Easter Ireland - Part 2 - Leaving Dublin

Houses on the Lifey.

Dublin street art.

Brick terraces in Dublin.

The saying goes, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." We all know the meaning and when we travel, we like to think we follow this one simple rule for being in someone else's country. There are new rules and customs to follow, new food and drink to try and also new languages. Everyone loves to try the good things, the French wine, Argentine steak and Australian BBQs, but there are many things that aren't to our liking. These things are the problem, or when differences are found. For example, I love the Spanish laid-back attitude, except when I'm trying to get something important done, then they're all lazy. Going back into a country that is very much like Britain, it was hard not to make certain comparisons about people and the country. Firstly, when I say Britain or The UK, I don't mean to offend Irish people here - I shouldn't put everyone in the same basket, but I'm not sure how else to mean English speakers from the British Isles (and even countries like Australian and New Zealand) all in one word - Commonwealth Countries? What I'm trying to say is that we're very similar in many ways, culturally and culinary, compared to most of Europe and the rest of the World. One big difference I found was immediately after landing in Dublin airport. I bumped into someone at the baggage claim and he said sorry. Yes, it may seem like a small thing, but it was like being back home! Nobody apologises in Spain for bumping into you, let alone if you bump into them - it was very, very refreshing and I nearly thanked the man! Driving in Ireland too made me realise how mad the Spanish roads are (although nothing compared to Italy!). The Spaniards aren't terrible drivers, more just inconsiderate as they don't realise that anyone but themselves are driving on the road. It's a very egotistical way of driving, but in Ireland (and the UK) they are very polite and considerate - moving over for you when you merge onto the highway, letting you jay-walk by stopping and waving you over. Never does that happen in Spain, where pedestrian crossings are just lines on a road (or cross-hairs in Italy). Bars in Ireland and the UK are also very different. They are usually quiet, sombre places, for having a few pints, sitting on soft seats and reading by the fire - Spain is loud, both inside and outside with people yelling (Spanish talking), football matches blaring from huge screens and all the while you're sitting on hard metal chairs. I can appreciate both, but a change is as good as a holiday!

The St Jame's Storehouse - home of Guinness.

This way to Guinness heaven.

Baby Guinness!

Just beautiful.

We had one more day in Dublin left before driving up north. Although small, the city is packed with things to do! The thing that everyone does is the Guinness Storehouse - and so you should! I was here when I first visited and I remember a few things - the high price and the view from the top with your pint of Guinness. Back in 2005 I was shocked at the price, talking the girl at the desk into giving me a student's price (which was still €11!) in stead of the full admission, which she wasn't happy about, but I wouldn't have been happy to pay full price. This time around there was no way of getting a discount, even though I always ask if there is a teacher's prices - a €25 entry fee nearly gave me a heart attack at 37 and I was evening thinking of turning around and leaving. I'd come this far and you can't do this anywhere else, so pay it I did and in I went to get my money's worth! The store was new this time and oh boy was it big! It's the first building you walk into after paying, and although my pocket was still very wounded from the hit it had just received, I still wanted to buy so many things! The most important part of this room is in the centre though - the lease signed by Arthur Guinness, the very busy man and young entrepreneur behind every bottle of the lovely black stuff. In 1752, at the age of 27, he received £100 from his godfather and he immediately invested the money and bought a brewery just outside of Dublin. But this wasn't enough for the young Guinness - most young men would have gone out and partied, bought a fast car (or a fast horse then maybe), spent it on drugs, sex and rock and roll most likely, but not Arthur. He went into Dublin and took out a 9,000 year lease on the 4-acre brewery at St James' Gate which is now the famous factory. Why such a long lease you think, it sounds quite ridiculous, but it only cost him £45 a year - maybe a decent sum them but could you imagine buying 16,000m2 (the equivalent of 7 New York City blocks) and never paying any rise in rent for your entire lifetime and the lifetimes of your next 400 generations? Smart man! He had 21 children and many grandchildren, so it was worth it! The Guinness Storehouse has since outgrown it's original land size and so has expanded and also bought the land - rendering the lease redundant. The Guinness Brewery had became the largest brewery in Ireland by 1838, and the largest in the world by 1886, with an annual output of 1.2 million barrels - nowadays it is 260,000m2 and produces over 50 million barrels.

