Tues 17th April : Arrival and escape from Barcelona
It was a smaller than usual group that gathered at Prestwick
Airport for our annual trip to Robert’s house in Mosset, partly due to Robert
having planned another big trip to see New England in the fall which was when
the Ooters normally went to Mosset. And so it was that Davie C, Ian, Johnny,
Rex and Robert took the 10.15 flight to El Prat Airport, Barcelona, a new experience
for all as we normally use Girona but Mr O’Leary has cancelled all flights
there at the moment from Prestwick over a dispute about landing fees and so has
added about 90k and 1hr to our journey to Mosset. The name El Prat did not
inspire confidence as our readers will
learn later!
We arrived at El Prat 25mins earlier than scheduled due to a
tail wind and set about trying to find the Car Hire Company. After phoning the
Company, a courtesy bus would be sent to pick us up which arrived 30 mins
later. Robert assured us that the Depot was only 5 mins away. After an
interesting drive through the back streets of Barcelona, we arrived at the depot which appeared to be in an
industrial estate. The plan was for Robert to hire the car for 2 weeks (Kate was
coming out the second week) and have Ian as a second driver for the first week
so that Robert could take us to a wine tasting event where Ian would be the
nominated driver that day. However the man wanted to charge us an extra 4 euros
per day for the full 14 day hire period. Robert gave him the usual Ooters reply
and Robert would remain as the sole driver for the week. Needless to say we
never got to try the wine tasting!
At last we were on our way and all we had to do was find our
way out of Barcelona which we did after only one miss turn on to waste ground.
We soon picked up the signs to Gerona and there was no stopping us now (so we
thought).
Swift progress was made until just before the French border
when all three lanes ground to a halt and then short bursts of stop go. A large
crane ahead soon indicated the problem. Two artic lorries had collided shedding
both loads over the road, thousands of oranges from one matched by thousands of
onions from the other. Johnny thought we could save some money by gathering up
what we could while stopped but Robert didn’t want to lose his place in the queue.
Finally at about 8.00 PM, we arrived safely at the house
after stocking up with wine and beer at Super U and of course some food to tide
us over. The weather was warm and sunny. The Canigou looked magnificent as
usual with a heavy covering of snow on top which had just fallen at the
weekend.
Rex provided us with a lovely meal of chicken fajitas followed
by the premiere viewing of his latest DVD production to the accompaniment of a
few wines, beers and cider for Johnny and so we slipped to bed well satisfied
by another adventure.
Wed 18th April : Col de Jau in the snaw
The day dawned bright and sunny but with a chill wind
blowing down the valley. We decided to take the car to the head of the Col and
walk through the forest on the route to the Pic del Madres. Just before we left,
we met Robert’s neighbours, Letti and Ludo who told us that the road over the
Col had been blocked by a heavy fall of snow but they thought it had just opened
today. Undeterred we pressed on with the original plan. We did pass some large
banks of snow on the way up but the road was now clear and open. At the top, we
donned all the warm gear as the wind was very chilling and headed up the path
which had a light covering of snow. Once in the trees , the wind dropped,the temperature
rose and so did the depth of the snow. Very soon, Davie was up to his knees in
it and walking became very much like doogalling ( this term was derived from the
process of lifting legs high over tall grassy mounds which look like Doogall
from the Magic Round About) back home. About 2 hours later, we arrived at the
refuge and stopped for lunch in bright sunshine,warm air and beautiful views.
In fact it was so warm, Johnny stripped down to his semmit and posed for a
macho photograph in wild country. He is now referred to as Vladimir ( as in
Putin). For once we decided to be sensible and go no further but just sit in
the sun and have a relaxed lunch and then return to the car.
Johnny prepared a lovely beef risotto while the other played
dominoes. Robert and Davie won the first game 4-3 but Ian and Rex thrashed them
3-0 in the second. The remainder of the evening was spent watching Barcelona play
Chelsea in the European Cup. Rex won the predicted final score result at 1-0
for Barca.
