This is the fourth summer that we have spent exploring the Pyrenees; each year returning to explore a new mountain area or valley, and each year we discover a more strenuous hike, a more spectacular lake or a more magical forest.
When you look at a map of the Pyrenees you see a large mountain range that forms a natural barrier between France and Spain and within which the tiny country of Andorra nestles. A closer look reveals a complicated structure. Natural and national parks abound and long distance footpaths and trails criss-cross the whole region connecting towns, villages and valleys.
The topography dictates that many beautiful valleys are in a sense dead-ends and so to explore an area you either need to do long cross hikes or launch in from different entry points; and as these entry points are usually a drive of several hours apart this has formed our method of exploring. Each year my partner and I establish a ‘base camp’ and we explore upwards and outwards from that point.
The first year of camping we began on the western side of Mont Perdido (the Lost Mountain) staying near the cute mountain town of Torla. The next year we focused on the Boí valley staying at Taȕll where with perfect timing we witnessed an impressive ‘fallas’ procession celebrating San Juan.
During 2023 we spent many weekends discovering the area around Espot splitting our time between two different campsites and this summer, the fourth year, we have begun to explore the eastern side of Mont Perdido together with the Pineta and the Chistau valleys and even crossing over into France, basing ourselves near the small village of Bielsa.
We tend to favour the smaller campsites and preferably sites with no swimming pools (because pools = children = noise) and once we have discovered our ideal place we tend to return many times throughout the season. We have our tent pitching down to a fine art and we can have our camp all set up within an hour of our arrival. Whilst it is always tempting to eat out in some of the local restaurants we usually cook our dinner on site where we can both have a beer or share a bottle of wine and neither of us needs to worry about driving home.
For us, a campsite can be simple but it must be clean. Occasionally things may get lively as larger groups of friends or families chat into the night over a long slow supper, but generally people on the smaller sites are respectful of the privacy and tranquillity of others. I am hesitant to advertise the names of our favourite sites as I would hate for them to become so popular that we would be unable to find a spare pitch when we want to stay, but equally they do deserve to be named – and I will do so as I write about some of these places.
Every valley, every village and every road is different in the Pyrenees and the majority of them have a backdrop of soaring mountain peaks, waterfalls, lakes or forests. Refugios (refuges) are dotted around on the high plains offering safe haven to trekkers and skiers and there are even bears, wolves and lynx up there. As even a grazing herd of the (apparently) gentle herds of cows can reduce me to a quivering mess when I have to hike near or through them, I only hope that my path never ever crosses that of a bear or a wolf.
We have spent hours watching the incredibly cute marmots, we have seen stags rutting and eagles swooping and soaring and one afternoon we also spent a ridiculous amount of time captivated by a tiny dormouse eating a dandelion just one metre away from us.
Cheese, wine and sausages all taste of the mountains with a depth of flavour to match the scenery and my hope is that I have whetted your appetite to read more and learn more about this region with me.
The summer fire festivals
I mentioned experiencing the fallas in Taȕll, These festivals have been declared by UNESCO to be of cultural importance. They take place in many of the villages of the Pyrenees around the time of the midsummer solstice. On phoning to confirm our camping pitch we were advised to arrive at the site early as the access roads would be closed off by the police. We nearly didn’t make it in time because my partner had trouble leaving work early but we got there by the skin of our teeth and as we were erecting our tent the police arrived in the village to marshall the traffic and to coordinate the evening’s events.
We weren’t sure what to expect as we hadn’t gone specifically to see the fallas, but as the evening went on more and more people gathered in the village square. Numerous local people were carrying large, heavy bundles of wood and sticks over their shoulders that were bound together to make giant torches. Eventually all of the torch bearers left the plaza to hike to the top of the nearby mountain peak whilst we were entertained in the centre of the village by a band of musicians on the stage.
Then followed a delay whilst the fire brigade had to climb up the same mountain path to put out a fire which had been accidentally started (wildfires are a growing threat as the climate in Spain gets ever hotter), but close to midnight an orange glow lit up the mountain top as the wooden torches were lit and a huge cheer went up from the crowd.
This was the first time that the fallas had been permitted since the lockdown and Covid so it was an emotional time for the locals who had been missing this important part of their cultural diary.
We then watched from the crowded village plaza as the glow turned into a huge serpent of fire as the hundreds of people carrying their torches wound their way down the mountain pass and then, as they reached the plaza, it exploded into a crescendo. The torch bearers charged through the village at top speed, crossing through narrow paths formed by hundreds of people like us who had come to watch. Sparks were flying and the heat from the torches was incredible. It was exciting and a little bit dangerous for us – but it must have been even more exhilarating for the torch bearers themselves. Eventually, as the torches began to burn low they were added onto an enormous bonfire and the party continued into the early hours of the morning and we made our way back to our campsite and bed.
The medieval town of Ainsa guards some of the access roads that lead to the National Park of Ordesa and Mont Perdido. It takes nearly an hour to get from Ainsa to Torla due to the road which winds tortuously up through the mountains but just thirty minutes to drive to Bielsa.
Ainsa also marks the end point of a huge embalsa (reservoir). Depending on the time of year and the drought situation in Spain the water levels in this reservoir may be quite low or you may see the forest of trees half submerged, but it is always the most brilliant blue colour.
Ainsa truly is a gem of a little town with is so much to see and do all around it. It has a large castle, a great plaza packed with restaurants and coffee shops and of course, the usual jumble of narrow streets that wind up and down within the town walls.
The castle is host to an impressive array of concerts and performances during the summer and there is also a cool little museum which is well worth taking the time to explore.
The Eco Museum houses information about the flora and fauna of the region with many displays but it also houses live birds of prey which for whatever reason (injury usually) cannot be released back into the wild. I had heard about the majestic Quebrantahueso or Bearded Vulture. Apart from it’s enormous size, this bird is quite unique because it feeds almost exclusively upon animal bones rather than meat. Even large or old tough bones are easily tackled by this bird because it can carry bones weighing more than 4 grams in weight to a height of 150 meters where it will drop them onto the rocks below, causing them to crack! These really are majestic birds and you get a real sense of scale when you see them close up in this eco museum.