Perfection in a pint!

I love watching the Guinness settle.

Dublin from the Gravity Bar.

The Famine Memorial in Dublin.

Although my aim all along was to get to the top of the building and have a pint in the Gravity Bar, I worked my way though the 7 levels of the museum first. On my first visit here in 2005, I didn't bother with all that, I remember being disappointed and bored. I'm not sure whether things had changed that much or what, but I quite enjoyed the tour this time round. There are a few different sections, some more interesting that others, but plenty to see. I enjoyed the advertising exhibition, showing off the ads and all the props from those ads. There was, of course, the kangaroo and the toucan, as well as the cycling fish and some very interesting clocks. My favourite ad was from 1995, showing an Irish guy waiting for his Guinness to be poured and settle, all the while doing a mad (and drunken) dance. Along the way there is a small tour where you get a taste of the good stuff before the bar - a little aperitif if you like. We had to line up, but not wait that long, before we were let in. The first room you go in, the Guinness 'smell room,' has four white obelisks with vapour coming out, each with the distinct smells of Guinness - barley, roast malt, hops, and brewers yeast. AS you wander around the room and sniff, the tour guide is chatting away (nobody was listening), but more importantly someone else is pouring baby Guinesses! 1/8th of pint, a pure miniature of the original, is a very cute sight - it also pours, settles and tastes the same. As you stand there with you baby pint, you're told how to taste it, drink it properly and how to really enjoy it, much like a wine taste. Tempted as I was to nick this tiny glass cutie and add it to my full-size collection of pint glasses, I'm sure there were cameras and guards waiting for an opportunity to nab a sticky fingered tourist. The pint at the top is what it's all about though and we'd finally arrived! You can pour your own on another level, even get a certificate if you do a good job, but I've poured my fair share of pints over the years so I just wanted the drink. Sitting up there, way above the city and with a 360 degree view is pretty cool - nearly worth the price tag. We sat and enjoyed looking at and drinking our pints, took some photos and enjoyed where we were - it was a real welcome back to Ireland but it also marked the end to our Dublin visit even though there was much more to see. Time to head North.

Tick followed Tock... and it was time to say goodbye to Dublin.

Howth harbour.

St Mary's Abbey, now in ruins.

Waiting for a stray chip!

Before heading out of the city, we stopped briefly at the Famine Memorial on the riverside. Build in 1997, these bronze statues commemorate the Great Irish Famine (1845-1849) in which 1 million people died of starvation and another million emigrated from the island, many to America and Australia. The cause of the famine is thought to be a potato blight, the vegetable that a third of the population depended on. Some people also blame the English - Ireland, being part of the British Empire, were forced to send their produce abroad, and so mostly went without. Either way, these statues were extremely haunting and although I was glad to see them, not something you want to look at for too long. The first place along the road north of Dublin to stop was a place called Howth, a very beautiful seaside town on the Howth Head Peninsular, 13kms north of the capital. We parked the car and walked down to the harbour, passing the Parish church and the ruins of a the St Mary's Abbey, and straight to the 'Beshoff Bros' fish and chips shop. Good fish and chips are a must in Ireland or the UK, and even Australia - there's nothing like freshly battered fish, crispy chips, covered in tomato sauce and vinegar as well as tartar sauce (or even horseradish!). We sat down on the harbour and had our feast, watched closely by the local wildlife. There was a brief shower, but it blew away quickly and the sun was back. After lunch, we gave the crumbs to the waiting gulls and went for a walk around the pretty harbour. The name Howth is thought to be of Norse origin, perhaps being derived from the Old Norse Hǫfuð ("head" in English). The area was used as a base for the raids into Ireland and was built before Dublin was founded by the same vikings. The foreigners stayed here until the middle of the 11th Century but was later conquered by the Anglo-Normans in 1169. Today it is a beautiful fishing town, the little harbour holds quite a few trawlers, all with rusty stains down their sides from their catches. The prominent feature of the harbour is the stone lighthouse that sits right on the edge of the harbour. Howth Lighthouse was built in 1817 after the harbour was upgraded, it is quite a sight and many people come here for this alone, with it's stone walls and bright red door. The lighthouse also had a defensive purpose, a circular wall alongside defends a gun position. The lighthouse keeper’s house  is attached to the main tower but it converted to unattended electric lighting in 1955. You're free to walk right up to it and look around, but we didn't as the wind had picked up and I feared being blown into the sea.

