Yesterday – Montroig to Colldejou to Tivissa

The most beautiful walk that I’ve done in Spain. The most frustrating and knackering walk I’ve done in Spain. What a day! A cereal bar and bottle of water for breakfast and set off at 9am up the road to Colldejou. The sky was clear, all day as it turned out, but there was a cold wind blowing off the mountains.

It took two hours to cover the 8kms to Colldejou and I pulled into a bar restaurant for a second breakfast. Freshly made tortilla, bread and coffee. Four quid. Fantastic – and the view was great.

It’s a nice village, and here goes that flag again! 

The views are amazing, but I didn’t realise at that stage that I would have to go up those hills to the top. 

By noon I’d linked up with the GR7, and was feeling pretty fantastic. The footpath here was a wide country lane, with a view back down to the Mediterranean.

However over the back of the first mountain ridge the track shrank to an ancient footpath. It was difficult to imagine that this little path travels across Spain uninterrupted for 1200 miles (1900 kms) !! The signposts aren’t great on the GR7 so a GPS is essential, and sometimes not enough, as I found out. 

The footpath wound its way up the mountains shown three photos ago, for what seemed like a really long time. Beautiful and painful with me rucksack beginning to cut into me shoulders. It was fascinating, the hairpin bending footpath, supported by rock walls from a thousand years ago. Or summat like that. Maybe 300. Last year? I finally got to the top, in a sweat.

Looking back and inland the view was stunning.

Looking forward as I passed over the top was beckoning.

The wind had dropped and I realised I was running lower on water than I’d reckoned. The village of Llaberia arrived and I thought maybe I’d top up. The church bell struck two o’clock so I was happy life was there. It wasn’t. The village is completely weekend homes, renovated and well preserved but empty. Even the church had a mechanical bell and no-one ringing it.

I set off back along the track. Into a very warm sun. The way climbed again over another mountain ridge and dropped steeply down. 

Part way down I heard the shriek of a wild cat coming up the track. Closer and closer and then round the corner…. It was a German couple with their baby daughter in a back harness, screaming like a cat. Not out of anger or pain but just to hear the echos. We had a good chat, probably the only other walkers I’ll see this week, and bade each other well.

It was right hot now, on a south facing zig zag path, and the flying ants started to be interested in my arms and head. And I was running worryingly low on water. For three miles I stumbled forward as fast as I could, getting hotter, sweatier and a bit dizzy. Right at the valley bottom I heard running water. I left the track and cut westwards, coming across a mountain stream issuing from the bottom of the cliffs. I drank for England. 

It was getting later and I followed the signposts, finally emerging into a vineyard looking over Tivissa. I was happy.

However a mile later I was gutted when a signpost identified this village as Capcanes, with Tivissa signed as 3 hours walk up another mountain. I really struggled. Even the views weren’t floating my boat.

I reached the top, didn’t have to stop…. so I carried on, dropping down yet another long mountain face and valley. And after what seemed like a lifetime I saw Tivissa down the valley. It wasn’t signposted but it was right there below me. I finished my remaining water and made good speed towards it.

Oh sh** oh sh** oh sh****** hell. It wasn’t Tivissa. And checking my GPS I’d left the GR7 a while ago. Like too long ago to go back. I looked at where I needed to be and it involved climbing another mountain. Jesus H Blade. It took me two hours, without water. I hauled meself on top of the ridge and twenty yards below me in a ledge was a mountain hut. I shouted ‘Senor’, and to my utter astonishment and relief a bloke answered ‘Si’. He filled up my water bottles with collected rainwater. I was one lucky barstard. He said I should be in Tivissa in an hour and showed me the way. It was dark when I saw it.

Maggie rang the hotel to say I’d be late and, after 12 hours walking I finally arrived. 

I sank a few beers with fantastic tapas, and the family who ran it were really nice. Brilliant grub, a lovely room and, after a shower, a short but deep sleep.

Night night.