These Feet Can Take Us Anywhere

After living and working at La Fargassa for three months we had almost gotten used to the breathtaking natural beauty surrounding us.  We’d taken hikes, slept on peaks, dipped in the river and climbed down precipices.  So we were especially delighted when, during our last week there, we’d made enough local connections to hear about a natural water slide at a super secret undisclosed location.  We were invited to go with a couple passing through who’d been there before.  The four of us had a fantastic time, and ‘so the next day Jon and I went back and took with us all the WWOOFers at La Fargassa for a super special outing!  Oh we had some awesome fun!

And now on to bigger adventures….

We had been longing to explore the surrounding natural wonders and so on one of our last weekends we decided to make an adventure out of it.  We mapped separate routes: Jon’s ending at the peak of San Sauveur (an ascension of 1400 meters) and Christine’s ending at the peak of the Roc de France (an ascension of 1300 meters).  We would spend Saturday night alone on our respective peaks and then meet in the morning at the Roc de France to hike back down to Fargassa together. Each of our hikes took an entire day there and an entire full day back.  We left Friday at 8:00pm (to hike up and sleep on a local peak) and returned Sunday at 2:30pm.

Friday night: a couple of friends at La Fargassa, having caught word of our planned adventure, wanted to come along for the first leg of the journey which was to climb a peak close to La Fargassa and sleep under the stars at the top of the ruins of Paracolis.  In the morning Jon took a picture of the mummified bodies: Lizzy, Christine, Meera and Mira the dog (who accompanied Christine on her entire two day hike).

Jon and I were the first to awake that Saturday morning and we were heading out in our opposite directions by 8:00am. Here is a map showing the routes we took.  The red bubble is where La Fargassa sits in the valley and the green bubble is the peak we all slept on Friday night.  Saturday morning Jon started on the yellow route and Christine started on the blue route.  Saturday night we slept out under the stars looking at the same sunset and sunrise but from slightly different vantage points.  It was such peace, and so exciting!

The sights were awe inspiring, breathtaking, beautiful and our experiences were decidedly different.  We’ve each recorded our journeys below along with some photos!

from Jonathan’s journal

Friday, June 28, 2008 – Pic de San Sauveur, France

This morning Christine and I awoke to a clear dawn at the ruins near La Fargassa. I was awake briefly to see the colors change but the actual sun-rise was not visible from our vantage. We had hiked up the night before with Mira the dog and two other wwoofers (no pun intended), Lizzy and Meera the person.

It was dark when we arrived and after settling into our sleeping bags and switching off the light, we marvelled at the clear night sky bursting with stars, satellites, planets, and yes, even the occasional shooting star. Christine slept better than I did, I find the sleeping bag doesn’t afford me the kind of leg room I’m used to. But I didn’t mind waking up throughout the night as the stars were dazzling. I got up early to fashion a pair of walking sticks for Christine and myself. I carved two hearts near the handle because today was exploration day and Christine and I would be sleeping apart for the first time in many months after a day’s hiking adventure.

After a warm and loving embrace, we headed off on the GR10 in opposite directions, I was headed to the Chapelle St. Engracias, followed by the Pic de San Sauveur, while Christine would make her way to the Roc de France where we’ll meet tomorrow – Mira was excited to go with Christine! Almost immediately after setting out through the peaceful forest, I was grateful for Christine’s reminder about toilet paper – Nature was calling! I thought about how blessed I am to have such a loving and thoughtful partner (she had also made me two PB&J sandwiches which proved indispensable).

On the trail I took in beautiful views of Mt. Canigou and Arles-Sur-Tech, then later from atop the grand batterie, which, as the name implies was a large artillery platform. From there, looking up the Ribera del Therme valley, I could see the brown dead weeds of the recently strimmed fruit field from which we pick our berries. After a breakfast of PB&J and an orange I was off to find the Chapel of Saint Engracias, a restored chapel in the middle of the woods where I let myself in to find the tiny room remarkably clean. There was room for no more than 24 people and the restorations had been undertaken by the local society for the preservation of the “patrimonie.”

