January 3 - 4, 2015
After breakfast, on the 3rd of January, Marta and I bid Teresa farewell and headed up and then down, down, down the road, to Barcelona. It was another sunny day, so our drive promised to be a beautiful one. It's nice when such promises are kept.
We had come to Garós on the main highway, in the dark. We were now going to take the scenic route back to Barcelona during the daytime. Up we went to the Port de la Bonaigua
(Port = pass) . The pass is part of the Baqueira ski area, so we were able to park and walk around the restaurants located on the slopes. The pass is the end of the Val d'Aran (d'Aran Valley). At 2072 meters ( 6,798 feet ), it affords you a beautiful view.
We pushed on and began our decent. The road was one of those iconic roads you see in advertisements for European sports cars. It had twists, turns and switchbacks that went so far back, you were almost where you came from. We were now in the Vall d'Aneu, following the La Noguera Palladesa (river). We stopped for a break just outside of Espot, which is a popular destination for rafting and kayaking. We spent a little time at the waters edge enjoying the view and skipping stones before moving on.
Our next stop was to be the village of Sort. The word "sort" is Catalan, for luck. Needless to say, it's the place to buy lottery tickets. In fact, The Lottery shop has built an entire enterprise out of people coming to Sort to buy lottery tickets. The huge Christmas lottery had come and gone, but the big lottery for the Epiphany (day of the Three Kings) was still to come. We wandered around town looking for the Lottery Shop, until we finally got some directions to it. It ended up being easy to find, since it was the only shop in town with a line of people at the door. It was lunch time, so the shop was closed, but apparently a chance to buy your lottery ticket in Sort, is worth waiting for. We opted to go for a walk in the hills rather than standing in line.
We discovered a trail that led us to an area of traditional hillside terraced gardens that were being protected from development, as a heritage. A little something to show how people once labored at feeding themselves and others. The gardens were still in use, but as Marta pointed out, they weren't being tended by young people. No, these gardens and this way of life were things of the past, being tended by those who's future is as dubious, as the gardens themselves.
We hadn't made arrangements for the night, since we weren't sure where we would be come nightfall. It was clear to us after we came out of the hills, that we needed to stay the night in Sort. There was a hotel directly in front of us as we came back into town. We checked its prices and moved on to the next one. The next one was just before the Lottery Shop and seemed to offer a fair price. Now it was time to visit the witch.
Like most superstitions, there is an absurdity to it. The superstition of the Golden Witch of Sort is just one such superstition. For some reason you are to rub your freshly purchased lottery ticket on the nose of a golden witch statue located in the lobby of the Golden Witch Lottery Shop, which is adjacent to the Golden Witch trinket and doodad shop, which is behind the Golden Witch Restaurant. According to the owner of the Golden Witch enterprise, the witch comes from outer space and sprinkles lucky dust wherever she goes. This is just loony tunes enough to have people come to Sort by the thousands each year in hopes of hitting the big one. Dispute a good nose rubbing, our ticket didn't win.
We headed up the hill to check out the third hotel. It was more than the second and not as much as the first. Back down the hill to secure a room at door number two. With our room secured we now had to ponder the car and the omnipresent question of parking. You wouldn't think that parking would be an issue in a little town on the side of the road on a Saturday evening.
Sort is not only the Mecca for every wannabe millionaire, but also is close enough to some local ski areas to afford reasonably priced accommodations. As we stood there talking about moving the car closer to the hotel, if became obvious that the ski areas had closed and the throngs were now circling for parking. Giving up our parking spot in hopes for a better on would require a healthy dose of the witches lucky dust. We didn't see any dust falling from space, so we opted to schlep our bags from the car, to the hotel.
The schlep down along the river to the hotel was pleasant and gave me an opportunity to look over the kayak river course that ran from one end of town to the other.
Earlier, when we were walking, I had noticed wires crisscrossing the river with a strange pattern of hardware. It finely dawned on me that I was looking at a kayak course arrangement that was pulled aside during the winter. Apparently the rapids that make up that part of the river, also make a nifty kayak race course and freestyle park. I can only hope that there is a witch with a golden kayak leading the way, come race day.
We settled into our room and set out in search of provisions. We had carted off the leftovers at Teresa's behest, but we were lacking in the bread and wine department. The saying goes that "man cannot live by bread alone". So, get some bread, some wine, something sweet for breakfast and while you are there, some local cheese would be nice. Now we will live another day.
