Tag: Catalonia

Cambrils doesn’t currently figure amongst my favourite places in Spain but it ticks a great many boxes and at other times in my life I could easily have ranked it higher.

Best of all is that it remains a working fishing port serving a wide selection of restaurants (including three Michelin Star restaurants) which have produced some of the best seafood I’ve ever tasted. Cambrils is quite rightly rated the gastronomical capital of Catalan. Second, it has some of the finest Blue Flag beaches on Spain’s Costa Dorada (Golden Coast). Indeed, it’s nine kilometres of coastline are characterised by a calm shallow sea with crystal clear water and wide golden beaches of fine sand. My favourite is Platja de La Llosa which is one of the quieter beaches just to the south of the harbour and behind the Cambrils’ town letters. It’s close to many of the better restaurants (more of that later) and to Cambril’s colourful little old town.

There’s a promenade which stretches the length of Cambrils’ beaches all the way to neighbouring Salou with it’s PortAventura Theme Park and Aquopolis Water Park and; those features would have ticked further boxes if we’d visited Cambrils with our children when they were younger. So too would the diverse range of water sports on offer on some of Cambril’s beaches but, sorry, these particular attractions no longer do anything for me.

For me, Cambrils greatest feature is it’s harbour and, of course, the seafood landed there. We last visited the town in 2022 and, at a small restaurant on the Passeig de les Palmeres, Vanya enjoyed what she described as the best meal of her life. It was a freshly made seafood paella. We were returning to Cambrils to eat at that same restaurant once again.

Previously we stayed in Camping La Llosa, to the south of the town centre. This time, for no other reason than that we wanted to see more of the other side of the town, we parked up at Camping Platja Cambrils. There’s little difference between the two campsites but Platja Cambrils does entail more walking.

My first priority was to check that Nala would be up for the walk into town in her walking wheels – no worries there. The second priority was to ensure our restaurant, the Braseria de Port, was still open for business and that we could get a table – again no worries. In fact, quite the reverse. The owner, Simon, was delighted that we would be returning to his restaurant in preference to La Bresca (a Michelin Recommended restaurant) and Can Bosch, the Rincon de Diego and the neighbouring Miramar (all of which hold a Michelin Star), to say nothing of the countless other restaurants nearby. Moreover he confirmed that he would be delighted to serve Vanya a single portion of Paella (restaurants here generally insist Paella dishes be made for a minimum two persons) and, best of all, advised he had retained the same kitchen staff and that Vanya could expect at least as good a dish as before. I reserved a table for 8pm, telephoned Vanya with details of the dining arrangements and set off to see if much in the town has changed since our last visit.

I mentioned at the outset that my interests in Cambrils are limited to the harbour and the seafood. Well, I walked miles around the town during what remained of the day, taking in three principal churches (Esglesia de Santa Maria, Eglesia de Sant Pere and the Santuari Mare de Deu del Cami), the town’s 17th century watchtower which is now a small history museum (Torre del Port) and the town’s tourist office – every one of which was closed! Even the Parque del Pescador was locked! To see so many places of interest closed on a weekday is disappointing and did nothing to raise my opinion of the town. I think the local council needs to intervene because the local tourist office seems to be doing very little to help market Cambrils and it’s attractions.

I’m not sure that I even like the statues here although during this visit I focused only on statues along the promenade. The town’s most celebrated sculpture on the promenade is a piece of modern art known as the Two Mermaids which, sadly, does nothing for me although I do respect it’s intent. It comprises two mermaids, three fishermen (carrying baskets of fish) and a small, seated youth by the name of Adrian. The work is a ceramic and steel construction erected in 2011 on the 100th anniversary of a great storm which saw 140 fishermen, many from Cambrils, killed out at sea. I’m told that “the fishermen represent the lost souls of those killed. One of the mermaids represents the storm while the other represents humanity. Little Adrian stands for hope for the future”. Of course there’s absolutely nothing in the area to explain this representation. A simple plaque would do. Where is the Ayuntamiento when it’s needed?

Notwithstanding the above, I very much enjoyed my time down at the harbour during the late afternoon, watching the fishing trawlers unload their catches and enjoying the subsequent auctions. It seems everyone enjoys the spirited spectacle that is a fishing auction (not that I could understand much that was being said) and it was with some difficulty that I tore myself away from the event to get ready for dinner. Bring on the fish!

Later in the day we strolled back along the promenade to the Braserie de Port. Simon was there to greet us and show us to our table and the food that followed (together with the service) was exceptional. We were offered a small range of fish starters to share and then Vanya chose a Lobster Paella for her main course while I opted for the Sole. A fine bottle of Alborino was served with the fish. The food experience was, as promised by Simon, every bit as good as before. Methinks we’ll be back.

Oh. I nearly forgot. Before leaving Cambrils we purchased a kilo of freshly cooked prawns (size 30-50) to enjoy back at the Van tomorrow…

Our next overnight stop was Cambrils, a little over 20 miles to the north of Ametlla. That left plenty of time beforehand for us to visit the small village of Miravet some 30 miles east of Ametlla.

I had been told Miravet was a pretty enough village to warrant the short detour but; it was the castle’s history which most interested me. I knew it to have been the headquarters of the Knights Templar across Catalan and Aragon and one of the best preserved examples of a Cistercian-Romanesque Castle-Monastery in the whole of Spain. It was also one of the last holdouts of the Order after the Templars were abolished by the Catholic church. The castle was a must-see for me.