Rusty fishing trawlers in Howth.

The beautiful lighthouse at Howth.

The seagulls are HUGE!

A quaint tea store.

We'd left the town of Howth behind and were now in Northern Ireland. While there is no real border separating The Republic of Ireland and this separate country that is part of the UK, road signs change from kilometres to miles and the money also changes from Euros to Pounds Sterling. The State, if I can call it that, of N.I. was created in 1921 with the Government of Ireland Act in the previous year. While the southern part of the country declared independence, most people in this area were unionists and protestants and wanted to remain with the Crown. There are basically two 'factions' up here - The Loyalists and The Republicans. The former consider themselves British and subjects of Her Majesty and are, of course protestants. The other group want Ireland to be unified in a republic and are mostly catholic. Everyone has heard of the IRA (Irish Republican Army) and the troubles, and to some extent this tension between the two groups still lives and causes many problems despite the disbanding of the IRA back in 2005. On the surface, everything seems fine business as usual, the change as far as landscape and buildings go, it just looks a little more like The UK. I was here not just for sightseeing, but to see a friend who works at the New Lodge Youth Centre here in the city. I know Paddy Doyle, a key member at the centre, through ICDM, the organisation I worked with in South Africa. I hadn't met him in person yet and my visa there ran out just days before his arrival. He did some great work down there and also here in Belfast and I was eager to meet up. A drove into the city and found the centre and sat down and had a chat with Paddy. We talked about South Africa, what he does at the centre and for the community - a wonderful man and a real community worker. It was only Tuesday and we decided to come back to Belfast for a proper catch up and spend all day Friday and Saturday in the city, as it was better for him. So, we headed out of the city the next morning, but we'd be coming back to find out all about this troubled city. Now, it was up the coast towards the Giant's Causeway - hoping the weather will stay kind to us!

Goodbye Euros! Hello Pounds!

Easter Ireland - Part 1 - Dublin

Hello holidays and hello Ireland!

Houses in the suburbs of Dublin.

Site of the first Irish pint for the visit!

Easter had come early this year, which is always a blessing to a teacher in Europe - normally holidays are the second week of April, I got the last week of March off this time. The first term is an easy one - you start in mid-September and work till the 22nd of December or so, with a few public holidays in between as well. The last term, after Easter to the end of June is the home-stretch really - you know your classes and your students, you can count the days till it's summer and there are more holidays in this period too, especially the long May weekend. It's this period, from January to April that is the hardest - cold weather to start with, going to work in the rain, then Spring arrives and the kids just want to be outside and not a public holiday in sight. Thankfully, whether you're religious or not, Easter arrives and you say a big Hallelujah because you're finally going on that holiday that you've been planning since the first week back at work! After coming back from Africa, I didn't take any Christmas holidays, so now was the time to get away and do something really exciting and something foreign. I am still amazed at how beautiful and interesting Catalonia is, but I don't really consider it foreign anymore - it really is my second home. I know the language, the people, the food and have been to so many places here, it's familiar and comfortable as a pair of of slippers yet still new, shiny and as exciting as pair of running shoes fresh out of the box. To do something that's a little different, this Easter break I was heading to Ireland with my girlfriend - both the Republic and the North. We would fly into Dublin, spend two days there before heading up the coast to see the Giant's Causeway as well as visit a local friend in Belfast.

Dublin on the Liffey.

Ireland has had a big leap in tourists - from nearly 7m in 2005  to over 10 million in 2017.

One of the many colourful pubs in Dublin.

A very crooked bar.

