Walking in Catalonia Day 5: Palau-Saverdera to Cadaqués

The morning after the birthday celebrations of the night before was a little slower in starting, although our feet ached more than our heads, yesterday's route had been quite a trip. Nothing copious black coffee couldn't fix. Breakfast was another wonderful feast of local products including a large glass container oozing with local honey.

One of several roof terraces at Hotel Niu de Sol

We bought a couple of large bottles of water to go with our picnic lunch (finally a sensibly small sandwich, a slice of walnut cake and some apples, it was far to hot to eat on route) and after a last minute glance around our tranquil room we threw ourselves in the waiting taxi which would take us 30 minutes up into the hills for the start of the day's route. My hesitant Castilian had been struggling all week with Catalan so it was somewhat of a relief that our driver, Felix, told me he was from Andalucia and I could hold a fairly decent conversation to practice my language skills for the first time in days. His taxi hugged the corkscrew bends of the mountain road as it twisted and turned dizzyingly before turning up a rough track near a radar station set high on the ridge. He touchingly checked if we had enough water for the route, concerned about the heat, before wishing us well.

Looking back towards Palau Saverdera from the drop-off point

It felt quite strange to start fresh at the top  and we made good ground along a windy ridge, littered with wind sculpted rocks and breathtaking views of a wild and beautiful coast. The remains of an ancient monastery lay amongst the grass, and here and there stone cairns hinting of hidden history stood sentinel as we walked past. The wind was so strong, that in places it felt like we barely moved, our cheeks whipped red by the hot salty air. 

The route to Cadaqués, twisting across the headland.

Further down the ridge a strange 'gate' linking an electric fence passed across the track. The fence crackled threateningly as two heavily taped rods swung ominously in the wind. We waited as two mountain bikers cycled straight through before following quickly in their wake. As the gate swung shut, it briefly touched my arm with a jolt of electricity, no wonder it works so well as a deterrent for straying. The track headed down steeply, now out of the wind, another tortuous rocky track edging a cliff as it snaked down to the small cove of Montjoi.

 

La Pelosa, our planned mid-walk lunch stop, sadly not yet opened for the summer season.

Now on a wide rough road, the wind creating twisting dust storms that would turn us white, we carried on, past another small cove before finally stopping at a third, Cala Pelosa, where the tempting chiringuito was sadly closed. We rested in the shade, sharing a sandwich and apple, watching other walkers head around the coast, the most we had seen in days. 

Cala Joncols, another beautiful bay (and closed beach side bar)

Opting to head around the spur rather than return to the road, we scrambled up a rocky slope to find five exits at the top and carefully read and re-read the notes to ensure we took the right one. Up and over another ridge, down a rocky cliff and we entered another tiny cove, Cala Joncols, again no open bar as we eyed our water bottle levels nervously in the heat of midday.

Part of the ancient path, used for centuries by smugglers and goatherds

The path lead us up from Cala Joncols, onto a lung busting steep concrete track, past a house then followed an ancient path running between two tumbledown stone walls. Occasionally we'd pass other walkers taking breaks in the rare spots of shade (exchanging 'seats' with us politely as they headed in the opposite direction) before finally we turned a corner to catch the full curve of the bay of Cadaqués, looking so close but still at least an hour or more walk away. The dusty track gave way to rocky shortcuts, disappearing into the scrub, here and there a flash of a marking indicating the route. We followed these down into the town, past a small shrine set into a dry stone wall, a tiny madonna surrounded by stones and shells offered by travellers along this route.

A small shrine surrounded by the offerings of other walkers and pilgrims.

Cadaqués seemed like a metropolis compared with our previous days, holiday makers thronging the waters edge, restaurants spilling out onto terraces lining the beach, it felt such a shock to see so many people again. We must have looked like a couple of dusty pilgrims covered in the dirt from the road, faces red from the heat and the wind, walking the loops of the many pebbled beaches along the sea front in search of the next hotel. The sea was starred with a thousand white boats, glinting in the sunlight and there, right at the opposite side of the bay we spotted the blue shuttered Hotel Playa Sol, reflecting the late afternoon sun like a beacon beckoning us home.

First sight of Cadaqués