Articles in ‘Trip reports’
Two kilometres into the walk, we stop in La Majua where there’s a bar by the bridge. Hens strut, builders fix pipes, villagers gossip, house martins feed their young, and a man goes back and forth in his madreños, wheeling rocks over the bridge in a barrow.
Not only the old folk wear these practical wooden clogs. In El Puertu after the rain a strapping youth in track-suit bottoms pounded across the road in his. They keep your feet warm and dry and raise them out of the dung and mud.
We head north to the Asturian border. If the walk had a soundtrack, there’d be a crescendo when the track suddenly curves and you’re confronted with the river tumbling down in a series of falls. The top of the valley is almost sealed off by rocks forming a narrow ravine - La Foz.
There’s an icy spring by the river where people converge for feasts. A can of beer left in the water for 15 minutes tastes fresh out of the fridge. I found an Apollo butterfly on a thistle, the first I’d ever seen. It was so translucent you could see the purple flower through its wings. It seemed fragile, as if you could blow the pigmentation away like dust.
Though worn around the edges, it was stunningly beautiful.
At the top of the ravine, the way is barred by a stone wall and wooden sticks. You climb up and around, and you’re in a different world.
You’re cupped inside a circle of mountains. It’s often cold and inhospitable in here, with an uneasy threat of descending mist that billows out of nowhere and fills up the cirque in an instance. But today was calm and hot. A short-toed eagle was soaring, white against the blue sky. The herd of chamois retreated to a slightly higher spot. We lay on the grass observed by wheatears. Later, we climbed to the rim of the cup and looked at the lunar landscape beyond.
Birds, Cordillera Cantabrica, Trip reports, butterflies | Tags: Apollo parnassius, Apollo parnassius in Cordillera cantabrica, holiday in northern Spain, La Majua, madreños, Northern wheatear, walking in the Cordillera Cantabrica, walking in the mountains of Leon and Asturias, walking in the north of Spain|
On a clear August night, we walked out of the tiny village of El Puertu. The absence of mist was almost uncanny and stars were visible in their millions. All around, out of the darkness, came the sound of bells.
El Puertu (1,486 m) was founded as a summer settlement by Vaqueiros de Alzada, the herders who’d take their animals and possessions up to high pasture as soon as weather permitted. Strong and athletic, Asturian cows are perfectly adapted to their mountain habitat. One day we were startled to see horns charging towards us through the broom, as two vacas roxas galloped down the slope, paused and then ran up hill again. Among other things, visiting the Somiedo natural park is about walking among cows and learning how not to upset their Mastiff guardians.
The best pasture is on the irrigated level ground around the village, green even in late summer. This land is carefully divided by long dry stone walls, home to a variety of creatures.
I went out with a torch one night, when the habitual mantle of damp mist had settled down on El Puertu, and found myriads of orange-eyed Common toads (Bufo bufo) had come out of the walls to hunt. This toad wasn’t distracted by the scrutiny and snatched up a beetle with its tongue.
Just down the road to the north lies El Peral, another village of Vaqueiros. It’s famous for its well-maintained teitos, traditional stone houses thatched with broom. The only surviving teito in El Puertu is slowly falling down, although the storks remain loyal to it, their nest getting lower each year as the building crumbles. Perched on the border with Leon, El Puertu is one of the few villages in Asturias to have nesting storks.
The presence of bears was tangible in signs and stories, if not sightings. A taxi driver from the nearby valley of Laciana told us that a mother and cubs have approached his village close enough to be seen clearly from the bar. One theory is that the mother is keeping her young away from the male bears, always a threat, by ranging in areas they would avoid.
The mountain slopes of Somiedo are covered in bilberry bushes and we were told that late August, when the berries are ripe, is a good time to glimpse a sweet-toothed bear out in the open. No luck on that score, but it was exciting to sit looking down at El Peral, knowing a bear had recently wandered past.
Cordillera Cantabrica, Trip reports | Tags: bear scat in Asturias, bear signs in Spain, bears in Asturias, bears in Somiedo, common toads in Somiedo, dry stone walls, Somiedo natural park, traditional houses in Asturias, villages in somiedo, walking in Asturias, walking in somiedo natural park, wildlife in the pre-Pyrenees|
Butterflies were everywhere – congregating by the river, fluttering over rippling grass, courting by the road side.
