Wine Country

The village of La Vilella Alta in the wine area of Priorat.

Ready to go!

Juicy grapes - soon to be wine.

So I've only really realised that after Summer I was very busy. July I'd worked in Romania and then August was spent in Bulgaria. Romania was wonderful as always, and this time I saw more than the previous visit in 2016. Bulgaria was a completely new place to explore, and although I only visited 2 cities, Sofia and Plodiv, I thoroughly enjoyed my time there and would go back. But even after coming back I had kept myself extremely busy! September marks the start of term for teachers, but between then and Christmas is full of public holidays, giving us some long weekends too! I'd used the beautiful Autumn weather to hike around Ripoll on the 'Rute del Ferro,' and the Costa Brava along the 'Cami de Ronda,' and also make a trip to Montserrat via the Aeri cable car. All of these things are things that locals do, not just tourists, but I wanted to do something very special, something that only happens every year and that is very Catalan. Every September wine makers gather in the of Poboleda, int he heart of the Priorat wine region, to share their wonderful wines with the public. Showcased wines are DOQ Priorat and DO Montsant, most of which you just can't buy anywhere else as they are usually shipped to the US or China and fetch outrageous prices. Priorat is just 1 of 120 wine regions in Spain, but it is very special because of it's DOQ rating, one of only two in the country, alongside the La Rioja region, Spain's most famous. DO for Spanish wines translates to "denominación de origen" which is hard to translate, but means an 'appellation' or specific naming or titles given for an area and it's produce - the extra 'Q' on the end is extra special and is highly regarded as the best areas on Spain for wine. The Priorat area is in the province of Tarragona, south of Barcelona, and a few friends and I headed down to celebrate the wine festival that is held there every year in  September. Myself and 3 friends got in the car and headed off early from Barcelona, excited as ever to be a part of this - and also looking forward to drinking a lot of wine!

Wine country - Priorat wine!

A lovely view from the village of El Lloar.

Wine anyone?

Political wine.

My first experience with the Poboleda wine festival was back in 2016, 2 years previous, and I loved it! It has become a bit of a tradition for me now, my friends had already been going on wine trips for some time and now I was a part of it. We drove down to a small village called El LLoar, a really small, one-horse-town kind of place, with one bar, a church, town hall and a tiny supermarket. There are a few houses, all built in stone as they do in Catalan villages. There is nothing to do in this village, but it has its charm and also has a wonderful of the area from its high vantage point. This quiet little place would be our home base for the weekend, but first, breakfast was needed. You may notice when you come to Spain that people drink alcohol at any time of the day, even at breakfast time before work. I've slowly gotten used to this, walking to work on a Saturday before 10 and I play a game of 'spot the booze,' and I rarely lose. Whether it's a beer or rum in your coffee, they have no problem with it - in a wine region, wine is served along with your pa amb tomaquet and butifarra (bread with rubbed tomatoe and sausage). For a very reasonable price, we sat down and had a large breakfast (and a beer), preparing us for a big day of wine tasting! As we arrived in Poboleda, things had changed a little in 2 years already. My friend Carles told me that when they started coming here, around 5 years ago, there was a free breakfast, served with wine, and not that many people. In 2016 there was still the breakfast 'popular,' but you had to pay for it but it was still a bargain price and good food. This year, the 'food trucks' had moved in. I'm not a big fan of this movement, one that is taking place in Spain right now - every festival, music or cultural, has these vintage trucks, like the very popular 1970s Citroen HY, selling posh versions of everyday food and high prices, just because it's 'cool'  and served out of a van older than you. People here seem to like it, and the food and coffee served is fine, just not the village breakfast I was expecting - there would also be no lunch this year, as there are too many people now, and so the trucks would be taking care of this now too. Everything changes.

Saving his strength for later. 

Wine stomping from the 2016 festival.

Wine my friends?

Wine talk.