The route took us along the TV-3022 to the Mitravet Ferry Station where an old style ferry, a Pas de Barca, would take us across the River Ebro to the village itself. A Pas de Barca comprises two punts, topped with a wooden platform, which is linked to both banks of the river by a thick metal cable. The ferry operator makes use of the cable and the river’s current to propel the boat over the water. This type of transport was used all along the river until the 1960’s but only two remain in service, one being at the Miravet crossing.

We reached the Ferry Station to discover the ferry was out of service. There had been a lot of rain and the river was running too high and fast. We had to drive the long way around to Miravet via Mora d’Ebre but, honestly, having seen photos of the ferry at the crossing point, I wasn’t too disappointed. I cannot imagine such a small craft being able to safely carry a fully laden 7 metre motorhome across such a wide and fast flowing river (especially after Vanya had stocked the Van up with Cremant).

The diversion through Mora d’Ebre (Ebre is Catalan for Ebro) added just 20 minutes to the journey and we were soon parked up on a place reserved for motorhomes on the Partida Illetes just a short walk fom the village. The castle and village looked impressive from where we parked the Van but even more so from the small pier on the River Ebro.

A nearby tourist map helped us get our bearings and we were soon making our way up into the historic centre of Miravet. The narrow lanes of this old town cling to the side of a short but fairly steep 80 metre high hill to the castle. We didn’t expect Nala to make it all the way up in her walking wheels but we figured that if she could make it to the church we would get some reasonable views over the river before pausing for lunch. I would make my way up to the castle during the afternoon.

The Renaissance style church, the Esglesia Vella, was built by the Order of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem (the Knights Hospitallers) during the 16th/17th centuries. It was built on the site of an old Almoravid Mosque; the Almoravid’s being a sect of fanatical Muslim monks. Much like Miravet Castle, the church has seen more than it’s fair share of troubles and I would very much liked to have gone inside to learn more about the building but it was closed.

I know it was badly battered during the Spanish War of Succession in the early 18th century and; again during the many Carlist Wars of the 19th century but; it was the damage caused to the building during the Spanish Civil War, when anti-clerical riots saw the church spoiled in 1936 and then bombed during the Battle of Ebro in 1938, which led to it being abandoned. The church was restored in the 1980’s but, having been deconsecrated, is now used only to house exhibitions and the odd civil wedding but there are, supposedly, many traces of it’s former glory to be seen inside the building.

Disappointed not to have got inside the church but buoyed at the thought of seeing the castle later in the day, we retraced our steps to the Platja de Miravet where a pop-up food bar (that’s what they call burger vans now lol) served burgers and small selection of tapas patatas. I’m not complaining; the Van served cold beers and hot patatas bravas.

After lunch I escorted Vanya (and the dogs) back to the Van and then set off back up the hill to the castle. I made it and the views were all that I expected them to be.

It’s the history of the castle which most impressed me. It was the Moors who first built a castle on this site because of it’s commanding position over the River Ebro. A village followed. Both the castle and the village were seized from the Moors in 1153 by the Knights Templar on behalf of King Ramon Berenguer IV of Catalonia and Aragon. He then gifted them to the Templars for services in the wars against the Moors and the Templars remodelled the castle into the imposing fortress it is today.

The Templars also encouraged the repopulation of the area by Christians but, on a bright note, tolerated those Moors who chose to continue living in Miravet. However, the writing was on the wall for Templars and Moravet Moors alike after the Templars were later outlawed by the French King Philip IV (he sought the Order’s riches) and abolished by his puppet Pope Clement V (for heresy and various other trumped up charges).

The Knights Templar went first; wiped out in a long and bloody war by Catholic armies and with many Templar prisoners later being burned alive at the stake as heretics. Miravet Castle was the last Templar castle to fall (early in the 14th century). It is said that six knights refused to surrender even after the castle capitulated and all six died in the castle’s tower trying to protect the Order’s archives. The Pope subsequently gifted the castle to the Knight’s Hospitaller. That’s the same Hospitallers which later built the Esglesia Vella church.

As for the Miravet Moors, they continued to be tolerated until about the time the Jews were expelled from Spain but only if they renounced Islam and converted to Catholicism. The majority of Moors did convert to but were later betrayed by the Catholic church and deported to Algeria.

It was time to move on. We were due in Cambrils.

We’d journeyed from Germany, through Switzerland and France, to Spain to escape the constant rain which seems to have been a feature of Northern Europe this last year. That was a good decision with the weather in Sitges (Catalonia) proving fine and the forecasts in Galicia and Asturias, in the far north west, looking even better. We decided to make our way to Galicia next (provided the weather stayed fine) by way of Aragon, Navarra, La Rioja and Castilla y Leon. Our next overnight stay would be in the small Aragonese village of Mequinenza, a 2.5 hour drive west.

We were almost halfway to Mequinenza when, looking for a place to stop for lunch, we discovered the small fortress town of Montblanc at the edge of the Prades Mountains. The town was founded by Alfonso I of Barcelona (Alfonso the Chaste) during the 12th century to protect the road between Lleida and Tarragona and it clearly prospered; as is evidenced by it’s huge church and various other impressive buildings. I don’t understand how I could have previously overlooked such an interesting place. It really is a hidden gem.

I parked just outside the medieval town walls close to the Convent de la Serra (on Paseo Josep Conangla) to take a quick look at the large church near the top of the town. There’s a sizeable flat topped mound just inside the town walls which provides views over the city and towards the Prades Mountains but the view of the back of the church (the Iglesia Santa Maria La Mayor) is less than impressive and for a moment I was tempted to return to the Van. I’m so glad I didn’t.

