Into The Hills

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We decided to head up into the hills of the Parc Natural del Cadi-Moixeró, one of the last refuges of the Cathars, home of the trementinaires (herbal medicine women) and a place of natural beauty to which the pathetic camera on the mobile phone did no justice whatsoever. Click the poor photos to replace them with Panoramio alternatives. Here are a few highlights.

An hour east of Ripoll, just past Gombren, lies the 9th century sanctuary of Montgreny. Halfway up the well maintained steps from the guest house, the switchback leads you past a tiny 9th century chapel which is still in use and sprinkled with poignant offerings; bunches of wild flowers, lighted candles, a photo of a young child with the limb of a plastic doll sellotaped to it; and then up to the sanctuary at the top. Incredible peace awaits you there. The surrounding scrub was humming with insect life and the views towards Pedraforca hinted at the majesty of the mountain to come. These sites are usually locked closed but can be entered if you ask for a key from the local guardian; in most cases this would be provided by a local guest house or refuge.

Restored 9th Century Church

We pressed on. A couple of hours drive through meandering mountain roads brought us to a guest house about 1400m up beyond Bagá. The peace here distances one from the bustle of the lower valleys and towns. This particular guest house was reconstructed from little more than the single remaining wall of its ruins into a fully functioning five room retreat by its big-hearted and genuinely lovely owners who traded in a fast-paced life in Barcelona for the simplicity of the mountains six years ago. They have walked the whole area, carefully marking some fifteen circular trails for people to enjoy, leading one past historic sites, beautiful views and the various springs along the way. Pedraforca, the twin-peaked mountain at the centre of the natural park, is visible from here too.

Looking Down From Much Higher Up

The following day we hiked up to Els Empedrats, following the river Bastany through a landscape that was one moment reminiscent of English countryside, then like tropical rainforest. Water trickled out of rocks on all sides as we climbed higher, rivulets crossed the path and we were accompanied by the incessant burbling of the river beside us. All this was punctuated by the occasional cascade replete with basin below.

Waterfall Half Way Up

Eventually we rested and ate by a waterfall (not pictured; one higher and more discrete) where after an icy dip the weather cycled rapidly between brilliant sunshine and light showers, giving us a hint of what was to come.

Sun Breaks Through Clouds Again

We decided to find somewhere to sleep for the night. As we climbed higher, a thick mist started to roll in, reminding me of the last time I was up here some years ago, forced to camp in a hurry on a ridge. We paused here and there to scout for a site but despite their mystical beauty, none of the slopes was level enough for a tent. The hammock would have been fine. Indeed, this is perfect country for low-impact hammock camping, especially if one wishes to lose oneself in the solitude of the woods.

Looking Down Through The Mist

Eventually we found ourselves off-road on Coll de Pal. During the occasional breaks in the mist, we took in the views. Mere pictures can't do them justice but the exhilaration of looking down the entire valley from a 100 meter cliff edge filled us with a desire to stay to watch the sunrise the following day.

Looking Down From Above The Clouds

A soft rain began to fall as we pitched in a discrete spot. Just as we crawled into the tent, we heard a distant rumble of thunder. Perhaps there would be a small shower that night? All the better. There's nothing more soothing than the gentle patter of raindrops against canvas.

That night we experienced the heaviest rainfall the region had seen in years. The deluge continued all night, lightning brightening the skies and ripping the air apart with thunder like the bellowing of feuding gods as wind tore at the tent. One of us lay awake, genuinely terrified. One of us snored gently.

The following morning, though, as the last of the rainclouds wrung themselves dry, we did enjoy some beautiful morning rainbows over breakfast and we watched the shadows on the far side of the valley inch back as the sun rose.

6am Double Rainbow

The heavy rains had eroded the mountainside and littered the roads with lumps of rock. The rivers had swollen, too, and were now muddy with sediment. As we wove our way carefully down the mountain passes, water cascaded from every surface and waves of mist rolled past, every so often revealing another stupendous view for a moment before covering it again coyly. Slowly the sun burned away at the cloud banks and we headed back towards Glisclareny for a hike around one of the routes our guest house owner had marked.

Looking Down The Valley

The trail took in more beautiful views of the valleys, passed a 12th century church and led us through the woods where we encountered one of the locals.

The guest house owner lets his horses wander freely along the walking trails where he's set salt licks and water troughs for them.

Yet to come: a visit to the Cathar museum, the museum of trementinaires, a wander through Coll de la Trapa where Catalonia suddenly came to look like a water-soaked Mexican desert, and Gosól, where Picasso stayed for nine months and began experiments with protocubism.