Trails, trails and more trails

This could get addictive. Walking from village to village. Beautiful nature connecting the dots. A picturesque whitewashed hamlet as a destination to mark the kilometres travelled and to meander the timeless cobbled streets. But not for too long. The trails beckon.

And so go my days in the Sierra de Aracena. Outside of the weekend, I hardly meet a soul. The sounds I hear are the birdsong, the tinkle of bells from goats and lambs, the tap tap of horses hooves, the cockadoodle of a rooster. Oink oink! Chestnuts crashing down. The wind rustling the leaves.

The smells are a pleasant breeze from the city. The air is crisp. At times it’s summer, a floral scent as sweet as honey. The bees buzzing like crazy (perhaps busy making the delicious local honey that features in the elaborate breakfast spread at Posada San Marcos). Other times it smells like autumn, earthy fallen leaves and tangy pine.

I am fascinated by the trail systems. 1100 km worth of trails. There are GR routes (Gran Recorrido) designated with a red and white stripe, which are the long distance trails. There are shorter regional footpaths with a yellow and white stripe. These indicators may be found on wooden posts or painted on a rock or stone wall. The nature park Sierra de Aracena also has trails. I’m likely missing categories as I have also come across wooden signs with handwritten directions.

All these different footpaths can and do overlap. Not to mention the decorative tile maps in many villages for a pretty birds eye view (cover photo).

Thankfully I had Lucy’s detailed guidance to navigate it all. With overnight stops in Aracena and Galaroza (photos at the end) I have completed my loop back to my home base at Alájar. Gladly returning to the warm hospitality of Ángel and Lucy. And the church bells that help me keep time.

Did I mention some trails are the traditional paths to travel from village to village before the road existed? And others are Roman roads? The history of the trails is another matter all together.

My legs are spent. My body tired. A good ache from the exercise of hiking up and down mountain trails. A nice fatigue from fresh air and sun. It’s rather boring to end on a cliché. I know. But the exhaustion is impeding my creativity. At least the cliché is apt.

It’s a hiker’s paradise.

Aracena