There is a bird of prey ‘hide’ on the road below San Juan de Plan in the Chistau valley and we spent a long time here just the other week watching these awesome birds (together with eagles and kites) soaring on the thermals and swooping down to a feeding platform which has been set up for them.
I hope that you have enjoyed this introduction to the Spanish Pyrenees and maybe I have encouraged you to get out and to explore for yourself. Make sure that you come back for more articles where I will delve deeper into the things that you can see and do in this beautiful area and I will give you details of some of the hidden gems of campsites that we have discovered.
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I wrote this article just one year after I the breakup of my marriage back in 2010. I booked my trip to India with Explore and I travelled with a wonderful group of people, and whilst it’s a cliché, India truly was a life-changing experience for me. My children had chosen to cut me out of their lives, I was being bullied in work and I was floating around in a (prescription) drug induced haze following an emotional breakdown. I needed a change and I needed it quickly if I were to begin to rebuild my life and my self-esteem.
Things are very different now but I like to revisit this theme periodically to remind myself that despite how people might appear on the outside we never know the whole story about what’s going on in someone’s mind.
It’s also good to be reminded that happiness (and loneliness) doesn’t only depend on external factors or material things and that no matter how bleak things sometimes seem to be, they usually improve. My tattoo on my thigh of a peacock (India’s national bird) reminds me daily of lessons learnt when I got soaking wet in the monsoon rains in India.
My life completely changed when somebody asked me the question. ‘Are you happy?’
If I had been asked just five hours earlier I would have replied yes and I would not have questioned my status quo, but coming at the exact point in time that it did, triggered a landslide of emotions. It were as if a veil was lifted and I could see life as it really was, as my close friends saw it and it debunked all of the excuses that I had been making to myself.
I still receive incredulous looks when I tell my story which is why I am going to bring it back out there and I hope that it will help others, maybe even you, to understand, to question and to bring about changes for the better.
Peacock decoration on a door in Agra, India
Lace hankies and floodwater
I have been at my loneliest whilst sat on an exquisite beach in Mexico and I have been at my happiest soaked to the skin in the monsoon rains in India. Let me explain.
A luxury holiday in the Caribbean.
The turquoise Caribbean sea lapped against the hot white sand whilst emerald green hummingbirds darted around the manicured grounds of the five-star gated holiday complex. I lay on a sunbed gently toasting in the sun whilst a waiter brought me iced cocktails and my biggest decision of the day was whether to wander down to the beach or stay next to the pool.
I knew that I was privileged to be able to holiday at such an amazing place, but I was hungry to see what lay beyond the gates and to meet the real people of Mexico. This was back in the day when I was still married and we both worked hard so that we could afford to pay for nice holidays in nice places – and many of those holidays were to all-inclusive resorts in the Carribean.
luxury and hot white sands in Mexico – but I felt lonely
One day on that holiday, my husband and I joined an organised coach trip which took us from our resort to the iconic Chichen Itza site. We drove through towns and villages and we were offered tantalising glimpses of people going about their day to day business. After exploring the ruins I strolled ahead of my husband among the small stalls set up under the trees by local people. This was more like it; I spoke no Spanish yet I felt comfortable here among the people who were doing their best to attract tourists to their handicraft stalls.
I wandered around and I paused, intending to buy a couple of small hand-embroidered items which cost just pennies from a group of ladies who proudly showed off a small baby to me. They were full of smiles as they gestured towards me. Their poverty was obvious and by spending at their stall I might make a small difference, but I was hurried away by my husband who grumbled that we didn’t need to buy the cute little lace handkerchiefs that they had made.
Later that evening, as we sat in our hotel restaurant eating food that the stall holders could only dream of, I was angry for allowing myself to be dissuaded from buying a couple of lace hankies and years of unhappy experiences crowded into my mind. Sat on the beach the next day, I couldn’t stop the tears as I realised that despite being on holiday in such a beautiful place, I was deeply unhappy and I felt lonely in our relationship. I felt unheard and as if my own views of people and of life were unimportant.
It was on that holiday in Mexico that I began to seriously question the path that my life was taking. By the following June I had decided that things couldn’t continue as they were and when I really began to question the status quo, my life as I knew it imploded!
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Finding myself in India
One year later, in August 2010, I was holidaying at the other end of the scale. I had travelled to India during the monsoon season with the travel company Explore. I had been in a pretty bad way emotionally and a friend had suggested that I could do with a break. She recommended Explore and as I was not in any position emotionally to travel solo I took her up on her suggestion and I found myself in India with a small group of 16 travellers.
local travel in India – trains in the rain
Advertised as touring India on a shoestring we were travelling on local buses and trains and mostly staying in small low-budget hotels. Whilst we had the security of a travel guide we also had a lot of free time. (Continue reading to the end of the article and discover how I ended up in India when I had intended to book a cycling trip in Italy!)
On my second day in Delhi I was riding in a tuk-tuk with three other people – almost strangers to me at that point – when flash floods engulfed the city streets. We had decided to use our free time and take a tuk tuk around the city when the rain began to fall. Drains blocked with rubbish soon began to overflow and the waters began to rise.
tuk tuk in India
Our driver ploughed on into the floodwater, oblivious to the fact that it was now well over the sill of his vehicle and it was lapping around our hips on the back seat. I have to admit to being a little scared at that point and then, with our bags raised above our heads, and with smoke belching out of the submerged exhaust, the machine coughed and then stopped.
Assuring us that he would manage to re-start the machine and refusing all offers of help with a push from us, our driver indicated that we should get to some higher ground. We gingerly stepped out and waded through thigh-deep water to take some shelter in a shop doorway. Joining a group of cheerful Indian ladies with their sodden saris trailing in the water I tried to ignore the obvious lumps of sewerage which were floating past (thankfully at that stage I was oblivious to the dysentery that would soon follow).
