DITL - Sounds of Granada, Spain - June 2012

A short movie featuring various street artists in Granada, Spain.  

-K

DITL - Backpacking (Wild Camping) Etang de Comte, French Pyrenees

Spend two days with us on our backpacking (wild camping) trip to Etang de Comte in the French Pyrenees. Gorgeous scenery and some almost-wild horses!


June 15-16, 2012

-K

Ax Les Thermes, France, Part Deux – June 17-24, 2012

More (stunning) pictures here!

Fearing that the memory of a place is often better than a renewed experience, it was with some trepidation that we returned to Ax Les Thermes; but it was only the tug of the Aventura that made us pull away after sixteen days.  Our final days here were filled with awe, in particular the hike to Etangs Noir and Bleu off of the Col de Pailheures and a chance bonfire celebration in the town center.

The hike, well documented in the picture link above, was simply stunning.  I sat at our first break, gazing across the valley to the numerous peaks and said to SP, “Surely this is one of the most beautiful spots on Earth.”  We have seen some stunning scenery on our various hikes in various countries, but for me, none tops the view from the pass down to the Etangs Noir and Bleu.  Definitely a Must See if you are in the area and in reasonable shape.  (The hike from the parking area to an excellent view spot is only 1.5 miles but took us an hour—I am a slow hiker.)

Our second awesome experience started as a long-hike day but sadly we couldn’t fulfill that goal as the Orlu National Reserve does not allow dogs on the trails.  Heading back through town, we noticed a stage being constructed and some chairs being set outside in one of the main squares.  So that evening, too lazy to make dinner, we opted to head back toward all that activity.  It turned out to be the Feu de la St. Jean, clearly a festive occasion for the locals.

When we arrived for dinner, there was a DJ playing great dance music (at least half of which was American, including Prince [!] and MJ) and we watched as people cut loose.  In particular, we watched one couple who was clearly doing the Texas Two-Step to a number of songs (and, amazingly, tempos.)  At a break, we approached them (OK, I dragged SP over) assuming they were from Texas and we might actually be able to have a conversation.  In addition to the Two-Step hint, they had on blue-jeans (real ones, not the faded, lined and ripped “fashionable” ones), the lady sporting cowboy boots and the gentleman wearing a Route 66 t-shirt.  I was giddy with anticipation.

Turns out they were from Paris.

Fortunately, their English was much better than my French and we learned that they had visited various places in America, including Texas where they learned to two-step.  On a holiday themselves, they were thrilled to have happened upon this celebration and a chance to work out their moves.  They were a delight.

During dinner we also made note of the numerous men walking around in long-sleeved black shirts, occasionally sharing nips from a leather wrapped flask.  But during the dancing, they were nowhere to be found.  When the DJ music ended (or so we thought) people began moving toward the Casino and, thankfully, SP suggested we head over. 

Turns out there was a giant pyre being prepared for lighting and, lo and behold, the men in black were at the top of the stairs singing glorious spiritual songs.  (Yes, my French is bad, but my Italian, which is what it sounded like, is even worse.)  All I know is that they sounded wonderful.  There was a short break in the singing while they lit the pyre and the bonfire shot sparks up into the dark night.  What an incredible sight!  You would never see this in California (where most towns don’t even trust the people with sparklers on the 4^th of July); a giant open fire with children playing not 20 yards away, and only a flimsy barrier to separate.  The fire was so large and so hot that I had to keep backing away.  The chorus returned to singing as we all gazed at the flames, a short video of which can be seen here:

Thus ended our last weekend in Ax-les-Thermes; it was one of the towns that we discovered during the Great Recon Mission (see previous postings for more details) and one that made us sure we wanted to do the Aventura so we could “stay as long as we want in one spot.” 

How wonderful that occasionally new experiences outshine even great memories.

-K

Backpacking to Etang de Comte, French Pyrenees – June 15-16, 2012

More pictures here!  (Plus a DITL movie of this adventure will be coming when I can get a strong internet connection.)

Having found a safe spot to rest Salt (the aforementioned Le Malazeou campground) we decided to test our backpacking endurance with a two night trek into the French Pyrenees.  Usually our well-planned, well-stocked backpacking trips end early due to weather; they have never ended early due to a mammalian attack.  But I am getting ahead of myself.

