Puig Campana

[houdi]

My first glimpse of Puig Campana was back in 1996 and it never fails to impress no matter how many times you see it. Of course, it is pretty hard to ignore as it dominates the whole skyline around Benidorm; with it’s distinctive notch it is frequently wreathed in cloud even when the coast is enjoying cloudless blue skies and wall to wall sunshine. Anyway, I decided this was my year. Time to stop staring and actually get up on top of the thing.

Logistics were not going to be a problem as I researched the whole thing beforehand, including ‘walking’ the initial road route in Finestrat via Google Earth’s ‘street view’, so I was confident of being able to find the way there okay. This is a kind of tourist’s guide to Puig Campana and, hopefully, it might even be of help to anyone planning a visit to this area.

As a base for tackling the mountain, Benidorm is not everyone’s cup of tea. Do bear in mind, however, that its reputation has come about through one particular area at the far end of the high-rise skyscraper ‘new’ town. In direct contrast, the old town is more family orientated and predominantly Spanish, more so now the recession has forced the main UK tour operators to scale down their hotel choice in the resort. If in doubt La Cala and Cala Finestrat (mercifully several miles away from Danny Downing, cockroach racing in John & Josephs, and Sticky Vicky) are right on the main bus route for buses to the mountain. Alternatively, there is the laid back resort of Albir on the bay of Altea, although this requires an additional journey into Benidorm via the No10 bus. The 35a and 35b to Finestrat leave from both La Cala & Cala Finestrat, alternating every hour (apart from the main siesta hours between one and four). If staying in Benidorm old town you will need to take the 41 bus from Park d’Elche to either La Cala or Cala Finestrat. If you really do fancy staying in the new town then you have to take the 12 bus from Rincon Loix (bottom end of Lavante) which goes all the way along Mediterranean Avenue and also stops in the Central part of the old town near the Hotel Madeira Centro, thus giving old town dwellers a choice of two buses. The connecting 35a and 35b to Finestrat then leave from the Bali Hotel in La Cala or from Cala Finestrat. If all this sounds a tad confusing then it’s best to explain that the entire area on the (west) Alicante side of Benidorm at the far end of Pontiente beach comes under the jurisdiction of Finestrat. The village itself is 9km inland and nestles at the bottom of Puig Campana. Cala Finestrat is merely a small beach area on the outskirts of Benidorm and has nothing to do with the village of Finestrat.

Be aware that early weekday buses are part of the ‘school run’ and are usually busy. I caught the 10.30, 35b and was the sole passenger all the way to Finestrat. The journey took only 20 minutes in total.

Finestrat is quite small and has only one main street (Avenida de Benidorm). The buses approach the village from different directions – 35a from the east and 35b from the west. They both terminate at the one and only main crossroads in the centre of the village and, by a stroke of luck, this is where the route to the mountain begins. South takes you into the old village with its timeless narrow streets and quaint touristy charm. We’re not looking for charm on this outing, so take the street which heads uphill and north. The mountain is not visible at this stage (hidden from view by buildings) but a multi-signpost on the main road indicates this is the way to the Fonts del Moli, which you pass later on. The street is actually called Avenida Murterta but is not signposted as such. Look for the well on the left hand side at the start of the street. Water comes out of a face on the wall and locals use it to replenish their drinking water. Once you’ve found this you are on the right road.

The road winds its way into the foothills of the mountain. It is 1.6km long and there are houses and villas along most of its length. As you near the Fonts del Moli you will pass an old battered looking bar (on the left) called the Travellers Rest which looks as if it has never seen a customer in years. The fonts are on the right hand side where the dwellings come to an end. I didn’t investigate them but they appear to be a small pool of water behind some railings. Perhaps there is more to them than first meets the eye? I sincerely hope so as they are not worth visiting otherwise.

