Tordera to Vallgorguina – A Painful Passage

We woke late again, forgetting to set an alarm. Rushing round the place, stuffing our worldly goods into rucksacks and legging it to the train station. At the Tordera end we chose the first bar and rattled down bread and omelettes with two large cups of coffee.

Then we struck up for the mountains, not realising how tough this section was going to be. As soon as we hit a slope we began to suffer. Two days of gallivanting and a lack of underlying fitness, despite gym sessions and dietary propriety, sunk us into a painful depth. And it only got deeper as we climbed higher.

The weather was warm, the sweat was wet and the path hurt us.

OK you theatrical old fart – stop the melodramatic nonsense. The sweat was feckin wet! Who do you think you are?

Well, I think I’m a really great bloke. Most of my friend do as well.

Most of my friend?

Yep. I’ve only got one and it’s Gary.

God help you. He’s a prat!

He might be a prat but he’s my prat.

You’re right. He’s a prat.

But! If Gary hadn’t bought a bottle of water last night we would have been seriously damaged. It was warm, it was still and we were getting more and more dehydrated. How could I be so foolish not to bring water?

These are cork trees. Evergreen Cork Oak trees which have their bark cut off for corks, and the interior of cricket balls. Corks sounds like the favourite for me!

We were becoming less and less hydrated and were solely focused on when we could next have a small swig of water. And it was a long, long route. Over 20 miles as it turned out, and a lot of it uphill.

When the path turned uphill we were seriously struggling. When it went down we were ok. And there was nothing for 20 miles. No shops, no nothing.

If Gaz hadn’t got that water, as I previously stated, we wouldn’t have made it. Then, in the distance, we saw houses.

And when we really started to struggle on an uphill mountain path, with just a drop left in our water bottle and 10 miles from the nearest building, we miraculously came upon a spring. A mountain spring that Gary managed to get some water in our bottle from. And I was so gone that I didn’t take a photo! Fresh mountain water, dribbling into our bottle. Get in! It tasted so sweet, but it took ages to get a mouthful out of the spring. However, from being knackered we became half human again.

We hadn’t seen anyone for hours. This is a remote place. Then bizarrely I saw a person ahead of us on the path. When you’re exhausted, and half aware of the world, it is weird to see a bloke in a long black gown. He disappeared round a corner of the hillside, but both Gary and I had seen him. We lost sight of him and then began to wonder if he was a spirit. He heard us and stood still, speaking in a strange, soft voice. We didn’t understand him. But we passed him and he disappeared. Into the forest. The track is carved out of the mountain. You can’t walk above it or below it. But he disappeared.

It was warm and dry, and the sky was blue, but out of the blue we got rain. Strangely raining with the sun shining through. No clouds. Where is it coming from?

It might be remote but despite a very hard and difficult trek the views are stunning.

We were concerned that it was going to get dark before we arrived at Vallgorguina, our next stop (or so we thought). The sun sank, and we were seriously sinking too. It’s difficult to explain it, but this was the worst we have ever felt on a trek. When every muscle in your body is buggered and your lungs are dysfunctional.

We could have spent the night in here, with the rest of the Hobbits, but it was a bit too scary. Nobody was around if we were attacked by the Orcs.

After what seemed like a million years the path started to drop down. That doesn’t make it too easy on your legs but it’s easier on your breathing when you’re completely and utterly buggered.

After another two hours of descent we hit Vallgorguina. There was a local bar open where the locals confirmed that there was no accommodation open in the village. The landlady ordered a taxi to the nearest town with a hotel. We waited outside in the cold wind and it didn’t arrive.

Going back in to the bar a young lad took up our cause and got a taxi for us to Sant Celloni; the nearest town. And arriving on spec we got a room, at about 8pm, at a small hotel. Thank Christ!

Today was tough, really tough. We had a good meal locally but I couldn’t sleep. The exertion had really done for me. But the worst was yet to come.

Night night.