Ireland is always a place people enjoy going to. I'm not sure why everyone likes it - it's not really for the weather, let's face it. Is it the friendly people? The wonderful black stuff called Guinness? The green hills and small towns? I'm not sure what it is either but I love Ireland - it is green (because of the rain), the Guinness always tastes better, the towns and villages are beautiful and the people are friendly. There is a magic about the "Emerald Isle" that everyone falls in love with. I first visited in 2005 when I was on my Working Visa in the UK - I had just finished up working for the pub in Surrey and it was time to move on. The plan was to drive up to see friends in Lancashire before going through Wales and to the port of Hollyhead to get the ferry to Dublin, then drive round the little island up to Belfast and either find work there (as it is part of the UK and my visa would work there), or continue on to Scotland. The plan went as far as getting to Dublin then it all fell apart - I met up with friends and we went to a pub. End of story. Well not quite - although I only managed to drive around half of the country before my funds ran out (sadly I drank all my hard-earned cash away over a week in Dublin), I had a great time. I saw a lot of Dublin, drove south along the coast, seeing Waterford, Cork, Kerry, Limerick and back to Dublin. It was a great time, I was only 24, I didn't have much cash or a great camera, but I had good a trustworthy little Citroen (with a 950cc engine and 4 gears!) and good walking shoes. I loved it so much and my memories have stayed with me these past 13 years. Now for the return - let's hope it lives up to the memories of a Guinness drinking 20-something Australian backpacker!

One of many, many cool pubs in the Temple Bar area.

A cheeky cafe.

A Celtic cross in St Patrick's.

A Dublin door.

Last time I got the ferry over from Wales - I always love ferry trips. You park your car, packed into the hold of the ship with loads of other cars, directed in by the sailors. You get out, climb some stairs and you're on the deck with the fresh air and gulls. You watch the shore get further and further away, the harbour's waters churned up by the ferry from behind and the wind blowing in your face as you look forward to where you're going. This time was a plane from Barcelona with a budget airline. There is no need to name this airline, as everyone in Europe knows who it is - they are usually the cheapest but also the biggest bastards when it comes to extra charges. Their baggage policy changes faster than the wind and the size of their 'measuring device' gets tighter even as you're placing your bag in! This time I had no problems however - they now allow one small bad for free check in and one for the cabin, which is perfect for me, as I have a large camera which counts as a bag. The word 'free' doesn't go with this airline, so I was worried (along with half the people in the queue to board) but was given a tag on the bag and allowed on. The service is brusque at best and their planes more than often late. We arrived late (of course) but apart from that (and their raffle ticket selling) the flight was ok so I headed towards the visa check at immigration. I hate airports that have 2 queues, one for EU passports and another for the 'others.' The second queue was overflowing and it would have taken me longer than the damn flight to get through, so I skipped it and went for the European line - using my Australian passport with my Spanish residency worked so off I went, trying not to think of the other poor suckers still waiting to enter the country. Picking up the rental car was a hassle, an expensive hassle. I booked a car through the airline at a very cheap price (too cheap to be true obviously), so I had to dish out more money before getting the car, as I'd only paid for the car but no insurance... patience tested and an oath sworn never again to fly with these bloodsuckers, I heading off to Dublin.

Temple Bar - the home of the most expensive Guinness in Dublin.

One of the many beautiful little bars in this city.

Pub and pints!

Temple Bar.

I was last here in 2005 and much has changed since then. North of the Liffey, where I'd stayed previously, was a pretty rough area and there wasn't much there. Driving around this time I could see a lot of new buildings had been built, there were far more people on the streets and it looked safer. I saw the pizza place where i got my first meal in Dublin, which I remember as a quattro stagioni (4 seasons) which was a disappointment as it had 4 toppings but separated onto the four slices (not 4 seasons in one day in Irleland). 6.8 million people visited Ireland in 2005 but today's figures are nearly double that at just over 10 million people. The streets were busy too, especially in the Temple Bar area. I had to visit the bar again and have a Guinness there no matter how touristy and expensive it is. My girlfriend and I say down, luckily grabbing a table (barrel) to sit at as the whole place was heaving. Our drinks order was taken by a friendly Mexican waiter and came back in 10 minutes, which isn't bad timing as a real Guinness should take no less than 2-3 minutes of 'resting.' He did short change us - I gave him some coins with a note to help with the change, but he took that as a tip. I got him to go to the bar and do it properly but he still expected a tip... I had to give him something to make him go away so I threw a few coins at him - no way was I going to really tip the guy when 2 pints cost nearly €13! The area around the Temple Bar (a bar and also a district) wasn't heavily populated right up until the 17th Century, as it's position close to the river left it vulnerable to attack by the native Irish. It is believed that the name Temple Bar come from Sir William Temple who moved to Ireland in 1599. He was a very important man, being the Provost of Trinity College, and he built a house and garden on this location. His son, Sir John Temple, acquired more land in the area and developed it thanks to a new sea wall, this the whole area became called after the family.