You start to get some stunning views of the mountain from the Fonts del Moli road but you may not recognise it as it appears to be nothing like the mountain you see from the coast. You are now viewing its awesome south face, which displays a pyramid shape – two thousand plus feet of inaccessible limestone rock and quite breathtaking. Get some photos here as the mountain never looks better than it does from this angle. In fact, Puig Campana has been compared to the Buachaille because of its shape from this side. Unfortunately, this part of the mountain is not as accessible as its Glencoe counterpart as I was to discover in due course. Its actual translation ‘Peak of the Bell’ (or ‘Bell Hill’ in simpler terms) seems rather obscure as it appears to have no connection to a bell in either shape nor anything else for that matter. The famous square shaped notch is on the east side of the main south face. In legend the giant Roldan created the notch so that the sun would take longer to sink behind the mountain thus enabling his wife to live that bit longer. Also in legend, the Isla de Benidorm (or Peacock Island) off the coast of Benidorm is the rock which came out of the notch, kicked into the Mediterranean by Roldan. I fancied a close up view of that notch but this particular quest was doomed to failure.

As you walk along the road with the mountain dead ahead you can clearly see the scree gully to the right of the limestone rock face which is your route up the mountain. Just visible is the deep gorge below the south face which cannot be crossed directly by any easy means. The tourist path (if you look closely you can actually see it on the lower slopes) winds its way easterly (right) through the trees along the southern edge of the gorge, crossing at its eastern extremity to head directly to the bottom of the scree. There is also a route which heads along the western (left) side of the mountain and around the back to approach from the northern side, but it’s long and not as popular as the direct option.

Straight ahead from the fonts is a large tarmac parking area for those arriving by car. The road continues to the left through rough countryside, bending first left and then right before arriving at a small metal bridge over a dry watercourse. On the other side of the bridge is the start of the national park and various walking routes including the one to Puig Campana which is clearly marked as straight ahead on a signpost. A lone villa tucked away in the right hand corner looks totally out of place in this wild landscape.

The initial stone path is wide and quite clear but after a few minutes it appears to head off downhill towards the base of the mountain on its west side. This is where things can get confusing. At the point where the path starts to drop away, another very good path heads uphill through the trees on the right. It is not signposted but this is the path you have to take. If in doubt, simply take the first good path which branches off to the right after you pass the initial signpost from the bridge. As you make your way along this route you will start to see painted marker signs on various rocks which indicate you are on the correct route. These sometimes take the form of a white line above a yellow line, sometimes a red and blue square, or a combination of some or all of these. The path follows the right hand (south) side of the gorge and up through the pine trees on the lower slopes of the mountain, initially giving precious shade from the sun. I climbed up onto a pinnacle to get a picture looking across the gorge which, in typical limestone fashion, is pitted with caves. From the coast the Puig (like the Ben I’m allowed to call it that now I’ve conquered the summit) gives the impression of being a solid lump of a mountain, but up close you can clearly see all the intricacies of that south face which is terrifyingly awesome. It is also out of bounds to walkers. There are no scrambling routes here, only seemingly impossible climbing routes up the sheer rock face on both the south and west sides. This would put the summit out of bounds to all but the immortal. However, appearances can be deceptive. The path leads unerringly to the bottom of a wide scree gully which is the key to gaining the summit. And, by a stroke of immense fortune (and a little help from Mother Nature) the summit is actually located on the hidden part of the mountain to the right of the gully and not on its impossible western side. Of course, this is only obvious from a coastal view of the mountain but it’s a comforting thought to know you don’t have to tackle any of that rock to get to the true summit.

The gully isn’t much fun. The scree is actually a mass of smaller rocks and stones, very dry and loose (the area here is one of the driest in Europe with over 300 days of sunshine a year) and a real pain to negotiate. There is a path off the scree on the right hand side, although it is difficult to follow higher up. My advice is to use it if you can find it as anything which takes you off the scree is a bonus. Unusually, there are lots of trees, bushes and other flora and fauna in the gully (how they survive in these arid conditions is beyond me), offering some shade from the sun on the extreme edges but also blocking views of the col at the top of the gully. This is a real pain in the butt as it turns the whole thing into an endless plod with no apparent finish in sight. The views compensate for any discomfort. On the left (west) is a spectacular limestone pinnacle ridge leading to the notch, and on the right (east) some fine jagged spires which look impossible but are, mercifully, detached from the summit ridge and do not have to be negotiated. I tried not to look back down my ascent route. A reservoir down in the valley kept reminding me how hot it was up here (I was expecting a breeze but it never materialised) and exactly how far I was from a cooling dip in the Med.