Thurs 19th April: Vernet le Bain, Fillols
and the 2012 Boules Competion.
Went to local market at Vernet, had coffee in usual café and
then walked to small village of Fillols over the Col de Juell - a lovely spring
walk with apple blossom just breaking out. Had lunch in the town square along with
local chien looking for titbits. Davie conversed with the dog in French and was
able to get it to “sit” before getting a bit of piece. Ian was impressed by the
dog whisperer and he had a go. Unfortunately, he got the wrong verb and and
shouted assiette at the dog who was confused as he only wanted a small bit of
food, not a plateful! On our return to Vernet, we proceeded to the Place de
l'Entente Cordiale for the annual Ooters boules competition.
As usual, Johnny
devised a set of rules to decide the Championship with everybody playing the
best of 5 games with each other. Ian was the only one to win 4 of his 5 games
with Davie being the only person to take
a game from him. Does this make Ian the Mosset Boule Master having now won it
for a third time. When the result was relayed back to the Ooters at home, they
responded with a text to say the result was invalid as we did not have a quorum
of 6. We replied that we did have a quorum of six due to the presence of a very
large bull mastiff (or should that be a boule mastiff) who prowled around to
make sure no one cheated.
We returned to Mosset for a suitable celebration ( at least
Ian did) and Robert made a meal of Catalan sausage to much abuse about the need
to skin the sausages but the end result was delicious.
Fri 19th April: Eus, Perpignan, and le Barcares.
After two days of walking, we decided to have an easy day
and do touristy things today and visit Perpignan. On the way, Robert took us on
a short detour to the very picturesque village of Eus, allegedly the sunniest
village in the whole of France. The village clings to a steep hillside which
made the drive up to it “interesting”. We soon parked and continued climbing on
foot up narrow cobbled alley ways until we reached the church tower which
dominates the whole village. Superb views all round in glorious sunshine made
the detour worthwhile but we were too early to sample any goodies in the coffee
shop son off we set to Perpignan. Without too much trouble we found a multi story
car park in the centre of town where Robert decorated the front of the car with
three go-faster blue stripes as he parked in a very tight spot which normal
drivers had obviously avoided( fortunately the stripes were easily removed with
a wee greenie and some elbow grease back at the house). We left the car and had
a gentle saunter through the streets and after a few directions from the
locals, we reached the Palais des Rois de Majorque. This was a massive fortified
palace which dominated the town and was constructed from millions of very
narrow red bricks which must have taken may brickworks to produce ( where’s
Peter when you need him). Being the Ooters, we decided not to pay the 4 euro
entrance fee to enter the inner palace itself which probably only contained
some arty farty stuff and descended to the town to seek out a suitable venue
for morning coffee.
Rex led us down through the town using a map for a change
and we settled in a pleasant pavement café for morning coffee. We were soon
disturbed by the sound of car horns blasting away continuously. The noise grew
until a procession of taxis carrying flags with the message “Right to Work”
complete with police outriders came along the narrow street. According to our
waitress they were on strike and soon all the traffic ground to a halt. A lot
of the public were not happy about this as they got stuck in the jam including
the wee postwoman who got out of her van and hurled dog’s abuse at the taxi
drivers. Then the TV cameras and crew arrived to do interviews. Ian thought of
offering them an interview about winning the Boules tournament so that it would
make the evening news bulletin but was persuaded to sit down lest he be abused
by the other Ooters. It was suggested that Rex offered his well known
negotiating skills ( ref. to Dollar visit and the Harbour Bar in Girvan) but
this might cause a fight. At least it wasn’t the French farmers on strike as
they have a habit of setting fire to old tyres and spraying surrounding
buildings with slurry. But if Davie M had been here he would have seen them off
as he has a special rapport with farmers!