When I say ‘less than impressive’, I actually mean ‘odd’. It’s a mishmash of styles and, well, on the outside at least has a wholly peculiar appearance. The back of the church can be counted amongst the least attractive of any church I have seen. This can all be explained in that it started life as a small Romanesque church dedicated to Santa Maria and as it’s congregation grew, work began on a Gothic style expansion. This expansion was frustrated by the Black Death (the Plague) which devastated the town in terms of the population and money with which to finish the church and so one side of the church was simply bricked up without any ornamentation. When work resumed in the 17th century an ornate Baroque facade replaced much of the Gothic facade, which had never been finished because of the Plague and had also been damaged during the Reapers War, leaving us with the confused architectural structure that is now the Iglesia de Santa Maria La Mayor de Montblanc.

Don’t misunderstand me. The church still has much going for it. It just looks less than impressive from the back. The front of the church, with it’s Baroque style facade with Renaissance influences, is stunning. It also has some beautiful chapels (another sign of the town’s previous affluence) and a bell tower which it is possible to ascend.

I said bell-tower but it is not a tower as such. You actually climb stairs to a roof terrace where a half dozen or so bells are situated. Timing is everything and as I was climbing the stairs, the bells chimed for 11am. Let me tell you, they were loud.

I had stayed too long in the church already but had to see a little more of the town before returning to the Van for lunch which Vanya was preparing (had long finished repairing) and; I might as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb. No, it was a cold lunch and I was okay for a while yet. Thank goodness for cellular phones.

Montblanc’s old town centre is enclosed in some of the best preserved medieval castle walls to be seen anywhere in Spain and the narrow cobbled streets I followed on my way to the main square proved much the same. Higher buildings than is usual for such a rural part of the Region provided yet another example of the town’s previous wealth and, given how hot the day had already become, made for refreshingly cool streets.

There were a surprising number of people out and about; both on the streets, where local women were chatting excitedly with friends or neighbours they had chanced upon while on their way home from whatever it was they were doing and; in the Placa Mayor, where local men (their husbands?) were drinking beer andarguing and laughing loudly together. It was that happy, cheerful time of the day shortly before the afternoon siesta begins and after which the town centre would suddenly and quickly empty. I’m not trying to typecast men and women with that description but, the whole scene simply took me back to my childhood in Cyprus and Kenya where much the same scenes were played out almost every day before us kids were sent off for an afternoon nap. I really hated that time of the day.

It was time to get back to the Van. The return journey took me back past the church.

This was only a short stop but it proved a pleasant surprise and I would gladly revisit Montblanc. Also there is a World Heritage Site, the Monastir de Poblet, just 9 kilometres down the road that could be worth visiting.

Oh, and I don’t think I mentioned that according to local legend, Sant Jordi (Saint George) killed his dragon in Montblanc. It’s known as The Golden Legend in Catalonia. I reproduce below what I read about it:-

It seems that “Saint George was travelling on horseback when he came to Montblanc, which at that time was being terrorized by a large dragon. In order to appease the dragon the townspeople had started to give it 2 sheep each day. When sheep weren’t enough they were replaced by human sacrifices. The king decreed that the person to be sacrificed should be chosen at random. Finally the day came that the king’s beautiful daughter was chosen for sacrifice.

The king tried to bargain with the townspeople but they insisted that the princess should be sacrificed as their children had been. Dressed as a bride, the princess was led to the dragon’s lair when, by chance, Saint George arrived at the town. St George asked the princess what was happening and she told him about the dragon and asked him to leave before he was hurt. Instead of leaving the princess to be eaten, St George fought and slayed the dragon.”

Clearly the people of Montblanc believe this legend because every year during April the town stages a week long Medieval Fair which includes a medieval feast, jousting tournaments, a correfoc and a re-enactment of the legend of Sant Jordi. That would be fun.

Anyway, on to Mequinenza.

I was last in Sitges some 20 years ago for a conference with my then employers and, from what little I saw of the town at that time, I liked the place. It was always going to be interesting to see how much the town has changed over the years and during this visit I would get two chances to check the town out; the first would be during the day on my own and the second in the evening with Vanya and our two dogs.

The day started with me walking some 15 minutes or so past the golf course and through a very pleasant residential part of the town to one of Sitges’ beaches, the Platja de Terramar. There I joined the wide palm lined promenade (the Passeig Maritim) and headed east for a further 15 minutes to the 17th century Eglesia de Sant Bartomeu i Santa Tecla (that’s Catalan for the Church of Saint Bartholomew and Saint Tecla). This route took me past what is often called the Platja de Sitges but it is in fact a series of 7 different beaches (each separated by groins); the Platja de la Barra, the Riera Xica, L’Estanyol, the Bassa Rodona, la Ribera and finally the tiny Platja de la Fragata. There are three more beaches to the east side of the church which lead all the way to the harbour (the Platja Sant Sebastia, the Platja dels Balmins and finally the Platja Aiguadolc) but I decided to leave these beaches to a later visit. For information only, I found out later that there are a few nudist beaches in Sitges and one of them is on the Platja dels Balmins.

The beaches I saw during the walk are all blue flag clean and mostly sandy. They are as good as any to be seen in this part of Spain and at this time of the year are mostly empty. The busier ones, complete with street hawkers selling fake designer handbags and trainers, are at the church end of the Passeig Maritim where most of the restaurant-bars and, of course, the old town are located. Given it was mid September, I was surprised at how busy the bars were but; perhaps I shouldn’t have been with Ryan Air currently flying into Girona from Belfast, Cork and Dublin for as little as £40 return. There were probably more Irish in Sitges during our visit than any other nationalty.

