The decrepit footpath of Spain’s El Caminito del Rey floats like a broken chain of islands in the sky. The jagged mosaic of steel and concrete is precariously tacked onto the vertical cliff faces of El Chorro canyon. Clinging thousands of feet over the teal waters of Río Guadalhorce, the remnants of the old “king’s little path” is as much a testament to human bravery as it is a monument to our foolishness.
Every little kid wants the ability to fly. I was no exception. I have many fond memories of my step brother and I leaping off my back porch of my childhood home. We “borrowed” my parent’s largest umbrellas – naturally, believing that, the bigger the umbrella, the more likely it would double as a parachute. […]
While the lagoon is technically one of the most urban pink lakes in the world, it’s not actually that easy to access. The lake is privately owned and therefore not highly promoted by the local government and tourism board. Many sections are also closed off to bathers because they are nature reserves.
Imagine you could drive your car without the everyday constraints of traffic laws.
What if there were no other cars? What roads weren’t even necessary? What if you could simply smash down the accelerator and just go – with no fear of smashing headfirst into any sort of obstacle.
But as we descended, tired feet and shambling legs overshadowed my admiration of the splendor that surrounded me. After about three hours and six kilometers downhill through countless switchbacks, we reached the bottom of the canyon and dipped our swollen and blistered feet in the cold waters of the San Miguel River.