On the rugged coast

This time the worst scenario given in the weather report came true: on Saturday we woke up to a completely white world which is not showing any signs of disappearing yet. I am in need of another spring walk in Catalonia.

This one was made on the Costa Brava from l’Escala, a small town located on the southern end of the long and sandy Gulf of Roses, to the little village of Sant Martí d’Empúries, one of its suburbs a couple of kilometres up north along the coastline.

L’Escala used to be a fishing village and it is still known for its anchovies. Thanks to the many gorgeous sandy beaches and the rugged rocky points in between it is one of the Catalonian resorts attracting domestic holiday-makers in great numbers. It is not one of the most popular ones but I read that even there the population may rise tenfold during high season.

We were lucky to be there on a sunny afternoon in late April. The town felt pretty lively but there was plenty of space among the bikers and fellow walkers on the lovely path following the coastline. Small groups of people were scattered here and there along the shore. Only a few had ventured into the sea.

The plan was to have a late lunch at Sant Martí. However, the tiny village gave us a bit of a surprise. The small square bordered with restaurants was packed with clients and with lots of people hanging around waiting for their turn to be let it.

While the men were queuing at the bar of the chosen terrace the ladies had a stroll in the

village composed of little more than a few narrow allies and the church of Sant Martí from the early 16th century. The lunch of various local specialties (only some of which are seen in the photo above) was well worth waiting for. And we, too, did take our time when we finally had a table.

When we were returning to L’Escala the shadows had already started to grow longer. Groups of friends and families with young children were gathered on the beach to enjoy the last rays of sunshine.

When thinking back to the crowds and the bustle of the spring day I could have sworn we made the excursion on a Sunday. After consulting the calendar of 2012 I realized it was, in fact, a Monday but the eve of Labour Day. Many people had probably taken the odd day off.

The approaching national holiday must also have been the reason why the ruins of the ancient town of Empúries halfway our walk were closed. Not that we would have needed any ruins spotting to complete the day, on the contrary. The remains of the trading post founded in 575 BC by Greek colonists and later occupied by the Romans will stay there should we ever wish to return to explore their wonders. On a first visit to L’Escala, the marvels of the seaside satisfied our appetite plentifully.

Some evidence

To prove myself things are actually great, at least for the present, I searched some photos from the two previous years.

The above shows how the garden chairs in our yard looked like this time last year.

Exactly two years ago the situation was also rather bad as the two above photos reveal. 

However, in a few days another period of colder weather should be here, perhaps even with some snowfall. I thought a spring 4 to 6 weeks ahead of the average sounded too good to be true. In the next few days, I must make sure to spend some time outdoors enjoying the sun and our snowless neighbourhood with Jack while we still can.

The real world

I’m afraid I took quite a false start with my previous post. Waiting for proper spring to arrive will be long enough even without any extra uplifting. The little snow we had is now gone and our spring is some 4 to 6 weeks ahead but it is not offering us much yet.

While we had some errands to run in a nearby town, I wanted to check how their lake was doing. We found it ice covered except for the immediate waterline plus some straits and other spots with strong currents.

A few wild ducks had already found the unfrozen strip by the shore. They didn’t respect the intruder but fled on the ice and started to pace away from me.

The sun was actually shining for a few moments. By the time we were at another corner of the patchwork of a lake there was no longer any sign of it. Nature was back to the toneless and barren palette of weariness.

There is nothing green in sight unless it is man-made, evergreen or from last year. However mild and short a winter behind, it cannot stop your impatience from growing this time of the year.