We finished our coffees and returned to the car. The plan
now was to travel North and have lunch at the beach at a place called Le
Barcares. Even Johnny agreed to this as he had been warned by his wife before we
left not to be Mr Grumpy on the trip. The resort has a lovely sandy beach which
stretches for miles and is very popular in the summer for campers and
caravaners. We soon found a suitable restaurant with a wonderful Plat du Jour.
Johnny declared that his lamb steak with frites was the best piece of steak he
had ever tasted. Praise indeed! After lunch we watch some local experts play
boules to get some tips on how to beat Ian next time. The best tip we got was a
smart device which allowed you to pick up your boules without having to bend
down. It was very simple but effective. A powerful magnet on the end of a
string. Robert has been tasked to find a source for these devices before next
year’s competition. We left the locals to their games and took a
stroll along the sandy beach. Despite the cool breeze, there were several
families out for the day with the usual brave souls having a dip in the Med.
We returned to Mosset where Ian made carrot and coriander
soup followed by a bolognaise sauce with tagliatelle.
Sat 21st April : Lost on the Pic de Roussillon
To give Robert a wee break from all the driving, we decided
to do Johnny’s favourite walk, the Pic de Roussillon which rises steeply from
the village of Mosset . We have done this walk several times and no longer get
lost on the high plateau so no maps required here! Robert led the way up the
main path from the road which gradually leads you to the main climb. The day
was warm and sunny and soon we had fabulous views of the snow topped Pyrenees.
We wandered through the high pastures where the cattle were now grazing with
their calves. First we heard a cuckoo and then spotted it perched on a rock.
Rex snapped a photie of it with max zoom on his super dooper camera and
electronically magnified the image to confirm it was a cuckoo, but the camera
failed to tell us its name. We reached the shepherd’s hut and settled down for
a lazy lunch. Suddenly, a great big bird of prey stopped overhead only 30 ft up
and absolutely motionless. This caused a panic among the photographers as they
dived into their bags for cameras. But the sun was behind it and all struggled
to capture a suitable image. It had a light brown underside with a dark head.
Robert said it had feathers on its wings (now there’s a surprise). We think it was a large buzzard or a griffin vulture (
where’s Jimmy when you need him). It scanned the Ooters and decided we were not
worth eating and glided silently down the valley looking for better pickings.
As planned, we reached the high road and followed it although we had to walk
round some deep snow drifts. A small diversion off the road brought us to the
weather station at the summit where we paused to admire the distant views to
the Med.
Having completed all the climbing for the day, we strolled
down the road past the horse farm, the hippie van and the numerous abandoned
Lada Riva jeeps ( we counted about 15) scattered across the fields.
We all thought this would be a truly perfect day to remember
until we reached a bend in the road about 2 miles short of Mosset where Robert
suggested a” wee” detour to visit the commune la Coume where Pablo Casals
amongst others took refuge after the Spanish Civil War. Johnny, having known
Robert for a long time, decided that he did not want to spoil his perfect day
and said he would walk slowly back to the house while we explored the commune.
So off the rest of us tramped with Robert depending on his local knowledge rather
than the map which was back at the house. About a mile along this wee road, Robert
decided we had reached the turn off for the commune and we descended down through
the woods until we reached a rather clatty farm steading with a small herd of
cattle guarded by a very large Pyrenees mountain dog on a chain. We negotiated
our way through the herd thinking that the road would continue down to the
commune. But the road just dwindled to a path through the now thickening jaggy
bushes and brambles. On we pressed until a large burn and steep ravine blocked
our way. Robert now admitted we were lost and apologised profusely for leading
us astray and promised to buy us a beer from his own pocket in recompense. We
deduced that he road we had left was running parallel to or path further up the
hill and so we struck up the 45 degree slope in that direction now fighting our
way through the jaggiest, thorniest bushes, brambles and dog roses we had ever
encountered. It was a good job neither Johnny or Allan Sim were here to
verbally abuse Robert. After several breathers to discuss issues of sanity and
the attributes of maps, Rex took the lead and eventually with cries of
jubilation he led us out of this god forsaken wilderness on to the road to
salvation. We followed the road back to where we had left Johnny one hour forty
mins ago!