My group of new friends chatted about the rain and we worried about how we would ever find our way back to our hotel because the unpronounceable street name had been washed clean from the paper on which it had been written. We glumly looked out over the messy, untidy street where the filthy water was running and at the people who were wading through the floods as we tried to squeeze some of the rain water out of our clothes and our hair.
walking in the monsoon rain in India
On the contrary, the local ladies giggled as they watched some men who had waded out to help push the tuk-tuk up a slope and then like men the world over, gathered around scratching their heads and offered mechanical advice, all of them totally unfazed by their soaked clothes and the water lapping around their knees.
The women explained to us that whilst the floods would cause many deaths (that year was particularly bad), the monsoon rains always brought a welcome relief from the sapping summer heat and it irrigated the parched land. The monsoon season was to be celebrated because the consequences should it ever fail were unimaginable.
The first stage to my recovery.
The faces of those Indian ladies were beautiful. They radiated happiness, and serenity despite the povery all around and something deep inside me moved emotionally. For the first time in almost a year I felt what I now know to be hope and I stepped out from under the shelter. I raised my face to the deluge allowing the warm water to wash over me and I laughed, imitating the little children who were playing excitedly around us. They had long ago discarded their clothes and their little brown bodies shone as they splashed and laughed in the rain.
street life in India – life goes on – despite the rain
Marooned in the shabby backstreets of Delhi, surrounded by water and sewerage, the jewel-bright colours of the women’s silk saris reminded me of the humming-birds in Mexico. These ladies weren’t focusing on the negatives at all. They would have to wash the mud out of their clothes, their homes would be damp, and travel during the monsoon season would be difficult but they could count their blessings that the rains had come and they laughed and chatted together.
I was in a strange country with nobody who I knew, yet I was not lonely. I was truly happy and like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis I felt reborn. I was taking back control of my life, and as I began to come out from the shadow of my marriage, my own identity blossomed and I decided that I liked the person that I was becoming. I couldn’t wait to see what I was capable of achieving next.
Continue reading below the image and discover how I ended up in India when I had planned to spend 5 days cycling around the vineyards of Tuscany.
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Becoming stronger through mindfulness
I had planned to go to Italy!
I have already explained that my friend recommended that it might do me good to take a short break away from my problems and she gave me her Explore brochure. I wasn’t in a good place emotionally having recently experienced an emotional breakdown and I had been prescribed some time on anti-depressants. One afternoon, I took my towel and a bottle of cider down to the communal garden of the small apartment block where I was living and I settled down to choose my holiday.
I remember deciding upon a 5 day cycling tour of the vineyards of Tuscany in Italy. A bit of exercise, plenty of pasta and wine and some beautiful European countryside would be the perfect start to my recovery. I don’t remember much else because the cider, the pills and the heat all conspired together and I fell asleep in the sun.
The Taj Mahal – that booking error possibly changed my life
It seemed that I got myself back into my apartment and settled down for the night because the next morning I woke up in my bed with a thumping headache and a nagging suspicion that I had booked my holiday. This feeling didn’t go away so I contacted the company and trying to ignore the fact that it must sound totally weird, I asked the operator on the end of the phone to confirm my holiday details for me.
She reeled off my travel date which was just 6 weeks later and she confirmed that I would be flying into Delhi for the start of my two week trip around the Golden Triangle of India.
‘You mean Tuscany…for 5 days….cycling?’ I questioned her.
‘Nooooo, we spoke yesterday and you definitely reserved and paid in full for your trip to India. You will be leaving in 6 weeks time and you will have a lovely time. It’s one of our best trips!’
Suddenly I had a flash back to the previous afternoon and I remembered waking in the garden and finding that the wind had flipped the page of the magazine over to the India trip. It had obviously attracted me so much that I had gone into my apartment and phoned the company to reserve my spot!
I had several options open to me at that stage. I could
a) feel sorry for myself and weep loudly down the phone
b) change my holiday to Italy and probably lose a percentage of my booking fee
c) pull up my Big-Girl Pants and embrace the experience.
Thanking the operator for her help I put down the phone and wondered how the hell I could go about applying for an Indian visa.
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Finding myself in India
The Universe will give you what you need. I didn’t think so at the time but I was certainly ready for India and I needed it at that exact moment in my life. Relax and accept what comes along.
You WILL deal with it.
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There are tons of things to see and do in Catalunya, and I always do my best to get out and to explore.
One of the places that I have enjoyed visiting and taking visitors to is the wine cathedral which is in the nearby village called Pinell de Brai.
The wine cathedral at Pinell de Brai
In a small village close to the River Ebro stands a large ostentatious brick building inlaid with a beautiful coloured frieze, yet the biggest surprise of all lay inside. Debs and I took the self-guided audio tour and wandered around listening to the history of the place.
Scarlet Jones Travels – the wine cathedral
We learnt that the cathedral was constructed between 1919 and 1922. At this time in its history. the region was prosperous from wine and olive oil production and the government, wanting to put Catalan culture on the map authorized the building of large modernist cathedrals to house the newly formed wine and oil cooperatives and the farmers’ unions.
Cesar Martinell, who studied under Gaudi, was the architect who designed the cathedral in the village of Pinell de Brai. He wanted to dignify the workers’ work and build a grand place but he also listened to them and their needs and he incorporated state of the art specialist equipment inside.
Beginning outside we learnt that the frieze had been completed at the same time as the cathedral but with mounting debts it was thought to be a little inconsiderate to flaunt the 42 metre long art work so the tiles were hidden away ; and were kept hidden during the Spanish civil war, until they were finally added in 1950.
Inside, the main hall is dominated by 46 giant cement tanks. There are a further 25 tanks underground – the wine cathedral can hold up to 2.5 million litres of wine. On the tour tourists can interact with a sensory game and try to identify different wine-related aromas in a bouquet tunnel which was good fun.