We parked at the Etang de Comte parking area just outside the town of Merens-les-Vals and commenced the gorgeous two-mile hike to our camping spot above the lake.  Having done a portion of this trail as a day hike a few days ago, we were well prepared for the almost vertical first ½ mile.  But the effort pays off nicely when you reach the alpine meadow and take in the sparkling river tumbling around brightly colored wildflowers.  Rosco upped the enjoyment by jumping in for an early swim.

We arrived at the Etang around 5:00 p.m., carefully herding The Noses around a group of wild horses grazing at the shoreline, and selected a tent spot on the hill overlooking the water.  There were four or five other tents around the lake, their occupants already out fishing.

I set about getting our tent, the North Face Minibus 2, up while SP gathered wood for our fire.  Yes!  A camp fire!  We haven’t had one since the Shasta/Trinity area of Northern California last November.   With the fire going, SP went down to the shore to try a few casts while I kept an eye on The Noses who, thanks to being upwind, had yet to discover the proximity of the horses.

Unfortunately, backpacking food (i.e. dehydrated) is difficult to come by out here; I doubt the French language  includes a phrase for “rehydrate your dinner in a tin cup, sit on the ground and eat while balancing the cup on your knee.”  It sure wouldn’t be their cheery, “Bon Appetit!”  But eat we had to do, so we reheated some spaghetti bolognaise and reconstituted packages of instant mashed potatoes and asparagus soup for dinner.  Unbelievably, SP had discovered marshmallows at the store so we ended the meal with fire toasted marshmallows.  (Can’t recommend the pink ones as they tasted like strawberry, but the white ones tasted like home.)

With the weather due to be clear for three days, we opted to crawl into the Minibus without the rain fly so we could gaze at the stars.  However, we were so tired we couldn’t wait for the complete dark (at 10:00 it was still light) and promptly fell asleep.  Much later we awoke, put on our glasses, and gazed up in wonder; The Noses contentedly snoring away in the corner. 

Near dawn River’s snoring turned to growling and I peeked out to see the horses at the edge of our camp and moving in.  We managed to shoe them away (literally, by smacking SP’s thongs together) and they trotted up the hillside.  Once they were far enough away, or so we thought, we let The Noses out.  River, who never forgets a nasty smell, charged right up the hill after them.  They didn’t take kindly to her obnoxious barking and moved further up to the ridge where they took a stand and spent the morning looking down on us.  River kept them in line with an occasional Charge and Bark, but clearly they were just biding their time.  

The weather was as lovely as promised so we set about preparing for our day hike up to the Etang de Couart.  Putting the rain fly on the Minibus, we stored our extra food, clothes, and the stove inside for safekeeping and headed up the mountains.  What a grueling hike!  After two hours and over a mile of rocky uphill (some steps higher than my knees!) we were exhausted and stopped for some lunch and fishing.  Fishless no more; I landed a Brook Trout quite quickly and SP managed to land a Brown.  So we cleaned the fish, packed them in some icy water and headed back down to camp.

Coming down the mountain we had a clear view of the Etang and our campsite.  To our dismay we could see that the horses were over for a visit.  We scampered down as quickly as we dared, hoping the herd was not destroying our site.  Tired, we stumbled into camp to find our beloved Minibus ripped open.  Somehow the fly wasn’t damaged--merely tossed to the side, but the netting was ripped in two places and the stench of manure and urine was overpowering.  My clothing bag had been dragged out, the deodorant crushed (do wild horses think everyone should smell as badly as they do?) and the dog packs were strewn around.  Maybe they had been after the dog food?    

In any event, staying another night was out of the question.  The stench, the additional flies and the lack of tent netting would have made sleeping impossible.  So, tired as we all were, we packed everything up, put the fish in fresh icy water and headed back to the Pepper.

We made it back to Salt by 7:00 p.m., still plenty of light in these long, gorgeous days of summer; we showered and headed to the campground’s restaurant (La Marmotte) for a delicious and easy dinner with a good dose of house wine.

I have long championed the virtues of day hiking over backpacking.  It will undoubtedly take us awhile to find a new Minibus; until then, we will get in as many day hikes as possible, preferably without horses. 

-K

PS:  We thought the horses were wild until we noticed two of them sporting  bells around their necks.  Clearly they are free to range all over the mountains, but also clearly, someone wants an occasional update on their whereabouts. 

Published Article - Renting a Motorhome in the UK

An article I wrote on renting Curry in the U.K. published recently by RV West Magazine!


