Halfway to the top of Puig Campana, a towering peak that rises close to the coast in Spain’s Costa Blanca region, the going gets tough. Lulled into a false sense of fitness by the morning’s gentle shepherd trail, we declined the option of sunbathing and chose the ascent. Now, breathing like lilo pumps with one member of the group comparing the climb to Kilimanjaro (a peak he’s scaled three times), some might be regretting the decision.
As we stop to catch our breath, four Norwegians rub salt in our blisters, rampaging past us like they’re walking up an escalator. They’re the only other mountaineers (walking/rambling this is not) we’ve seen all day, but before we can bemoan the loss of our private mountain, they’re out of sight. By the time we reach the summit, they’re on their way back down, leaving us to take in the view alone.
Rotating 360°, there would have been enough to share. To the west lie the scattered peaks of the Sierra D’aitana, falling away to a valley housing the walled village Guadalest behind us. From this tourist spot, a river of the same name flows to the coast, where the glinting Mediterranean sea is interrupted only slightly by the skyscrapers of Benidorm. The beats reverberating around this Brits-abroad resort don’t make it up this far.
Village To Village, the team behind our walking holiday, aim to show people that there’s more to the Costa Blanca than foam parties and strap marks. We’re trying to get people to see that there’s a budget flight airport nearby and all the facilities you need, but you don’t have to prescribe to Benidorm tourism,” says our guide Jonathan Neill. “There’s a negative attitude about the Costa Blanca, but what we offer here is really amazing.”
As the name suggests, the tour hops between villages, three in total: Benasau, Beniardá and Sella. You walk to a new destination or loop back to the old one, arriving, despite the odd grumble, with the satisfaction that comes from using your own steam and anticipating a hearty paella.
In the walking community, routes are graded from one to six, with one being Hyde Park and six the aforementioned Kilimanjaro. Our trails alternate between easy and hard, with the Puig Campana the most difficult, although it’s still only grade four (perhaps our pain had been a little exaggerated). There’s no bullying, though: if you want to take the day off and indulge in the simple pleasure of doing nothing, that’s fine.
Only 15km from Benidorm, but seemingly divided by centuries, each of the villages we visit are sleepy idylls. Narrow streets separate haphazard houses with loaded washing lines strung between faded shutters. In Sella, where South African-born Neill has made a home with his Spanish wife, you can visit an ancient mill, wander the olive groves or laze by the pool in their rambling 500-year-old farmhouse. It may sound tempting, but don’t be surprised if you’re lacing up your boots each morning.
With every path throwing up something new, walking in the Costa Blanca keeps you guessing. You’ll be contouring through rows of almond trees one moment, and navigating barren, tightrope ridges the next. Snow wells (formerly used as a water source during the summer) dotted along some paths are a testament to the seasonal extremes. Frozen over in winter and baked in summer, the terrain is tough-looking, though citrus groves and wafts of lavender and rosemary soften the edges.
On many walks it’s the rocks you’re climbing over that grab the attention, with scree slopes you can moonwalk down, huge caves to explore and needle-eye formations you thread through. To the west, the ridge of the Puig Campana is interrupted by a square hole with what looks to be the missing piece forming an island in the water below. The story goes that a giant named Roldan punched out the gap so the sun didn’t set on his wife.
Munching our packed lunch of chorizo and manchego cheese, and listening to Neill recount the tale, this walking lark doesn’t feel so tough after all. Now all we’ve got to do is climb back down, and how hard can that be?”