Scarlet Jones Travels – the wine vats
Climbing the stairs to the top floor you really get a feeling for the grand scale as the largest brick arches in the world dominate the space – at 19 metres high they parallel the great cathedrals, which was of course, Cesar Martinell’s plan.
As I said previously, Cesar designed more than just a pretty building. A`long beam stretches across the top floor containing an endless screw used in the crushing process. Much of the wine production here uses gravity in the process which ensures that the grapes are minimally affected.
Scarlet Jones Travels – the vaulted roof
The building was also home to an olive oil mill. 3 huge conical stones would have once ground the olives to a paste before it was put into the crushers. The original equipment is still here and although it is no longer used but looks in pristine condition.
At the end of the tour in the little shop you can have an optional wine and oil tasting which Debs and I were more than happy to trial. I am happy to report that the oil was delicious and the wine excellent. There is also a restaurant upstairs which serves lunch and while we didn’t eat here, the business owners also have a Michelin star restaurant nearby so I suspect that the food would be good.
Scarlet Jones Travels – wine tasting
The Menu del Dia
Food and drink feature highly on any visit to Spain. Of course, when you can buy a very acceptable cava for under £2.50 (that is for a whole bottle not a glass) it is always going to feature highly.
Wherever you are in Spain, the menu del dia is your food friend. This concept was introduced by Franco who wanted to ensure that all labourers had access to good, wholesome, affordable food and he and his government insisted that restaurants offered this alternative cheaper option alongside their a la carte menus.
The small village of Benifallet is blessed with several restaurants and bars which all serve excellent food but time and time again I return to Xiringuito’s. The atmosphere is relaxed, even during the hectic August lunch times, due in part to the fact that its family owned and it all runs like a well-oiled machine. The food that comes out of the kitchens is always of high quality and is usually based on local recipes, and there are no half measures when it comes to the drinks on the table either.
You do have to book a table on the days when they serve up their paella, but for me, their black rice is the best. Salty and ever so subtly squidy this is my personal measure of a good restaurant in Spain and Xiringuito wins hands down for their version of it.
The Menu del Dia in Spain typically consists of a starter or an aperitif, then you have a first plate and next a second plate, all of which are usually accompanied by bread, olives and alioli (garlic mayonnaise). There will be a postre (desert) and the optional coffee to finish up and all is usually washed down by wine or water, one of which is included in the price. Quality and prices vary around the country but the best by far are in the local villages and even in the restaurants that are attached to the petrol stations.
Each of the nearest gas stations as they are known to Benifallet offer good food; one offers food cooked over open coals and the other at the Tamoil station offers home style cooking from its Bulgarian owners and you are hard pressed to find a table here as it is frequented by lorry drivers, workers and locals alike.
People also travel an awfully long way to dine at the local hotel in Benifallet which is called Pepo’s. This hotel boasts a restaurant with an incredible choice of dishes, many of them of local origin but also some with more adventurous twists from further afield. The wine menu is extensive and the restaurant cool and calm; again you will often need to book in advance as it is so popular here.
Scarlet Jones Travels – Benifallet
Hiking to the Cruz de Santos (Saint’s Cross)
One evening when the temperature was still thirty something degrees a group of about thirty people gathered in the road outside the bars of Benifallet. Piling into cars we drove up into the mountains to the abandoned Cardo Monastery. The road hugs the side of the mountain and has spectacular views across the valley and as you emerge through a tunnel cut into the rock you can see the impressive abandoned monastery standing on its bluff of rock which hangs over the valley.
Scarlet Jones Travels – a little hermitage
But this evening we were not there to see the monastery. We were there to hike to the summit of the Cardo mountain and to the Cruz de Santos. With the high temperature it was never going to be an easy hike but the group set off at a fast pace. Trying not to puff and pant too much, both my friend and I kept up the pace! The hike covered 7.5 kms and we climbed 581 metres. I have done worse hikes but the terrain was tricky in places with loose rocks and steep sides along the path although the views were worth it. We passed several of the many abandoned hermitages along the route that were a spin-off from the monastery, some of them perched impossibly on sharp needles of rock.
Scarlet Jones Travels – waiting for the sunset
I learnt how the monks used to live alone in each of them and as a safety precaution they would all ring their bells at a designated time of the day. One day, one of the bells was silent so a rescue party went to investigate, only to find the monk enjoying the company of the local prostitute! The enraged rescuers banished the monk and they set the hermitage on fire as it had been desecrated by the monk’s actions.
Scarlet Jones Travels – full moon rising
As we climbed we emerged from the tree line and had views far out and over to the coast and the Ebro Delta as well as to the mountains which rolled on and on. And then came the event that we had climbed for. As smoky grey cloud billowed up from below us and crept up to the peak on which we were standing and sitting, the sun set in the west bathing everything in its golden glow whilst opposite in the east, a full moon rose in the darkening lilac/blue sky.
We all took photographs and settled down to eat our picnics on the rocks with the view surrounding us all around at 360 degrees. And then, in the dark, we put on our head torches and set off back down the mountain.
Scarlet Jones Travels – the Santos Cross
Making and meeting a new friend.
I am a great believer that strangers are simply friends that you have not yet met and this story proves that.
On one of my visits to Spain I was in the queue at Bristol airport waiting to fly out to Barcelona when a lady in front of me turned and struck up a conversation. We continued to chatter away, even though by now I was kneeling on the floor and holding up the queue because my suitcase was overweight. The weighing scales that I had used before leaving home were not exactly accurate and I had to ‘lose’ several kilos of stuff. Anyway, I was choosing which stuff to dump (airports – PLEASE provide special bins and take this stuff to a charity instead of landfill). The honey-nut cornflakes had to go and sadly several books but Louise and I continued to chat. I told her how I was planning to eventually head to Peru and as she had once been married to a Colombian we swapped addresses.