After an hour of slipping and sliding (two hours from the road end) I made it to the top of the scree where the trees give way to bushes and a small path winds its way through them from left to right and onto the col, the low point between the west and east side of the mountain. Those people who complain about inadequate route signs on Scottish mountains would be delighted by the bi-directional wooden signpost on the col de Puig indicating the way to the summit and the way back down to Finestrat. Of course a wooden signpost would rot away in no time on most mountains, but not here in the near desert conditions of the Costa Blanca. The main path (there are lots of other smaller sub-paths which should be ignored) weaves its way up through rocks from here, splitting at one point and throwing out a branch down the back (north) of the mountain. This is the start of an adventurous and very long return option which loops around in a large circle north through the Pass of Poulet and below the fine jagged arête of Monte Castellet before skirting Puig Campana’s west side to rejoin the ascent path back at the start. This route appealed to me if only for the chance to tackle the Monte Castellet scramble, but it was way too ambitious for this heat. Anyway, I’d another scramble in mind, or so I thought.

The path heads up through the rocks and then swings round to approach the summit from the south side. There is a smaller top just before the summit which the path avoids but, if you fancy a short piece of excitement, a small rocky arête goes up the west side of the lesser top and you can then ridge walk over it to the actual summit. There is nothing on the lower top save for a piece of angled marker post indicating the mountain is in the Province of Valencia.

The summit has what I surmise is a typical Spanish (European?) summit marker (I have seen another like this on the Sierra Helada above Albir). Basically, it consists of a round white concrete pole about four foot high, or thereabouts, on a white plinth base. Unfortunately, the one on Puig Campana is only half that height, having been decapitated at some stage. There was no sign of the other part anywhere and I expect it is down the mountain somewhere, probably on the north side. The letter-box amused me. It’s a little house made of shiny metal on a pole (slightly bent) and you clip open the roof section to access the official ‘Puig Campana Visitor’s Book’, which I duly signed and returned to its nesting place. A very crude three-sided shelter, open to the east and easily missed, completes the summit structures. For two days before my expedition the mountain had been covered in cloud until late afternoon. Today it was completely clear, but a heavy heat haze prevented any decent long distance views. North to the surrounding mountains was reasonably okay, but the coast was hardly discernable. Benidorm was a murky blur and Calpe not visible at all. Still, it was good to have a clear summit. Two days later the heat haze would disappear to be replaced by perfect visibility with stunning views all the way down the coast to San Juan near Alicante, but the mountain would be covered in cloud that day. Can’t have it all ways.

I had a bit of a ‘Zen’ moment on the summit. This, after all, was the end of a 15 year quest for me. Puig Campana was my Holy Mountain, minus the religious overtones, obviously. And I had it all to myself, I never saw a single soul up there all day. Not surprising really as who else would be stupid enough to summit mountains in July in these temperatures? Only me, I guess.

For anyone who makes it up here, Puig Campana is 66ft higher than Ben Nevis and completely free of snow almost all of the time. Snow falls are a rarity, although I have seen pictures of the mountain covered in the white stuff. Not sure how often it happens, but it may have something to do with an unusual atmospheric condition known as a ‘blue moon’. I could have been doing with a drop of snow that day. My shirt was soaking wet through and my water was useless as it had gone hot in my rucksack. I ended up pouring it over my head as I couldn’t get any enjoyment (or refreshment) out of drinking hot water. Some sort of portable rucksack refrigerator would have come in handy, I feel. Temperatures on the coast reached 37C (shade temperatures) that day. I tried to ignore the fact that I would be heading down the mountain during the hottest part of the day in over one hundred degrees of full sun and with nothing to drink. But that’s another story.

If the summit’s lower top is of little interest it does afford glorious views of the pinnacle ridge leading to the notch on the ‘other’ side of the mountain. And you are looking down on it, giving a clear indication of how much lower it is than the eastern summit side of the Puig. The ridge sent my scrambling hormones into hyperdrive. This was my big chance to see the notch at close quarters. Sadly, I was completely deluded. The ridge turned out not to be a ridge of pinnacles, but a ridge of jagged fangs with deep gaps between all the various teeth – deep gaps with no holds on the smooth limestone rock and, therefore, no way up nor down between them. My photos do not show the true scale of the ridge, nor its difficulty. Take my word for it – the ridge is impossible to scramble, (which is probably why I could find no mention of it anywhere online), and I should know because I went up there to take a look.