After breakfast and dropping our bags off, we headed past the food trucks and into the centre of Pobeleda to get out tickets for the tasting. For €12 we got a wine glass (and cool neck tie to hold it!) and 10 tickets for tasting. We shared these tickets and I got the glass, as they had all bought one in previous years. All excited, we now all had glasses and were ready to get into some wine. We walked around to the various cellars, talking with the owners and growers, chatting about tastes, how the season was going, where they sold to, the new wine they were coming out with... the usual chit chat, but really we wanted to drink their wine. But, when you talk to people, and we did, but also took an interest in what they do for a living, sometimes wine flows freely. Yes, a good day's worth of drinking and not a ticket used for any wine. It helped that I was Australian and spoke Catalan - I talked about wine from my part of the World, compared grape names, told then they had to go there are try some wine. We all got on famously and we all had a fair bit to drink - exactly what you'd expect for a day at a wine festival! We had lunch at the food trucks, deciding on wood-fired pizza and a couple of beers to quench the thirst that wine just can't do. During our tastings we also bought a beers bottles for later, to take back home with us as well as something to have for dinner and lunch tomorrow. Most of these wines are unavailable in stores around the country, only the real scraps are left, as these wines are really doing well internationally and have become very famous. One gentleman was telling us that they ship all of his wine to New York, bottles selling for hundreds of dollars only at a few restaurants in Manhattan. Many also get shipped to China, another place where wine drinking is becoming popular and where more and more people are making enough money to buy such things. One cellar claimed to have sold a bottle for €600. We were drinking this wine! Well, not the one that cost a thousand dollars, but the same growers and grapes. There wasn't just wine to taste either, although there was many varieties of red, white and rose, there was also something they called 'vi ranci,' directly translated as rancid wine. Comparable to a sort of sherry, the taste isn't for everyone, but it is becoming more popular here and we were given a taste of a €40 bottle and very much enjoyed it.

Stone arches.

The cloister courtyard with the well, carved with the 'stairs of God.'

The monastery ruins.

The monastery and the Montsant mountains.

After all this eating and drinking, we thought we'd head out and get some culture as well. We took our car, but don't worry, our designated driver had been sensible and hadn't drunken as much as we had - also, this is country Catalonia during a wine festival, so even the police were tasting wines and not checking anyone today. We drove just down the road to see an abandoned monastery, the La Cartoixa d'Escaladei. This monastery is a 12th Century building, founded and run by the Carthusian order. This beautiful place, protected by the Montsant mountains, was chosen as a pastor had a dream about angels going up to heaven using a ladder lying on a pine tree - this is where the name 'Escaladei' or "escala de Deu (ladder or God)" comes from. The monks lived here, up until the 19th Century, growing crops, cultivating vines and making wine, until they were forcibly removed during the reforms and privatisation of religious land between 1835-7. The building was then left alone, the monk cells, cloister, church and hospital all left to ruin and looting from local peasants. In 1990, the Rius Family, who owned the property, gave it to Catalan government and work was started to keep the beautiful structure from crumbling anymore, and was open in 1998 to visitors. We walked around these ancient cloisters, inside the church, and even through one cell which had been restored to its original state. Each monk got his own cell, or room, which had a kitchen, small bedroom and access to a beautiful courtyard with a garden and running water. I've lived in smaller places and this looked like peaceful bliss, if you wanted to be a monk and never leave the place! The day we came here, there was no entry fee, the woman explaining that today was a special day. Even better! It was quiet and free, no better way to explore ruins, wandering around and trying to imagine how these people lived for 800 years. Not much of the original buildings are left, but what is left is beautiful! Two stone arches greet you as you walk in past the entrance building, follow them and you reach the accommodation building. In the middle are the cloisters and church, a small stone well.,carved with the shield of the monastery, with the ladder of God on it, sits in the centre and beautiful arches ring the open space. A thoroughly nice hour or two was spent here, walking in near silence, only broken occasional comments to each other, expressing our love of the place. All this, tucked away in a little recess away from the river and road, mountains sitting just behind. A very special place.