But instead of never getting around to it like happens so many times, we actually wrote to each other. Granted, we didn’t get around to it much, but we did occasionally write and we swapped news. And finally, after four years we were in the same place at the same time and Louise treated me to a glorious lunch at a Michelin star restaurant in Cambrils.
just one of many of the lunch courses
We had a lovely meal at the Rincon de Diego in Cambrils which comprised of a whole table of tastes of the the delicious food then later Louise gave me a tour of the area in her neat little red sports car before we went back to her home for a drink.
We had a lovely afternoon and didn’t stop talking about all sorts of things, which goes to prove my point that there are no strangers, just friends that you have yet to meet.
We could have just smiled at each other in the queue at the airport and we certainly didn’t have to exchange email addresses. We never had to write or to take the time to find out a little bit about each other, but I am so glad that we did. And the next time that a stranger strikes up a conversation with you somewhere, make an effort to reply. Who knows, you may become very good friends one day in the future.
We had a lovely meal at the Rincon de Diego in Cambrils which comprised of a whole table of tastes of the delicious food and then later Louise gave me a tour of the area in her neat little red sports car before we went back to her home for a drink.
We had a lovely afternoon and we didn’t stop talking about all sorts of things; which goes to prove my point that there are no strangers, just friends that you have yet to meet.
We could have just smiled at each other in the queue at the airport and we certainly didn’t have to exchange email addresses. We never had to write or to take the time to find out a little bit about each other, but I’m so glad that we did. And the next time that a stranger strikes up a conversation with you somewhere, make an effort to reply. Who knows, you may become very good friends one day in the future.
sculptures on the prom at Cambrils
Catalunya has many customs and traditions and one of the most adrenaline fuelled must be the Correfoc which incorporates, dragons, fireworks and drums. Click here to go to my article with more information on this crazy, crazy custom and I will bring you more articles about the customs and traditions in future articles.
This article was originally published in September 2015 and was rewritten and republished in August 2023.
There are wine tastings…and there are wine tasting experiences.
Living close to the river Ebro in southern Catalunya I am surrounded by olive trees, orange groves and vineyards. You don’t have to go very far to find a bodega or a wine producer who will offer a tour and a tasting of their produce and so far, each one has been a great experience. Even when I was away and travelling the world I would manage to get in at least one trip to a vineyard each time that I returned to Spain.
Some friends of mine have long been extolling the virtues of a particular vineyard called Bernaví. The nearest big town is Gandesa which is in the Terra Alta region, and six months ago I finally got there myself. I certainly wasn’t disappointed and I enjoyed it so much that I returned a second time a few weeks ago, taking along a couple of good friends who were staying with us for a short holiday.
Pulling up in the car outside an unassuming building on a windy but sunny morning we were warmly greeted by Marco who is one of the owners. Marco is Italian and together with his Catalan wife Ruth and his brother Gino they purchased the Bernaví vineyard back in 2007. The place had long been abandoned but they replanted the land and they have been improving and nourishing their land ever since. Their vision was to establish and maintain a sustainable and ecologically sound vineyard producing quality wines and as we walked outside among the rows of vines, Marco explained their vision and the process of their wine making to us.
touring the vineyard at Bernavi
The majority of wine tastings in Spain focus on the drinking, but Marco was keen to impress upon us that the secret of the wine begins outside; with much of the magic happening even before the grapes reach the vats and the barrels. Here at Bernaví they farm in an artisanal way, picking by hand and with as few interventions as possible and visitors are taken outside so that they can see this for themselves. Standing in the field we could see how the weeds are allowed to grow along alternate rows where they provide ground cover, nutrients and shelter for insects. Alternate rows are kept clean, with bare earth and the vines are trained along a series of wires so that the leaves face the sun. This enables them to turn as the sun moves around in the sky much like solar panels do.
As we walked slowly around together, Marco explained about the different grape types and the wines that they produce at Bernaví, and although despite taking notes, I have to confess that I will not be able to give you too much technical information here; we did after all, move on to tasting the products! However (and I hope that I have this correct) there are 70,000 individual plants here, all of which are cared for by hand and this small team produce 65% of the world’s Terra Alta wine which equates to 35,000 to 50,000 bottles depending on the harvest.
grapes ripening in the sun
Morenillo is a grape variety that is native to the Terra Alta region yet it is quite a specialized crop. For all of you aficionados out there, the other vines which form the larger proportion on this bodega are the more common garnaxia blance or granache blanc. Many of the wines are sold locally, although much is exported to Belgium, the Netherlands and the United States, but less so to Spain where Catalan wines are not usually received well. (There is a lot of political history between Catalunya and Spain and you can read a bit of my experience on one specific event that happened a few years ago – click this link)
Moving inside and into the cooler air Marco showed us the large stainless steel vats, the different types of barrels that are used depending on what final properties of the wines are required and the corks which are called ‘technical corks’. I have to admit that prior to this conversation I had assumed that those strange corks with the waxy texture are plastic and whilst some might be, Bernaví use true cork, but one which has been manufactured in a specific way so that there is less chance that a bad batch can contaminate the wine.
Going upstairs, we got on to the serious business of tasting the wine.
wine vats
The wine tasting
We began with the Morenillo, a rosé wine which Marco explained had a slightly salty taste which makes it ideal for pairing with sushi among other things. This ever so subtle flavor is due to the gypsum in the soil and whilst I always think it can be quite amusing how some wine buffs come up with weird and wild descriptions for the flavours of wines, this really did dance on the tongue like a light salt.
The Granaixa Blanca started off with the first sip giving the delicate taste of white fruits like banana and pineapple and then evolved through anise to apples and pears, perfectly fitting the description of ‘life in the bottle, life in the mouth.’
Tres á tres is composed of a trio of ganaxas; a hairy one, a red one and a white. I seem to recall that hairy related to the vine leaves but by now my focus was less on my note taking and more on the glass in front of me! This fresh red perfectly complements fish such as salmon and tuna after having spent four months in the stainless steel vats.
