host wasn’t serving breakfast until 9am and I wanted us on the trail well before then.

We rinsed out our sweaty clothes and then tried to catch all the remaining sunshine before the evening air brought in the chill.

By dinnertime, we were cold enough for a fire. We were staying in the only pub in town but it was closed on the day we arrived. However, our host, an Irish lady who had moved to Yegen over 20 years ago, agreed to make us dinner. She reminded us more than once that it was her day off, and so we felt a little awkward about coming up for dinner, but there was nowhere else in town to eat and we had exhausted the resources of the little supermarket.

While we enjoyed the fire in the chilly dining room, she gave us our choices (pork belly or steak, veggie plate for me) and then headed off to the kitchen to prepare everything. We devoured the food when it came which was good because very soon it was time for us to go. Our host had a lot to do, and again reminded us that it was supposed to be her day off.

So we went to our rooms like good little children and she locked the doors behind us so we wouldn’t help ourselves to more drinks in the pub.

Thankfully there was another door to the outside from the hallway, so we could get out the next morning.

Before we went to sleep, we made cups of tea in our rooms and watched the most beautiful Alpujarran sunset through the windows before settling into bed. The early start had caught up to us. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

This is the first in a series of posts about a week of hiking the GR7 in Spain in the Alpujarras. Many of the photos were taken by my fellow hikers: Kristie, Eve, Zoe, Alexis and Kelsy! I’m super thankful to them for trusting me to lead them on this adventure. 

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