(The three peaks of Mt. Canigou. The valley on the right is the riu ferrer where Lo Guell is located in the steep canyons. The town at bottom right is Arles-Sur-Tech and the village in the middle is Corsavy.)

I rang the bell a couple of times but there was no one around to hear it. On the trail down to the road, I passed several ruins which weren’t all that impressive themselves except that they were all built by hand and barely accessible by donkey. With time to ponder this, I’ve come to realize just how vital these animals were to the development and habitation of this region.

Upon reaching the (asphalt) road I thought I would try to find a shortcut to the Montalba road since following the designated route meant I would have to  go the wrong way for a while. The map showed a very short path through the woods past a ruin near the bridge. Unfortunately the “trail” quickly grew obscure and I wound up at the ruin itself which was surrounded by thickets of thorny briar. As I slowly began navigating around the ruin to reach the road I was supposed to stay on anyway I was relieved when I heard a car pass nearby and then even moreso when I could actually glimpse the road through the trees. I soon realized I was walking on an old overgrown driveway, complete with a rusty and vegetated VW beetle. There were fig trees all around the large house and the “mother” tree towered over everything with long drooping branches that nearly reached the ground. I picked a few of the larger figs wondering (hoping) if they’d be edible and stashed them for later. It was mid-day and the temperature was rising in the bright sunlight, I wanted badly to get myself out of this thorn field!  Using my walking stick, proving itself indispensable, I beat back a path and, miraculously, I emerged onto the road without any stings and only a few cuts and scrapes. This was truly one of those legendary shortcuts that’s more longcut than anything else.

Back again on the GR10, the path ran alongside the Ribera del Thermes (Català for River of the Hot Springs) and I was aching for a swim. I took a couple of figs from my pocket to see if they were anywhere near ripe. Unfortunately they were inedible but their sweet scent was reminiscent of cocoa butter. I soon found an accessible swimming hole and I dipped as much as I could into the shallow sun-filled pool and dumped big handfulls of cold water over my head and the back of my neck. The cool flowing water was such sweet relief for my scraped-up legs.

I didn’t see a single other person until I reached the tiny village of Montalba a bit further up the valley. Calling this place a village is quite generous as there’s only a few buildings but they do have a church which you can visit on Mondays and Tuesdays from 4-5pm. There’s also a half dozen eggs available for €2.  I filled up my water at the public spring and ate my lunch under a tall oak tree to which a sleepy gray donkey and his entourage of flies was tethered. The rope held the donkey at bay although he became increasingly eager to visit me and my lunch. Some tourists came by and asked if the donkey was mine. ‘It is not me’ I replied in my thoughtless French. I thought they may have been disappointed by the church visiting hours as I was. They ended up lying in the sun on the grassy slope behind me as I took a siesta of my own. After waking I felt sluggish back on the trail but I slowly trudged my way up, up, and up to the promontory overlooking the valley and beyond. I was happy to note the subtle change in vegetation for the juniper pine is only present at higher altitudes here. Reaching the top was great relief – I was exhausted!

Between two large rocky spines, Pic de San Sauveur at 1230 meters, has a nice grassy patch that was perfect for one or two sleeping spots. But only one of these was sheltered from the wind and I just barely fit.Leaving my pack in the lush green grass I decided to explore higher up the rock in hopes of good photo-ops, and of finding the summit as well as the trail I would hike out on tomorrow. I found both.

As the trail continued up the steep rocks, my legs were crying out for me to stop but I was too grateful to be without my pack. Up ahead, painted on the rock, directions showed the way for the summit and the trail down. I stayed on the trail but my path was abruptly blocked. As I rose up to the crest of the path, there, turning their heads and horns to stare, startled as I was, stood a herd of mountain goats!