We completed our tasting session with the Ca’vernet, a beautiful red which spends 24 months in barrels followed by 8 months in the bottle before being opened and is totally delicious with cheese.
For me, the most fascinating part of any experience is the human side of a story and when my friend Annie commented on some of the beautiful labels on a set of bottles that were on display we were treated to a lovely history about how the designs had come about.
Marco, Ruth and Gino had set up a parallel project to introduce some of their blends into restaurants and an artist/designer friend, Javier Comas Carrasco offered to come up with something a little different. He was sent the five different wines with no identification or details and came back with a truly inspired design.
The labels depict the stages of the vines through the seasons and creatively link them to the human body. I will do my best to explain it here.
wine bottle art
Winter is represented with a drawing of brown bare roots that take the form of the arteries of the body, the kidneys and salt. Spring is all about re-growth and the uterus, summer is centered around the hot sun and the eye because this is the time of the year when the growers have to be the most vigilant. Autumn has colourful leaves which, when you look closely take the form of the hands which will pick the grapes, and the grapes themselves which are small boobs!
A final creative touch is that when all of the bottles are lined up in the correct order, an irregular red line along the upper part of the labels forms the outline of the skyline of the Terra Alta region.
Environmental problems
One thing that really resonated with me on our visit was the modern day worry about the increasing lack of rain. Spain, along with much of Europe is entering a period of drought and extremely raised temperatures and whilst many people deny that climate change is a thing, the farmers who are so closely bound to the land do recognize it.
Marco explained how no snow fell at all last winter, yet how beneficial snow is to the vineyards. Snow slowly releases moisture into the soil as it melts and it fills the cisternas (water storage tanks) but this year with higher temperatures, no snow and hardly any rain they are already transporting water in by tanker. That is a worry both from a cost perspective and because they will need to manage the irrigation manually. Nature (usually) used to deliver just the right amounts of water when it was needed at each growing stage but there is now also the increased risk of wild fires to contend with which, fanned by the stronger than normal winds, threaten everything.
This year in Catalunya there have already been some large wild fires, starting much earlier in the season than would normally be expected. Higher temperatures and less water will mean less grapes, less wine and higher prices which is being reflected right across the land and with all the crops that are grown.
As I hope you can tell, time spent at Bernaví is not simply about tasting the wine, but is about experiencing the human story and the passion that each of the owners have for their land, their grapes and their wines. I really hope that this passion and enthusiasm will rub off on you and just like me you will appreciate your next glass of wine from a different perspective.
wine bottles and barrels
For a better and more comprehensive explanation of the wine production, the labels, the grapes themselves or simply just the opportunity to experience some very nice wines you can contact Marco, Ruth or Gino at Bernaví and book yourself a tasting session.
Address: Finca Mas Vernet, Camí de Berrús km.4, 43782 Vilalba dels Arcs, Tarragona
Contacts:
+34.651031835 – Marco +34.619014194 – Ruth +34.689341522 – Gino
Directions: To get to Bernaví you need to leave Vilalba on Carrer Vall de Sant Isidre and follow the dirt track Camí de Berrús as indicated in the map above. Beware: By default Google Maps sends you down a different path apt only for mountain goats but not cars.
If you want to read about some of the other things that you can do in this small part of Catalunya, click this link.
Note: This is not a sponsored post. These are my personal opinions and I received no financial gain for this article.
When my friend Alan suggested that I join him on a day out testing one of the new routes for his guided motorbike tour business I jumped at the chance.
I was looking forward to discovering a part of Spain that I had never seen before, but without the pressure of navigating or researching the route. I had been intending to do some longer rides on my motorbike this summer so this opportunity ticked plenty of boxes for both of us.
This is one of the longer day rides in Alan’s portfolio and it certainly offers value for money. With more than 300kms covered and nearly 7 hours in the saddle on our circular ride I wasn’t disappointed.
Benefits of a motorbike guide
No matter what speed I rode at, Alan adjusted his speed to match mine, but with bike to bike intercoms I was confident that I wouldn’t get lost if we split up so I could relax. The intercom had the added advantage that we could chat as we rode along – although I’m not so sure that Alan appreciated some of my ear-splitting screams as some of the stunning scenery unfolded
mountain village on my guided motorbike trip in Spain
Our day took us past several reservoirs and across a mountain range with tight corners and hairpin bends. We rode flat out across the plains and along river valleys. The sound of our exhausts echoed back from the tightly packed walls of the stone houses in cute mountain villages and we rode for miles without seeing any other traffic at all.
Despite the long day there were plenty of breaks built in and I never felt tired or uncomfortable. Because we had the intercoms it was easy for me to pull in whenever I felt the need to stop and take photos or for a drink of water – I simply stopped and let Alan know – although he normally spotted me in his mirrors anyway.
With coffee breaks, a picnic lunch and even a swim in some natural pools this was more than just a ride out on our motorbikes.
swimming in some natural pools on our trip
We discovered the perfect rustic restaurant with home cooked food in one of the villages high on a hill, however having already had our picnic in the shade of a pine forest by the side of a monastery we had to pass that lunch stop up. But the dishes coming out of the small kitchen looked and smelt very tasty so the restaurant has gone into the portfolio for future tours.
At one point two large mountain goats bounded across the road ahead of us; this was yet another reason to yell excitedly into Alan’s ear piece, and equally so when we found ourselves riding along among a kettle of enormous griffin vultures that swooped across the road between us at eye level (yes, the collective name for vultures in flight is a kettle!)
just one of the reservoirs of the day
There was an added drama when a wasp got inside my suit during an ice cream stop. Much to the amusement of some locals who were sat enjoying a beer outside a bar, Alan didn’t hesitate to delve down inside the back of my trousers where it was crawling south. It had already stung me under my waistband and was crawling down my leg but I was afraid that if I dropped my trousers in the street it may have stung me again. I was yelling and trying to unzip myself as fast as possible while Alan heroically risked being stung himself as he scooped it out but he also had some anti-histamines in his pack which took some of the pain out of the sting.