The Church of St Bartholomew and Saint Tecla is Sitges’ most recognisable landmark; so much so it is known locally as La Punta – the Point. The church was closed during my previous visit and it was the same again this time. It’s shame, if only because the views from any one of the bell tower or the clock tower will, I think, be exceptional. I read that the local museum used to run tours of the church which includes an ascent of the bell tower but I don’t know if that is still the case.

While the vistas from the nearby ‘Palau de Maricel’ (the Maricel Palace) don’t quite match those of the church, they do afford some fine views over the Mediterranean; especially from the rooftop terrace and cloisters. The ‘Palace’, by the way, is the ‘must see’ place in Sitges. Built between 1910 and 1918 by artist and engineer Miguel Utrillo at the behest of US tycoon Charles Deering (of the Combined Harvester Family), it was part of a complex which would become home to Deering and serve to showcase his growing art collection. It didn’t quite happen. The two men fell out in 1921 over certain financial irregularities and Deering closed everything down and moved back to the United States. Much of the complex was subsequently dismantled and sold off piecemeal with the City of Sitges buying the current ‘Palace’ in 1954. Inside and outside it is quite spectacular…

After exploring La Punta, I started back along the Promenade but only as far as the ‘A Facundo Bacardi’ monument (Bacardi being someone born in Sitges who emigrated to Cuba and then created the well known white rum which bears his name) and then turned deeper into the old town of Sitges by way of Carrer Primer de Maig. Sitges’ old town isn’t as large as many others (especially having regard to the size of the city – it has a population of about 30,000) but it is equally charming.

The wholly pedestrianised Carrer Primer de Maig de 1838, also known as Carrer del Pecat (Sin Street in English) is one of a handful of streets at the heart of Sitges’ nightlife. The street is not as bad as the sobriquet suggests (well, not before midnight anyway) and during the day it really is a most unassuming street that you could safely take the most prudish grandmother down.

Having said that, I’m uncomfortable with those hotels which openly declare they are open only to gay couples. Sitges has long been a truly cosmopolitan city where everyone is welcome irrespective of their gender or sexual proclivity and I recognise that the LGBTQ community has lent the city a great deal of spirit and colour but if this isn’t discrimination, it is certainly boorish behaviour and should be censured.

Rant over. Back to the visit. I wandered much of Sitges old town for a while longer and then stopped for a quick beer in one of the backstreet bars before making my way back along the Passeig Maritim to collect Vanya and our dogs for the evening sortie into the city.

There are definitely two sides to Sitges. Day and night in Sitges are different as chalk and cheese and, well, as different as day and night. The days, at least in the closed season, are generally quiet, slow and relaxed. It’s as much about lazing on the beach or strolling the promenade as anything. Yes, there is the odd juvenile boozer who seems to have confused Sitges with Ayia Napa but, fortunately, such types rarely have the capacity to last.

Then there’s nighttime. We stayed only until midnight but saw enough to recognise that the city is transformed at night. There’s a wide variety of bars and restaurants (with cocktail bars presiding) and there are also numerous nightclubs, most of which stay open well into the early hours of the morning. Of course the nightclubs are dominated by the gay community but, so far as I am aware, they are generally open to all and they are great fun.

For our part, Vanya and I were happy enough sitting on a terrace outside a bar in the old part of the city; enjoying a bottle of wine, people watching and soaking up the atmosphere of what is clearly a very vibrant city. We had found a place to eat right in the centre where the Carrer Primer de Maig meets the Carrer del Marques Monttroig and is crossed by the Carrer de Joan Tarrida. I’d recognise it again by it’s colourful umbrellas and by the way the seats of all the chairs at the tables are pointed towards the centre of the crossroads This pedestrianised crossroads was a hive of activity all the time we were there and it was a fun place to be. We would have been quite happy sitting there eating our good (but somewhat expensive tapas) and watching the world go by but our evening was further enhanced by a young acrobatic troop and dancers who entertained us at the crossroads for over an hour.

It strikes me there’s an open, accepting and more relaxed atmosphere about Sitges at night. It’s comfortable. I think perhaps the good humour of so many people intent on enjoying themselves has a healthy, positive effect on others. It’s nice to think so.

Of course it may be different during the early hours of the morning, once the nightclubs are in full sway. We were not going to find out this trip. We had our dogs with us and so could not take advantage of the nightclub scene even if we wanted too but; there was time enough for one last leisurely stroll around the quieter parts of the city and that last half hour wandering the silent empty places, away from the busy cheerful bars and clubs, was as enchanting as anything we had experienced in Sitges. A couple of the following photos perhaps reflect that?

And there#s always time for Beanie pictures.

North in the morning but we’ll be back.

It was an hour’s drive to the small town of Llanca on Spain’s Costa Brava. We were to stay a couple of nights and then cross the border into France to meet some friends who live in the Aude Department of Occitanie.

Together with nearby Cadaques and Roses, Llanca was a tiny fishing village until tourism took over. With 5,000 inhabitants it has doubled in size over the last fifty years but, although it lives in the shadows of Cadaques and Roses, it is a beautiful and picturesque little town with many attractive beaches.

After parking the Van at Camping L’Ombra I set off to Llanca’s old town.

