It seemed like a good idea at the time but the blisters on my feet are now telling me differently.
When a few friends invited me to go along with them on a wild boar hunt I didn't realise that this would involve walking some 14 kilometres through rough mountain terrain for hours on end.
Before the anti-hunting lobby shoot me down I would explain that I am an active member of two ecological groups and try to do my bit to protect nature.
However, even I can't come up with an argument in defence of wild boar.
A troop of these beasts can destroy a crop of maize or - worse still - a vineyard overnight.
If you have ever witnessed the aftermath of a visit from these uninvited guests, you will know that it draws comparison with a squadron of tanks on manoeuvres.
The havoc they wreak is inconceivable and the loss to farmers’ income is total and irrevocable until the following season.
Such is the life of mountain folk that live in areas where the seasons are extreme and temperatures fall into double figures below zero in winter. To make life harder they regularly get invaded by wild boar.
That is the situation in the Valencia region village where I live and although general views on life here are ‘green’, they are also coloured by the environment where we live cheek by jowl with nature.
This is the time of year when the boar come down off the higher regions to scavenge food and they aren't picky either.
The only domestic consumable animal that is an omnivore, tuberculosis is endemic amongst wild pig families and can be passed on to domestic animals and humans.
In hunting terms, wild boar make a ferocious enemy and a full sized specimen weighs in at some 100 kilos.
Being extremely fast and agile and equipped with a set of razor sharp tusks, when cornered they will attack man and dog alike.
This intelligent and crafty adversary is not to be taken lightly. During the hunting season (October - February) four hunts take place in the area I live and hunters come from far afield to join in. However, they are only allowed if they are considered safe with their armament and that their dogs are of suitable working attitude.
So, back to my début at hunting. The day started early with a Spanish style breakfast at around 7 o’clock in the morning - complete with wine, spicy sausage, bread, coffee and brandy.
I'm afraid I let the side down right away, as I could only face my usual two cups of tea at that time of day.
After much discussion, the plan of action for the day was worked out. This is basically a ‘drive’ when the majority of the ‘guns’ walk with the dogs that are working forward of them to push any boar into a valley or gully where ‘standing guns’ quietly await their arrival - or as often the case, non-arrival.
One of the hunters explained the types of guns used here and they are extremely powerful. Most opt for a 12 bore with a magnum chamber capacity... instead of a pellet load they use a single rifled slug. The stopping power is extreme and accuracy assured for distances of a minimum 70 metres.
Other hunters tote heavy calibre rifles - I'm talking here about .250 or .300 calibre with soft nosed slugs - but they are only allowed to shoot to the rear.
Furthermore, nobody is allowed to shoot at right-angles to his position, the general idea being that they don't shoot each other. Another safety measure is that although the hunters wear camouflage they also don bright orange or red bandannas so they are instantly recognisable.
Knowing nothing about hunting boar I thought I'd be safer sticking behind with the ‘walking guns’ and the dogs. However, the tiny insignificant detail nobody bothered to point out to me was that this involved us all walking in a half circle over some 14 kilometres of mountain terrain.
I must mention something about the hunting dogs here: these are usually large breeds such as Podencos and Ibicencos or a cross between the two.
They are hard working, tough and like the English foxhound are only bred for hunting purposes.
I asked one of the dog owners how on earth they managed to train them and he replied that they didn't, they simply took them out on a hunt with experienced dogs and they learnt the ropes from the rest of the pack.
The hunters are extremely proud of these dogs and a good one commands a high price not only individually but as a sire for future generations.
During the previous hunt 11 wild boar were killed, yet on the day of my marathon exercise in mountain walking only one was shot.
I heard the shot and the dogs but was not in the right place so did not actually see the kill - which was probably just as well. I saw the boar tied to the front of a jeep when we all met up again back at the bar in the village square and it was not a pretty sight.
The local vet then arrived to certify that the unlucky brute was disease free and then the animal was butchered - I skipped that bit as well, I'm afraid.
Although taken very seriously, boar hunts in these parts are probably more of a social occasion in combination with an environmental need - the need to protect.
Furthermore, there is a huge human element to the hunt as it not only links isolated communities and brings extended families to this isolated region, but most of the resulting meat is shared amongst the local residents.
That to me is humanity at its best - so next time, any of you fellow environmentalists want to take a stance against hunting, don't forget there are two sides to every coin.