Thursday, 10 August 2017

Spain - Day 40: Bassegoda Park to Camping de Macanet

The book advertises steep wooded hills. But the route does its very best to avoid any un-necessary ups and downs so we can admire the hills but not actually climb them. We think it is pointless to climb a hill if there is no view from the top. Some of the walk is on roads but mainly it's forest walking.

Cork oaks are starting to appear. Cork grows on trees. Who would have known. 

Well, everyone it seems. But I had never actually seen a cork oak so I was happy. Simple things.

And happy again at every tree.

Looking happy

Every now and again we would need to consult the map. This usually mean Ellie telling us where we were and where we had to go. Then proving it on the map. She is the best among us. But no-one is infallible so there is always a discussion. But I always side with her. (I have learnt - she is usually right)

She is right the vast majority of the time. And even when wrong we would have all made the same choice so we bow to her abilities. Martin is improving but is not there yet.

I am blind so can't see the map. And Nora... enough said really.


Martin and a tree
Cork oaks are amazing. Did I mention the bark is the cork. Not the right shape but the geneticists are working on that.

They, the local cork farmers, let the tree grow and at a certain age they start to harvest the cork. They carefully strip the bark, in one piece if they can from the tree.

This would kill other trees but just makes the cork oak look trendy.

The bark grows back and in ten years is ready to harvest again.

These farmers have good jobs. Work hard for a bit then rest for 10 years.

The cork is the trees' (I have agonised over the placement of that apostrophe) protection from fire so is expendable from the trees' perspective.

We are not sure if the 'purple' colour is natural or is painted on after the harvest. But they all have it and are well painted. So we guess its the natural colour.

A stand of harvested trees with their arses hanging out is an odd sight. But these hills are full of them.

It seems they are protected too. And the rights to harvest jealously guarded. But it must be hard work.

We come across an abandoned church 'Esglesia de Sant Feliu'. The book says you can camp there and you could but its in the wrong place for us. So we take pictures and leave.

Standing tall


Tough trail
Church window
The church was locked but there were bits at the back that were to a greater or lesser extent was falling down. So a couple of pictures. Most of the churches we had come across had been open.

But thinking about it they were the more remote churches - with access being difficult. No civilised vandals.

It at times like this that we wish we had the ability (willingness) to carry a proper camera. And tripod. And set of lenses. And ...

But when we think a bit further the weight makes us know why we don't.

Some people do. But they are proper photographers (Luca)




Exploring

Hard life

We are still finding remnants of the defences that were constructed to protect Spain. These were maintained up to the 80s and were built, at least in part, after the finish of both the Spanish revolution and the Second World War.

They give us, well mainly Martin, especially if its a hole like this one, something to explore and give a glimpse into the past.



We finally reached the camp site. It was remote, at least from the direction we came. It was down a side road, off a minor road, in the middle of nowhere.

Basically, a perfect spot. It had a pool a bar and a restaurant. All of which we used to the fullest extent. We dined with Alice and Luca and eventually retired happily.

We are getting close to the end.

The trees are looking more Mediterranean.





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