In the heat, they were busy “puddling”, looking for supplementary minerals wherever available, whether from sweaty skin, a metal rucksack zip . . .
. . . or from a pile of dung.
At the top of the valley, some of the terraced fields are still used to grow the knobbly and tasty “bufet” potatoes, shunned by restaurants for being too fiddly to peel. But most are now given up to broom and box, and grazing chamois, who run into the pine woods when disturbed. Flowers that thrive in dry stony ground have divided up the land – Junquillo Falso (Aphyllanthes monspeliensis), White Flax (Linum suffruticosum) or Hoary Rock Rose (Helianthemum oelandicum).
Other flowers were found at the sides of paths and roads in stunning isolation - Sword-leaf and Red Helleborines, and Bee and Woodcock orchids.
Walking down from Alzina d’Alinyà one day, the highest village in the valley, a column of Griffon Vultures formed. Those at the top were mere specks, at some unguessable height, while the lowest were clearly visible. One preened a wing while soaring, and white woolly heads turned to scan the terrain. Further back, we’d passed a comedero, where stripped carcasses lay among heaps of feathers: signs of a competitive and tumultous lunch.
During the day, Cuckoos called continuously up and down the valley, while at three in the pitch-black morning there was the surreal sound of Nightingales through the bathroom window. We found a Black Redstart nest inside a small chapel on a window ledge. Four white eggs lay on the soft downy lining.
Submerged in the hot butterfly-filled tranquility of Alinyà, it was easy to forget the world outside. From the valley rim you had views of the Pyrenees, with a few lingering streaks of snow, the Sierras de Cadì and Boumort, or Coll de Nargo, down by the river Segre. The heat was kept in check by storms, which could be seen forming over the Pyrenees before rumbling south. After the rain, mist would rise – small tufts at first, spun gold by the sun, and then in thick white clouds, mushrooming out of the ravine with incredible speed, and making me run for where I’d left my stuff while I could still find it.
More information on Alinyà here.
Note on Butterflies
After expert help from entomologist JM Sesma I can now identify the mating fritillaries as Mellicta deione, the Provençal Fritillary, and the one on the zip as Melitaea cinxia, the Glanville Fritillary. The butterfly on the dung is a Ringlet, possibly Erebia triaria (Prunner’s Ringlet) but impossible to be sure without a view of its upperside.
Birds, Plants, Trip reports, butterflies, pre-Pyrenees, weather | Tags: Alinya, Catalan pre-Pyrenees, Glanville Fritillary, Melitaea cinxia, Melitaea deione, orchids, Provençal Fritillary, puddling butterflies, vultures, Woodcock orchid|
We were leaving the coast behind, Pyrenean-bound. Back in Barcelona, the trees were wearing light new foliage, and through the train window, we could see spring spreading inland along the River Ter. House martins and swallows swooped over the rain-swollen water, set to be torrential when the thaw reaches the mountains.
Climbing out of Campdevanol, spring receded with every step to an earlier phase. The way was spotted yellow with Cinquefoil (Potentilla neumanniana), unchecked by any competition. The woods were lit up with white and purple anemones (Anemone hepatica). In a sheltered spot, Peacock butterflies (Inachis io) came out with the sun, their rich colours as warming as brandy.
In the Sierra above Montgrony, rising to 2,000 metres, spring would presumably have even less of a foothold. But there were surprises. A strong scent invaded a clearing, its source a small solitary bush of Common Mezereon (Daphne mezereum), all bare branch and florid pink blossom. Horses were hungrily tearing at the short grass where emphatically blue Spring Gentians had sprung up. Higher up, purple crocuses could hardly wait for the patches of snow to melt.
We stood near the top looking over at the high mountains on the French border, white under an iron-grey sky. A line of geese crossed the ridge, heading north.
Wearing every spare layer, we got out our lunch. The silence was broken by a kronk, as two Ravens materialised, settling near by. Sometimes they rose up and circled us, black feathers shining like oil. As soon as we moved on, they came and cleared up the leftovers. The mountains felt very remote that day, but the ravens were a reminder that other people come up and have picnics too.