There is little left of Llanca’s erstwhile medieval centre, the town having suffered considerable bombing during the Spanish Civil War but, what remains is concentrated around the Placa Major – that’s the 18th century Parish Church (Parroquia Catolica de Sant Vicenc), the tower of an earlier 14th century church, the remaining tower and some of the walls of the 14th century Abbot’s Castle-Palace (the Torre de l’Homenatge) and the ‘Tree of Liberty’ planted in 1870.

There is also a bar with tables set underneath the huge Plane tree which is the Tree of Liberty and I found time to sit there with a beer to both reflect on what I had seen and plan the rest of my route around Llanca.

After a further short wander around the old town and then the port, I made my way back to Camping L’Ombra. The dogs wanted walking and Vanya and I needed feeding.

I mentioned perviously that this part of the Catalan coast is renowned for it’s food (see last years post on Roses) and we weren’t disappointed with the food served to us at a bar-restaurant named ‘El Floc’, which in Catalan means ‘the flake’. A lady we spoke to down at the port had recommended El Floc for it’s food, service and ambience and she was right on all counts.

El Floc is a modern, clean and very popular restaurant on Avenida Pau Casals. It was busy as we arrived but we secured the last empty table on the terrace at the front of the restaurant and, over the next couple of hours, enjoyed a really pleasant late lunch. The food wasn’t cheap but it was good value, being very tasty and beautifully presented. My starter, Scallops with a Trumpets of Death Parmentier, was outstanding and as for Vanya’s dessert of Strawberry Soup… she adored it.

The next day I set off to explore some of the beaches around Llanca. First I headed south from Llanca in the direction of El Port de la Selva to the beach at Cap de Bol. I enjoyed the walk and would have continued on beyond El Port de la Selva to Cadaques but there was insufficient time. Instead I retraced my steps to Llanca and then walked north along the coast taking in the beaches of Platja del Port, Platja de L’Argilera, Platja de San Jordi, Platja de L’Alguer, Platja Sota del Parador and Platja de Grifeu. There are some 23 different beaches in the vicinity of Llanca and they vary enormously but all have something about them.

The Platja del Port is the largest of the beaches visited during the course of the day, measuring some 425 metres (by 30 metres) between Llanca’s port area and the mouth of the River Valleta. Unsurprisingly, the Port Beach is the busiest of all those in the area and it is lined with bars, restaurants and shops. The sand is coarse but, like the water in this area, it is very clean; so much so that the beach has been awarded a Blue Flag. Further north, the smaller Platja de Grifeu with it’s fine sandy beach also has a Blue Flag and it is my favourite. I sat for an hour outside one of the two bars on the Grifeu just sipping beer and chilling. Most of these beaches are small and are to be found in inviting, unspoilt little coves with crystal clear water and mountain backdrops.

One beach that I didn’t reach but will visit in the future is to be found at the remote pocket sized cove of Cala Bramant, some two miles north of Llanca. Platja Bramant is a small pebble beach with a narrow opening to the sea. It’s crystal clear water offers interesting snorkelling and is best visited in the morning when the tide is high and the beach is quieter.

Reading back that which I have written so far it perhaps appears I have been rather restrained with my thoughts regarding Llanca. Let me explain. The facts are that (i) Catalonia, especially in the north, has many pretty coastal resorts and I cannot, in all honesty, rank Llanca amongst the best and (ii) many of the Region’s towns have considerably larger and more interesting medieval quarters whereas; little remains of Llanca’s old town (not least because of damage caused to the town during the Carlist Wars and the Spanish Civil War) and (iii) as good as the food is in Llanca (and with apologies to El Floc and Els Pescadors), Llanca is a small town with nowhere near enough restaurants to compete with the likes of Barcelona, Blanes, Casamar, Miramar or either of Roses or Cadaques (where Michelin Stars abound). Nevertheless, I like Llanca and I will definitely return to the town.

Out of season, and this is a real plus, Llanca is nowhere near as crowded with tourists as the other towns I have mentioned in this post. Moreover, it offers an almost perfect balance in terms of things to do being (i) it’s proximity to other interesting towns and villages in Catalonia and (ii) it’s walking and/or hiking opportunities along the rugged and rocky coastline of the Costa Brava* and (iii) it’s many and varied beautiful beaches** and (iv) it’s wonderfully fresh food and drink and (v) the warm and inviting welcome afforded by the locals. Best of all, it is a great place to chill.

FOOTNOTES to Llanca Blog:-

* Coastline Catalonia has more than 500 kilometres of wonderfully rugged and rocky coastline, 160 kilometres of which form the Costa Brava and include the Camino de Ronda (and not forgetting the GR 92 which connects Porbou on the French Border with the Pont de L’Olivar where Catalonia meets Valencia). The well maintained coastal paths around Llanca provide for a range of spectacular sights (soaring sea cliffs and impressive rock formations, headlands with scenic panoramas, sheltered bays and shady forests, etc).

** Beaches There are 100+ beaches and coves on the Costa Blanca alone, 32 of them with Blue Flags. Many have all the facilities one would expect of seaside resort (restaurants, bars, deckchairs and showers, etc) while others are hidden and often deserted). The beaches and coves around Llanca are a stunning mix of gently sloping golden sands and sheltered rocky coves, all with clear calm sparkling water. I was going to include ‘warm’ in that description but no… not in June. Not while I was there.