Surrounded by wine.

Grapes ready for picking.

Beautiful Catalan villages.

Stone villages.

Before leaving the next day, we headed out to have a little bit of a walk to work up an appetite for a big Catalan lunch. We parked the car at the Ermita Mare de Déu de la Consolació de Gratallops (the Hermitage of Our Lady of Consolation of Gratallops), and heading along a path towards La Vilella Alta, one of many little towns in the area, all very beautiful and very Catalan. The walk was easy and always surrounded by grape vines, some within easy reach, and the grapes were sweet and juicy. It didn't take long to get there, but the goal wasn't the town itself, more the walk and enjoyment of the area - the Montsant mountain range always in the background, a beautiful, yet very quiet, Catalan village and green leaves of the vines everywhere. The Priorat wine area is special compared to its Rioja cousin in Spain, due to the fact that none of these grapes can be harvested by machine - it's all done by hand. This is because of the hills, most far too steep for tractors, and so every part of the land is used as possible, grape vines follow the natural curbes of the land, but this restricts production, pushing up the prices of these wines. The town was quiet, apart from the usual Sunday traffic of people buying bread and a few old blocks sitting in the square chatting about whatever old guys chat about. Not much life here, however beautiful. We headed back to the car, walked around the hermitage, then headed for the restaurant. It's very common in Spain and Catalonia to order a 'menu,' or the daily special. This is a starter, main, bread, wine and coffee or dessert afterwards. We had a huge, meaty soup, accompanied with various tapes, including prawns, followed by a large portion of meat for the main. We'd brought our own wines which we'd purchased the previous day, which added a little something to the already great food. Throughout stuff and content, we chilled by the restaurant's pool before heading back to Barcelona. Although things change, not always for the best, some traditions are important to hold on to - this is a tradition of mine now, wine tasting (drinking) in a beautiful wine region of Catalonia, with good, like-minded friends.

Good friends.

The 'hunt' is over and good wine is the 'reward.'

Remember to also follow me on Instagram at:

https://www.instagram.com/myuncletravellingmatt/

UncleTravellingMatt. September 2018.

Sunday Walking Routes

The Costa Brava.

Surfers waiting for 'that' wave.

Summer Dreaming.

September is time to get your things together as a teacher, prepare for your new classes, meet your new students and get all of your routines down. You build your classes, build good relationships with your students to make the coming year easy for everyone and maximise learning. Luckily the first term has a few long weekends and public holidays which help you ease back into the work life. October in many places is when the weather changes from the end of Summer to Autumn and moving onto Winter. No so here in Barcelona! I love living here for one of these reasons - the warm, sunny weather can continue right into December! With work building up and the weather still sunny and warm, there's only one thing to do - head out and walk! Somewhere I always love going is the Costa Brava, the coastline just North of Barcelona. This area is sums up Catalan village life - white plastered houses with colourful doors, small bars serving cold beer, tapas and seafood dishes, with the gentle Mediterranean lapping at sand and pebble beaches. Simply idyllic! Although there are many places to visit along this stretch of coast, I personally love the town of Cadaques, an absolutely spectacular place, all white houses perched right on the sea and protected from behind by soft, curving mountains. I've visited here so many times but I'm always to go back again. Another place I love along the Costa Brava is Calella de Palafrugell - my destination for this trip. I decided to walk some of the Cami de Ronda, a easy yet stunning coastal walk done by my many people in the Spring and Summer months, but I would be doing it in November. The weather was perfect now - still very sunny, warm but not at all too hot or too cold. It was just right!

The Cami de Ronda on the Costa Brava.

Sail on the Med.

Hidden beaches.

The Costa Brava.