The Temple Bar at night.

A stone face on St Patrick's Cathedral.

Taking a break in the cathedral gardens.

St Patrick's Cathedral.

Wandering the old cobbled streets of Dublin is lovely. Although it's busy with people going to work, there aren't as many tourists as Barcelona - I just let me feet take me where they wanted to, my camera in hand, and was never disappointed. I found myself at Dublin castle and ducked in to have a look. Dublin Castle was first on the orders of King John of England in 1204 to defend the city. Buildings were added in the courtyard and upgraded to stone until in 1684 there was a large fire that ruined most of the castle - in fact the only remained tower is the Record Tower. Unfortunately I no longer really resembles a typical castle, but the Great Courtyard, where the Royal Apartments are, is quite beautiful. The castle was the seat of the British Government in Ireland until 1922 when it became a free state. The building was then used as a court of law and then for special ceremonies - it is now a tourist attraction. I didn't go in due to time constraints this visit, but it's on the list for next time. Everyone's heard of Saint Patrick of course and his church is here in Dublin. Again, due to time and money limits, I didn't enter the church this time (nothing is cheap here and I do hate paying for churches and cathedrals), but it's a must to see even if from just the outside. Although not a pretty building, with it's dark grey slabs of stone and sharped angles, there is something about it and the more you look at it, the more you like it. That was for me anyway. There is a lovely garden just to the side which makes a great place to hate a sandwich on a very typical mossy Irish park bench and relax for a bit before hitting the streets again.

The Chapel Royal, part of Dublin Castle.

Cheeky bird - either he doesn't read English or Gaelic, or he just doesn't care.

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Trinity College is a site in this city that is very much worth some of your time. Founded in 1592 by Queen Elizabeth I and modelled after Oxford and Cambridge, it is a beautiful thing and walking around the grounds is a pleasure. It is considered the most prestigious college in Ireland and also among the most elite in all of Europe. To get in, you walk through very large gates, through a gatehouse and then you're in the main square, called Parliament Square. The Campanile stands out is very popular with the tourists, being a large, stone clock tower and a symbol of the university. At 30m high, it is impressive for that alone, but it is also very beautiful even if its design is a little hard and square for some people - 18th Century stone architecture can be that one, but I like it. There are numerous buildings to look at, including the chapel, but the most visited building is the great library. One of the oldest buildings in the College, it is most famous for housing the Books of Kells - a 9th Century gospel book in Latin. My first trip here years ago, I paid the steep admission price (which is now probably steeper at €11) to see this book as well as the inside of the library itself which is truly spectacular. The main chamber of the library, The Long Room, is 65m long and has a wonderful wood panelled, vaulted ceiling that just draws your eyes up and keeps them there. There are books everywhere and contains 200,000 of the oldest books in the library. Trinity college nearly sued Lucasfilm due to the resemblance to the archives in the Jedi Temple in Episode II, but dropped the case - who would want to be associated with that film anyway.

The Old Library in Trinity College.

Walking the streets of Dublin is the best and easiest way of seeing the sights.

You'd be surprised what you find in Dublin.

There is so much to see in Dublin considering its size. Easily walkable too - I never catch the bus or even the tram to get around the city, preferring to let me legs take me. It's not hard walking either, as the city is very flat, but it is hard walking past so many pubs. We were lucky enough to find a parking space in the city, not far from the hostel, and out of the busy centre. It was a quiet little neighbourhood with small, dark-bricked terraces with colourful doors. This is very much a Dublin thing, more so than London I think - bright red doors, shiny, brass knockers and the rest of the house quite dull or just original Georgian brick, which although brown and dirty, has a certain charm to it. After my first day walking around the city I was knackered! We had one more day in the city before hitting the road and heading up to Northern Ireland towards Belfast and the coast. So far, Ireland was living up to my memories.

One of the many cute cafes in the city.

Grafton Street - Dublin's main shopping street.

