Walking in Catalonia: From the Pyrenees to the sea

After two years of Covid lockdown, when my world shrunk dramatically to the size of my garden, I couldn’t wait to step out exploring again. The trip I first started to plan back in 2019, was postponed, then again and again, each time adding another frustrating scab to a sore that I was desperate to itch. When finally it looked like the trip would actually happen, I became overly anxious, worrying about literally everything and anything, my travelling confidence suddenly evaporating just as restrictions slowly eased. The planned adventure was a walking holiday through north-eastern Spain, close to the French border, organised by Inntravel, award winning specialists in slow holidays travelling by foot, bike or train  We'd start in the foothills of the Pyrenees and walk through vineyards and forests to the rocky headland of Cap de Creus on the northern shores of the Costa Brava. 

I’d always loved the hustle and bustle of airports but this time Heathrow felt strangely subdued and surreal. Despite being masked and sanitised I found it quite hard to relax with more people in one area than I’d seen in two years. But as always, the rush of the plane accelerating down the runway pushed away any remaining fear. Arriving into the solar glare of a hot day in Barcelona and deliberating missing the first train just to sup a cold Estrella at the station, I felt it, the pure joy of a return to Spain. 

The airport train whisked us into the busy station of Barcelona Sants where we spent a couple of hours people watching before boarding the AVANT train to Figueres. Here we were met by a smiling taxi driver for the last leg to our first base, Can Xiquet in Cantallops, close to the border with France. Can Xiquet is a beautiful retreat, sitting just slightly above the village at the edge of the Pyrenean foothills and surrounded by pretty gardens. Our room had a large balcony looking over fields and vineyards full of evening birdsong. Beyond the village, forest cloaked dark foothills edged upwards to merge with the far-away snowy peaks of the Pyrenees. We ate in the cellar restaurant, surrounded by oil paintings of local food and enjoyed an excellent local wine, intriguingly with a cork form the forests of cork oak we'd explore the next day.

The following morning, clouds enveloped Cantallops in a sea of swirling mists, no sign of the intense heat that would follow later. We breakfasted well on pa amb tomaquet (our table set with small bottle of olive oil and two soft tomatoes ready to rub into the bread), butifarra (Catalan cured sausage) and strong black coffee  before loading up our daypacks with water and walking down into the village for the first of many days of walking. 

As the path edged a vineyard at the far side of the village, an old hunting trophy hung gruesomely from a farm gate, buzzing with flies in the hot sun, a warning to keep to the path or perhaps a protective charm against the natural magic of the hills we had yet to climb? 

“Don’t stray from the path” Little Red Riding Hood

  

Leaving the village houses behind, the winding path narrowed and climbed steeply amongst the rocks. Occasionally we stumbled across hand painted signs for dolmens, the stone tombs of an ancient people who walked these paths centuries before us. A sense of history hung heavy in the sun's heat.

Pastures of flowers gave way to shady forests of cork oak, their stripped red trunks stretching upwards like the gloved fingers of a mountain goddess. Up, up, up the path continued, and we rued the many lazy days of lockdown as we gasped for breath, and then, as if by magic, framed by a break in the trees, a fairy tale view of the Castillo de Requesens.

The path turned downwards, following the sound of water down into a shady valley. The canopy of trees providing welcome cover from the heat of the midday sun. Sunlight beams broke through the leafy canopy as our minds lingered on folk tales of wolves and witches. We skirted the castle, which was closed, to find the Sanctuary of Santa Maria, a holy site, now in ruins, standing forlornly alone on the edge of the dusty track. Our path continued, edging the ordered lines of a vineyard then zigzagging upwards again, back into the forest, into a maze of cork farmers' tracks, steep and indistinct, leaving us often wondering if we were heading in the right direction. We stopped frequently to re-read our notes, the forest whispering doubt at each turn we made until finally we emerged back at the top of the first ridge, laughing in relief. 

Tired from the climb we opted for a longer route circling back down again to Can Xiquet, avoiding a descent down the rocky slopes we had previously scrambled up. The dusty track twisted and turned dizzily in the hot sun before we stumbled gratefully back into the village and a very welcome glass (or two) of icy cerveza. Later, relaxing after an afternoon swim in the tranquil pool we watched swallows swoop and dance through the evening light, celebrating our return from the magical forests around the castle of Requesens.

Note: This walk was the first 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.