A Wandering We Will Go.

I can hear a tune from The Sound Of Music somewhere in the background, with cow bells and the smacking of leather-clad thighs…Well, maybe not the last bit, but certainly our journey through the back roads and tracks of the Pyrenees has that ambience about it. 

 

We got away early from Capmany after a night of thunderstorms which have cleared the air somewhat as the temperature is now down to a more comfortable level. We had no real idea how fast progress would be so the early start was a bit of a trial. After some initial faffing about which was solved by The Navigator’s intuition, we got onto the road book route and had an enjoyable day going up and down the hillsides, zigging and zagging through hairpin bends. The tracks were rough but dry, linked occasionally by stretches of concrete or even tarmac. We passed through a couple of very pretty country towns -  more big villages, really, but although we felt like stopping there were no real parking opportunities in the narrow streets. No bulldozing of stuff to make way for the modern here; we got the impression that all that’d happened to the real estate for the last 300 years was a few new windows and a bit of repointing, and the streets were sized to allow the free passage of farm carts, not Landrovers.

Up at 3000 feet the air was now noticeably cooler, the views superb and progress leisurely. Nothing seems to have fallen off, broken or bent and we still seem to have the same number of possessions we started with. We haven’t collected too many souvenirs yet, either, apart from “very pretty” pine cones and a few postcards. There’s anoticeable squeak from the engine bay when we start in the morning but this disappears fairly quickly. I know it’s not going to fix itself and a quick investigation suggests it’s coming from the belt tensioner bearing. Hard to be sure but the other likely culprit would be the water pump; as this is almost new I don’t think so. I’ll have another look when there’s time.

After 30 miles we arrived – somewhat surprised - back at Capmany via a dusty track which had taken us up a densely wooded hill to a restaurant – closed- and back down again in a large circle. The road book doesn’t have a detailed map of the actual ground track, so it was only reading the detail in the individual sketches that we realised that we’d basically doubled back on ourselves. This wasn’t a problem though – the drive had been worth it and although the aim is to traverse the mountains, we’ll do it in Vibraction style.

A picnic lunch in a field at St Llorenc de la Mouga and a smell of diesel – again. Close inspection of the area around the tanks revealed yet another pipe sealed off with plastic tape.

This is beginning to be a little predictable. It seems TPO  - let’s start calling him PITA – might have given me a longer list of bodges as well as “you might want to check the battery..” My fault really, I suppose. Anybody recall the line from “Animal House”? …”It wasn’t our fault. You fucked up – you trusted us!”

Lots of opportunities to stop and explore. There are a lot of interesting old buildings, a lot of which seemed to have been abandoned centuries ago.

We paused for a minute to examine the old chapel of  Santa Maria de Requesens and if we hadn’t we wouldn’t have seen the family of wild pigs  - Mum, Dad and 5 stripey-pyjama’d youngsters – cross the track just yards ahead of us. These weren’t the only animals roaming the hills. Cows seem to have free range and have bells to, presumably, give away their location at milking time. We saw a lot of very good looking horses too, all apparently running around loose but no sheep and only the occasional goat.

But no people. Hardly a soul, all day, apart from in the villages and not many of them either. There are supposed to be bears and the odd wolf up here too, but the only chance of seeing those would be to wild camp, and we get the impression that isn’t an option. Even the apparently remote high altitude meadows are clearly not there for the enjoyment of people who don’t own them. Every point of access is either barred by a chain or a length of electrified wire. This is a pity but we get the impression that private property in Spain is exactly that, and nobody gets a free pass. Obviously, everything is owned by somebody wherever you are, but in Spain they make a statement of it.

The flora was close around us all day and we were glad we’d put the bush cables on. The branches hung low over the tracks with the weight of the overnight rain and gave us a bit of a bashing as we forced through. After all my effort at trying to get a decent shine on my DIY spray painting job – and I thought I’d done pretty good job – Elly’s flanks look like they’ve been given good rub down with a yard broom. Still, that goes, quite literally, with the territory.

Come 3pm we were pretty tired and were lucky to have a campsite right on the route at the right time. Another superb place with an excellent bar and restaurant and wifi that, for a change, didn’t require us to sit in reception or climb a tree to get a signal. I managed to complete “Week One’s Blog” and shot that out into the ether and there was enough juice left in the laptop to sort out the photos we’d taken today. With a bit of luck we’ll find a similar site tomorrow and keep on top of the “journalism”. As ever, though, with bandwidth as wide as a razor blade, uploading the pictures may take a little time.

The sun’s broken through the overcast now and we’re back to heat and, more importantly, fuel for the solar panel. Who needs the grid, eh?