Snow in Catalonia

The Montseny Natural Park.

No need to go to 'The Office" today.

The "Beast From The East" even hit Sabadell and BCN.

Winter has set in here in Spain - the "Beast from the East" has come and gone, leaving cold weather and snow in it's wake, as well as plenty of news stories for the TV and papers. This weather phenomenon was given this name by the British Press for a bit of drama as we all know they love their weather. By mid-February there was snow in the mountains and even snow in the cities - Barcelona had a flurry of the white stuff, just enough to get the kids off school and for people to be out with their phones clicking away to fill up social media. I actually got one day off school and I did get out with my camera too. I have to admit that I like the snow - for me, being an Australian from Sydney, you don't get to see it that often. So whenever it does happen, I have to get out there in it and enjoy it like a child. I'm not much into making snowmen or those silly 'snow angels' that people seem to love, but there's nothing like a good snowball fight! Even Sabadell has a bit of snow, which is very unusual. From the city, as I've mentioned before I'm sure, you can see 3 important peaks - Montserrat, La Mola and a little further away, Montseny. In February I walked up La Mola twice and although there was no snow there, there was ice and it was cold - from the monastery I could see much more snow on the other mountains... so it was off to Montseny for some fun in the snow!

The snow in Spain does not stay on the plane.

El Pantè de Sante Fe del Montseny - The Sante Fe Dam - all frozen over.

Mist and snow.

A walk in the snow.

Around this time last year I hiked one of Montseny's peaks, Matagalls, in the snow. Although most people had snow shoes, there wasn't a big need for this but it did make it a little easier. Some people, I noticed, even had skis - hiking up to the top, then skiing down. There was a lot of snow on the peak that year and it was truly a great day. This time though, I headed over to the other side of Montseny, to the Pantè de Sante Fe del Montseny - The Sante Fe Dam. Although many walks start from the Restaurant here, such as the Turro de l'home, I'd never actually done this walk along the dam. We started off fairly early, around 10 am after a 1.5 hour drive up the winding roads of the national park, and from the word go we could see the heavy snowfalls of the past few months. Snow, which had since turned into hard-packed ice, formed a tall white barrier between road and forest, the roofs of the buildings were also covered in inches of the stuff. The parking lot was muddy and icy and very busy, but as we'd turned up early we managed to find a spot. Today was going to be a short walk, maybe 3 hours return, and we aimed to walk past the dam and find a small, light aircraft that had crashed somewhere around here in 2000. Bad weather was the cause and the pilot lost control and hit the wooded mountainside 900m above sea level. The pilot was the sole occupant of the plane. The weather today wasn't as bad as that day, but there was a fair bit of fog over the water but that quickly cleared up with the slight breeze and warm sun took hold. Most of the dam was frozen solid and some large rocks tossed from the dam was unable to break the tough layer that had formed - not something you see everyday. The water was a soft, icy white, the trees a winter-brown but the sky was a brilliant, deep blue and the sun was shining like it was summer.

A Winter beach scene - boots instead of bikinis and jackets instead of tans.

The top of Turo de l'Home - 1,708m and the highest in Montseny.

No brain no pain... but they have guts!

No swimming...