Back at the col another path leads over to a gap at the northern end of the pinnacles. I walked into the gap and had a look through the other side, but the terrain on this north side is steep and uninviting, with large rocks everywhere. But no path. There is no indication that anyone has ever ventured through the gap to the other side, and why would they? The pinncles/fangs are part of a narrow ridge which looks equally difficult to access on either side, although I didn’t have the energy at this stage to go off exploring the mysterious north side. I managed to get up on top of it on the gulley side near the gap, but I couldn’t progress over the top of it very far. There was a point where I would have to cross over to another rock parallel to the one I was on with a narrow gap between them, smooth rock with no handholds (frustratingly annoying for limestone), and a 30ft drop if I slipped in my attempt (what this route desperately needs is some of those ‘via ferreta’ ladder things that are embedded into the rock on other European mountains – apparently there are some plus a rope bridge somewhere near the notch). It wasn’t worth the risk. Of course, the further you progress along the fangs (even if you could) the higher they get. The drops between them are pretty serious and the exposure way off the scale. I retreated back to the col and started to make my way down the gully knowing I had not the capabilities nor the inclination anymore to see the notch at close hand. Going down the gully I scrutinised all the individual teeth on the ridge and saw a couple of do-able routes, ‘Curved Ridge’ style up the outer edge of them. But what then? It would only get me to the top of that particular fang and then I wouldn’t be able to progress across the gap to the next one. Plenty of scrambling opportunities but no end result. In a way it only added to the mountain’s kudos. Yes, any fit person can gain the summit of my Holy Mountain. But there is a secret part of it known only to those with mountaineering skills. And isn’t that how it should be? Isn’t that what makes a great mountain?

Half way down the scree I realised I was suffering from heat exhaustion with sun stroke a distinct possibility. I fell several times simply because I hadn’t the energy to stop myself from falling. Things didn’t improve any at the bottom of the scree as I still had an even longer journey down the path to the road at the bottom. I poured the rest of the hot water over my head in the shade of a pine tree and immediately felt dizzy. One good thing was I had a full mobile phone signal and could, in an emergency, phone the missus who was lazing around on the beach in Cala Finestrat and enjoying the cool refreshing waters of the Med……. I was starting to get delirious.

Oddly enough, I perked up on the 1.6km road journey back to Finestrat. I arrived in the village to discover all the shops and bars shut on a Monday. This could have been a serious problem if not for the fact that a couple of the bar owners had thoughtfully ignored the local closing rule and their bars were open. I sat down at a table in the shade, dishevelled, covered in dust, and cut in several places. The barman came out to serve me, took one look at me and asked if I was okay. I indicated in broken, touristy Spanish that I had just ‘ascendez Puig Campana’, which probably leans more towards French but he got my drift. He said something back in Spanish. Unfortunately, I haven’t inherited my Spanish ancestors’ grasp of the language nor their love of olives (I hate the things) and the only word I could make out was ‘loco’. ‘Yes, thanks for those profound words of wisdom but aren’t you supposed to attract customers by being nice to them?’ I ordered two litres of ice cold water and a couple of Fanta oranges with ice. I had just missed the 4 o’clock bus and the next one wasn’t until six, so I settled back to relax with my non-alcoholic beverages. Half an hour later I was feeling fit enough to tackle a beer. Another half an hour went by and I was back to normal with no obvious after effects. The human body’s recovery powers are nothing short of amazing.

I spent the following day on the beach, proud of the fact I made it to the top of my mountain at last and even made it back in one piece. It almost killed me in the process though. One last tip – do not attempt this mountain (or any other mountain in Southern Spain for that matter) in July or August. Save it for a nice snowy day in December, preferably during a blue moon.

