Not suitable for domingueros

I signed up for a hiking trip, Ascensión al Cerro del Albarracín y el Cerro del Ponce, without researching it much. It said it was a 'medio' level trip and based on the 'bajo' ones I had been on, I figured I could handle it. Here's a picture of the hike:

The pick-up spot was way on the other side of the city, so I took a bici to the center and then a bus to the spot. We left promptly around 8:40 AM. After a stop for breakfast/coffee, we arrived at the start of the hike around 11. They warned us the first 2 hours were uphill and then after that it would be easier.  They weren't kidding about the uphill, but the downhill wasn't much easier on the legs. The ground was slanted and sort of sandy, so keeping upright while going down was a different sort of challenge from going uphill.

Getting instructions about the hike.

Going UP...

Admiring the view.

The view

From the top.

Group Shot at the top of cerro #1.

The climb was not comfortable, but the guides were funny and the other hikers were really nice. At the top of the first hill the guides asked me where I was from. I said I was from Minnesota, in the northern United States. They wanted to know what Minnesota had to offer. I said corn and flour. They wanted to know if there were cows and cowboys in Minnesota. Then they commented that when people from the North go to the South, the Southerns say, 'Go home, Yankee.'

We went carefully down the rocks and over a bit to another cerro. When we got to the top one of the guides heard from another guide that someone had lost their camera at the top of the first cerro, and they were climbing back up to try to find it. While they did we waited at the top of the second cerro.

Carefully going down cerro #1.

Top of cerro #2.

Cows we met up with on the way down.

We walked down, down, down, down, down until we got to a highway. It was then that the guides realized that three people were missing and they headed back up to find them. They told us we had to meet at a certain restaurant in the city at 4:15. I thought the city would be fairly close to the highway, but getting there entailed another 20-minute walk down.

When we finally got to said restaurant it was about 3:30. We had to meet again at 3:50, so we sat down and ate lunch quick. I assumed, since I saw the bus parked near the restaurant, that we were going to be loading the bus and heading back to Sevilla. But I remembered that the guide, at the beginning of the hike, said something about a nice, easy path at the end. We never got to that nice, easy path.

At 4:15 the guides and the missing hikers were still not back, so we stayed put. At about 4:30 they rolled in, ate lunch, had a few beers and then we gathered again. Much to my dismay we were embarking on a journey down that nice, easy path. It was another three miles of walking. Around each turn hoped to encounter the bus sitting, waiting for us. But the hike dragged on and on and on.

Trying to get to the bus at the end of the easy path.

The guide asked me if I had ever been on this trail before, because it was famous. I said that I hadn't and asked why it was famous. He said that 'domingueros' liked to go there. 'Domingueros?' I asked, knowing it had something to do with people and Sundays ('domingo' is Sunday in Spanish). He pulled out his walkie talkie and radioed another guide, 'How do you say 'dominguero' in English? he asked  'Sunday man' came through the speaker. 'Sunday man, Sunday man,' he said to me. I laughed. (According to the dictionary it is a 'day-tripper' or a 'Sunday driver' (yeah).)

When we FINALLY got to the end we sat down at a café and rested while we waited for those that were behind us. I was so glad the hike was finally over. We waited, and waited and waited. After about a half and hour I got up to check out the nearby trout farm. Eventually the last of the group made it to the end. One of the hikers had gotten a really bad cramp somewhere along the easy path and he had to hobble all the way to the end. We had to wait while everyone finished up their coffees and THEN (lest you think the hike was over) we still had to walk uphill and through the town to get to where the bus was waiting (the streets of that pueblo were not built for buses). I felt bad for the man with the cramp. There was no other way to get back then to hoof it up the hill.

It was a glorious moment when we finally got to the bus. We loaded on and the guides counted the people. 'We always count the hikers before we leave,' a guide explained. 'If we are one or two off, we just figure that we counted wrong and just go home.'

We drove back Sevilla without stopping for a coffee break. I took a bici back home, arriving at the nearest bici station (miraculously) in just under half an hour. It was probably about 8:30 or 9 when I reached the fourth floor of my piso building. I was so relieved to finally be home.