I'd heard of this walk but had never done it, and it was so close all this time. As I walked, I kept thinking of that light aircraft crash. It would be exciting to see a plane stuck on the side of a mountain, but then you think of the terror that the pilot must have gone through. I'm not a fan of flying even in big 747 jumbos, but small planes scare me even more. I've been on a few, including a propeller plane in the Canary Islands, which didn't rock around too much but it was tiny and out of my window I could see the blades spinning a million miles per hour, I prayed they would stay on, just like when you were a kid and the classroom fans were turned all the way up in Summer but they looked like they were hanging on by one loose screw and at any moment... disaster. Silly I know (nor did any fan ever fly off at school) but there was the noise of the engine too, I could barely hear anything else except that loud, whirring drone. Anyway, as we drew nearer to the crash site, we became more and more excited and then excitement turned into a searching frenzy that lasted for about an hour - we couldn't find it! We left the trail and headed into the forest, following the instructions from the Wikilocs app and website - I kept seeing the plane, or what I thought was the plane, a part of a wing, the cockpit, a slice of metal panelling, but it was all an allusion and turned out to be rocks. We split up and searched the area in our quest to find this bloody ghost plane. We met back up on the trail to eat and relax a little, after having got separated and lost for a while in the woods. My friend decided to read the description of this walk again and to our horror (and embarrassment), someone had commented on the page and reported that the plane hasn't been there since October 2017. It didn't say if the government or the natural parks services dragged it away, or whether just people had taken bits and pieces away with them when they come here. We did find some parts from the plane, a bit of a panel, some pipes and broken glass and had to be satisfied with that... and the lovely walk of course! We walked back to the bar and the car, passing the dam again but this time there were more people there. It was almost a beach scene but in white - people were crowding the banks of the dam's water, instead of bikinis they wore ski jackets and pants, instead of towels they rode on toboggans - it was the same yet so different. We also watched at 3 crazy people who had decided to walk across the ice - they managed it, sliding along its slippery surface, and then posed for a group shot to the cheers of the crowd, but the weight of 3 grown adults in one spot on the thin ice was too much and in they went! It didn't seem to bother them, red skinned but smiling, but I could only wonder how cold they were and how much it would have hurt! No brains no pain right?

The peak of Las Agudes.

Hikers on Montseny.

The trail to the top.

A sprinkle of snow still.

A beer at the end of a hike is always a nice little reward for what you've done, and that's exactly what we did. It was warm, cold beer in hand and a plate of olives on the table. I looked up at the snowy mountain of Montseny behind me and decided that next week I'd be back up here again - make hay while the sun is shining, or in this case, go hiking while the snow is still there! I didn't know how long it would last so I had to do it now - snow is a treat and should be taken advantage of whenever possible. I returned the following Saturday and already the snow had melted somewhat but there was still enough to make a cool hike. This time was a little more ambitious though, walking up to the Turo de l'Home, one of the peaks of Montseny. Not a hard walk, rather a steady up-hill walk, zigzagging along a wide, well-beaten path. Starting off from the start point as the dam at Sante Fe, the path follows the road for a little bit then starts up going uphill - you have two options to ascend and I usually take the easier path up to the main peak first, as coming down is easier and so I take the harder path for that and it also makes a loop. I was surprised by how much snow there was still, at the same time thankful that there was. The path was a little slippery in places where the snow had hardened on rocks but overall it was a nice, easy walk made more enjoyable by the fact of the white snow that added to the beauty of the place. It was also more peaceful than normal - people had chosen to be in the snow with their kids rather than hike a mountain in snow and wind. This is why I come to the mountains - to exercise of course, but also to feel the peace and just be away from the crowds. Too many people and too much noise can spoil a good day in the mountains - if you want to talk loudly with your million friends and make noise, then go to a bar. You can't change anyone else, only yourself, so when this happens I try and block out the noise, not let the chatter annoy me and think that everyone is allow here to enjoy themselves... and then hope they bugger off and leave me in peace.

The top of Turo de l'Home's second peak - Les Agudes.

The weather station.

The Marker on Turo de l'Home.

Even rabbits get up here!

Even though it was snowy and cold at the top, it was still quite busy. In fact, someone had even hiked up with their pet rabbit, which received the 'royal treatment' of being carried in a special backpack. My friends and I sat a little away from the marker at the top, choosing a sunny rock to recline on while we ate our sandwiches and drank our beers. I even took my boots off and rolled my pants up to tan the milk bottles a little - I got some strange looks, not just because my feet are so pale you'd think they've never seen the sun before, but people here don't usually go barefoot anywhere, unlike South Africa and Australia. It was cold and there was snow on the ground to be fair - I chose a warm rock for my feet and enjoyed it thoroughly. Crazy Australians and the sun. We of course got the photos in with the concrete marker at the top, with its Catalan "Senyera" painted on - it's a must even though it's a touristy thing to do. The highest point in the park at 1,712m, you can see for miles - the other peak of Matagalls (1,697m), all the towns and villages in the valley below and more mountains in the distance.  I hate coming back down the same way so we chose the circuit route, skipping the second peak of Les Agudes as it was very windy and starting to get colder. Although you feel tired after a hike, even one that isn't very tough, just a tightening in the legs, a yawn when you sit down and maybe even a quick nap in the car on the way home, you know it's been a good day out, some exercise and a 'good' kind of muscle soreness. Hiking a mountain leaves you on a natural high, one that restores energy and happiness, making you just want to do some more. That's what I did the following weekend too

The Catholic church in Gósol.