And so to France…

Twelve miles north of Girona and twenty two miles south west of Salvador Dali’s hometown of Figueres, at the western entrance to Garrotxa Nature Reserve, is the small city of Banyoles (Banyoles having been granted city status in 1920). We were in this part of Catalonia four years ago (Tour 4) and stayed at Besalu and Tortella but missed Banyoles. That oversight has now been remedied.

The city is best known for it’s 2 kilometre long freshwater lake, the Lago de Banyoles, which stretches from north to south and has a depth of almost 50 metres. Fed by underground water sources, it is the largest natural lake in Catalonia and recognised for it’s wide range of flora and fauna (including otters, turtles, water snakes and 300+ different species of butterflies) but, it was the 1992 Summer Olympics which brought Banyoles to the world’s attention. It hosted all of the rowing events for the Barcelona Olympics and then again for the World Rowing Championships in 2004 and the Rowing World Cup in 2009 (as well as numerous, lesser rowing events). Going forward, the World Rowing Masters is to be hosted there in September 1925.

We parked up at Camping El Llac in Porqueres, on the south west corner of the lake and just 20 minutes walk from the city which is on the south east corner. Porqueres is known for it’s well preserved 1oth century church (the Eglesia de Santa Maria de Porqueres), consecrated in the 12th century. It is of modest design and contains little in terms of decoration. I read that it straddles a huge Earth Energy Line – an Earth Dragon Line but I don’t pretend to understand what that is all about. The church is, however, a pleasant enough place to visit and it sits in a quite exceptional setting on the edge of the lake.

There’s a flat 7 kilometre path around the edge of the lake but with Porqueres and Banyoles City being no more than 2 kilometres apart on the southern edge of the lake, the walk from the Eglesia de Santa Maria de Porqueres to the centre of Banyoles takes less than 30 minutes (even allowing for time to take photos).

The south east shore is dotted with a number of tiny houses or huts known as pesqueres. These huts were built during the latter part of the nineteenth and early twentieth century and are the ultimate beach huts for wealthy families to use as a base for fishing, boating and swimming in the lake. One now serves as the tourist information office but it was closed as I passed it. It mattered not; there are plenty of information boards positioned around the city and I was intent on exploring the medieval town centre and finding a bar where we could watch England’s second group match of the European Championship Finals, against Denmark. A bar in the old town would serve us well.

It is thought humans may have lived in this area some 80,000 years ago but this is unproven. It is certain, however, following an archaelogical find at nearby La Draga in 1990, that a settlement was formed on the south east edge of the lake as long ago as 5,200 BC. Most of this settlement is submerged beneath the lake but this has worked to the archaeologists advantage because large numbers of different wooden tools (bows, javelins, digging sticks, spindles, ladles, etc) have been recovered, perfectly preserved in the waterlogged soil. Wooden piles, planks and building supports which formed accommodation and storage areas have also been reclaimed and these have facilitated the construction of replica buildings on the site which is just to the north of Banyoles (see below – not my photos).

The settlement was evacuated early in the 8th century (sometime between 711 and 720 AD) when Muslim Moors and Arabs invaded and conquered almost all of Spain but, at least in this part of Spain, the Muslim occupation didn’t last long. Within 100 years Catalonia was free of the invaders (it was centuries later before the invaders were removed from other parts of Spain) and Banyoles began to grow around the Bendictine Monastery of Saint Steven (Monestir de Sant Esteve) which was built in 812 AD. The original construction was destroyed by a Saracen attack in 945 AD but Banyoles survived and thrived on the back of a burgeoning textile industry and the monastery was rebuilt within just 12 years.

It took me no time to find the porticoed Placa Major and on it a lively little bar with a decent sized TV (the Cafe de la Placa) where Vanya and I could eat and watch England play Denmark later in the evening. The football match wasn’t due to start until 9pm which left time to explore the old town.

I didn’t stay long on the Placa Major. It’s a fair sized rectangle filled with Plane trees and edged by numerous stone arches and a few bars. It’s a pretty place and the thought of sitting in the shade with a beer while planning my next move appealed to me. However, a dozen or so school children (part of a brass band I think) were demonstrating their dubious abilities on various wind instruments to doting parents and grandparents. It was the loud applause (wholly out of proportion to the talent actually displayed by the children) which convinced me the watching adults were parents and grandparents but, either way, it wasn’t for me and I took to the streets.

One very interesting feature of the town are the numerous open irrigation and/or drainage canals which were originally designed to both supply the city with water from the lake and provide flood protection. Over time these canals were lost (as one by one they were covered and integrated with the towns sewers) but, more recently (i.e. during the early part of this century), large numbers were uncovered and left exposed as part of a programme towards making the old town more interesting and attractive. They still provide a degree of flood protection but they now also serve as a charming water feature.

Most of the small historic centre is now pedestrianised and it is a joy to wander. I was particularly impressed with how clean it all is. Of course, the open canals may well help in this regard.

It didn’t take me long to find the Church of Santa Maria dels Turers (La Iglesia de Santa Maria dels Turers). Built in the Gothic style and consecrated in 1333, it has been remodelled a number of times (the current facade dates from the 16th century; two aisles were added in the 17th century and; the church’s stained glass windows date from the 20th century) but it isn’t the most handsome of churches and I didn’t stay long. In fact, I returned to Placa Major (the aspiring musicians had left); reserved a table for the evening and; enjoyed a couple of beers before making my way back to the Van.

At around 7pm Vanya and I readied the dogs and I led everyone around the lake and back into town to the Cafe de la Placa on the Placa Major to eat and watch the football. It’s a delightful walk and next time we visit the city I intend completing a full circuit of the lake.