How many places in the World can you walk, in mid-November or late-Autumn, on the coast in shorts and a t-shirt? Well, Spain is one of those places! The North coast of Galicia and Pais Basque may be good for surfing but the weather is slightly less forgiving. You can't have everything! But move South, to the Costa Brava, Barcelona, Tarragona and Valencia, the weather gets warmer and warmer and you'd hardly think Winter was around the corner at all! I know it everyday - I'm very lucky to live here. Not only the weather but also the things that are just here waiting to be done - mountains, sea, forests, cities. Sometimes I don't think people here realise what they actually have compared to a lot of people. Anyway - it was time to take advantage of all these things and walk! To get to this walk, its easy by car. However, I don't have one, so I decided to rent one for the day to make life a little easier. You can do it by public transport, but it's a fair way and on a Sunday there aren't many buses and they aren't cheaper. I was going with a good friend so as there were two of us renting a car for the day made sense. We got up early and picked the car up from the airport (the only rental car place open on a Sunday), we got straight on the motorway and headed North! Even having a car, there is a complication in the mission to walk the Cami de Ronda - I'd planned to start at Palamos and walk to Calella de Palafrugell - but the car would be where I'd started so the question was, how would I get back? It seems you can't avoid public transport unless you have 2 cars. The story of how I got back to the car will come later, let me start at the start, at Palamos. We parked the car in a free, council car park (only on Sundays), and headed towards to the beach to start the walk. I will say it here now how lucky people living here in this part of Catalonia - the have beaches all along the coast, The Costa Brava and the Costa Daurada South near Tarragona, mountains like Montserrat and Montseny, not to mention Pedraforca and The Pyrenees. There is also the wonderful weather - this walk was done in November, the end of Autumn, when most other European countries would be freezing over with no sun at all. This walk was also in shorts and a t-shirt, with a light jacket for the wind, that's it.

Cala de la Fosca - small and very cute.

A few houses, boats, a hammock and the sea - what else do you need?

All the houses have different colours.

Would you ever get sick of this view?

The walk was easy, the sea on our right hand side, the sun in the sky. Not long after we set off we came to a cute little beach village, Cala de la Fosca. A sandy beach stretched out along the coast, people were walking their dogs along the boardwalk and surfers were floating around, waiting for that wave. Although we hadn't been walking for that long, it was nice to sit here and crack open a beer and enjoy the weather and the peaceful view. I don't know if I would ever live here, but it was nice at the time and so we sat, drank our beer and snacked, watching the surfers, taking some photos, and trying to get an autumn tan. Overlooking the beach is the Castell De Sant Esteve, a ruined medieval castle that sits on a rocky perch jutting out to sea. It was close today, being Sunday, but there isn't much left but a tower and some stone really - the location is what makes it though, and has been built on since Roman times, and possibly even earlier than this. Continuing on, we walked right up to and through my favourite little "cala" or cove, Cala s'Alguer. This little village of a few white-washed houses, doors and window shutters painted in an assortment of bright, primary colours, is whatever I think of when I think of the Costa Brava and the Catalan coast. There are no bars or supermarkets, and this would simply ruin the feel of the place altogether. I'm sure Airbnb already have a few people that rent out their place here, and it wouldn't be cheap, but what a place to stay! I stopped for a few photos of this little gem, walked through it in less than a minute, and then it was behind us, hidden once again by the rocky coast and treeline. Continuing along the Cami, you can find many small coves, all hidden little gems in their own way, some a few houses, others just a big rock, some sand and the sea. The final destination however is Calella de Palafrugell, which again seems to appear out of nowhere from the tree and sea, the path just opens up there it is! The day was getting a little later and we were worried about not making it back to the car by public transport, so we didn't spend much time admiring this beautiful town unfortunately. We managed to get a bus by walking to the nearest decent sized town a few kilometres away and got back to the car as the sun was setting - perfect timing. If you ever come this was, you must stop in a Calella de Palafrugell, even on a Sunday - the waves lap at the beach, small sail boats have been pulled up on the sand, kids and dogs play on the beach and the town's populace laze around eating good food and fine wine in the sun. It really is the Spanish Life!