Puig Campana viewed from the coast at La Cala

Close up of the famous notch with the skyscraper Hotel Bali in the foreground

Classic view from the Fonts del Moli car-park in Finestrat

Campana’s spectacular south face

Start of the summit trail

Looking across the limestone gorge

A wisp of cloud on the south face

Approaching the gully

Mecca for rock jocks

Start of the gully

And in the gully

Jagged rock formations below the summit ridge

Still struggling - one step forward, two back

View back down the ascent route

Signpost at the cold de Puig

Pinnacle Ridge

Looking across to the summit from the lower top

Broken summit marker

A very hazy Benidorm

Puig Campana’s letterbox

Looking back across the col to Pinnacle Ridge

On top of the pinnacles and heading nowhere – except back down!

Not as easy as it looks

Puig Campana towering above the quaint backstreets of Finestrat

[GraemeMac]

Great stuff, That south face looks brilliant. Its brilliant to see all of these trip reports of late from outside the uk.

[Jabber]

Might have to talk my wife into Benidorm(she detests it after the series!) after seeing this. Nice report

[malky_c]

I'll be back to read this in more detail shortly! Had this planned for last September, but we were staying much further down the coast (the other side of Alicante) and only had access to a car for a couple of days. So only managed a drive past in the end. Your photos certainly make it look both doable and interesting, so hopefully next time

[houdi]

Thanks for the feedback, folks. Jabber your wife has good instincts. New town Benidorm is....... well, not my idea of sophistication, let's just say that. I love the old town though. We were there before the British school holidays and there were a couple of festivals on so it was really all Spanish. We were the only Brits in our hotel.

Malky_c, it's not a difficult mountain. Just a slog up the scree slope followed by a path to the summit. It's the heat which makes it difficult. I've been in this area in September a couple of times and it wasn't all that much cooler though. Forget all the rocks and pinnacles in my photos - you don't go anywhere near them to do the summit.

[impiousone]

Ha! Ha! I really enjoyed you account of attempting to reach the notch on Puig Campana as it nearly more or less describes what I did in November 2010.
Literally did the same things and also found myself at the very edge of the accessible part of the ridge staring across to blades of rock with the nasty gaps between them.
The wind was picking up and the drop to the right was impressive (if not a little alarming), I had no equipment apart from a pair of Karrimor light walking boots (almost sandals).
I had to accept the disappointment but the scramble on the way up was good.
I made a brief recording of my position with the webcam, gingerly backed off and climbed back down onto the ridge between the peaks.
I decided to return via the touristy easier route from the back (NE side?) of the mountain but it was a lot longer than I thought, it was already 4pm before the descent and I ended up benighted before even half way back.
Got lost a couple of times (and walking/running through load of burnt trees) before finding the path and returning to Finistrat.
I was pretty dishevelled and covered in back streaks from head to foot - " El Loco" - a frightful sight but I found a British run bar on the main street near the bus stop. Destroyed a freshly made super-size hamburger and salad and two lagers. Needless to say the owner was pretty amused at the sight and my appetite. Caught the last bus back to Cala Finistrat, showered, changed and had a night out. Sorted - but tired!

[ChrisW]

Fantastic report Houdi, that was some effort in those temperatures (come to think of it, it would be some effort without the temperatures) the scree gully doesn't sound like a lot of fun, I hate that stuff. Glad you made a full recovery in good time back at the bar

My spanish is about as good as yours too but I'm fully with the waiter, you're damn loco

[houdi]

impiousone - nice to hear about someone else who had the same experience as me. Still annoys me that I didn't get to the notch, but I still had a great day despite nearly dying of dehydration. Great mountain though.

Good to hear from you again ChrisW. Yeah, it's amazing how quickly the body recovers. I didn't have any after-effects whatsoever. They sell bottles of frozen water on the seafront at Benidrom, Think that might be the way forward. Either that or don't do the mountain in the height of a Spanish summer.

[gaffr]

Puig Campana is one of the very fine jewels in the Costa Blanca area. In the crags area of the mountain the Espolon Central is an easier classic route on the mountain. On the descent, in the shallow gulley, from here we encountered heavy rain which on reaching Finestrat was in full flowing mode. November is the cool time and the accommodation is cheaper.
There are many delights in this area for the hill going folks. The Bernia ridge, the start of which is easily reached by road from Calpe, is a very fine traverse but the main summit at the western end of the ridge can be reached as an easier separate day out....and of course the fine circumnavigating walking route with a natural tunnel through from one side to the other of the range.