08/16/2011
John Clapp
“Hike Up ~ Ride Down ~ Oh I Wish That I could Fly” (certified 80% true)
Nerja Spain early '80s
Maxmillion
At the time of this adventure Maxmillion was a 22 year old dutch man born and raised in
Haarlem, Netherlands. He lived in Nerja, Spain. He claimed to have had a troubled youth but he
seemed normal and quite charming.
We somehow met in Nerja where we both lived for a time. Nerja is on the coast about 40
kilometers west of Malaga. This bustling little town allegedly has 300 bars and the theater has 600 seats and showed a different movie every night and charged only 100 pasetas for tickets, which was about a dollar.
Looking inland to the North is a verdant lush looking mountain range through which wind
Roman aqueducts the size of small streams. The stone troughs are somehow attached to sheer cliffs by
wondrous ancient Roman construction techniques. The water ends up in the farm fields around Nerja.
From Nerja, the green colored mountains looked soft and possibly wooded. Eight kilometers from Nerja the village of Frigiliana is about half way to the tallest mountains and is perched on its own
smaller mountain.
I said to Maxmillion, “Those mountains are beautiful and I think they are calling out to me.”
I looked at the map...”They are called the Sierras Tejeda Almijara Alhama.”
Max said, “Why don't we go hiking there?”
We made plans to leave early the next morning on our adventure hike.
Alarm goes off at 4:30
When I woke up, it was a pitch black moonless night. Max and I met at 5:00 and we started
walking through the village toward the outskirts of town. We each had small nap sacks with lunch
and water. Toward the edge of town near the first farm fields we noticed farm hands going into a cafe.
Max said, “John---lets get an espresso.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
We went in, sat down, and noticed the waiter putting a shot of brandy in the farm workers' espressos.
“O.K....dos espressos por favor...con brandy.”
The coffee tasted great and we felt like we really fit in with our early morning brandy buzz. Real tough guys.
We started walking......past the city lights into the pitch black night, feeling our way up the road to Frigiliana. As daylight slowly came we looked back toward Nerja and the Mediterranean. This is why we were here in Spain. The view is much like a dream.
Pillar Corneja and her companion Maria Grajillio
Pillar is a crow and Maria is a Grackle.
Pillar...”gruaak”...
Full from eating a flattened snake roadkill, on the road to Frigiliana, Pillar said to Maria...“Let's
get some water. After that let's fly around and see what's happening. Maybe flock around with our
pals.”
“Whoa!!..who the hell are these tourists? I've never seen any numbskulls on the road so
early. I hope they don't eat the rest of my snake. A-holes! ...gruaak...”
Maria echoed, “gruaaka...A-holes!” Maria didn't like snakes. She was intent on grasshoppers.
Our perspective
"...aarrgh...aarrgh...”
A crow lifted off the road in front of us. A grackle standing on the ground took off and landed on a
phone wire.
We were trudging up the foothills almost to Frigiliana, the starting point for our hike in the
wilderness.
Sitting on a tree branch nearby, Pillar thought, “Let's follow the numbskulls and see
what they do.”
We walked into the small village of Frigiliana. We already felt a bit tired. We went to a small
store and purchased some beer and snacks for our packs. Maybe not so smart an idea.
Pillar and Maria sat on a phone wire across from the store. Maria said,...”gruakka...I hope they buy us some bread.”
Pillar said, “I want some meat and popcorn...aarrgh...aarrgh! I hope the beer knocks
them out. Num nuts!”
Frigiliana is a stunningly beautiful and archaic dream village perched on a mountain with larger
mountains all around except for a straight sweeping view out over farmlands to Nerja and the
Mediterranean. The dry river Higueron is beside Frigiliana at the bottom of a steep sided little valley.
Off we go
I noticed a crow and a little black bird gliding down into the valley.
We set off down some steep streets past houses and gardens to a myriad of dozens of goat paths
and human trails that went across the dry bed of the River Higueron, up and out of the valley and into
the foothills of the mountain range. The landscape was really very stark and harsh. What seemed soft
and verdant from eight kilometers away was actually thorny bushes and scrub that goats would not eat.
We came upon an old Roman watch tower and could see others in the distance. We could see the aqua ducts in the distance seemingly glued to the sides of sheer cliffs like a 3-D contour line
imperceptibly sloping downhill. We could also see water leaking from the ducts and cascading hundreds of feet. They were much higher than we were and we felt like we were pretty high up. So much for wilderness. It became apparent that not one inch of this terrain was not stepped on countless times over thousands of years.