A Dream Come True:  Camping in the U.K.

-K

Ax-les-Thermes, France (Part One) – June 9-14, 2012

More pictures here!

During the The Great Reconnaissance Mission of 2010 we spun down the mountains from Andorra and discovered Ax-les-Thermes peacefully nestled along a river and boasting a number of hotels that fit our budget (for that trip under €100/night)--not to mention a number of patisseries.  Being so close to the plentitude of dog-friendly hiking in the area it immediately made our list as a Must Return with Salt.  (Note that dogs are not allowed in the French National Pyrenees Park further west.)

So we did our due diligence and visited a number of local caravan parks, discovering one just west along N20, Le Malazeou, with a lovely, one-mile pedestrian path along the river linking it back to Ax.  (I am hoping a two-mile walk to my daily pain au raisin may just keep me from gaining too much weight.) 

This is where we find ourselves today; pitch 612 (not that there are 600 pitches), with the river along the front door and just steps from the satellite shower block which, it turns out, plays an important role in our stay.

First, the practicalities:  We have discovered only one campground with full hook-ups in the area, a municipal camp, 1 kilometer or so from the town of Merens-les-Vals, on the N20.   As you know by now, we would have chosen a full hook-up pitch over everything had we known it existed (we didn’t find it on our prior Recon Mission), except that you cannot walk into Ax.  You can walk into Merens, but it is decidedly not a cute town. 

We have electric at our pitch and they offer a motor vehicle waste disposal area (no hoses which we find quite odd) the use of which would require us to hitch up Salt, drive to the top of the campground, dump then try to turn around and bring her back down.  Not an impossible chore but not an enjoyable day out either.  Luckily, just a few kilometers up the N20 is a Carrefour with an Aires de Service area, including hoses (usually €6 per use.)  So when the time does come we will pull Salt up there and clean her out—at least turning around will be easy.

However, to minimize our trips to the dump area, we decided to try utilizing the shower block for more than just showers.  It turns out I quite enjoy doing the dishes over there (for vegetable prep I still prefer Salt—it’s just faster.)  But the dish washing area is quite the social spot.  I often learn a new French word or two but more often get to hear the praises of Salt.  She is quite a hit here, appearing, I am sure, in many people’s pictures of their family vacation in Ax.  The [very helpful and bi-lingual] office staff mentioned that “everyone” wants to talk about Salt when they visit the office.  I think this has helped us secure our pitch for almost a month, even when it is approaching the "Must Have a Reservation" time in France.

But back to the fun!  We have had two incredible hikes, the scenery is even better than we imagined it would be, although the weather (and then often the scenery) changes on a dime.  During our first hike toward Etang de Compte we had glimpses of wildflower filled meadows leading up to icy peaks before being rushed out of the valley by the rain.  On our second hike, our breath was taken away twice:  Once when hiking above 2001 meters near the Col de Pailheres (must get in better shape!) then again when struck by the view down to the Etang de Noir, just moments before the clouds rolled in. 

Both areas are on the list for upcoming backpacking trips.  (That’s “wild camping” to my European readers.)  I recorded a short video of the overlook with the clouds rolling in but will need to locate a stronger internet connection before I can upload it.

  

Speaking of backpacking, we decided we had better set up our tent as we purchased it just prior to leaving Laguna (September 2011) and haven’t used it once.  So back at camp, we managed to get it up in record time even while constantly pushing Rosco back—he loves a good tent nap after a long hike.  

Our North Face Minibus 2 is just as cute as ever, so cute that I looked at SP and said, “I think I’ll sleep out here tonight!”  And so it happened:  Our first night under different roofs in nine months.   The Noses, of course, were with me in the tent; Rosco because he would have been devastated to have missed out and River because I didn’t trust that SP would kick her off our bed in Salt.  A dangerous precedent as we both slept so well we might be hauling out the tent more often than not!

And so we settle into what might be our favorite spot so far.  There will be many more pictures coming (hopefully starring some fish!) and at least one DITL hiking video.

-K

PS:  We dropped into a sports store to ask about fishing and ended up purchasing our licenses.  The already helpful man became indispensable when he brought out his laptop and we commenced to converse via Google Translate.  (By the way, a fishing license for me was only €30, but SP’s was €85—I guess they don’t think women will fish as often.  Or, perhaps, as successfully.)

