In The Name Of The Father

Sometimes things just don´t work out as planned. Such is today.
I am in Yecla. It is bloody hot here, like near 90 degrees. But as with desert heat, there is no humidity. If someone had told me I was on the Mexican border in Arizona I wouldn´t bat a dust-filled eyelash. How did I go from such glorious wet, green mountains to these dry ones in such little time?

When I left Granada I hit the last outskirt town in Cenes, rounded a corner (literally) and I was in rural lands again. Then I took a road up past Dudar, Quentar & Tocon through what looked like a southern Cal canyon & had the road nearly all to myself the whole day. It was wonderful. Best paved empty road yet!
To avoid the motorway the next day I decided to take smaller roads north in hopes there was a connecting road from Villanueva De Las Torres to my next point. Folks confirmed there was a small road. I went for it.

I was disillusioned in thinking there was a fine line between intuition & faith. My intuition said, yes, you will be fine. So I walked farther north past very small places until the locals started to tell me they thought the river would be too high to cross. But I kept going. I kept believing in that road until I finlly got so far I refused to turn around. That´s where stubbornness set in. Faith that it would all work out despite being told otherwise, that's when my problems occurred. I eventually got on a very deserted road until I was backed into an area that looked like Death Valley. It was beautiful, but not where I wanted to be. And once at Torres the locals confirmed a road existed towards where I'd wanted to go but the river was too high to cross without a bridge. I walked 25 miles. For ¨nothing¨.

There was nothing too do. The store was closed in town and the only thing to buy was potato chips at a petrol station. I bought them and started walking back. Eventually, I hitched back. A sweet, older couple picked me up & nearly delivered me to the same spot I had started from. It wasn´t ¨cheatin¨ to hitch since these miles didn´t matter anyway. The kicker was, I had to now walk the motorway but it turned out to be not so bad. In fact, service roads ran alongside it so it was kinda pleasant.

Next day I rerouted myself along a shorter course which meant extra motorway miles but helped to make up for my 'wasted' miles from the day before. A road-traffic guy told me which side of the freeway I could walk for the most direct service roads and from then on I walked with no traffic at all. In fact, I put on my gifted Ipod for my bday (thank you Christopher) and had a great time. First thing I listened to? Global Goon, becuz I am one. But then some Cluster & Eno, Bowie, etc. I was back on track.

My roads are all much flatter than the first week. There are still mountains everywhere but much like our American SW, the panoramas are greater, the vistas wider, the flatness inbetween exists. My first week was all mountain walking. Through Benamurael, up through Huescar (lots of cave homes in this area, and some really old ones), up thru Publo De La Fadrique, onto a very pretty stretch with pines on the slopes past Armiles and Casa Blanca.

Bigger towns like Caravaca and Calasparra I skirted around; it´s extra miles to go directly into town sometimes so I abandon prospects of delving into their interiors.

Here in Yecla my goal was to go to a cemetery. My dear friend Juan was born in Spain & became a US citizen years ago. He had a tumltuous relationship with his father for many years, just like me. In the past year & a half Juan has gone through an incredible transformation but that´s his story to tell. It´s a journey of another kind. Before I left on my trip he wanted to know what route I was going to make thru Spain. I´d bought a road atlas, cut it up then marked & kept the pieces I would be traveling on. He got to one page and grabbed my arm; I´d chosen to walk through the town his father had been born in. He turned the page again and then said, as only Juan can say it, Ï don´t believe it¨, for I had also picked to walk through the town his parents are both buried.
It was my intention to go there today, even put flowers on the graves. Juan has since made peace with his father and I was hoping to do that for him but for many extraneous reasons, Yecla is not making it easy at all. So I must let it go.

And go I shall. Off onto the horizon again towards Almansa. And maybe even a shower soon (as in a bath). I´ve been in my tent for a week now. No hotels or hostels. I'm getting used to it but a clean wash could offer added energy.