Walking in Catalonia Day 2: Cantallops to Garriguella
Rucksacks stuffed with sandwiches and water, a new set of notes to hand, our second day started with a short transfer to the hamlet of Vilartoli. We left Can Xiquet with mixed feelings, sad to leave such a wonderful place but excited to set foot on the next leg of our journey. The start of the second day was very different from the day before, a gently undulating landscape through meadows and vineyards, passing farms and vegetable plots, but still the ever present Pyrenees framing the cornflower blue sky.
This was the hottest day of the trip, well over 30 degrees so it was with some relief we descended into the second of three villages on our route, Rabos, arriving at a small pretty square where we stopped to take a break, catching the eye of curious pensioners wondering who would be crazy enough to walk in the heat. Down in the winding streets, we found a small local shop and bought neon green ice lollies which melted almost immediately as we stepped from the shade of its dark interior. We stopped with sticky hands at the Romanesque church of Sant Julia, ducking through an archway to take in the view from the mirador. Then down across a stone bridge over rocky pools, leaving the village behind us and back into the heat.
Following an overgrown track along a stone wall, our notes advised us not to pass through a gap, causing several re-steps as we tried to figure out what was meant. Finally, we agreed that it was sensible to follow the main path, descending into a woody valley and across two tiny streams, then up again and down again into the tiny hamlet of Delfia. Here and we came across the blue and yellow shell signs for the Camino de Santiago, this land is criss-crossed with ancient pilgrim paths.
Garriguella, our destination, sat in the distance, always just out of reach. In the intense heat the thought of an ice cold cerveza provided the incentive we needed as we forced our tired legs to follow the outline of fields, cross farmyards and vineyards before finally stumbled onto the short section of dusty road into the village.
Our first detour was to find the dolmens near a farm, Can Torres, signposted by blue stones placed irregularly along the track. The path twisted through grassy meadows leading to a higher point of wilderness and rocks. There are two dolmens, the first, roofless, then just a bit further, a second one complete, a huge slab of rock balanced precariously on top. Here, nestled amongst cultivated fields, you could see why this spot was chosen as a place to memorise the dead. In every direction, uninterrupted views stretched before us, nothing but flowers and mountains and endless blue sky. All we could do was sit at the edge of the tomb in silence, drinking in the ancient spirituality. Birdsong was the only sound and the only building visible was the tiny outline of yesterday’s castle at Requesens, high up on a hilltop far in the distance. This place was very special, a good place to see out eternity.
Leaving the dolmens at Can Torres behind us, our path continued through more vineyards and olive groves, catching the occasional yellow flash of paint that identified our route. Soon we stumbled into Espolla and then almost immediately out again, back into open fields of flowers and almond trees, heading upwards over another ridge.
This was the hottest day of the trip, well over 30 degrees so it was with some relief we descended into the second of three villages on our route, Rabos, arriving at a small pretty square where we stopped to take a break, catching the eye of curious pensioners wondering who would be crazy enough to walk in the heat. Down in the winding streets, we found a small local shop and bought neon green ice lollies which melted almost immediately as we stepped from the shade of its dark interior. We stopped with sticky hands at the Romanesque church of Sant Julia, ducking through an archway to take in the view from the mirador. Then down across a stone bridge over rocky pools, leaving the village behind us and back into the heat.
Following an overgrown track along a stone wall, our notes advised us not to pass through a gap, causing several re-steps as we tried to figure out what was meant. Finally, we agreed that it was sensible to follow the main path, descending into a woody valley and across two tiny streams, then up again and down again into the tiny hamlet of Delfia. Here and we came across the blue and yellow shell signs for the Camino de Santiago, this land is criss-crossed with ancient pilgrim paths.
Garriguella, our destination, sat in the distance, always just out of reach. In the intense heat the thought of an ice cold cerveza provided the incentive we needed as we forced our tired legs to follow the outline of fields, cross farmyards and vineyards before finally stumbled onto the short section of dusty road into the village.
Turning a corner and following the sound of lunchtime chatter, the welcome sight of Restaurant Can Batlle came into view, linen covered tables spilling out across a small square, we had made it. Sitting in the shady square the waiter nodded, no spoken words were needed and seconds later two cold beers and dish of olives appeared.
Estrella and olives devoured, we were relieved to read that our accommodation was literally just around the corner. ‘InnTravel?’ asked the lady at the door as she smiled welcomingly at the two rather hot and dusty red-faced walkers standing outside Casa Rural Can Coll. Yes indeed!
Note: This walk was the second day of the holiday "From the Pyrenees to the Sea" offered by Inntravel, specialists in slow holidays. I received a discount for writing about this trip but all views are my own. If you enjoy stunning country and coastal walks with views that take your breath away then this trip is for you.
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