The football match was anything but delightful. It ended in a 1-1 draw (which pretty much guarantees England a place in the next round even though England have one further Group Stage game to play) but, again, England were wholly disappointing.

The return journey to the campsite was pleasant and memorable in that Nala was given free rein to lead us back to the Van in the dark and she did an absolutely sterling job

The next morning saw us depart for the coast. We were heading some 40 miles east to Llanca for our final night in Spain.

We decided to drive to Spain for the day from Banyuls sur Mer, taking the D914 coast road to the Franco-Spanish border. From there, well… we were intent on having a pintxos lunch so, almost any town or village in Spain would do. We’d follow the N260 in Spain and make our mind up as to the final destination en route. This trip was as much about the coast road as the pintxos.

The coast road to the border was everything it promised to be. It is a slow route because of it’s many curves and hairpin bends but, except for a handful of motorbikes, it was surprisingly quiet and offered exceptional views along the Catalan coast. The route took us through Cerbere and then up through a series of interesting rock formations to the Belitres Pass and into Spain.

The border is marked on the French side of the Pass by a long abandoned customs post which is now almost completely covered in graffiti and; on the Spanish side of the Pass by the Retirada Memorial, erected in 2009.

The Retirada (the Memorial del Exilio del Paso de Belitres to use it’s correct name) is a pictorial representation by Columbian artist Manuel Moros of the suffering of hundreds of thousands of republican refugees fleeing Spain for France as General Franco’s armies descended on Barcelona towards the end of the Spanish Civil War. And it didn’t end there; a year later, in 1940, this same Pass was used by refugees crossing the other way, from France to Spain, while fleeing from Nazi Germany. I suspect a fair few of those who left Spain in 1939 were amongst those who were compelled to return in 1940. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. Whatever, the photographs on the memorial capture the anguish and despair of the refugees. It’s a sobering memorial.

Once across the border and into Spain the road became the N260. This led us down through Portbou and then two other little fishing villages, Colera and Llanca.

Don’t ask me how it happened but, we soon found ourselves parked up in a place called Empuriabrava. Don’t go there! Reclaimed from swampland by some German entrepreneurs during the late 1960’s, Empuriabrava is a purpose built tourist resort of some 8,000 people (rising to an incredible 80,000 in the summer months). It is built around what I am advised is Europe’s largest residential marina, with some 40 kilometres of canals and more than 5,000 boat moorings. “Naff” is possibly the word that best describes the place. There is nothing about it that is remotely Spanish, let alone Catalonian, and from what little we saw (we couldn’t get out of there quick enough) it appeared to be populated largely by Russians. Vanya likened the place to an ill thought out and awful imitation of Port Grimaud. I thought she was being kind.

And so it was that we arrived in Roses. In a facebook entry on the day we arrived, I described Roses as being to Spanish beach resorts what Waitrose is to supermarkets (i.e tasty) but, looking back, any Spanish beach resort with any authenticity about it would prove tasty compared to Empuriabrava … but that shouldn’t detract from Roses.

In common with most towns and villages on the Costa Brava, Roses was a fishing town. It still has the largest fishing fleet on the Costa Brava but is now unashamedly a tourist town and probably one of the most popular tourist destinations on the Costa Brava. What sets it apart from so many other places on the Costas and what I like about the place is that it is not in the least tacky. The words fashionable and chic spring to mind (but, we are out of season). Moreover, it sits on the northern tip of Roses Gulf and is the only beach resort on the Costa Brava that faces west (which, if nothing else, will make for some great sunsets).

We parked the Van in the south of the town on a wide boulevard in the modern residential area of Santa Margarida and then, with the wide sandy beach and calm turquoise sea to our right, we strolled along the promenade towards the town centre.

Hotels, restaurants, cafe-bars and sculptures line the promenade all the way to the old fishing port. At it’s centre there is little left of the original village; just more hotels and restaurants, large apartment blocks, shops and boutiques and the odd monument and; on Sunday mornings a farmers market with 200+ stalls. There’s no doubt about it; Roses’s focus is towards it’s high quality blue star beaches and there are plenty of them.

Those nearest the town centre (the Platja Nova, the Rastrell and the Salatar) are wide family friendly beaches with fine sand and clear shallow waters and they are very popular during the high season; as is the beach just to the north of the harbour (Platja La Punta). Beyond that and accessible by car and local transport are the smaller, quieter but no less welcoming beaches of Platja Palangres, the Canyelles Petites and the Canyelles Grosses (also known as Platja Almadrava). They too offer golden sands and shallow waters and they tend to be frequented by local families in the summer. Further north, some 7 kilometres from Roses and on the edge of Cap de Creus National Park, is Montjoi Creek (where the world famous triple Michelin Star restaurant ‘El Bulli’ used to be located), Joncols Creek and Cala del Canadel. The sand on these particular beaches is darker and mixed with flat stones but the water is clearer still. Finally, there are numerous other small secluded beaches deeper inside the National Park (Cala Calitjas Creek and Cala Rostella being two of the larger better known ones) but these are stony and rocky and not so accessible and the water at Cala Rostella is considerably deeper. To reach them they require a bit of walking (unless you access them from the sea) and they tend to be the preserve of divers and nudists (or so I’m told).

Beach holidays don’t hold the same allure to Vanya and I as they used to (we can’t take the heat) but, going forward, I could be tempted to use Roses as a base from which to visit some of the surrounding countryside and especially the coastline although, it would have to be out of season. September and/or October would be as good a time as any. I think too that I could be tempted to charter a boat to better explore the coastline. Now there’s a thought.