Great motorbike rides
Several years previously, I had taken a motor bike tour when I was in Vietnam to explore the mountains near the Laos border and the Ho Chi Ming trail but that was a very different experience. That time in Vietnam I chose to ride pillion with my guide Nam, because I was apprehensive about riding and I wanted to enjoy the views rather than concentrate on the road and the traffic, however this day out with Alan in Spain proved that with a good guide up ahead of me it was possible to have it all.
following the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Vietnam
One of the good things about riding with Alan is his flexibility. We crossed a bridge across a lake and I wanted to stop, stretch my legs and take photos – there was no problem. We passed a sign for a monastery which I fancied checking out so we took a detour – no problem. Riding past the imposing town of Morella and Alan checked in with me if to ask if I wanted to park and walk up to the castle. It was very tempting but as it’s on my list of places to visit with friends in the near future I suggested that we continue riding – no problem!
Towards the end of our day out we stopped for yet another cold drink and another choice. Alan’s comprehensive knowledge of the area meant that he could offer me a variety of routes back home. We could ride for another hour or so alongside the river Ebro or cut across the vineyards and olive groves as dusk fell. He told me that every route has these choices so that they can be adjusted on the fly, depending on the weather or the preference of the rider.
parking up for a picnic near the monastery
Time permitting, I hope that our next ride will take us up into the Pyrenees and Andorra before the weather gets too cold. If you’ve got decent bike gear it must be stunning up there in the late autumn or the early spring, but I don’t and I would just get grumpy so I need to go sooner rather that later. I’m also planning to really push my comfort zone and try riding off-road along some of the TET (Trans Euro Trails) which Alan also knows well having plotted some of the tracks for the Spanish linesman.
I would need a different type of bike to ride the TET but again, via Alan and his contacts I would be able to hire one.
The options are endless if you’re interested in exploring Spain on a motorbike.
You can ride to your chosen start point on your own bike
You can fly in from abroad and hire the best machine for your preferred terrain
You can base yourself in one place for day rides or
You can do a circle of Spain or Portugal, take a linear route into Morocco or anything else in-between.
and another beautiful reservoir
If you’re interested in discovering Spain from a motorbike, drop me a line and I can put you in touch.
I loved my day out and I can’t wait for another opportunity.
Disclaimer: I received no payment for this articleand all opinions are my own
Despite travelling solo for the last 6 years I have to admit that I was still a little bit apprehensive about walking the Camino de Santiago.
Several friends had asked if they could tag along but this was one journey that I had to take alone.
In true pilgrim style (a pilgrimage is a long journey, especially one undertaken as a quest) I wanted to step out and be totally open to whatever the Camino presented to me. I wanted complete freedom to choose my route and my timetable. I hoped to discover more about my capabilities, and I wanted to make these choices independently of others.
My main reason for walking the Camino was similar to that of many people in that I wanted to ‘reset’ my life. I’d arrived at a crossroads and before continuing I wanted some clarity. I also wanted the physical and emotional challenge of walking 800kms (500 miles).
These boots are made for walking…
Mine was not a religious pilgrimage but I knew that it would be a spiritual journey. I expected it to be emotional and I thought that some of the upsetting things from my past would take up head space as I walked each day, imagining that I might be quite tearful and emotional a lot of the time – this was another reason for walking the Camino de Santiago alone.
I wasn’t at all worried about sleeping in dormitories in the albergues – after all, I tend to live and work in hostels while I travel – but I was curious to see how I would cope with the other aspects of the Camino. I was especially nervous about my first day when I wanted to trek up and across the Pyrenees.
sunrise on the Camino de Santiago
I intended to take the original route know as the Napoleon Way which is notoriously difficult and subject to extreme and changeable weather conditions. I was anxious about my physical capabilities despite being a member of a walking group in Spain and being used to hiking in mountains, but this was a part of my personal challenge. I had to do it although my plan was to find another person to join with for at least this first day.
Arriving in St Jean Pied de Port
I had to be in Pamplona by 16:30 in time for the last bus or I would face a long and expensive taxi ride or an overnight stay. A series of buses and trains across Spain got me to the final bus from Pamplona to St Jean Pied de Port with a couple of hours to spare and time to sample some tapas in a small bar.
It was a strange feeling on the bus because the route passed through some of the villages that I knew I would be walking through. It would take me 3 days to walk back to Pamplona after a bus journey of just a couple of hours!
I was alone at this stage although there were obviously many other pilgrims on the bus, identifiable by their backpacks, walking poles and with an excited yet apprehensive look.
After arriving and settling into my hostel I headed off into the narrow cobbled streets of the quaint town to find the headquarters and the Pilgrim Office. I registered for my Camino and received my Pilgrim Passport (credencial), my scallop shell to hang on my bag, information sheets about the albergues and a map for crossing the Pyrenees.
my treasured pilgrim passport
The lady at the desk in the Pilgrim Office couldn’t stress strongly enough that I had to avoid the ‘extremely dangerous’ forest path leading down off the Pyrenees and she suggested that I head off on the Thursday (this was Tuesday afternoon) because of a more favourable weather window, but she assured me that I would see plenty of other people along the route.
I spent the following day (Wednesday) exploring the cute French town and relaxing. I got chatting to another pilgrim that I met on the town walls who having already walked the path once before and who gave me loads of advice and lots more confidence.
My original plan was to leave my albergue at 8:30am but the owner took great pains to impress upon me that I MUST set off at 6am if I were to be sure of a bed at the monastery at Roncesvalles. Thankfully he omitted to explain to me why there was almost double the normal amount of pilgrims heading out the following day or I would have been REALLY worried and perhaps even changed to the on-road route, so in blissful ignorance I set my alarm for 5am and I did my best to get some sleep.
