Day 1 - Malaga Airport, June 17^th, 01 (38 Celsius)

     From Brisbane to Boulder, Vancouver to Helsinki and New York to Lancashire, the suspiciously quiet group of singles and couples ranging from 23 to 69 years boarded the minibus for the 1-hour shuttle along Andalucia's frenzied Costa Del Sol. Leaving the bustling resort towns and ambitious building projects behind, we reached the end of the motorway then turned inland rising a kilometer in only 20 minutes - arriving at a lush, mountain village setting that has scarcely aged in centuries. Welcome to the real Andalucia.
      Our starting and finishing point for the week, the pueblo of Casares, is not only one of Spain's oldest villages but it's also the most photographed. Dubbed the Hanging Village, Casares' blinding white box houses and red tiled roofs balance menacingly on one another for reasons quite unimaginable. Perched on sheer cliffs high above green fields and trickling streams, this fortress town overlooks the Campo de Gibralter down to the great rock itself yet the real eye catcher has to be Africa's imposing Rift Mountains that dominate the southern skyline. Casares is a truly remarkable place beyond description.
      This first day of the Smuggler's Delight allows the group to acclimatize, catch up on rest and to come to grips with the hustle and bustle of rural Spain. It's also a time to spend quality moments with fellow group members - typically over a bottle or two of local wine and fresh calimares.
      Soon after, we set upon inducting the group into Andalucian life by gathering for dinner on the terrace of our local Bodega where a feast of tapas awaited (just what is all that food behind the glass window at the bar?). Wine of course being the one item recognized universally was consumed in generous amounts - dispelling any nervous tension of the upcoming walks! The dishes, although initially foreign to some, required probing and prodding before favorites were discovered and soon adventurous pallets superceded any cultural food barriers.
      Finally after sharing tales of past adventures and embarrassingly guessing each other's age (as you do), the group retired to their lodgings for a crucial first night of rest.
      Most participants who join the Smugglers Delight walking holiday are aware they must be prepared for 5 days of diverse hill walking of between 4 to 6 hours a day. They also expect to stay in a wide variety of lodgings situated in remoter white villages (pueblos blancos), dotted in the hills of our region and a far cry from the busy coastal resorts. As for the daily routine, walks normally begin after a leisurely breakfast around 9am with the day lasting until 4 or 5pm - at which time we would arrive by foot or sometimes via mini bus to our new village for the night. For most, The Smugglers Delight is more than just a walking holiday. It's an exploration of Andalucia's unique Moorish culture and stunning beauty combined with the companionship of newfound friends from around the world.
      Though at times it can be challenging. Rain can fall without notice, heat can be oppressive, variations in walking speeds can alter group cohesion and "hot spots" on heels and toes can offer discomfort and slow healing. But this is adventure travel and the reality is that choosing to take part means sacrificing those familiar securities and comforts from home - at least in theory! It's the dose of reality that can prove a real test for some.

Day 2 - The Finca route to the Roman Baths

(10:13am - Group meets at fountain, central plaza Casares)

     This morning we awoke to the notion that not everything runs like clockwork in Spain. In fact, very little does - long term expats call this the Mañana Effect. Take breakfast for instance. Scheduled for 9am, served by 9:37. And what's wrong with that? Perhaps years of slavery to alarms, deadlines and targets in our own lives have conditioned us to believe that keeping time is a global concept. Not in Spain obviously. Even the village roosters don't get around to calling until mid-day...
      So we set off only 17 minutes later than schedule and were better for it. The coffee and bread tastier and best of all, we had more time to sit, talk and think - a rare luxury these days. Today's walk of 7 miles functioned as a test of the group's overall ability - offering me the chance to predict how the rest of the week could go. Hence, it was a gentle day of mostly downhill and flat walking. From the high cliffs of Casares the route descends the old cobbled Roman trail through forests of cork oak and pine and along a river gorge with steep rocky crags. Following a series of streams, aqueducts and ancient watermills, our trail terminated at the rustically preserved Roman Baths of Manilva.
      With trail lunches and water bottles in place, we departed the village and instantly stepped into the wilds of rural Andalucia. By mile 2 we'd arrived at the rustic farmhouse (finca), belonging to Jose. At 80, Jose and his 25-year-old burro are inseparable companions devoted to the labors of the finca's peaches, plums and avocados. As per custom, Jose joined the group for a drop from the wineskin - preferring to down his share in one go as we all looked on bashfully. Then to my astonishment, the group courageously shot back the remains of their own cups too - when in Rome...!
      56 year old Phyllis Ryan, a cheerful book shop owner from Vancouver then had the privilege, at Jose's insistence, of touring the animal pens where hen pecked chicks and curious piglets displayed unprecedented interest in her colorful hiking attire. It was only after samples of fresh fruit and almonds that we departed Jose's company and descended the gorge where enormous centurion plants, bamboo and fan palms provided shelter for our picnic lunch. A few hours later we reached our destination under the mighty Andalucian sun and took refuge in the cool sulfur waters of the Roman Baths. Ensuring that the usual water snakes had taken to ground (sssh, we like to hide this fact), we were able to swim deep into the cave to collect the famous mud that allegedly healed Caesar himself of skin ailments.
      So with day one completed and no casualties to report I predicted success for the remainder of the week. With only a few race walker types at the front and some birders lingering back there was an overall balance and positive chemistry to the group. And the topic of the day? International beers. Winner: Heineken...