Seven and a half hours after leaving the house, we arrived
back to find a concerned Johnny who was wondering who to phone if we had not
returned or whether to consume several bottles of cider as he had confidence
that we would find our way home for tea. He had obviously decided on the latter
and had a good laugh at our exploits. During the telling of the tales, Robert sloped
off to the shop and returned with a box of beer for the boys.
The day was concluded by Rex making a Roulade and Spaetzle
for tea while the others composed, rehearsed, recorded and sent a song for Ian’s
new grandson, Ethan whose head was being wetted back in Kilmarnock that night. The
song was based on Rex’s Aussie drinking song called “I like to have a drink
with Ethan ‘cos Ethan’s me mate”.
(to be continued)
Contrary
to our usual way, and in our new spirit of adventure, we turned northward from
the ferry terminus to circumnavigate the island in an anticlockwise direction.
That this was to be a relaxed walk in the May sun became obvious when, barely a
mile into the walk there was a call for coffee and at the war memorial on
Tormont we sat down for our first stop of the day. May flowers – sea pinks, spring
squill and birds-foot trefoil - decked the turf where we sat, orange and grey
lichens stained the shore rocks and black and white eider ducks swam just off
shore. And we had a view, a view of the northern extremity of God’s county,
that part north of Largs, the Clyde turning round the tail of the bank and the
hills of Cowal. We watched the Dunoon ferry ply its route over a calm, blue sea.
This was a great place for our morning coffee and some of us might have spent
the day here lazing in the sun but the itchy-footed among us were already straining
at the leash and too soon we were on the road again.
Not
too far along the road we were stopped again. This time it wasn’t coffee that
took our attention but five or six feral geese. These white geese roam wild but
are always to be found in the same area on the island. And we soon found the
reason for this. As Robert and Davie made a cautious approach and a nervous
retreat from the hissing geese, a car drew up and a woman got out clutching a
bulging bread wrapper. Her name is Nessie and she comes twice a day to feed the
geese with a treat of bread. Nessie had no qualms about approaching the geese,
hissing or not, and they followed her, honking and hissing, as she led them
away from the road nearer the shore. They obviously know where their bread is
buttered (or not in this case). When Nessie left the geese, so did we. 
Arran
was now in our view but the haze hanging over the sea prevented us from seeing
it too clearly, though this didn’t prevent Allan trying to capture a good
picture of it. And more pictures were taken when we left the road just south of
Fintry Bay and took to a footpath up into the fields. Now we seemed to rise
above the haze and the high hills of Arran were clearer and appeared to float
on it. Cameras clicked often as we crossed the open field towards the golf
course club-house. 
There
was some suggestion of a pint in the club-house but it was felt that it was too
early yet even for Ooters for it was just approaching midday. So, when we
gained tarmac here, we kept to it down the hill into Millport. The town was
busy with folk in summer clothes taking advantage of the summery weather, so
busy that we had problems finding a seat to sit down (Again? Ed) for a spot of
lunch. Eventually we found a place beside the Garrison. The peece was taken
sitting on a bench or lying on the grass watching the summer-clad
sun-worshippers coming and going. Even the itchy-footed among us took their
time over lunch but that time came again when we moved on.
The
four hundred and odd foot summit of the island was gained at the Glaidstone and
another sit down was called for as we took in the view. From Arran in the
south-west through Bute and Cowal and the Loch Lomond Hills in the north, the Renfrew
Heights and the Largs hills in the east to the plains of Ayrshire and the high
Galloways in the south, this is a superb viewpoint. And we lingered there for a
wee while enjoying such views and the heat of the afternoon sun. 
