A Taste of Catalonia

by Pat Lloyd

We had used the European Bike Express to reach their campsite at Empuriabrava in the north east of Spain but after a few days trying out the many cycle paths in the area we started to get itchy feet. Abandoning the main part of our baggage in the tent we headed north along the Costa Brava towards France.

We were soon leaving the coastal plain for the stiffish climb up to the Coll de la Perafita where the road divided, the right hand dropping down to Cadaques, famous for the artist Salvador Dali who lived at nearby Port Lligat. We needed to keep left but not before patronising the bar, which was conveniently placed at the junction. We came again later in the holiday and the hillside behind the bar and the valley down to Cadaques had been devastated by fire with the olive trees reduced to blackened stumps and the smell of burning still in the air.

A long freewheel took us to Port de la Selva, then on through Llanca to Portbou, the last town before the frontier. Although it was still early it had become extremely hot so we called it a day and found a one star pension for the night before taking a stroll round town where we realised that all the posters about September the 11th had nothing to do with America but were for La Diada, the National Day of Catalonia where the sardene was danced. This is the Catalonian national dance and was being performed in the town square to the music of an enthusiastic band.

Next morning we were over the Coll des Belitres and past the abandoned customs posts to Cervera and on to Banyuls de la Marenda for another short day with a visit to the famous aquarium. Just to show that we were in France we stayed at the Hotel de Paris and next morning took the Avenue de General de Gaule to what we hoped would be a rough-stuff crossing of the Coll de Banyuls, described in the Rough Guide to the Pyrenees as a dirt road.

A left fork signposted Coll de Banyuls took us alongside the dried up Riu de les Vinyers where the grape harvest was in full swing. Several of the wine growers' caves with names like the Cellier des Templiers were open to visitors. After 4km a signpost pointed left to the tomb and museum of Aristide Maillot, a sculptor specialising in robust young ladies, one of whom reclined on the promenade at Banyuls. As we had never heard of him we kept straight on along the narrowing road that climbed up the steepening valley. The last few kilometres had us walking up the hairpins, which much to our disappointment, had been recently tarred all the way to the coll where a monument commemorated General de Gaulle and the freedom soldiers. A dirt track came in from the right, which seemed to start a little further north of Banyuls and would perhaps have been a more interesting route.

We were now dropping back into Spain but the French tarmac did not run out for a few more bends before we were down to bumpy bedrock for a short stretch. Nature in the raw met us in the dust at the side of the road where a three foot brown and fawn snake was tightly coiled round an unfortunate lizard. It was the largest lizard I had seen, at least ten inches long and not very happy, but it was its lucky day as the vibrations from an approaching car caused the snake to ease up and the lizard shot off in one direction and the snake in the other doubtless to tell its mate about the whopper that got away.

Spain must have received another allowance of EEC money as the road ahead was brand new with dazzling white lines where the paint was hardly dry, this took us to Espolla, a compact village with a small hotel. After welcome drinks we headed further down to cross the motorway at Pont de Molins.

Once again it was still fairly early but this would be our last chance of accommodation before the Coll de Riu the next day. A small hotel with an Italian restaurant found us ensconced in what was surely the honeymoon suite with a bed large enough to take the bride, groom, best man and a couple of bridesmaids, and standing at least four feet off the floor.

We were away early the next morning, leaving the main road at Els Hotales to take a minor road through Llers, Terrades and Sant Llorenc de la Muga. The scenery was really pretty a sharp contrast from the aridness of the coast and judging by number of campsites a popular holiday area.

The Romanesque church of Marie de Deu de Palau Roman stood abandoned in a farmyard, one of the many we would see that day. It was fifteen miles to Albanya, the last village before the climb started, a small place with a campsite and a one star pension, which seemed to be closed. We had a coffee before taking the road out which was tarred as far as Camping Bassegoda, from there the surface was loose rocks with concrete stretches on the steepest parts.

We had not gone far when we reached a confusing signpost, straight on was Coll de Bassegoda and to the left Bassegoda, after consulting the map we decided on the left which was now the GR11 as there was refuge shown at Bassegada where we could stay if we ran out of time.

A large group of lads on mountain bikes were going our way and managing to ride although out of the saddle and dripping with perspiration but we walked large portions of the next seven miles as it was extremely rocky. We caught up with them at another junction where a signpost for Lliurona pointed down a better-surfaced track but ours went straight on to Bassegada. This comprised the small farm of Can Nou and the refuge higher up on the hillside but as it was still early afternoon we decided to give the refuge a miss and keep going. The farm had a sign for sandwiches and coffee but I don't know how they got supplies up that rocky track. Not far on a ruined building had a few cows nearby. They and a couple of goats and hens seemed to be the total livestock of the farm. It was another two miles to the Coll de Riu, the track from the Coll de Bassegoda having joined ours just before the coll. There was nothing to mark the top, just a pile of stones where a faint track climbed towards Puig De Bassegoda at 1373 metres looming above on the right.

According to the map we were on the 1000 metre contour and due for a bit of downhill but we had hardly started when a good track went off to the left not shown on our map and with no signpost so we took a chance a kept straight on. Some precipitous rocky hairpin bends had us walking again, Fred having left our E111 and holiday insurance safely packed away back at the campsite we weren't taking any chances.

After a couple of miles we reached a signpost for the church of Mare de Deu de las Agulles which was a relief as it meant that we were on the correct route, There had been several of these isolated churches along the way but who they served was a mystery as there were no houses nearby.

The track became ridable in parts and dropped to the secluded Vall de Riu, a small fertile area with a solitary farm. We had a bit more climbing, passing yet another of the wayside churches and then a water tap above a trough, the only water so far, before dropping towards the Riera de Sant Aniol, a fast flowing river with deep pools in a rocky gorge. Fortunately a low wall separated us from the deep gorge.

The track was still bad but a few cars had risked their suspensions to where the rock climbers were plastered on the cliffs above the river. Things gradually improved when the track crossed a bridge to the opposite bank of the river with short stretches of concrete on the corners.

Re-crossing the river we finally reached civilisation at Sadernes, fifteen miles and five and three quarter hours after leaving Albanya. The old church of Santa Cecilia, the Hostal Sadernes, and the campsite seemed to be the full extent of Sadernes and as the hostal had no rooms and the restaurant was heaving with people we decided to keep going. Tarmac was reached just outside the village and we zoomed along until we saw a bar where the bikes refused to go any further until their riders had a drink. We passed a very old bridge, the Pont de Llierca, on the way down to Montagut beyond where we joined a horrendous new stretch of the N260 before stopping at the first hotel at Besalu, rather weary after walking about eight of our fifteen miles off road, but having had an excellent day in beautiful scenery.

The map we used was No2 Alt Emporda, Mapa Comaroal de Catalunya 1:50000 bought from Alf the manager of the Bolero campsite for €6, (nearly €10 in the camp shop). Both of these colls would be an excellent approach to the volcanic Garrotxa area or a traverse of the Spanish side of the Pyrenees.