Day 3 - The Sierra Crestillina route to the Rio Genal (The big hill day!)

     This morning, 57 year old Art Geer, a larger-than-life talk show host from Canada tackled the 45-minute ascent up the Crestillina ridge with admiration. Simply put, he left us in the dust. At the rest stop Art explained how every so often he likes to burst ahead on his own. Fair enough, but his fiery red cheeks and drenched clothes left little incentive for others to follow suit! The beauty of the day walks is that trekkers can, for the most part, set their own pace.
      Further along the ridge we were stopped in our tracks by the rustling sound of wild boars digging up roots below the trail while not far above circled enormous Griffin Vultures with their 3 meter wing spans and fearsome claws - only two of the unique species observed on route. By late afternoon we reached the shady river Genal, had a cool dip then rambled up the narrow smuggler tracks to the breathtaking village of Gaucin - our home for the night. Another successful day where the team pulled together and kept the humor alive - supporting one another along the way. Oh, and today's topic? Why white villages are white!

Day 4 - The Llanos de Libar route to Benaojan

     "Will there be more up hills like yesterday morning?", quipped Aussie retiree, Lionel Dowler. "If so, Art is welcome to carry my ruck sack - and me if he wants to as well!"
      It's always encouraging to begin a day's walk with humor from the group! Day 4 may not have the big climb but it's the longest walk of the week- and for many, the most rewarding as well. Ascending from the fierce bullfighting village of Cortes we made our way up to the tranquil Llanos de Libar meadows - home to wild deer, boar and venomous viper snakes. While meandering along a section of Phoenician cobbles we bumped into a local campanista known as Antonio. While we munched on his freshly picked fruit, Antonio told us tales of snake bites and how scorpions can invade trouser pockets - evoking the group to seek higher ground and pat their clothes in a most unusual way. Like many locals from the Andaluz countryside, he finds hobby walking somewhat bizarre, often adding, "Why not just drive or take the train to where you're going?"
      Running later than usual due to the afternoon heat we arrived at our pickup point and managed to sneak in a few cold cerbezas before the group surrendered to the hotel pool and pre-dinner siestas. Walking in dry, hot climates can take its toll on the body - especially the feet. Canadian born Irene O'Brien, a 52 year old Ph.D. student, discovered how leather boots can literally shred skin from the tops of toes. At once, Nikki Castillo, an ambitious nurse from New York was on the case and had Irene on her feet in no time. Later on, and after a dinner of tasty Pez Espada (sword fish), hot garlic soup and some lovely 1997 Rioja, most walkers took to their rooms for a well deserved night of rest - while others kept the vino flowing to the pace of UEFA Cup playoff matches. Even the remoteness of Andalucia couldn't shelter us from the world of footy! Topic of the day? Yes, football - pre-match speculations...

Day 5 - Rest day and a visit to Ronda

     After 3 days of logging solid mileage we gave the joints a rest and went off for a morning visit to the famous Andalucian town of Ronda. Brought to world attention by Hemingway and famous for it's bull ring, olives and chic white village style, Ronda is a baffling mixture of old world curiosity and tour bus madness. Even so, it provided the group with a "holiday" feeling and a chance to sample great local food and drink in the town's many taverns.