Large outstretched wings passed above – a Red Kite. Below, we saw the brown backs of Griffon Vultures. The Gombrèn valley is a busy highway for raptors moving in and out of the Cadi-Moixeró area. The day before we’d seen a pair of Egyptian Vultures, a very easterly sighting.
Descending under a shower, we watched the outlines of the hills opposite gradually merge with the clouds, and it was our turn for the sun again.
Birds, Insects, Plants, Pyrenees, Trip reports | Tags: Anemone hepatica, cinquefoil, Common mezereon, Egyptian vulture, Gentiana verna, griffon vulture, Inachis io, Montgrony, Peacock butterfly, Potentilla neumanniana, Ravens, spring, spring gentian, walking in the Pyrenees|
The landscape was overwhelmingly beautiful but unforgiving. After stepping out of the car, my face soon numbed and toes froze. What would we find alive out here?
A steep crag rose out of the snow, facing the sun, gathering warmth. Four sets of binoculars scanned the rocks, and almost immediately we noticed restless flocks of brown-backed birds, briskly foraging among stones and plants, even digging in patches of snow. Up went the telescopes, and you could see orange bills and contrasting black and white tails. Then every so often, a group would sweep off the ridge - a flurry of white birds magnified against the bluest of skies, clearly visible with the naked eye.
The snowfinch (Montifringilla nivalis) is in fact grouped with the sparrows, as suggested by the Spanish name, Gorrion Alpino. Like the urban House sparrow, it’s learnt to take advantage of humans and, since home is above 1500 metres, looks for feeding opportunities at ski stations.
As well as snowfinches we saw Alpine accentors (Prunella collaris) and, very surprisingly, a wallcreeper (Tichodroma muraria), first spotted by sharp-eyed Max. Our eyes were squinting and weeping with the glare, but as Mike said, sunglasses aren’t much use when birdwatching.
All kinds of intriguing tracks patterned the snow, some leading directly towards the snowfinches’ crag. A chamois in a thick winter coat of brown and cream was grazing its way upwards. Already at the top was a fox, surveying the land like a ginger cat.
If we tired of craning up at the rock, we could look the other way towards blue islands – Montserrat, and further away still, Collserola, with the minuscule needle of the Norman Foster tower. The world was in reverse to my normal view from the coast. Sometimes a Griffon vulture would float past or mount a thermal. The snow-muffled silence was broken by the bark of a raven, the powerful light revealing contrasting shades of black on its wings, normally unnoticed. Lower down we’d seen crossbills, just next to the sign indicating the Ruta del Trencapinyes (Route of the Crossbills).
Back down in the valley, in Bagà, trees and rooves were dripping fast in full mid-afternoon thaw and the village cats sunned themselves in a spot freshly cleared of snow. A dipper (Cinclus cinclus) probed the water under the medieval bridge. The crooked shapes of Montserrat filled the horizon as we drove home.
Post script
What does a professional bird guide do when not working? Go bird-watching of course. Stephen Christopher of www.catalanbirdtours.com was intent on photographing the snowfinches, bad weather having thwarted his previous attempt a few days before. The difficult light and restless nature of the birds meant he couldn’t secure a good shot. He did get the following image, however: a Snow bunting (Plectrophenax nivalis), very rarely recorded in Catalunya. Not bad for your day off.
Birds, Mammals, Pyrenees, Trip reports | Tags: alpine accentor, catalan bird tours, chamois, crossbills, dipper, fox, Montifringilla nivalis, Parc Natural del Cadí-Moixeró, Plectrophenax nivalis, Pyrenees birding, snow bunting, Snowfinch, wallcreeper|
Just before pulling into Olot, the bus passes the dramatically positioned village of Castellfollit. A vast senyera¹ draped from the church tower catches your eye. In Olot town centre, people crowd into the narrow streets, filled with market stalls on a Saturday morning, to a soundtrack of sardanas². This La Garrotxa, deep Catalunya.
¹ Catalan flag ² traditional Catalan dance music
As we walked out of town, the sun grew stronger, and the majestic snow-laden Pyrenees came into view, where hordes were skiing away the long weekend – the Puente de la Constitución. The mellow, late autumnal weather suited the gentle landscape of rounded hills - many of them volcanic cones -, fields, farmhouses and woods. Soon we were mingling with beech trees.
