Vacation Day 4

(To make comments to this or any other topic/post, select the "Comment" link at the bottom of the post.)

We’ve been in France for three days and have not been able to access the internet. Our plan was to use Skype to call home upon our arrival in Paris – from Skype user to Skype user, the call is free.  Even calls over the internet using Skype to land line or cell phones are only 2 cents per minute, regardless of where you’re calling. Being without internet access, we have not yet contacted our daughter Shannon.

There is a little part of me that is wondering how she feels not getting that “arrived safely” call that we have not received on occasion.  Perhaps she’ll now see the value of that call J.

After breakfast of, yes, you guessed it – croissants, orange juice and coffee, we head out of town to Montsegur, a mountain-top chateau originally built as a sun-temple by the Visigoths in the 7^th or 8^th century and renovated by the Cathars as a defensive structure in the late 12^th century.  We had visited it seven years ago; I had climbed to the fortress at the top of the mountain while Linda and Shannon waited in the car below.  This time Linda was determined to make the climb!  Arriving just after 8:00 am, we had the parking lot at the bottom of the trail virtually to ourselves. One other person was up the mountain – we knew that, not just by the only other car in the parking lot, but by the black and white dog that would visit from time  to time as we made the 200+ meter climb.

It is a beautiful sunny day, not too hot after the full day of rain we experienced in our travel south yesterday. And it is very fortunate it is not raining – the soil and rocky trail would be very hard to climb if it were wet.  The night of no rain has let the soil drain and the rocks dry. But it is plenty challenging in that it is very steep. Thankfully, there has been substantial trail maintenance in years past so the trail is predominantly steps cut into the mountain and reinforced by railroad ties and rocks. Did I say it was steep?

Although winded by the time we were 100 meters up the mountain, Linda is determined to get to the top this time.  She has a particular connection with the two Esclamondes, a grandmother and granddaughter, that were in the party of 250+ Cathars that withstood a 6-8 month siege by the soldiers of the Ambigesian Crusade in 1211-1212. At the end of that siege, the entire party of Cathars were marched to the bottom of the mountain and burned at the stake. During their descent, it is said that they sang their sacred songs, knowing full well what was to be their fate at the bottom of the mountain.

After about 45 minutes of climbing we walk through the portal of the chateau into the courtyard. On our  left is the keep, the defensive tower with its customary bowman slits in the walls.  All around us are the 30’ walls that are essentially intact. In the walls we can see the holes into which the floor joist beams were fitted.  Of course, the floors and beams have long since rotted away. The floor of the courtyard is far from flat.  It appears that the mountain has something to say about its composition. Large rocks buried into the soil indicate it was never flat.  But the two floors above the ground level obviously provided substantial living space for the occupants. However, the 250+ Cathars lived mostly in lean-tos that were located just outside the walls on all sides of the citadel. With vertical walls on three sides of the mountain, the only approach to the top was from the side up which we hiked. But just outside the walls was a terrace that ranged from 20-50 feet most of the way around the structure.  It was thought that the people came into the castle only when they were threatened.

We spent about an hour moseying about the castle, even though it is only about 200’x100’. While we were there, Linda had an interesting experience – which, I’m sure, she will write about at some point in the future.

Making it back down the mountain in about 30 minutes, we headed off to northeastern Spain, to a little town on the coast called Cadaques, just 30 kilometers east of Figueres and 30 kilometers south of France. We had plenty of time to get there (our reservation in the hotel there wasn’t until the following night) so we decided to explore some along the way.

Not far from Montsegur, we saw a sign for another chateau pointing to the north of the highway on which we had driven earlier in the morning.  Not having seen anything that seemed interesting on that side of the road, we were curious. To the north we went!

We followed this one lane black-top road through the forest, thinking that it was a great design idea, a one-lane road.  Obviously, there wasn’t much traffic on it so it made sense to not waste the money to pave two lanes when one lane would do. Nice theory – assuming there wasn’t much traffic. Climbing through the forest, ascending the side of the mountain, we came around a corner with a bit too much velocity (that’s an innocent sounding word, isn’t it? “Velocity”?). We almost hit a car head on! Not to worry, the brakes worked and neither driver was distracted by an iPod or cell phone. Of course, it took Linda several minutes to catch her breath again. But as I told her, a little adrenaline is good for the heart from time to time.

As we approached the clearing we could see a little village clustered on the side of the  mountain, about 100 meters below an ancient structure – another Cathar fortress. As we entered the village, we saw a sign on the road that said, “Chambre de Hote”. Ah-hah! We know what that means.  Our reservation in Cadaques wasn’t until the following night – so we backed up, pulled up a very steep driveway into a parking area for three cars situated below a beautiful renovated home (we keep being exposed to renovated buildings – do you think there’s some of that in our future?). We had just taken a photo of the village at the clearing from which we first saw the village with the home sitting off to the right.

I walked up a steep walkway to the house and was greeted by a gentleman that came from the house into the yard.  His name was Yves and, yes, it was a bed and breakfast, but, no, he did not have any vacancies until the 27^th of May, a time when we were going to be 200 kilometers east with reservations in Menerbes in the Luberon. But the price was right – 50 Euros for two people including breakfast.