“What the..!” and “Holy Shit!” burst through my head simultaneously. “What were they doing here?” I thought until I saw the tags each of them wore on their ears. Some human put them here. At least six of the them were starring at me, all of them with sizable horns in the faint shape of a corkscrew. These things could disembowel me if they teamed up – at the very least, one of them could playfully head-butt me clear off this rock. I thought it best to make my retreat but not before snapping some photos.

I made my way back down to the grassy coll where I ate some supper and took in the spectacular view before bedding down. Unaccustomed to sleeping alone outside, I awoke several times throughout the night startled by the sound of wind rushing through the tall grasses or the occasional loud insect buzzing by. Each time, I appreciated the immense star-filled sky before drifting back to sleep.I awoke just before dawn to catch some great sunrise photos before packing up.

No sooner had I fastened the last straps when I heard the bells of the goat herd – they were on the move and I was occupying prime grazing turf! I brought my pack down to the lower (alternate route) trail to be ready in case they invaded. I was headed to take another photo, not less than a minute after setting down pack, when they descended from all sides onto the very spot where I’d just slept!

The entire herd, at least two dozen, was quickly overrunning my former camp. I dashed for my pack and strapped it on just as the curious ones approached down the steep hillside. I took off down the trail hoping they wouldn’t follow but two of them were quite interested and even more followed their lead.”Oh great,” I thought, “how far are you going to follow me down, mocking my clumsy two-legged hobble with your superior mountain agility?” Soon enough my pursuers abandoned their chase-the-human game and stayed well enough behind.

On to meet Christine I trekked up through well-groomed trails, even meeting the local trail crews with their power strimmers and gas cans. I appreciated the ease and tidyness of the well-marked trails but simultaneously lamented the use of machine engines and petrol to maintain walking trails (it seems contradictory).

Through a birch (or is it beech) forest the trail meanders along a fresh spring creek where I encountered a herd of horses with a young colt which, at first I thought, were wild. In fact they were quite tame and didn’t mind as I passed closely by.

Near the top after splitting off the GR10, the trail became less well-marked and I found myself leaving my pack to traverse a steep boulder field. But at the top, amid the glaring morning sun, I heard a sweet voice shouting out to me from several hundred meters away. Looking across the ridge was the silhouette of a lovely figure, perched atop the Rock in lotus position. What a beautiful moment – it made the entire journey so worthwhile.

And now, from Christine*:

*we only have one camera between us and a flip of the coin decided Jon would be the one to take it on his hike, so I have no pictures of my actual hike to share.  Minus the goats, though, the scenery was pretty much the same as what Jon saw.

Saturday, June 28.  Solitude.  Except Mira’s here too, and a faint buzzing of either a motor scooter or gas strimmer.  But for that I could be nowhere near civilization.  Have been walking probably two hours and am roughly 1/3 through today’s journey.  My walking stick is doing me well, as is my doggy companion, and the three of us are taking it slow and steady.  I don’t need to be there until night fall which gives me and my shaky legs some good resting time.  As it is right now I’ve climbed to the top of some rock formations jutting out in a valley between the mountainsides I’m climbing.  The rocks are naturally a taupe color but are covered with so many shades of gray, green, lime, yellow and rust color that they end up looking like an impressionist painting.  On the rocks the vegetation is mainly scrub and even in the forest the trees are somewhat low and prickly.  Although when I look out over the mountain range I see nothing but green lush.  I hear the deep clang of cow bells and I look forward to maybe meeting some bovine friends!  For now I plan to meditate a bit.

