Andalusia – Day 5 – Canillas de Aceituno to Canillas de Albaida

Rain is forecast for the first time since arriving in Spain and the day isn’t likely to be sunny. We wake to grey, cloudy skies and there’s already a hint of the coming rain in the air.

The breakfast served by Peter and Sandor is a grand affair, a fine blend of Spanish and Dutch influences that is ideal before a long hike.

Today, we’re set to do 23 km, but I sense that could be too much for Odile so we’ll adapt as we go. The trail will take us through a couple of other white villages to Canillas de Albaida via two high points at an altitude of 800 metres each.

The day begins with a descent into the valley followed, of course, by a climb back out of said valley. Along this first section of trail, we pass an upturned shoe lying on the trail. I’m reading a pretty tense and violent thriller in the evenings and the sight of this shoe sets my imagination racing. Could there still be a foot in it? Or even half a leg? Did a fellow hiker come to a tragic and violent end here?

On reaching the bottom of the valley, we have a 150-metre climb up the other side on a patchy and stony trail that leads up to the road that we see high above us. We then follow this road to a small pass from which we are able to see the first white village, Sedella. At this point, the official trail leaves the road to climb up to a small summit before descending further on to reach the village. If we follow the road that runs more or less level to Sedella, we’ll avoid another 100-metre climb and perhaps shave a kilometre or two off the day’s total distance. Odile is totally for this option, so I silence my inner trail completist and we set off along the road.

It’s easy walking and, with a car every ten minutes or so, far from dangerous. Our presence is picked up on by every dog around, even far across the valley, and our progress is accompanied by barking, even though we never see one of the dogs. There are plenty of wild pomegranate trees along the road and we pick a couple of the fruit for later.

The entrance to Sedella is marked by a handsome Moorish-style gate and we stop at the first bar we find for a coffee.

As we sit at an outdoor table, it starts to rain quite heavily, so the rain jackets and pack covers go on before we set off again. We haven’t bothered bringing waterproof trousers as the forecast has always been for sunny days throughout the hike until a sudden change the day before. Unless the ran turns into a terrific downpour, we should be okay in our quick-dry hiking shorts.

Sedella’s main claim to fame seems to be a Roman bridge in the valley below the village. As we descend into the valley, numerous signs point to it but when we reach it, it turns out to be pretty underwhelming. And, of course, since it’s at the bottom of the valley, there’s another steep climb after we cross it.

The trail is tough to follow as we head uphill and we lose it quite a few times as we climb up another 100 metres or so. There are huge broom bushes and clumps of fennel blocking the trail at times, along with some aggressively thorny bushes that snag at our packs and clothes. Without maintenance, the trail will probably be impassible a year from now. We even end up losing track of it at an old sheepfold and find ourselves on a shortcut that will knock another kilometre off the day’s total.

The rain has eased off and it’s a relief to remove our rain jackets as we were far too hot on the steep climb with them on.

Having reached an altitude of 800 m, we now descend to 550 and the next village, Salares, where we plan to find ourselves lunch. After a pretty steep descent into the village, those plans crumble. We knew the only restaurant in the village would be closed for the day but we were counting on getting food from one of the local supermarkets. But when we reach the main square, we meet a local who tells us they are closed too. The rain starts up again, lightly, and he tells us to sit in the bus shelter until it blows over. We take stock of our supplies: the almonds and raisins bought in Malaga, a few sports gels and a couple of pomegranates. Not great fuel to keep us going to Canillas de Albaide…

But then the local guy suddenly reappears to tell us that the supermarket across the street has just opened. We hurry over and find that supermarket is a real overstatement. Corner shop would be more precise and even that would be too grand for this place. It’s a cramped little room, virtually devoid of food supplies and with an empty fridge display. The lady running it says something about a fiesta the day before that cleared the place out and that she’ll have more supplies the next day. We leave with a couple of apples and a bag of chocolate-chip biscuits that represent around 50% of her stock – we didn’t need the toilet roll and the washing-up liquid!

As we sit on the square for this very frugal lunch (the pomegranates that we picked aren’t quite ripe), the sky turns cloudy again and a huge black cloud begins to descend from La Maroma. We don’t waste any time and get moving again.

After Sedella’s Roman bridge, Salares’ claim to fame is an Arab bridge from the days when the Moors ruled Andalusia. It stands in a valley just below the village and, after crossing it, we seize the chance to take another short cut for the climb back up to 800 metres. The official trail follows a long loop through the hills and probably climbs much more gently but with rain threatening, we opt for the steeper short cut that will get us to the top more quickly and knock 2 km off the day’s total.

It’s a stiff climb, but the trail is fairly easy to follow and we don’t stray from it. The rain starts to fall again, a little more heavily now, and, just before we hit the dirt road at the top of the climb, the rain jackets and pack covers go back on. At this point, we’re back up to 800 metres and now have to descend towards Canillas de Albaida. The rain is getting heavier and, after a first section of the descent on a dirt road, the rest is on a surfaced road that becomes increasingly steep as we head down. The road surface is pretty slippery from the rain. My hiking shoes maintain a good grip on this surface, but Odile has a hard time keeping her balance and walks on the uneven ground at the side of the road whenever she can. She finds this particularly tiring.

We finally spot Canaillas de Albaida in the distance. To reach it, we need to descend to 450 metres and then climb back up 150 metres to the village.

After a lengthy descent on the wet road, the trail turns off onto a path that zigzags down the hillside to another Roman bridge before zigzagging back up the other side to the village. The rain has eased off now and, on reaching the bridge, the rain jackets come off before the climb back up,

It’s another steep one and Odile finds it very tough. I won’t add the photo I took of her arriving in the village to this blog as she would not be pleased, but the look of exhaustion on her face speaks volumes.

Our accommodation in Canaillas de Albaida turns out to be at the very top of this village spread out over the hillside, which doesn’t improve Odile’s mood. But when we check in and find out there’s a restaurant just downstairs and that the room has a bath where she can soak away her aches and pains, the mood improves.

While she takes a long, hot bath, I sit out on the balcony and watch a huge storm descend on the village from the mountains we crossed earlier. If we’d arrived half an hour later, we would have been well and truly soaked, rather than just unpleasantly wet.

On checking Komoot, I see that we’ve covered 18 km and climbed 690 metres, rather than 22 km and 840 metres, thanks to the various short cuts, so I did manage to make things a little easier. Unfortunately, that won’t be possible tomorrow – we’ll just try to take more rest breaks.

Odile is much happier about life after her bath and a rest. We have a great dinner served by a very comical waiter in the restaurant just below the hotel, followed by a terrific night’s sleep before the next day’s adventures.