I stand on the world’s most dangerous walkway, a 100-meter drop below me, a one-second freefall from the bubbling waters at the bottom of the canyon. I should be thinking about certain death, but instead, I’m thinking about peanuts.
We’d booked Caminito del Rey straight after Tangier, legs aching from the Medina and the bungee jump, our bodies and minds were yearning for rest. I was anxious about a hike through steep mountains, fuelled by the “lower-case t trauma” of the Macmillan hike.
Kymberley, on the other hand, is perilously scared of heights and has been researching the Caminito del Rey walk for weeks in advance. This all builds up to this nerve-wracked morning where I’m anxious about strangers not liking me, and Kymberley is nervous about vertigo, freezing with fear on the side of a mountain, and falling to a swift death at the bottom of a ravine. My expectation for the day can be described in one word: Suffering.
After signing in and getting started, our tour guide tells us about the vultures circling high above and the history of the walk. He explains that the name itself comes from King Alfonso XIII, who only managed a short stroll before heading for tea.
In front of us, tour groups snake along the winding paths. There’s the smell of wet rock and sap, and the sound of wood and gravel beneath our feet. Below, we can see the original bridge, raw concrete jutting out under the path.
The path we walk is sturdy and easygoing, and my anxiety about disappointing everybody soon vanishes. Caminito del Rey has a mythos surrounding it: the most dangerous walkway in the world! Perhaps it once was, but now, it’s a safely managed tourist destination. As we walk, I’m thinking about the stark contrast between Spain and Iceland, where we went into Lava Tunnels and climbed Glaciers.
Mother Nature was presented as this dangerous, unpredictable entity that could snuff your life out with a single bad step. The term “man-made” went as far as the visitor’s center, whereas here, the entire route was once a construction site.
It sounds like I’m having a moan here, but I’m not. Spain has done a fantastic job of turning a dangerous spot into one that can be enjoyed by many. It’s a beautiful location, and while I didn’t feel a single measly adrenaline spike, I can’t speak for those who are afraid of heights. It just meant that I had to recalibrate my expectations.
Speaking of, Kymberley was beyond brave; at the start of the path, she gripped the handrail, palms trembling, but as we progressed, she became more and more comfortable with the walk. She soon proudly revealed her technique to me:
You can’t be scared if you have snacks.
Hidden in her pocket was a bag full of nuts, which she’d been eating whenever she got nervous. And funnily enough, it had worked. Halfway through, she was walking ahead, happily eating peanuts.
As we leave the first section of the walkway, our guide tells us that he’s going to share some interesting botany facts. This puts me in a particularly good mood, because we’re surrounded by beautiful pine trees, with the smoky, sweet smell of sap in the air. The smell of these pines always reminds me so much of my childhood, and I love the tree so much that I actually named my company and my art bursary project after the tree – Stone Pine.
He stands next to a gorgeous tree along the path, gestures broadly behind him, and starts to explain how these Aleppo pines had been introduced to spread roots through the ground and structurally reinforce the area.
Wait – Aleppo pines? Aren’t these Stone pines?
I look around me, and they’re all the trees I adore, and that soft, warm smell is in the air. They’re the same shape, the same colour, hell, the same sound. Did I get the name of the wrong tree? Did I name my company after the wrong fucking tree? Have I been chatting utter shit to everybody all this time?
Turns out – yes. Yes I have.
No, I won’t be taking questions at this time. Go away.
Actually, come back, there are still like 204 words to go.
Before too long, we’re back on the floating paths, hammered into the wall. After a geology lesson and some more history, we soon learn that we’ll be approaching the end of the tour, where we climb up and cross a suspension bridge.
This is the culmination of the entire walk. I decide to push Kymberley to cross it first, rather than build up the fear. We’re right near the front, so it’s easy for us to slip ahead.
She steps out first. The bridge sways. She keeps her eyes forward, the 100 metre drop beneath her. It only takes a few seconds, and she’s at the other side, breathing heavily and grinning, and I’m right behind her.
She did it!
I guess Caminito del Rey was all about expectations for me. I expected adrenaline, and got a peaceful walk. I expected to know my trees, but found out I’d got the wrong one. Kymberley expected fear and vertigo, and found peanuts.
After Arizona, and Grindavik, it was strange and comforting to tick something off of ✓ Project Bucket List that simply let us walk. Not every adventure needs an exciting mishap or a dangerous story. Sometimes, it just needs snacks and a nice view.