We followed major trails which were as wide as dirt roads. There was no sign of vehicular traffic of any kind. Dozens of trails in all directions like varicose veins made by man and animal. We saw expansive views as we walked under the scalding sun. Maybe warm beer isn't a good thirst quencher.
Maria squawked to Pillar as they landed on an old Roman watch tower, “those tourists are
losers.”
We could faintly hear the Rio Chillar rushing far below us. It could not be seen. We were worn
out and decided to head toward Nerja. We thought we could simply drop down to the river and follow
it home. We found a dry runoff bed and followed it down, down, down. It was like a little river bed with a series of steep drops of eight to twelve feet. The Rio Chillar sounded louder as we got closer. We were both excited about the river and looked forward to cooling our feet. A crow and a small blackbird swooped by and landed on a dead tree. I thought to myself, “there are a lot of crows around here.”
The terrain was rough and we were flanked by scrub brush and small gnarly trees. We came to
another drop off and when we peered over the edge we both got the willies and gasped.
I shouted....”It's at least a 150 foot drop. Oh no!” Startled, the two birds took off and flew down over the cliff, out of sight.
We were hugely disappointed. We looked to both flanks for an easier route. Every few hundred
feet there was another dry run off bed leading to the cliff. It must be spectacular during a
torrential downpour. Who knows when the last time it rained.
We climbed back up the dry runoff bed. It was much harder going up and we were running out
of energy. Our rest stops got longer and longer. Several more attempts to find the river failed.
Pillar said to Maria, “Those jerks don't have wings. Pathetic!...aarrghh”
We were very disappointed that we had to go back to Frigiliana and down the road. I so wanted
to follow the river. We made it back to a point just across the little valley from Frigiliana. It seemed so
close. Our side of the valley is very steep with narrow goat trails. Way too scary for me. I started
down a more gentle slope diagonally from Max. He was busy trying to find a trail in the other
direction.
Suddenly I heard Max cry out, “John! Hey John!”
“What's up Max?”
“John! I hurded my foot vedy bad!”
Max was sitting on the ground holding his foot. Maria thought, “Oh boy, maybe he's getting me some bread.”
“Max...I'll be right there!”
I was about 300 feet away and 150 feet lower than Max so it was a struggle to get back up to him.
“What happened Max?”
“I twisted my ankle and hurded my foot. My foot is swelled and I can't get my shoe on.”
His foot and ankle were hugely swollen. He could not walk. Hike over!
I said, “O.K. Max, I'll go over to Frigiliana and get some help. I'm very tired and it might take
some time.”
Down I went into the valley and across the dry Rio Higueron. This walk was slow and tedious. I did not want to twist my ankle. Once I got to the bottom I had to climb up the other side to town.
La Guardia Civil ~ Generalíssimo Francisco Franco Private Guards (still in operation today)
Finally I made it. I asked for directions to La Guardia Civil headquarters. Luckily their office
looked right across to Maxmillion. When I told them about our problem they took up binoculars and
looked straight across the valley at poor Max sitting on the ground. I had to convince them that this
was a real emergency and not a trifle.
I said, “Mi amigo”...I tapped my leg several times...
”Mi amigo”...I made two fists as if gripping bicycle handlebars, then twisting them like breaking a stick...”ttisshh”..a snapping sound.
La Guardia Civil thought Max may have had a broken leg. I wanted to overstate his injury so that it
would be taken seriously.
Maria looked at Pillar and said, “That guy is a liar...grrrack!..His leg's not
broken.” Pillar was hoping to eat the tourist for supper.
La Guardia Civil immediately set out to rescue Max
I was so tired that I just slowly headed down the road to Nerja. I had a grueling eight
kilometers to go. I wasn't sure if I could even make it. I saw some crows flying and a flock of grackles
grazing and I wished that I had wings. At some point an ambulance drove up the mountain to pick up
Max.
I found out the next day.....
…........that when La Guardia Civil reached Max, they decided to carry him down the mountain and
back up to the ambulance. They had a narrow stretcher which they strapped Max to. Never had Max
been so scared in his life. Some of the goat paths are barely 18 inches wide and right on sheer cliffs. If
you were dropped and survived the tumble you would likely have permanent damage. All Max could
think about was being jettisoned off the cliff so that La Guardia Civil could save themselves from
falling.
Not surprisingly, they made it down safely, and as I sat in the tub soaking my legs and feet I
heard the ambulance siren as it headed East to Malaga hospital.
Maria told Pillar that it wasn't worth the effort to follow the numbskulls all day. Pillar simply
hoped that the ambulance may have run over a frog or two.
THE END