Calella de Palafrugell - a perfect example of a Catalan coastal town.

The walking path from Ripoll to Sant Joan de les Abadesses - easy and with mountain views.

The Ruta del Ferro in Autmn.

Our cat for (part of) the walk.

Another trip that I did around this time was he walk from Ripoll to Sant Joan de les Abadesses, along the Ruta del Ferro. This is a trip that is best (in my opinion) in Autumn when the weather is cooler but the there are also more colours in trees. I'm sure Spring or Summer would also be lovely, as this area would be bursting with life, I love seeing the green, yellow and read leaves all mixed in together with the coming of Winter. This trip was also done with the same friend who I'd gone to the Costa Brava with, someone who was now quickly becoming a good walking buddy. We got the early train from Barcelona to Ripoll, a journey of around 90 mins, leaving early enough to see the sunrise in the city. The train to Vic and Ripoll is different to the normal Barcelona trains - this one is more of an intercity train, built for long medium distances. On the train the seats are more comfortable and there are also bike racks and more space for skis and big bags. Every time I get the train on the weekend, I see this train go past and dream of just getting on it and heading north into the mountains! The train ride was nice, but getting out at Ripoll was a little bit of a shock as the temperature was much cooler than Barcelona. A quick walk into the centre and a coffee and breakfast was ordered for a pre-walk breakfast to warm us up and give us some energy. Ripoll is a lovely city, although small and not really high on the list for tourists. It's the capital of the Ripolles 'comarca' or county, with a population of about 11,000, but it was once very important in the country's history. The Benedictine Monastery was founded by Wilfred the Hairy in 879 the city was used as his base of operations while on his mission to repopulate the area after it'd be conquered back from the Count of Barcelona. Up to the mid-19th century it was an area with a lot of industry, due to plentiful deposits of coal and iron ore, as well as 2 rivers to transport products that were manufactured. Ripoll become famous within Europe for producing simple items such as nails, to bigger exports like polearms, crossbows and later firearms. Sadly after the Carlist Wars, Ripoll was nearly lost and so remains a small, less important city today.

A Catalan Masia.

Peeking through the tree - Sant Joan de les Abadesses.

Autumn colours.

Taking it easy on a chilly Sunday.

After a 'cafe amb llet' (flat white) and a 'bikini' (a ham and cheese toastie, not the swimwear), we headed out along the path on towards our destination, Sant Joan de les Abadesses. Once there we'd need to work out if we could get the bus back, or if we'd have to walk it back to Ripoll - the decision would be made over some food and maybe even a beverage of course. We followed the path through the countryside - with nobody else doing the walk this day, we had the whole place to ourselves, apart from a friendly moggie. This cute kitty was just sitting on the side of the path, seemingly waiting for someone to walk past and pat him. He had a quick pat and cuddle, he followed for a bit, before wandering off to do whatever cats do around here. We walked past fields full of cattle, trees that had lost most of their leaves and were hunkering down for the coming winter, but mostly green landscape surrounded us, mist hanging onto the hills and trees everywhere. Occasionally there were some farmsteads and even some long-forgotten stone farm houses, no longer inhabited, left to crumble and fall apart. Someday, I always dream to myself, I'll come back and buy a Catalan 'masia' and fix it up, have my garden and animals, hold big parties with my friends and live a nice, peaceful life in the countryside. Maybe one day. We made it easily to town, feeling good and although not sore at all, we knew that we'd done a bit of walking. We checked the bus times, and being Sunday, they were hardly frequent. The next bus was in around 3 hours, not what we were hoping for. We decided to sit down in a nice warm bar to warm up, snack and 're-hydrate' a little before the bus. We walked into one place and were asked 'if we were eating.' This is a common question in this country, especially around 2pm, which is Catalan lunch time, when most people get a 'menu.' These daily specials have 2-3 courses, including wine and a coffee, for a bargain price. We didn't feel that hungry and had decided on a drink and some tapas, but we were told that we couldn't sit at the bar, only the restaurant. So we said we'd sit in the restaurant, but were then told we needed to be eating if we sat there. We explained that we wanted a drink first, then we would decide, but the lady was pushy and ended up losing our business. We found another, far more accommodating place, for our beer.