The view across the terraced lawn was directly to Montsegur. He invited us into the living room of the house. Well-appointed, the craftsmanship of the stonework and interior design was exceptional. And there in the middle of the large picture window was that same view of Montsegur, but this time it was also framed by the trimmed, upright junipers – it was an extraordinary sight! He told us that he had done the work; he had obviously constructed the house with loving devotion. I thought, “Are you sure you don’t have any rooms for tonight? We wouldn’t have been led here for nothing!”

He gave us a card on which he had his website address so that the next time we were to be in the area we could contact him. Then he asked us where we were from.  We told him “Colorado, USA.” He said, “Yes, I’ve had someone from Colorado visit my website recently.”

“Are you sure you don’t have any rooms for tonight?” “No, I’ve only got three rooms and one lady is here for a retreat from France, another couple from Rotterdam and a gentleman from Germany. Sorry.” Curious as to why we had ended up there, we bid “au revoir” and set off down the road.

The village was small but it did have a restaurant. At its edge, the village had the trail-head that went up to the Cathar fortress on the west edge of town. Passing the several cars that were parked there, we went across the mountain to what we could now see was another village a kilometer away at about the same elevation as the one we were leaving. Proceeding more cautiously, we arrived without incident, passed the fifteen or so houses and headed down the road back to the highway. Scratching our heads as to what that side-trip was about, we nonetheless appreciated the opportunity to see French life off the beaten path.

You’ve probably seen the beautiful pastoral scenes of sheep herders in the mountains of northern Spain?  It could be those photos were taken in Andorra, a small, independent principality located in the Pyrennees between France and Spain – and we were only about 30 kilometers from there. Both Linda and I love the pristine, high-country panoramas we find on Trail Ridge Road. And 30 kilometers will only take us about 20 minutes – so we’re off!

We go through a few villages that remind us a little of Grand Lake (without the water) or Estes Park (without the salt water taffy and leather shops). We’re surrounded by high valley walls and the promise of glorious vistas. There’s a bit of unexpected traffic though.  Obviously, the French like those same sights. We motor along at 25 or 35 kilometers/hour, behind a line of cars and two big buses. From time to time there are passing lanes that let us make progress around the traffic until, finally, we are not breathing in diesel smoke (although we’re not sure how much our little diesel car is belching, particularly when we accelerate around the traffic).

But we must be getting close, the pass is not very far ahead.  We come around a curve and find two tall cranes at construction sites right next to the road. “They must be building a ski area!” Around another turn and we find that the ski area is already built; but what they were building were obviously hotels – or were they more department stores? Ahead of us is the largest mass of five and six-story buildings that were shops, stores, department stores, retail outlets of every kind!  And it wasn’t just for a few city blocks – these buildings went on and on for a kilometer or more, following the highway as it climbed the mountain to the pass.  And there on top of the pass were three gas stations – not one, not two, but three gas stations right on the top of the pass! Over the top of the pass we had a bit of break – apparently the sides of the road were too steep to have buildings on them. But about a kilometer down the road was another mass of buildings – these were far fewer in number.

By this time we were hungry. We had spent about an hour and a half coming those 30 kilometers so we stopped for some lunch at an internet café – it was also our first opportunity to email Shannon that we were safe (at least we thought we were). Twenty minutes on an internet pc and 3 Euros later, we’d finally made contact. I think a simple phone call from a phone booth three days earlier would have been less expensive and less trouble!

After lunch we headed on south through Andorra, expecting to find what was called Andorra-La-Vella a few kilometers away.  That must be the little Alpine village that we were expecting. Not to be.  Oh, Andorra-La-Vella was there all right, nestled in the valley just north of the Spanish border. Imagine Vail Village multiplied about ten times and jammed into the same valley as Vail sits, spread it over about five kilometers and make sure the buildings are really close together.  There you have it, Andorra-La-Vella.

It turns out that this independent principality is its own taxing authority. They have engineered it such that it is enough below the levels of France and Spain that people drive many, many kilometers to shop there.

It had taken us about two hours to travel about 45 kilometers (not including lunch). We were delighted to cross the border into Spain. We still had plenty of daylight left but we also had about 150 kilometers through mountainous terrain before Cadaques, by this time our intended destination for the night.

Much of the roads across northern Spain were fairly typical Colorado mountain highway. We came to one stretch, though, where we had the option of taking a tunnel through the mountains to a highway leading down to Barcelona (not our desired route) or up over the mountains on a more direct route.  Of course, we chose the latter.

It was a beautiful road, lots of vistas, well-maintained and narrow. And twisty. But our car handled well and we made good progress. We ended up in Figueres at about rush hour – it must have been rush hour because there was a LOT of traffic. We only got lost once. And we made it through in about 30 minutes. After Andorra, that was nothin’!

But the road to Cadaques east of Figueres was particularly challenging at this hour of the day. The trip across the narrow road earlier in the afternoon was just a warm-up for this 20 kilometer track. We did make it without incident (thank you, God) and arrived at our hotel 24 hours early. Being the Thursday after the national holiday on Wednesday and part of the holiday weekend, we were taking a bit of a chance coming into Cadaques without reservations. As I stepped up to the desk, another couple were being told that, sorry, the hotel was full. After they left, I asked the same question, explaining that I had a reservation for the following night but we had arrived early. “Ah, for you, my friend, we have one emergency room remaining. The view is not what you’ll get with your room tomorrow, but at least it is a roof over your head!”

We sleep soundly this night.

Comments

[Shannon]

Thank goodness you finally were able to get in touch with me! I had turned into the parent awaiting news from my children! ;) That's how it felt anyways...