Sitges, Spain - May 6-8, 2012

More pictures!


Many people have warned us of Sitges' charms:  Coved beaches snuggled along the shore, a quaint little town with many narrow, pedestrian-only streets and the warmth of the Mediterranean.  But they didn't warn us of the crowds--and this is off season!


So just a few notes on Sitges:


1)  If you want to start a business, open up a high quality caravan park in Sitges--there is none to be found.  Two campgrounds, each with two stars and neither very attractive.  Although ours, El Garrofer, has 10 or so full hook-up sites making it livable as visiting the shower block was out of the question. 


2)  Sitges, even in the off season, is crowded on the weekends.  Plus, it doesn't take a lot of people to make the narrow streets feel tiny.  


3)  The town embraces everyone; if enjoying diversity is not on your agenda then you  might want to try another spot.  (We, of course, loved it.)


All in all it was a nice stop but I am anxious to get to the Pyrenees and into my hiking boots.  Not to mention all the campgrounds we have read about note, "exc. fishing."  We are headed up today!


-K

Granada, Spain – May 2-3, 2012

More pictures here!

In this life, you never know what the next day will bring.  So sometimes you do a lot of preparation only to find your plans get turned upside down by, say, a flat tire.

The night we were preparing to leave Las Lomas Campground in Guejar Sierra, a neighbor stopped by to tell us that Pepper had a flat and, if we needed it, he knew just who to call as he had a tire go flat upon pulling into the campground.  (Clearly there was something on the road.)  

Indeed, Pepper's right front tire was practically sitting on its rim.  As we attempted to fill it, we could hear—and then feel the air pressing out of a puncture along the sidewall.  Now, as my older brother can attest, Pepper does not carry a spare.  When you open the back hatch and lift up the carpet, you see a very promising, large, round, black-plastic, cover--clearly marked, “Bose”.  Music first, that’s our motto.

So . . . SP removed the tire, rolled it to the office and the wonderful staff at Las Lomas coordinated the replacement with the tire shop. 

A side note here:  When attempting to communicate in a foreign language, we are never sure if someone completely understands us.  However, we are always sure that we do not completely understand them.  Thus, when dealing with the purchase of an item, we have learned to lessen our expectations. 

The tire repair person said the tire could not be repaired but they could have a “summer” tire put on in one day or, if we waited two business days, we could have a “winter” tire.   For those of you who might have read the blog in the early days of Mrs. Dash, you may recall that we waited four weeks to get our Pirelli Scorpion Snow & Ice tires from Porsche in Orange County, California.  So when the repair shop said they could get us the “winter” tire in two business days, we lessened our expectations from Pirelli Scorpion to whatever might fit on Pepper.

This delay in our departure gave us just the excuse we needed to spend a few nights in a hotel enjoying a little Big City Life.  So we checked our budget:  €200/week for one night in a hotel but we hadn’t used the allotment in over four weeks, so we opted for €400/night for two nights, and checked into The [delightful] Hotel Carmen, in downtown Granada.  A very wise choice; you may not be able to tell by the pictures but the bathroom alone was easily twice as spacious as Salt.  I have to say it again:  Twice.  As.  Spacious.  The bathroom.  Plus the “junior suite” included a small terrace overlooking El Cortes Ingles, aka, Spain’s Nordstrom—with a splash of Neiman Marcus, aka Kit Heaven.

With a wardrobe in desperate need of refreshing, I practically ran across the street at the first opportunity. In less than an hour I had gathered an Escada Sport dress, sandals, a Southern Cotton sweater, and a long-sleeved T (cannot believe I left home without one.)  Tired out and with my new best friends safely tucked in tissue and nestled in a handle bag, I met SP on the street for a snack.  (I did have to remind him that his last words to me were, “Better not to ask if there is budget for this.”)

Granada is a wonderful city:  Large boulevards easily carry people directly through town but step off the main boulevards and you find yourself in a maze of pedestrian-only streets lined with musicians, cafes and shops.  It is delightful even on a very hot day (30/90); not only do the narrow alleys and tall buildings provide a lot of shade but many streets have sun shades stretched across the top.  If you need more of a break, there is always a fountain just around the corner at which you can pause for refreshment or reflection.

We thoroughly enjoyed our two nights in town but that was plenty.  We tire of always having to dine out (the exception being the complimentary room service breakfast) and The Noses, often quite well behaved, are awkward to walk along busy streets.