The reason the Fageda¹ d’en Jordá survives is presumably the lava flow on which it grows, which makes the land not worth cultivating. It’s surprisingly flat and - at 550-600m - low for an Iberian beech wood so near the southern edge of the tree’s range. In nearby Montseny, much more under the Mediteranean’s influence, beeches grow mainly between 1300-1700m.
¹ Beech wood
The Fageda’s accessibility means that on Sunday mornings it can feel like a genteel park, where people stroll sedately and bid each other good day. If men still wore hats they’d be doffing them. A final touch would be to hide speakers in the bird boxes to broadcast sardanas.
But on Saturday afternoon it was so peaceful you could hear a murmuring of decomposition from the thick carpet of coppery leaves, recently-shed. The beautiful monotony of the wood casts a spell as you wander around, endlessly repeating the here and now.
For beeches are good at fending off other species of trees and plants. They are experts at monopolising light, water and nutrients. Their weapons are a densely knit canopy, widespreading roots and copious leaf litter to smother the ground. Their leaves even contain a compound that impedes the germination of other plants.
Outcrops of black volcanic rock – resembling the carbon¹ naughty children get at Christmas – push out of the leaf bed and disrupt the uniformity. The rock is used in long stretches of moss-softened walls.
¹ sweets that look like lumps of coal
Our destination was Santa Pau, a fortified Medieval village, so picturesque that from a distance you can see camera flashes going off as visitors prowl its walls. Bags of fesols are sold – the local speciality of dried beans – though the sheer quantity of beans for sale makes you wonder if they’re all locally grown.
The next day we found a wilder, steeper beech forest on the higher slopes of the Serra de Finestres, which guards La Garrotxa to the south. The walk took us through contrasting woods: in a sheltered corner of the hills there were evergreen Holm oaks, densely tangled with creepers, typical of a Mediterranean climate. These gave way to deciduous oaks, the pale sun shining through their mustard-coloured leaves. Finally, higher up, we entered the clean silent grandeur of beech wood, whose leafless branches look like smoke from a distance.
Once at the top, looking south, the other face of the mountain was formed of exposed cliffs, like a waistband above skirts of dark green Holm oak. On a clearer day we would’ve seen the Costa Brava from up here, as well as the Pyrenees to the north. In the ruined walls near the Santuari de Santa Maria, excursionists were feasting on freshly grilled butifarras¹ and wine, and we were cordially invited to join in.
¹ sausages
Soon clouds started to settle on the sierra, and we began the descent. Smoke from the farmhouses merged with the mist, and flocks of chaffinches and hawfinches flew up from the fields. Two hunting dogs, with bells attached to their collars, came along the track, out on their own excursion. Woodpeckers tapped industriously. As the mist dropped lower, the day slowly turned to night.
Trees, Trip reports | Tags: autumn walk, Beech, fageda d'en jorda, Fagus sylvatica, Garrotxa, Holm oak, Olot, Quercus ilex, Santa Pau, serra de finestres|
On a trip to the Mediterranean, far from their Cantabrian mountain homes, Lisa and Teresa ventured into the big city to meet up with the Iberianature Barcelona contingent. Nick and I then accompanied them for a tour of some of the natural spaces that sustain the metropolitan populace.
The Garraf is an antidote to claustrophobic canyons, which is how Barcelona’s streets sometimes feel. It’s an airy expanse of garrigue-covered hills, open to the shining sea. We didn’t have to go far to find the Two-tailed Pasha (Charaxes jasius), top on Lisa and Teresa’s list along with the Autumn narcissus (Narcissus serotinus). While the Pashas chased each other around the fig trees near the visitors’ centre, Lisa and Teresa stalked them with their cameras.
Meanwhile, Nick and I followed a signposted botanical route, an excellent way to learn some of the plant species typical of the area: Kermes oak, Prickly juniper, and cistus. Nick spotted a solitary white flower, fragile among all the tough leathery leaves and spines. It was photographed and duly forgotten. We also discovered that the Garraf strawberry trees (Arbutus unedo) produce some of the best arbutus cherries anywhere: sweet and acidic, unlike the bland fruit I’d tasted before. They clearly thrive on this sun-soaked limestone terrain.