After a short wander around the town, we set off back along the promenade to the Van, stopping at a beachfront restaurant on the way for pinxtos and a beer.

Oh. I mentioned the restaurant, El Bulli. It was owned by the Barcelona chef Ferran Adria and, until it’s closure in 2011, was one of the most famous restaurants in the world, holding 3 Michelin Stars from 1997 and being voted ‘Best Restaurant in the World’ 5 times in a row by Restaurant Magazine. Not once did El Bulli make a profit in the 27 years Adria was Head Chef but this is perhaps not surprising given they employed 40 chefs and had just 50 covers. It seems Adria’s focus was (is?) primarily towards avant-garde cooking; pushing boundaries and; creating new dishes with the whole menu being completely changed every year. Now that would have been a restaurant to visit.

We’ll return to Roses but for now, it’s back to Banyuls sur Mer and then north to the UK although; we still have a few days before having to catch our train back to Folkestone. It’s booked for Sunday 8 October.

And so, on our way to warmer climes, we arrived in Cambrils (some 20 kms south of Tarragona) and decided to stay for a couple of days. Our reasons were that (a) it was getting warmer by the day (and the forecast was even more promising) and (b) there is far more to Cambrils than L’Estartit (and for the most part it is open) and (c) and perhaps most importantly, we had arranged for a local vet to see Nala and Beanie about a Spanish Pet Passport (now that, because of Brexit, their existing EU Pet Passports have been rendered useless).

Our decision proved a good one. The fact is, we needed a rest. Ordinarily we take our time on these tours, driving as little as possible and fully exploring and/or experiencing the places we choose to stop at. That simply wasn’t happening on this particular tour. Storms and freezing weather across the whole of France compelled us to head south asap but; it was time to get back to doing things correctly and that day’s sunset promised great things…

We were staying at Camping La Llosa which sits on Playa La Llosa and is an easy 15 minute walk into the town. Cambrils could be described as simply another Spanish summer holiday resort, albeit one with 9 kilometres of 10 blue flag, golden, sandy beaches but; what sets it apart is it’s proximity to the three mountains of Llaberia, Argentera & La Mussara (for me, water and mountains go so well together) and it’s many fine restaurants (including at least one holding a Michelin star – the Ca L’Estrany).

We didn’t get to Ca L’Estrany but; on the seafront we discovered a friendly little restaurant (Braseria de Porte) with a very appealing menu and we sat and ate and stayed until they closed. Vanya rated her meal, which was Crayfish followed by a Seafood Paella, as one of the best of her life. I tried Razor Clams for the first time in my life but found them a mite rubbery. No matter, we would both recommend the Braserie de Porte.

The next day I went for a long walk along the coast to and from Salou – no reason other than that I fancied the exercise.

During my walk I stumbled across a rather intriguing work of art which I subsequently learned was created by David Callau Gene in 2011. They are sculptures of three fishermen and two mermaids and were put up to mark the 100th anniversary of a great storm which killed 140 Cantabrian fishermen, many of them from Cambrils.

Yes, we enjoyed Cambrils – as much for the rest as anything. And yes – we managed to get Spanish Pet Passports for the dogs. They now have dual nationality.

Leaving L’Estartit very early by our standards we set off further down the Catalonian coast for Cambril pausing at Tarragona on the way.

Much of our time in Tarragona was walking to, from and along the lively, wide, tree lined Rambla Nova (the city’s main street) where we also sat and enjoyed some of the local beer and tapas. We saw a few of the city’s sites during our short sojourn but missed so much more. You need a good two days at least to do the place justice.

Walking alongside one of Tarragona’s fine beaches (the Playa del Milagro) to the Rambla Nova, we passed the remarkably intact remains of an ancient Roman Amphitheatre built during the reign of the Emperor Augustus in 2 AD. Augustus wintered in Tarragona, or Tarraco as it was then known, after his Cantabrian campaign. The amphitheatre could accommodate more than 14,000 spectators and in 259 AD was the scene of the martyrdom of Bishop Fructuosus and his two deacons. How on earth any one person, let alone 14,000, could enjoy such a spectacle is beyond me but the amphitheatre is just one of many Roman ruins in the city which, collectively, have caused Tarragona to be designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO.

Tarragona’s 15 kilometre coastline comprises a number of beautiful beaches and the Playa del Milagro with it’s wide sandy shore is one of the most popular. One of the best views of the beach and it’s palm fringed promenade is from the Balcon del Mediterraneo which is to be found at the eastern end of the Rambla Nova.

There are some interesting statues dotted across Tarragona. One in particular on the Rambla Nova caught my attention. It sits towards the western end of the avenue and is entitled “Castells of Tarragona”.

The forming of the Castells (Human Towers) is believed to have started early in the 18th century in or around Tarragona and it has since spread throughout Catalonia. Indeed, an annual competition is now held in Tarragona every summer with teams known as ‘colles’ descending on the city from all over Catalonia to compete in building the tallest and most complex towers made only of human beings of all ages and sizes standing on top of each other. As many as 500 people have been known to form a colle and it is not unusual for the towers to reach ten tiers. The concept has attracted so much interest that UNESCO has declared the Castells a “Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity”.

As was mentioned beforehand, this was a brief stop in Tarragona. There is a great deal more to see in the city (principal among them being the Roman Forum and the magnificent 12th century Cathedral of Santa Maria) but we had to move on – our dogs were due to see a vet in Cambril.