The countryside.

Doing whatever cats do around here.

In the end, we decided to walk back to Ripoll rather than wait around for the bus that may or may not even decide to turn up - we were in rural Catalonia on a Sunday after all. The walk back seemed a lot faster for some reason. Maybe the fact that we were already warmed up from walking before, or the hot food, cold beers or maybe it's just always faster when going home, I don't know, but it passed quickly but still enjoyably. The train ride also seemed faster, but that was definitely due to the nap that I had on the way. Overall a good day's out - walking, good company, beautiful scenery and a recharge for the batteries before work on Monday.

A lovely Sunday walk... maybe I'll come back in Spring.

 UncleTravellingMatt. October 2018.

Hiking in France

Goodbye Bulgaria - until next time.

The curvy mountain roads in the Pyreness.

High up and beautiful.

Going home after holidays is always hard, and more so if those holidays have been long and a great experience. I'd spent July in Romania and August in both Romania and Bulgaria, having a fantastic time travelling on trains, exploring new cities and meeting new people. Romania is a wonderful country to travel around, as I'm sure I've mentioned before a million times! It is yet to be invaded by the tourist hordes that now plague many counties and cities, like Barcelona, Prague and Paris. I know I'm a tourist when I visit these places too, but when you have too many people in a city it really does spoil the atmosphere, not to mention push up prices of flights, eating, drinking and accommodation. Romania for the most part is also untouched and natural - the forests and mountains are incredibly green and rugged, the small towns and villages are how they have been for the past 50 years, horse and cart still a major form of transport for many, and the people are happy (and surprised) to see foreigners in their country - I hope this continues for some time as it's a refreshing change. I flew back to Barcelona, happy and although not really looking forward to work and routine, these things are also important in life, not just for money and structure but to also make holidays possible and worth it. If you don't have any downs or 'normal' days, how can you have great days and wonderful holidays? Not everyday can be a holiday, or that too would be a daily routine.

Heading into the Pyrenees!

Mountains and trees!

France is different.

French country homes.

To make the change a little easier, I thought I'd rent a car and head a little north to France for some hiking and camping. Not that far away from where I live are the beautiful Pyrenees, mountains that run from the coast of the Mediterranean right up to the Atlantic, separating Spain and France, as well as land-locking Andorra. From Barcelona and Sabadell, the Pyrenees are easily accessible and very close, so I packed up the car with clothes, tent, a bit of food and supplies, then hit the road for the drive to Porte-Puymorens. I chose to take the smaller road to the border crossing, rather than the big motorway, for sake of interest and cost - and I wasn't in a hurry so way pay to go a little faster right? The drive to Ripoll is fairly easy and straight forward, but from here the road turns into a real mountain road and climbs steeply and as well as curving along the sides of the mountains that get bigger and bigger. I've done this drive very early in the morning in Winter before, the sky was still dark and the road still covered in white frost, and that was a little scary. I love the views from the road but don't really like the crazy drivers that wiz around corners too fast or the cyclists that take up the whole road. At the top top of this road, just before the ski resort of La Molina, you get a nice view of both sides of the mountain. From here it's a downhill drive, bypassing Catalonia's northernmost city of Puigcerda. Just pass the city is the border, which for the most part is still just a formality, but occasionally you do get the border police stopping people. I drove across the border without incident, but I always worry as its a border crossing and you never know - also, even though I always carry my residency card, I didn't bring me passport. I love the change as soon as you cross the border here from Spain (Catalonia) into France - it's a clear-cut line marked by the border itself. One second you're in Spain, the road signs, languages, style of apartments, then the next thing everything is in French, houses are more prevalent and they are so different and so French with their colours and wooden shutters. All the stereotypes come out and I even saw a couple of french labourers or builders, dressed like they're extras straight out of a 70s comedy show, and they were drinking Kronenbourg beer at midday after finishing work early, with berets on their heads and baguettes under their arms. Ok, so, a little embellishment there at the end, but I guarantee that you'll notice the difference as soon as you cross that line. As always, I drove through the French border town of Bourg-Madame and swore to myself (for the millionth time) that I'd stop next time.