The lonely white flower did turn out to be an Autumn narcissus, as was discovered much later in the car. It was too late to turn back, but Teresa forgave us and continued to share her extensive knowledge. So we were able to learn that the Tree heath (Erica arborea) familiar to everyone who walks in Collserola only grows in acidic soil, and here is replaced by the purple-flowering Mediterranean heath (Erica multiflora). An insect slipping its black segments across the fallen pine needles turned out to be a Glow worm larva (Lampyris noctiluca), with a voracious appetite for snails. A dirty clump of debris hanging on a guardrail was identified as the case of a Bagworm.
After some debate, we decided there was time for the Llobregat Delta. Back down at sea level and just after the turn-off for the reserve, something white caught our eye: an extensive patch of Autumn Narcissi.
After liberal applications of mosquito repellent and an osprey-sighting, we crossed the bridge into the reserve. Outside the hides, translucent herons fished in sparkling water, sandpipers bathed in the shallows, cattle egrets groomed the horses, kingfishers streaked here and there, and spoonbills tried to keep up with their restless spatula-shaped bills.
There was little time left, but Collserola could not be missed. Up by the Forat del Vent, suitably windy, a flock of Pekin robins (Leiothrix lutea) held our attention with their melodious Blackcap-like song. Unlike other exotic escapees that settle in more urban environments, these South Asian cage birds are breeding in woodlands. They’re being monitored but studies suggest their presence has so far had no harmful effect on the authoctonous species.
We’d run out of daylight. After dropping Nick and I off at the metro, Lisa and Teresa drove away for the next stage of their adventure.
Birds, Garraf, Insects, Llobregat Delta, Plants, Trip reports | Tags: Arbutus unedo, Barcelona birding, Charaxes jasius, Leiothrix lutea, Mediterranean butterflies, Mediterranean flora, Narcissus serotinus, Pekin robin, Strawberry tree, trips near barcelona, Two-tailed pasha|
It was cold at nearly 2,600m, but there were plenty of grassy hollows and boulders to shelter from the wind. The Port de Ratera was created when ice overflowed from the Ratera basin into the Saboredo. This colossal polishing has created a natural resting place, appreciated by walkers, whether approaching via the scree slopes from the Refugio d’Amitges, or climbing up from Val d’Aran.
The route from the Sant Maurici lake, the GR 11, rises in a series of giant steps, a typical pattern of glacial erosion in hard granitic rock. For the walker this translates as tough slogs interspersed with welcome respites.
On one of these pauses, among still water and scattered rocks, a herd of chamois (Rupicapra pyrenaica) were foraging, a group of females and young. Separated from the rest, one of the adults came bounding past, hooves thudding as it circled the valley.
The renewed silence was broken by a piercing whistle, as if a referee had just stopped play. The first time I ever heard a marmot’s warning call, I was sure it was a bird. One tone warns of raptors and another of danger on the ground. The Pyrenean marmots didn’t survive the last ice age, but were re-introduced in 1948, and have been burrowing there extensively ever since. They are Europe’s largest and perhaps shaggiest rodents, preferring to stay underground on hot days, as well as hibernating throughout winter. This upright marmot was on lookout duty.
Black redstarts were ubiquitous at all levels, from the streets of Espot to the top of the pass. They’re also a familiar sight at sea level, visiting Barcelona in winter. Other birds I saw that day were rock bunting, wheatear and alpine accentor, and a solitary mallard in the Estanyet de Port de Ratera.
Near the pass I found Globe-headed rampion (Phyteuma hemisphaericum), which grows in the highest reaches of the park, up to 3,000m, thriving in thin sandy soils. Starry saxifrage (Saxifraga stellaris) was in flower by a stream.
Another resilient high altitude species is the Mountain pine (Pinus uncinata). One grows near the pass, braced against the prevailing north-west wind. Another, on the south side of Els Encantats at 2,700m, is a candidate for the highest tree of Spain. Bark blending into stone, they are capable of growing out of a fissured rock.