First steps on The Way
Those first steps were scary. I apprehensively set off in the pitch black with a cold morning drizzle tip-tapping on my rain poncho. As I passed under the traditional archway that marks the departure point from the town at 6am towards the Route de Napoleon I was shaking; with excitement but also with nerves. I was sure that I would get lost in the dark and I wasn’t at all sure how my right knee would hold up with the daunting climb. I was already wondering about my decision to walk alone.
Fuelled by adrenaline I powered through the first 8kms determined to set as much distance behind me as possible before I tired. Pacing myself wasn’t an option as the limited number of beds available at Roncesvalles was always at the back of my mind and the painted numbers that counted off the kilometres on the road only spurred me on even faster.
I hardly saw a soul for those first 3 hours, just small figures in the distance far below me. As the sun came up the wind also strengthened, picking up to a howling gale so that at times I could hardly walk and I was very afraid of being blown off the path and tumbling over the edge to my death.
crossing over the top of the Pyrenees
After about 12 kms I turned a corner around a rock and stumbled across a caravan serving hot drinks and snacks. I have never been so relieved to see other people and I sank gratefully down onto a big log and ordered a tea and introduced myself to the others.
Interestingly we were all women who were travelling solo and each of us were nervous and apprehensive about the worsening weather but excited to be getting our journey under way at last. The owner of the tea van stamped my credencial with a stamp just as three of the friendliest ladies stood and prepared to leave. I quickly tipped my tea from my mug out onto the grass and jumped up and asked if I could walk with them as I was so nervous about crossing the high pass on my own.
It turned out that Ingrid, Kis and Diana had only met up the previous evening in their hostel at Orisson and welcomed me with open arms. I shall never forget those three ladies and the feeling that I had as I was ushered into their warm fold and the relief because I was worried about facing the worsening weather alone.
Ingrid, Kis and Dianna
Steadily climbing, the weather deteriorated and we certainly struggled but there was comfort in numbers. It was fascinating how the simple act of other women in the same boat boosted our mood and gave us confidence. We helped each other with our rain ponchos and constantly checked that we were all ok – ladies from Canada, Denmark, the US and Wales with one common goal – to walk the Camino in whatever way we could.
Gale force winds, snow and a hailstorm battered us but we kept laughing and spurring each other on, bending low and clinging on to each other when we couldn’t move against the sudden gusts of wind.
We later learnt that the high pass through the mountains had been closed off behind us just half an hour after we had got through, being deemed too dangerous for hikers. The same thing had happened the previous day when firefighters and the mountain rescue team had to take down some walkers with hypothermia and exhaustion and airlift a man out of a ravine where he was blown by a sudden gust of wind.
The scenery changed with the weather from brilliant sunshine with jaw-dropping panoramic views, to beech forests in snow and pine forests in a hailstorm and then eventually we could see the imposing grey roof of the famous monastery.
downhill to Roncesvalles
We stumbled through the courtyard and were met by an organised team of hospitaleros (volunteers who have usually walked the Camino themselves) and a long queue of animated pilgrims waiting for the office to open. I had done it! I had walked 25.1kms (32kms if one takes into account the altitude and the climb) in 8 hours. I was elated, bouncing off the ceilings and in time to get a bed BUT there was one problem.
I didn’t want to leave my new friends that I had bonded with during the day and here was my dilemma. Dianna had a reservation at the monastery, Ingrid at another albergue 6.7kms away and Kis, like me, had no plans that were set in stone. A hasty meeting and a phone call to Ingrid’s hostel at Espinal confirmed that they had space for an extra three and we were back out on the road.
We must have been mad to set off again and I for one had underestimated how hard those final kilometers would seem to be after a long day’s walk but we were together and that was what was important to me.
Walking the Camino de Santiago alone
You are never really alone when you walk the Camino – or at least along the Frances route which has some sections which are positively crowded. However, even on the very busy sections I learnt that peace and solitude is within us and we have a choice about whether we are affected by outside influences or not.
Occasionally I would find myself beginning to be exasperated or annoyed by the attitudes and actions of a minority of other people but as I have always done my best to never judge others I did my best to be accepting and found an ease within myself.
Pilgrims come from all over the world and from different backgrounds. Rich or poor, some with no language except for their own and with many setting out solo, I had to remember that people were often scared, confused or worried and I always did my best to smile and to wish them a Buen Camino in passing.
those views!
I made some new friends along the way and I learnt some important lessons about myself and others. Some days I chose to set off alone, other times with somebody else. Stopping at bars or cafes I would search inside myself and decide if I wanted to share a table with others and therefore chat or if I wanted to be alone and focus on my breakfast.
One of the best things about the Camino is that there was never any pressure to conform. Everybody has a story and respects the fact that everyone else has one too. No offence was taken if someone sat apart from others or after chatting and walking together for a bit, waved the other on and asked them to go ahead and to walk at their own pace.
You can be more independent than maybe in any other situation in your life whilst you are walking along the Camino. Any choices that you make will impact directly upon you and usually pretty quickly and with time to think, most problems dissipate or resolve themselves. All things are put into perspective; partly due to the simplicity of the day to day routine of life but also thanks to the enormous scale of the task involved.
walking the Camino de Santiago alone
When you stand on the crest of a hill and no villages are in sight and you know that you’ve got little option but to continue walking until you reach somewhere to sleep, viewpoints tend to change. I felt an incredible sense of self-awareness, in tune with my physical body and the capabilities of my brain. I felt strong and invincible, full of pride and determination as I went striding with confidence down the path, and then like a scene from a satellite when it pulls away from what it’s focusing on, I simultaneously felt like a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things.
Is anything more important or fulfilling than helping and supporting others along their journey of life? I am very happy and content with my own company but I thrive and have so much more zest and joy when I see happiness on the faces of others.
friends relaxing on the riverbank Could you face the challenge? Would you walk the Camino?