The Winter ski slopes.

The church of Porte-Puymorens.

It'll be ready for next year (apparently...)

It doesn't take long for Nature to take back what is hers.

There isn't much in Porte-Puymorens really. Its a small French mountain town, small stone houses, cats on the street, no supermarkets or even bars, but it does have some ski slopes as well as some hiking, and that's why I'd come here. The campsite was cheap and friendly, the ranger telling me everything I needed to know about where to park, facilities they had and where they were, as well as where the walk started from. It's a shame that my French is nearly non-existent, but as far as listening and understanding goes, I surprised myself by getting most of it, helped by arm gestures, nods and smiles. Before heading out on a walk, I decided to walk around the village and take some photos of the place, as I love the French village architecture and feel. I sometimes think that I could live in a place like this, or maybe even just outside a small town like this, but then I walk around and don't find even the most basic of amenities that you'd need. This place had a small store that seemed to be eternally closed, not supermarket of any sort, cafes or bars, just houses, barking dogs and over-grown gardens. I did found, however, with the help of a sign (that read "24hr Pain"), to a 24-hour bread machine in the centre of town. Yes, a machine that bakes and serves baguettes! I didn't need bread now so I told myself that I'd come back another time, just so that I could say I've had bread out of a machine. The ski-lift was a strange thing to see - it looked completely abandoned and the grass and plants had nearly taken over the whole operation. It was hard to imagine this place full of skiers in the Winter queuing for the lifts and skiing down the slops, but I guess before the season starts there would be a lot of work done to tame the jungle that had sprung up around all the equipment. The woman at the 'Mairie; (town hall), assured me that they were running last season and would be open for the next one - she seemed amazed that I thought they wouldn't be to be honest. The Pyrenees are an amazing place - snowy and unforgiving in the Winter, green and full of life in the Summer. Let's not forget the seasons in between - Spring is the time for flowers, bees and new life being born all over the mountains and Autumn is possibly my favourite time here due to the change in colours of all the trees.

French county homes.

Baby cows.

The start of the 3 lakes walk.

Porte-Puymorens.

The main reason for coming to Porte-Puymorens was for the campsite that sits right on the 'Route des Lacs.' I'd come here before to do some hiking but had to turn back due to bad light and weather - today, the sun was shining and it looked like the day I'd finally be able to hike to see the lakes. I packed a little bit of water, a snack, a jacket and my camera and headed off to see some lakes! For this afternoon I'd planned a quick walk to see the first lake, a few kilometres away and then tomorrow I'd do the full, much longer circuit. The path was easy to follow and it started right at the entry to the campsite, so I followed that, the river always on my left side, green fields and stands of trees everywhere else. The mountains were bursting with life, being late August, all the animals had already reproduced and now everything was well and truly in Summer mode - cows were eating the long, green grass that seemed to be too green and too juicy, bees, flies and insects buzzed everywhere, looking for flowers to pollinate or fresh skin to bite, the little river flowed with clean water from the lakes, full of of frogs and tadpoles getting ready for the change into adults. Everywhere I looked there was life. Even the skies sadly - it'd been a warm sunny day when I left, and all weather reports said it wouldn't rain, but being in the mountains this is never for sure. In fact, the weather that is guaranteed in the mountains in uncertain weather. I make it as far as the first lake and I couldn't see very much without walking further, but by this stage the weather had decided to turn, and it was not uncertain about this as it was pouring down and not looking to stop anytime soon. I trudged back, glad I'd packed waterproofs, but even good gear (which mine was not really) will eventually get wet through. A wet hiker is an unhappy hiker, this I know. I got back to town, happy that I'd walked and tried the hike despite the weather, jumped in the car and headed to the bigger town of Ax-les-Thermes for dinner and supplied for tomorrow's hike. There's nothing like a few beers and a pizza for dinner to cheer up a wet, unhappy hiker and make them excited for the next hike!

