Cala de Carnaje

The weather has turned cold and very rainy and there are only two days of sunshine forecast in the next ten…which is all the time we have left here in Spain…it’s all very, very sad.
With that, this may be the last posting that talks about hiking since we aren’t about to discover any new hiking spots in this dreich (that’s Scots for dreary/gloomy)!
I will venture to say Carnaje Cove was absolutely the best hiking of all! I have now been here three times and it’s chulisimo! (that’s Andaluce for breathtaking/gorgeous/fantastic/etc) at any time of day and in any weather. Ramon took me there the first time-at dusk, the second time was mid day in brilliant sunshine--with the crew and backpacks full of vino and vittles (that’s when these photos were taken) and the third time was just yesterday with Christopher, his parents, sister and friend Tina……when we had dry yet stormy skies and a very cold wind coming off the Mediterranean.
To reach this little gem you travel on the same road that takes you to Torre de los lobos but instead of driving all the way to those steel gates, you park midway along the paved road and take to foot on the dirt lane that heads between the hills and toward the sky.
A few welcoming, old olive trees escort you along this lane and over the crest of the knoll, where you are greeted by the brilliant Mediterranean framed left and right by the gently sloping hills. A kilometer ahead, at the bottom of your sight line, is a very tall, lone palm tree and just behind the palm is the beach. At first glance, and from this distance the beach looks like any other but as you hike further along this now very rutted, solid rock lane you begin to notice that this beach is a little different. The first thing is the color, it’s grey and as you get closer you realize there is no sand; the entire breadth of the cove consists of grey stones that have been tumbled smooth by the surf.

From the land side of the beach there is a gentle incline toward the sea and just before reaching the shore line the stones pitch downward at a sharp angle. Walking on these rocks is rather tricky, they slip against each other and out from under your feet giving the impression that there is no base for them to cling to and which leads one to believe these stones are meters deep. When dry, these palm and fist sized stones are grey and warm but at the water’s edge they turn cold and black.
What makes this cove most memorable is not its lone palm tree nor even the grey rocks themselves but the tranquility created by the sound of the waves as they recede from their crash against the shore. As each waves pulls back to the sea it trickles through the depth of the stones, knocking them together with a sort of musical clatter. You could sit and listen to this for hours.

The rocky outcroppings to the right of the beach show evidence (at least to my untrained eye) of a millennia old volcanic eruption. There is a deep layer of chunky black rock that rides atop the smooth, lighter sandstone which sits at the water’s edge. These layers of stone, being of opposing textures and durability have eroded very differently after ages of wind and surf.

Looking back on these coastal hikes I find myself wondering why they are always so spectacular and I’ve come to realize it has to do with all of the contrasts between the shore and the sea….the shore and surrounding topography with its rock, grasses and cliffs is craggy, static and impenetrable while the sea and it’s ever changing temperament can be smooth, changeable and yielding. It’s also a wonder that both of these giants of Mother Nature yield equally to another giant….light. In full sun the shore and the sea reflect their intense colors and with the simple passing of a cloud they are an entirely new vision of subtleties; one blink of an eye to the next is never the same…..