Sunday, June 30. Yesterday and last night turned into somewhat of a harrowing experience for Mira and I (mostly me I’m sure). The hike went well and all landmarks were found although the trail was almost eentirely uphill (and quite steep for long bouts) I took my time, rested and went low.  Got to the Roc of France late afternoon and the scenery made the struggle worth it.  I couldn’t feel my sore legs anymore as I became awed by the mountain ranges in differing colors and the ocean stretched out before me.  I didn’t have much time to linger as there was still another hour of walking to the refugee and I was starving since I had inadequately packed food.  This was the point where the journey became challenging in a whole different way.  The road leading down from the Roc to 200 meters lower was totally and entirely one long hard ugly wide stretch of concrete.  How foul a thing to pound your knees on after walking five hours in beautiful lush surroundings! The road continued and continued and was at a slope decline that gave my knees hell.  I wished many times that I’d stayed at the top with that view and had just found a place to sleep there.  But what spurred me on was not the sleep but the meal at the apparently great restaurant attached to the refugee: both being in the middle of nowhere.  By the time I got there it was somewhere around 5 or 6.  I was so looking forward to a big meal and sleep, but decidedly NOT looking forward to the long uphill walk on the concrete expressway the next day.  Before going into the restaurant I had a look in on the refugee.  I guess it was pretty much what I expected, but somehow when faced with it it was so dark and dank and….dungeon like.  It was a stone room (probably literally a dungeon at one point) in the rear of the monastery which was now a restaurant.  It had two double-sized wooden plank beds, bunk bed style, attached to one far wall.  In the middle was a large and ancient wooden table and chairs, and in the other corner of the opposite wall a hearth and fireplace. One metal door for entrance, no windows on the door or in the walls.  The effect was rather severe.  I shrugged it off as looking better after a glass of Spanish wine.

Let me make a long story short by telling you the punchline now.  I left my cash on the bedside table at home, and of course a restaurant in the middle of nowhere Spain only takes cash.  I walked back out onto the road very deflated and defeated and Mira looking at me like I was crazy cause we’d been so close to food.  I decided quickly that, as tired as I was, I would rather drag my sore body up that chewed up sidewalk for two hours and watch the sun set than stay in the cold dungeon want walk it in the morning.  I wish I could have taken a picture of Mira’s expression when I got back on the road heading the wrong way.  Pure incomprehension, and she stayed put and didn’t follow me for a minute or two.  Loyalty got the best of her and I think she already suspected I was a novice hiker from the many instances of doubling back she’d experienced with me that day.  So Mira and I spent the next very very very long time walking back up the impossibly long stretch of concrete.  Twice I took “shortcuts” that go absolutely nowhere and cause Mira to lose even more faith in my leading abilities (though I explain to her that I’m an adventurer). We eventually made it to the top (thank god!) and immediately were rewarded with the beginning phases of what would be an absolutely sublime sunset – one of the best in my life.  As the sky darkens we try out three different sleeping situations, each one completely different but none sufficiently blocking the wind.  The problem with sleeping on the top of Roc de France, and probably why I was the only person up there, is that you’re on top of the first high peak the wind reaches as it comes in off the sea.  No wind breaks anywhere and it was increasingly like being in the middle of a hoover.  Chilly too.  In the end I crawled half under a jasmine bush, put on every single piece of clothing I had brought (including my raincoat and sun hat) and crawled into my sleeping bag.  Then I emptied remaining contents of my pack and shoved my feet into it, covering me to mid thigh.  That left only my bum subject to the biting wind and that was okay.  Apparently I slept, though I don’t know how or when.  The stars were very very beautiful and plentiful.  The moon rising was great too since that signaled the coming dawn.  And though I couldn’t see the actual sunrise the colors it created in the sky and on the neighboring mountain peaks were awesome!  Now I wait to meet up with Jon and make our way home to showers, beds, hot dinners and I can’t wait. I most especially can’t wait to hear how his last 24 hours have been.  And in the end, of course, I’m glad things turned out the way they did.  The sunset and sunrise more than made up for the no dinner and crappy walk.  It’s the sunrise I’ll never forget.

And so, in the end, here are the two intrepid travelers…sunburnt and in love:

We had a great time!

Tags: July 2008, Tag Index

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