Aiguestortes and Sant Maurici national park, Mammals, Pyrenees, Trip reports | Tags: chamois, National Park of Aigüestortes and Sant Maurici, Phyteuma hemisphaericum, Pinus uncinata, Port de Ratera, Pyrenees flora, Rupicapra pyrenaica, saxifraga stellaris, walking holiday in the Pyrenees, walking in the Pyrenees, walking the GR 11, wildlife in the Pyrenees|
Presiding over the Sant Maurici lake, this vast two-peaked monolith is omnipresent in local hikes - a yardstick to measure how far you’ve walked and how high you’ve reached.
In the legend of Els Encantats, two hunters were enticed onto the mountain by the biggest chamois they’d ever seen, and then blasted by lightening for daring to mock the good villagers at mass in Sant Maurici’s chapel. Their fossilised remains, two splinters of rock, can be seen between the peaks.
Everywhere there are bleached, twisted wrecks of trees, another reminder of the dangers of lightning. With afternoon storms forecast, I didn’t aim to go far. The day had started misty and still, but seemingly from nowhere, waves of wind began searing through the crags. Suddenly the sky was an electric blue, and my hands were frozen. Clouds were surging past, and over the shoulders of Els Encantats a cumulo-nimbus was rising. Enhancing the vividness of the moment, a stunning tangerine-coloured butterfly was browsing at the shore of the Sant Maurici lake: a Scarce copper (Lycaena virgaureae).
I climbed up to a spot protected from the wind, with the whole majestic block of Els Encantats in view - from the peaks, with the doomed hunters inbetween, to the creamy-white glaciar in its belly button - a vestige of the 400m-deep glacier that once filled the Escrita valley.
I could see silver glitter racing across the Estany de Sant Maurici in the valley bottom, the water a deep turquoise compared to the dark blue of higher lakes, which lack sediments, minerals and algae. I was watching a flock of crossbills prise open pine cones but the sky beyond the great mountain was now the darkest blue - time to go.
Aiguestortes and Sant Maurici national park, Pyrenees, Trip reports | Tags: Aiguestortes and Sant Maurici national park, crossbills, Els Encantats, Lycaena virgaureae, Pyrenees, Sant Maurici lake, Scarce copper, walking in the Pyrenees, wildlife in the Pyrenees|
On my second attempt to walk to the Port de Ratera, I took the GR 11, which goes directly there and beyond. It takes you round the Estany (lake) de Ratera, with its marshy grass and hairy Bog cotton (eriophorum angustifolium).
Further up, the path narrows, and you reach the Estany de les Obagues de Ratera (the Lake on the dark side of the Ratera). Red and white poles stop you getting lost, so the map could’ve stayed folded, but once open, a tempting alternative materialised, leading away from the GR 11 up to some tiny lakes. The contrast with the previous day was brutal. The way was marked by cairns, to guide you over an avalanche of rocks. Going became a little easier as the path crept along a narrow strip of grass skirting a vertical wall. There were traces of chamois everywhere. What took me half an hour of awkward balancing they could skip across in 3 minutes. There was no sign of any lakes.
I reached an outcrop of Mountain pines (Pinus uncinata) and sat in their shade, as if for protection. Unsoftened by vegetation or water, this was the harsh side of the mountains. The dead silence was broken by the cawing of a raven. Back at the Estany de Obagues de Ratera, I noticed a round white spot in a crevice: a dipper (Cinclus cinclus). Scouting around the streams I found some late pink and white orchids (see discussion on forum). There were also Field gentians (Gentianella campestris), discrete but welcome flowers at the end of summer. Small details, but very reassuring after the stark wilderness higher up.
This time I kept to the GR 11, but in the other direction. Instead of taking one of the jeep taxis that wait on the hour at the Sant Maurici lake, I walked back to Espot. The path follows the sunny side of the Escrita river, through meadows and tunnels of hazlenut trees. The dark side is covered by a thick mass of uniform fir forest haunted by capercaillies. The setting sun escaped from the clouds, lighting up the valley and the leaf flurries shed by silver birches. Long shadows were cast eastwards towards the mountains of Andorra.
Aiguestortes and Sant Maurici national park, Mammals, Plants, Pyrenees, Reptiles, Trip reports | Tags: Bog cotton, Eriophorum angustifolium, Estany de les les Obagues de Ratera, Estany de Ratera, Field gentians, Gentianella campestris, National Park of Aigüestortes and Sant Maurici, Pyrenees wildlife, walking in the Pyrenees|
