cuentos Almoradi

I thankfully follow him up the powdered trail into the evening. Even with my face an overripe beef tomato, my heart thudding, my back dripping sweat and my leg aching I was thankful for these physical exertions. For last year I broke my femur and at times thought this type of activity was going to be no longer possible. That would detract greatly from my enjoyment of Spain.
For he has given me the gift of these high sierras. The puffs of dust, the scramble of rocks. The pine scented ascent, with rosemary and thyme underfoot. The whole region twinkling into night beneath us as we reach the peak. The descent in darkness by the full moon. A rustle from the bushes, a goat's bleat from the ridges, a snake's inky squiggle from the path before us. An owl's hoot.
One day I was in his flat and he was preparing for a two day 'Raid' in these very sierras. It involved orienteering, climbing, running, archery, swimming, canoeing, abseiling among other pursuits. It was a team activity and he and his teammates had already scouted the area for possible routes and shortcuts many times.
On his table that day he had a map spread out across his table describing to me where he thought the route might be, pointing out the elevations and tight-packed contour lines which might prove challenging. He took a photo on his phone of a part of the map and sent it to his teammates flagging up this possible difficulty. There was such attention to detail: needlessly, I thought.
"Why do you give this so much of your time?" I asked.
He looked at me and I could see that he was trying to find the right phrasing in English for me to understand. I could see his thinking, his humming and hawing and then he said,
"It is a way to be happy."
And as I followed him this evening I was following this way to be happy. And I got there.