Chapter 37 - Caminito del Rey

Gammelnok was woken by people walking past his recess. They were in high spirit, excitedly talking about walking The King's Walkway, which according to one Know-it-all was recently restored from its original path which allowed workers to reach the dam and reservoir construction site without having to travel a 30 kilometre detour. It got its name after a King walked its length many years ago for the official opening of the El Conde Dam.

The Know-it-all disappeared further into the tunnel (not a cave as Gammelnok first thought). There was light at the end and Gammelnok decided to follow the group. They walked briskly, and keeping up was a struggle until they reached a checkpoint were entrance tickets had to be shown in order to proceed. Gammelnok did not have a ticket, but he quickly donned his Chameleon Cloth, blending in with his surroundings and slipped around the back of the toll booth to re-join the walk.

The going was easy, the terrain reasonable flat and the scenery beautiful. The group he had been following was already far ahead, so Gammelnok slowed down and ambled along, enjoying the cool air.

It did not take long, before one of the trail marshals saw him without a helmet and told him, either to accept one or get back out of the area. Helmets were compulsory due to the danger of rock fall further along the track. Not wanting to go back, Gammelnok accepted, adjusted the helmet to fit and carried on walking.

The path narrowed and as the rocks on either side rose higher it got scarier by the minute as Gammelnok looked down into deep water filled ravines that were far deeper than the one he had endured in Seville. He caught a glimpse of a railway track sneaking in and out of rough-hewn tunnels across an abyss and did his best to stay calm. It was a dizzying experience. People passing him in high spirit, taking photographs not worrying about bumping him as they continued. At one point, as the path doubled back on itself, he caught a glimpse just below his feet of the old crumbling path that had been used for the construction workers many decades before. He wondered how the King had felt walking down there.

Just as he thought it could not get any scarier, he came to a bridge crossing the canyon at a dizzying height of over a hundred meters, looking down on a vast expanse of water.

And then it got worse! Ahead of him, hanging on a sheer rock wall was an enormous staircase. It was suspended above a deep gorge. Steps leading down, then a scary straight stretch before a steep climb to cross above a green railway bridge with a rock entrance for the train to Seville. He was NOT going back there, Granada and the Sierra Nevada was his goal. There was nothing for it, he had to brave this and overcome his fear. It would take time, but sliding on his backside he managed the downward steps at last. Pressing himself against the sheer rock wall, he eventually reached the steps leading up. It was a struggle. His short legs were no match for these steps. He had to haul himself up, one step at a time. 

The sun was now warming the rock face and Gammelnok was tiring from the effort, sweating under his helmet, thinking of snow covered hills and cool garden ponds. Slightly delirious he finally reached the top step and collapsed and fell asleep. It was now late in the day and all the tourists had made their way to where they wanted to be. All was quiet, the sun went behind the mountain and it got cold.

He was awakened by a goods train making its way from inside the gorge, towards a station in the distance. Gammelnok did not know exactly where he was, but he surely did know where he was going. He would follow the direction the goods train had taken, knowing it would take him further away from Seville and closer to Granada. 

The going was easy, there was still a fair amount of daylight left, so he trundled along a grassy path, climbed an incline and eventually reached a small provincial railway station with the name of "El Chorro", whatever that meant. Gammelnok ignored the station and continued walking in the direction away from Seville.

The road took him past a large hotel, and then onwards into the hills, but always more or less eastwards.

He calculated that he now had less than two months to reach his hopefully snow covered destination, so no time to dawdle.

Shouldering his Haversack, he marched on hoping to find a secluded spot where he could rest up before the onward journey.