The walk to the local you won't starve shop, led us up a stair case that had been built by the words greatest mason. He had not only built nicely curved stairs up the slope of a 20 foot
(6 meter) embankment, but he had cast a slide out of cement on either side of it. Genius! Absolute genius! The slides were teaming with kids when we went up the stairs to the store, but were free when we came back. Down I went. Now it was Marta's turn. With a bit of caution she slid down. She had to come back up though and get the groceries, so I could take another ride down the slide. Whoever thought of casting a slide into a staircase will be forever loved by children of all ages.
(6 meter) embankment, but he had cast a slide out of cement on either side of it. Genius! Absolute genius! The slides were teaming with kids when we went up the stairs to the store, but were free when we came back. Down I went. Now it was Marta's turn. With a bit of caution she slid down. She had to come back up though and get the groceries, so I could take another ride down the slide. Whoever thought of casting a slide into a staircase will be forever loved by children of all ages.
I saw on youtube once how to open a wine bottle without a corkscrew. It involved smacking the bottom of the bottle against a wall. A stunt like that is bound to raise some eyebrows in a hotel. I decided that there must be a corkscrew somewhere in the hotel and I was brash enough to ask for one, besides, I knew this hotel had a bar. The receptionist immediately recognized my plight, and got a corkscrew and knife from the bar. I may have failed the always be prepared part of this in-room picnic, but there is a lot to be said for standing at the reception desk with an unopened bottle of wine in one hand, a loaf of uncut bread in the other and a tear in your eye.
Another beautiful day. An in-room breakfast picnic and we were off to Barcelona. We hadn't gotten very far down the road when I spotted a large body of water.
Any lake of skiable size acts like a magnet on my psyche. Since I was driving, the urge to turn in and take a look was irresistible. Pantá (lake) de Sant Antoni is big enough to ski on and according to the signs at the marina I pulled in to, you can rent water toys for powerboats. Waterskiing in Spain is also on my list of things I'd like to do. Not to put a feather in the cap I don't wear, but just because water skiing anyplace is always a pleasure.
No sooner had we gotten back on the road and I heard the sirens call from another body of water. I like sirens, bodies and water. A sharp left and we were now at Pantá de Terradets, a lovely little lake tucked in between a marsh and a stand of pines. The lake was absolutely still. Not even a ripple, so with the low morning sun, it was mirroring the landscape around it, in high definition. We found ourselves completely captivated by it.
Truly a siren.
I tore myself away from the siren's grip and lashed myself to the steering wheel. Drive on and don't look back, is what I was telling myself until Marta asked me to stop talking to myself and turned on the radio. It's amazing that she goes on road trips with me and let's me drive.
The rest of the drive was as picturesque as any river valley and gorge could be. Then we popped out onto the wide open flat terrain that encompasses the land between the Pyrenees Mountains and Montsant Coastal Range. Before coming into Barcelona we stopped at a gas station/truck stop for gas and a bite to eat.
We walked around the station a bit looking for a somewhat pleasant place to eat. No such luck. We were now where people come and disrespect their environment. The amount of litter was impressive, if litter can be impressive. I commented to Marta that the scene that we were now looking at reminded me of Southern California. I went there a lot as a truck driver and was always amazed at the amount of litter. Not just around truck stops, but everywhere. It really is a shame that people all over the world can be so callous toward litter. As long as I'm on this little soap box, here is my rant about cigarette butts.
 |
| Think about it |
For some reason smokers do not see cigarette butts as litter. Good people who would never throw a wrapper or any litter on the sidewalk will toss a cigarette butt down as if it were going to magically disappear, which they don't. In fact it takes a very very long time for a cigarette butt to decompose. Some cigarette butt materials never will. The next time you are going someplace with a smoker, take some tissue with you. Each time they toss a butt down, throw some tissue down. Let them see that you can litter too. Fortunately, your tissue will decompose long before that butt will. Maybe the smoker will think twice about tossing butts again. A better idea might be to buy them a Butt Bin for their birthday. If they keep smoking you'll get it back soon enough, so you can re-gift it.
 |
| Me, my smile and the mountains of Spain |
 |
| The Pass |
 |
| Looking back at the Pyrenees |
 |
| Along the way |
 |
| Along the way |
 |
| Along the way |
No comments:
Post a Comment