Day 6 - Back on the trail and the Rio Guadiaro route

     A bright blue sky greeted us back to Andalucia's campo this morning as we set off from the charming old village of Montejaque. Today we would trek nearly10 miles, beginning with the ascent of a cobbled Roman Messenger route and cresting a craggy ridgeline before descending through olive groves to a cave of enormous proportions. This morning, the aqua blue pools of the Cat's Cave (La Cueva del Gato), welcomed a new daredevil to sample its icy cold depths - 46 year old Kiwi and floral designer Marie Peters. With roaring support, Marie pulled off a superb cliff jump directly into the frigid sea of blue before casually swimming to shore - impressive! After Marie's display of bravery, those squirming with just their big toes in the water found little to moan about (me included!).
      Back on track and with only 2 miles left we were suffering badly from the heat and water supplies were at a minimum. This last section of the walk followed a beautiful river valley but with virtually no breeze - only hot stagnant air. We were grateful to finish eventually and even happier that the local bar was still open! Despite such a challenging afternoon the group had performed excellent all around - proving once again that collectively, group walking can draw exceptional amounts of energy and determination from people. Topic of the day? Thoughts that induce cooling off...

Day 7 - The Smuggler's routes of the Bermeja, our final trek!

     From the hotel balcony in the remote, Arabic village of Benarraba one can see the entire valley of the Bermeja - even as far as Morocco itself. This is smuggler's country and for centuries the deep chasms and dense cork forests provided shelter for all kinds of mischievous activities. Today we would explore these old passages though not for smuggling purposes - only the pleasure of being in a place of immense beauty and tranquility. Connecting four isolated, white villages in a dramatic mountain setting has always been to me, the definitive final day of the Smuggler's Delight.
      Funnily, the comments, "I've gained weight!", "So have I - my shorts won't button!", launched this morning's opening conversation. After a number of debates arguing how one could, after a week of mountain walking, gain weight the group decided it was possibly the amount of beer consumed between treks. I suggested we pick up the pace to shed "a few kilos on the final day" and the group agreed, but only if it would get us to the next pub quicker - I admitted defeat!
      At our first break we learned from a local shepherd that Genalguacil, the next village stop, would kick off their 4-day fiesta at noon today. It was this incentive that drove us up the 45 minute climb and, although arriving only minutes after twelve, we discovered that things were "a little delayed" - hence the Mañana Effect. In any event, we enjoyed our visit to this remarkable pueblo after all - soaking up the fiesta vibes and lunching in the main plaza before setting off again on route to Jubrique - an ancient village rich in Moorish history and our ultimate destination.
      To battle the heat today we refilled our bottles at a natural spring and cooled off in waterfall fed pools found in lush tropical settings on the mountain side. Lemons, oranges and cherries provided nourishment along the way while great limbs from cork trees offered a pleasant shade from the sun. By 4pm we had reached our destination and celebrated the completion of the Smuggler's Delight with ice creams from the remaining shop open during the roasting afternoon siesta - a well-deserved treat at the end of the line! Final topic of conversation? Diet recommendations for adventure holidays...
      Our final celebratory dinner was held at Casares' most charming yet least known eating establishment - La Casa Comida Benilda. Anna Garcia is actually our neighbor and at 73, she cooks a mean selection of Spanish delicacies - home made of course. In Anna's charming little house, we reflected back on the week's adventures, downing tasty dishes and consuming the infamous vino tinto verano (red summer wine). Even Anna contributed to our celebrations by singing a heart wrenching Flamenco piece that touched everyone - there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

Day 8 - Homeward Bound...

     9:24 am and breakfast has just been served (24 minutes late), though no one bats an eye. For this group of now seasoned Andaluz Trekkers, time is irrelevant these days. And so, after a lazy toast and coffee, final room checks and exchanges of email addresses we made our way back down the mountain road to the busy coast - it was airport shuttle day. Cruising along the Costa Del Sol one last time observing the robotic-like movements of the urban Andalucians and pink skinned foreigners, I sensed a collective feeling from the group. Had the trekking routes and rural life offered them insight into real Spain and possibly, had they learned anything about themselves as a result of these experiences in a land that has resisted change for centuries?
      I didn't seek these answers. Instead, I reflected silently on what they may now be seeing - 8 days after arriving. Although one thing is for certain, that the fast speaking rural Andaluz, a generous, humble and proud people welcome everyone to their mystical land. As outsiders, we are invited into their villages and homes, given food, acceptance and even advice with nothing expected in return. And if the trekkers didn't receive this hospitality during the week then I would be very surprised.
      On parting at Malaga airport, the group - some bubbling with energy while others moved in slightly stiffer motions all had a fresh, rejuvenated glow to them. Whether this was the first or fifth time on a walking holiday there was an overwhelming sense of pride in completing such an adventure. As a group leader it's always a pleasure to hear that our guests have gone on to even more challenging adventures. Perhaps some day I will follow their lead in their own walking regions!