Ax-les-Thermes at sunset.

A cute little French restaurant in Ax-les-Thermes.

The hot springs.

Les Cabannes.

Ax-les-Thermes is lovely little town, named for its natural thermal waters. Today you can see people sitting in the town centre, dangling their feet in the running, warm water, enjoying the feeling of a bath while doing a little bit of sunbathing at the same time. The Romans knew of the hot springs and were used to treat rheumatism and skin diseases, and this continued into Medieval times with Saint Louis declaring that leprosy could be treated by the healing waters for returning Crusaders. There wasn't much else to do in town, so I went to sleep in the tent, with a mission to restock in the morning. Heading for a supermarket early the next day, as by the time I'd got into town the previous day everything had shut, I got slightly lost (missed the turn off). This didn't matter! I was on holidays with no time limit other than the sun and weather. I ended going past Ax-les-Termes and found myself in a town called Les Cabannes, which I found very French and just enchanting. The main road was very narrow with tall, 3-storey terraced houses lining the street, all with shutters in various stages of opening. Old men sat in front of their house, joined by neighbours, to chat and gossip (possibly about the foreigner who was taking pictures of them), people walked the streets going about their daily business and even a troupe of horse riders came through the centre, heading up towards to mountain trails. Although this place wasn't on the plan, I'm glad I missed the turn-off and ended up here! life is about getting lost from time to time, getting out of your comfort zone, and finding something new and undiscovered. Don't always walk home to same way, don't always order the same at your favourite restaurant, and even change favourite restaurants occasionally! I grabbed some bread, cheese and water from the supermarket in town and jumped back in the car to start the hike.

The mountain pass.

Top of the hike.

Morning in the mountains.

What a view!

The starting point today was just a bit further North from the campsite, from the village of Merens-les-Vals, on a very clear walking path up to some lakes in the mountains. I drank some water from the fresh fountain that is right at the top of town, filled my bottle and headed off. The hike to the lake was mostly uphill and the weather was hot, so it was tough going. I was constantly looking up at clouds, expected rain and a storm - you can never really predict mountain weather - and after yesterday's downpour I didn't want to get wet again. As hard as walking uphill is sometimes, going down is always harder - you're far more tired, the slopes are slippery the opposite was it takes far more concentration that just putting your head down and keep on going, like the auto-pilot mode of uphill hikes. I stopped at a stone bridge that marked the start of the flatter, easier part, the path leading on into meadows until the lakes. A quick rest and snack and I was ready to go again, but I looked at my watch and at the clouds and started to worry about the weather. It was something that I couldn't get out of my mind, and although I'd packed my swimmers and really wanted a swim, I decided to head back down. Back at the car and heading towards to campsite, I realised that I'd made the right decision- within a few hours it had started to rain like I've not seen for ages and then followed up by hail. I was in the car on the road back and wasn't able to even see out of the windscreen, so I had to stop for a good 5 minutes before continuing.

The closest I'd get to the lakes this time.

Starting point of the hike - Merens-les-Vals.

Although this trip seemed to turn out as one of things that never quite got completed, which I don't like, I saw it more as something that will be done another time, something to be continued. I'd added to my list of places to return and revisit, which is always a good thing. Next summer? Why not! Sometimes you have to leave something for next time and there's always plenty of things to see and do here in the Pyrénées-Orientales (Eastern Pyrenees). I'd be back before long.

An abandoned ski resort.

Goodbye mountains - see you soon.

UncleTravellingMatt. August 2018.