Nobody is having a picnic today.

A lovely snowy day!

The view from la Collell.

I returned to Pedraforca, having been there for New Years Eve just 2 months ago. Around that time there was very little snow - this time was a little different. As we drove up towards Gósol, the town that many of the hikes start from, we could see snow everywhere but no sign of the magnificent mountain itself. Normally it rears up as you turn one particular corner on the road, today it was all foggy and nowhere to be seen. We stopped in at the village bar, which sat next to the old Catholic church, for a quick coffee to get warm before the walk. There were 7 of us for this walk - 5 adults and 2 kids. There were only 3 pairs of snow shoes to go around so we all did a bit of sharing - they are fun and make the deeper snow far easier to walk to, but with some extra effort at times, lifting up a huge plastic foot. Without the shoes, you had to stick to the path and where the others had walked first and even then you still fell quite deep - sometimes up to waist high! The first part of the walk was easy, following a dirt road up the mountain, then it became easier as it flattened out towards the picnic area. This would be a lovely spot without the snow, a place to rest and enjoy the mountain view, but today nobody was sitting at the benches. We continued on, now heading uphill towards 'El Collell,' the other side of the mountain and we were hoping to see 'The Rock' on the other side. Although the views of the valley were nice when we arrived, sadly Pedraforca was still lost in the clouds. We got our photos in, played with the snow by jumping into the softer powder to see how far we'd go down, which turned out to be so deep I needed a hand getting back out! It was also getting cold and my feet were now soaked from the snow which had managed to get its way into my boots via the top - mainly from all the jumping in the snow I'd been doing. I love the moments when you finally get back to the car after a long hike, maybe a cold and windy walk or when you're really hungry and have run out of snacks - then you see the car and it's what I call a "Hallelujah" moment... you see the car and it's nearly like a miracle - you've made it back alive to warmth, food and civilisation. The walk wasn't that bad. I am, however, a very cranky man when I have wet feet! I'd packed fresh shoes and socks so I was extremely happy to be back in the car and out of the snow.

The clouds finally cleared, giving us the 'money shot' of Pedraforca.

The main square of Bagà

View of the mountains.

Bagà and the Lobregat river.

We all headed back to Bagà where my friends with the kids have a small holiday apartment. The village is quite small but very beautiful and not just because it sits right in the Cadí Mountain Range. Apart from the mountain vistas from nearly anywhere in the streets, the buildings are typical Catalan mountain houses - stone houses with slanted, slate roofs, all squashed into narrow streets, old wooden doors and small decorations on the windows. The streets are quite steep in some parts but the solid stone paving makes it easy and when you're up the top the view is nice. At the bottom of the town is a fast flowing river, coming straight from the mountains and above are the huge mountains themselves. It was a Sunday so the few shops that are there were closed, apart from one bar on main plaça, which had the usual crowd of any bar in this country - a few blokes smoking, drinking their coffee with rum (carajillos) and talking in their gravelly voice. The town is also historical. It was founded in the 9th Century by WIlfred the Hairy, the man responsible for the re-population of much of area in response to the Moorish presence, including the city of Vic and Cardona Castle. Many people believe that the creation of the coat of arms, which is now the Catalan flag (la Senyera), is accredited to Wilfred - after being wounded in battle by the Moors, the Frankish king, Charles the Bald, rewarded his bravery by giving him a coat of arms. The king slid Wilfred's blood-stained fingers over the copper shield, and thus the Senyera was born - a yellow flag with 4 red stripes down it. Unfortunately, there is no historical evidence to this, but it is a lovely story. Poor Wilfred did, however, die fighting at the battle of Lleida in 897 and is now buried in Ripoll. I loved walking around the village, reading about it's history and seeing it in the buildings. We had dinner after a walk around and then went back home - tired but content. Although I've loved this Winter so far, I truly am looking forward to being warm again!

The view of the mountains from the village of Bagà.

Good Pedraforce and goodbye Winter.