ONE of my favourite walks in the Guadiaro Valley is called “The Walk of Mr. Henderson’s Railway” – which, according to Guy Hunter-Watts, in his book Walking in Andalucia, is “a short and easy walk (that) follows a delightful riverside path which links the sleepy village of Benaoján Estación with the sleepier-still hamlet of Jimera de Libar Estación.”

My girlfriend Anna was visiting from South Africa, and I persuaded her that this would be a delightful excursion. We could do the walk along the riverside/railway line, have a leisurely lunch (with lots of wine!) at the Bar Allioli or the Quercus restaurant in Jimera, then catch the 13:41 train back to Benaoján Estación. She seemed quite keen, as I had made it sound so delightful. Being ill-equipped in the footwear department (Anna’s favourite shoes are kitten-heeled mules), I lent her a pair of Reeboks.

The walk starts from the platform at Benaoján Estación, where you then cross the river Guadiaro and see a sign: Jimera – 7.3 km, 2.5 hours.

“Don’t take any notice of that,” I said. “I can usually do it in an hour and a half. I’ve allowed an hour and 45 minutes anyway, so you have time to take photos. We’re meeting Karl Smallman (webmaster of Secret Andalucia) for lunch at about 12.15.”

We walked along the well-marked, easy-going path, and Anna marvelled at the views. She was a bit concerned at one point when, in my usual exuberant fashion, I was waving towards the mountainside, saying how beautiful the poppies were in the Spring, and I briefly disappeared off the edge of the trail. I didn’t fall too far, and was completely unhurt, so on we went. A bit later, we were fascinated by a National Parks worker, who had tied himself to a sapling with what looked like a piece of string, and who was gaily cutting back trees and shrubs, on a vertical mountainside, with a chainsaw.

At 12:15, I called Karl on my mobile: “Sorry, we’re running a bit late. I reckon we’re about 15 minutes away from Jimera.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I’m at Quercus, sitting in the sun with a drink, so don’t hurry.”

At 12:27, with only 150 metres to go, we came to the place where we had to cross the railway tracks. “I hope this isn’t the station,” said Anna, “as I can’t see a bar.”

I preceded Anna down a somewhat slippery gravel slope, on which I skidded. I turned to her and said: “Shall I stand here and catch you in case you f...?” At which point, she slid gracefully towards me on her bum, and then turned her ankle (with an audible pop) on a rock sticking out of the ground.

I managed to find a tree limb that made a suitable walking stick, and then ran ahead to Quercus to request a load of ice wrapped in a towel. My first introduction to Karl was an auspicious and dramatic one, as I leapt onto the terrace of the converted railway shed and said, “Quick, a bucket of ice!”

Anna limped along some five minutes or so later, and we were lucky to be in the presence of two visiting English nurses and a chap who came out of the restaurant and said, “Can I be of any assistance?”

“What are your qualifications?” we asked.

“My name in Ron Thomas, and I’m responsible for Casualty Care with Mountain Rescue for England and Wales,” he said.

“You’ll do,” we said.

We ascertained that Anna’s ankle wasn’t broken, but determined that she’d torn a ligament at the very least. After two glasses of white wine (internal medication; very important), we caught the train back to Benaoján Estación and visited the clinic.

For the next seven days of her stay, Anna had a strapped-up ankle, a shed-load of anti-inflammatories ... and lots of internal medication! And Mr. Henderson apologises for not mentioning the fact that the path across the railway track is VERY slippery.

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Dear Anna, Sorry About The Walk - Mr. Henderson
Monday, 27 September 2010
ONE of my favourite walks in the Guadiaro Valley is called “The Walk of Mr. Henderson’s Railway” – which, according to...

© 2012 - Secret Andalucia - Guadiaro Valley, near Ronda

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