So refreshed and re-dressed, we returned to find our new tire, mounted and balanced and leaning against the Pepper.  As yet unpaid for (you would never see that in California) and sporting the unbelievable embellishment of “Pirelli Scorpion Snow & Ice.”   

-K

Guejar Sierra, Spain – May 26 - June 2(?), 2012

More pictures here!


When you live in caravan parks, it is not every day that you get to walk through a rose garden to the shower block.  Mix that experience with bountiful hiking and a serene mountain village and you have the recipe for us getting back into the Aventura spirit; all happening while staying at Las Lomas Campground just outside of Guejar Sierra.  


We stumbled upon this area of Spain simply because it was on the route north from Portugal to the Pyrenees and we thought, since it included access to the Sierra Nevada National Park, there might be a little hiking.  Wow, not only does the National Park have its own interesting trails, but the area includes the GR-240, a walking itinerary that circumnavigates the entire park, as well as access to the GR-140, GR-142 and the incredible GR-7 a long distance footpath that begins in Greece.  It is also one of the few backpacking spots (called “wild” or “free” camping here) we have found in Europe.


In addition to the hiking, the town of Guejar Sierra is the type of village we have been searching for:  Built high on the mountains the roads are often too narrow for cars (particularly The Pepper) and paved with interesting stones.  The narrow streets lead to rows of houses proudly displaying pots of flowering plants from their window sills or to small cafes, bakeries and charcuteries (sorry I just don’t know an English word for “place that only sells cured meat”.)  To top it off the whole town seems to be sitting on a natural spring and you will find a number of fountains and water spouts escorting the water as it makes its way downward to the Rio Genil.


It was at this river that we ended one hike and began another.  Following directions in the National Park Sierra Nevada, The Alpujarra, Marquesado del Zenete guide (purchased at the well-appointed and informative El Dornajo Visitor’s Center) we started our first hike in town and headed out, or so we thought, to the mountains.  Unfortunately, we walked, along a road, for three miles before even reaching the river; the mountains remaining far in the distance.  Our dislike of hiking where cars are driving combined with it being our first time out since SP’s medical release, made it an easy decision to turn around after a quick picnic by the water.  


Demonstrating our ability to learn, the next time we set out for this same hike we drove Pepper to the end of the road (quite a bit of it on a one-lane but two-way track if you catch my drift), parked and commenced to hike immediately into the mountains, the first portion of the trail being along the GR-240.  The book rated this area as the “most stunning entrance” to the National Park (see what lucky travelers we are?) and it was indeed stunning.  After about three miles we traipsed around a corner and were presented with the second highest and still snow-capped mountain range in Europe.  The tallest peak, Alcazaba, stands at 3,369 meters (11,053’), surrounded by three lesser peaks, the view is simply gorgeous.  


The hike itself was long, hot and dry (even in May and at 1300 meters [4500’] it was easily over 25c [80°] at mid-day plus we were training ourselves with almost full packs); at five miles we stopped at a river crossing so Rosco could take a refreshing swim before heading back.  Thankfully the trail is very well maintained as your eyes are constantly tempted to leave watching where your foot might land to look up at the terraced hillsides and old stone houses scattered throughout the valley.  It was a great hike, rated “Easy” in the guide; I would rate it easy to moderate as there is quite a steep uphill section in the beginning.  But, as we learned in England, the Europeans have a much more challenging trail rating system.


Guejar Sierra is also a great stop for touring Alhambra (we drove up and hadn’t seen so many tourists since leaving Heathrow so promptly turned around—that kind of thing just isn’t our kind of thing) as well as Granada.  We drove through downtown Granada (with Pepper’s side warning beepers going off almost constantly) and, had we not had The Noses and had it been closer to 70 than 90, would have enjoyed walking around a bit.  As it was, there was no parking to be found so we abandoned our search for Vodafone and headed back to the hills.  Judging from the numerous light displays strung across the major streets, the city must really be something to see at night.


We were all set to leave for the Pyrenees (where we know there is great hiking and are looking forward to cooler temperatures) until a neighbor in the park pointed out Pepper's flat tire.  So . . . we wait to see how long it will take to get a Pirrelli Scorpion Snow & Ice tire fixed and or replaced in southern Spain.


Hey Chris, do you want to come and drive us into Granada to get the tire fixed?


-K