At about 8:00, I headed up (literally, it was very up) the three miles to the Parque Guel, a Gaudí designed park that is quite a delight.

Motorcycles very popular—among women, too—here.  Lots of scooters, too.

At entrance to Guel Park:

It is a not really a parky-park, as far as I could tell, because but you can’t go off specific trails.  A view:

Closeup of tree trunk that looks like giraffe’s neck. Honestly, this one looks painted.  I had to look up to see that leaves were growing and touch the trunk to make sure the tree was real:

Gaudí designed chair in Gaudí House:

Selfie in front of Gaudi mirror:

Then off to the market.  These are not the biggest tomatoes I have seen:

After market, went to a couple of museums.  The Museum of Contemporary European Art was utterly depressing.  Even this horse announces that:

Here is why.  Do you know what is on top of the lettuce on the plate:  It is the flesh that woman on the right has cut out of the arm of woman on the left.  (They must have run out of jamon (ham):

Man with large breasts and partial remains of dead animal:

Then went on to museum of African and Asian and Oceanic and Mesoamerican Art.

Beaded and shelled African head dress.  (Do not know which country.)

“Ballgame was a common cultural phenomenon throughout Mesoamerica.  It came into existence about 3,000 years ago and continued to be played until the arrival of the conquerors.  Although there were variants depending on the period and region, a ballgame represented combat between opposing principles existing in the myths of origins:  night versus darkness (day versus night), a combat from which the chain of successive worlds originated, as well as the stars, humankind and social order.  A ballgame had two teams—put on the same level as the gods—that confronted each other on a playing field that represented the sky.  The game involved passing a rubber ball through a ring positioned up high, mainly using the hips and elbows.  It ended with players being decapitated, a sacrifice that represented the continuity of the cosmic cycle connected with the land’s fertility.”

Curious minds want to know, inter alia:  Did the Mesoamericans leave a rule book?  Did they stop playing the game because the conquerers, not discriminating between sides, killed off all potential team members?  Why would a playing field represent the sky and not the earth?  Is this an early version of basketball?  (And why it helps to be tall.) How does being decapitated represent the cosmic cycle?

A ballgame player, with head—but wait—he has a bat, does he not, so where does the elbow and hip maneuver come in?

Museumed out, I made my way back to hotel to pack and get ready for departure, stopping on the way for a slice of eggplant and tomato pizza.  I am ready to go home!!

I de moment, adéu a tots.  Y, por ahora, adios a todos.  Quién sabe qué pasará después!

Got to Barcelona at 8:30, and would you believe, the hotel let me check in.  It took just a few minutes to “get sorted” so soon, I went to see the sea:

Then I headed over to the Picasso Museum, and at first thought I was at MOMA:

Girl:

There are lots and lots of bakeries.  This one sold giant muffins:

There are also huge food markets crammed with people and, well, food:

Snack:

And martial arts:

Reached hotel at 12:30 without a hope of checking in before 2:00. I so badly wanted to go to my room, but I settled for changing boots to Keens, a seltzer, ice cream, and wi-fi.  Then went off to a huge Mercadona (supermarket) nearby.

2:00 room not ready and I am cranky.  2:15 even crankier.  2:35, at last,

If you care to, see post titled España 2019 Getting ready, June 06, and look at handsome boots ready for adventure.  This is the same pair:

The most striking thing about Banyoles is that it is a real city, with businesses, cars, traffic lights, lots of housing, parks, and so on.  Getting here was easy.  Short, mostly flat, not inspiring, but not so much on terrible surfaces that you are just aching for it to stop.

Burros “hiding” in the woods.  (They were very shy):

This is not any old clump of dead leaves.  This is a clump of dead leaves behind which is a way mark telling you to “turn here.”

It’s that time of year!

I had a plan.  Taxi to Melianta, about 4-5 k. distant on asphalt, then go past Orriols (designated stop point for the day) to Camallera, about 5+ k. take taxi back to Banyoles, then start in Camallera tomorrow to shorten the last day since I then have to lengthen it in order to get to accommodation, there being none at Sant Marti de Empúries, the official start//end of this walk, perhaps a metaphor for this walk’s relative inhospitable-ness.  Plan fell through because I was not able to get a morning taxi, at least not easily, so I headed out at 5:45 and walked from Banyoles to Orriols, about 14 miles of the most boring, deadly stretch of walking ever, almost entirely on asphalt.  How John could have described this stage as wonderful, I do not know.  Anyway, arrived at 10:20, too early for a noon taxi so decided to push on as fast as I could to Camallera.  The walking conditions improved, but the temperature kept going up.  Was seven minutes late for taxi, but he waited!!  (Yes, I WhatsApped him.) Total: 18.5 miles, but flat.

Got up early, way too early, so when it was normal early I went out to see the town void of people and walk a bit along the river.

Where there is a river, there will be ducks:

This one did not want to get its feet wet:

There was also some art.  The thing that is amazing about this chair is that it is a flat piece of metal, but when you photograph it, it becomes 3 dimensional or at least two dimensional.  Just could not figure out how that worked:

Seems as if some artist had a thing for chairs:

Besalú had a Jewish community until it didn’t for the usual reasons.  Now that past serves as a tourist attraction.  There is a tour of the old synagogue, of which virtually nothing is left, but if you are going to give a tour, you have to say something. So the guide kept saying (in Spanish) “Imagine that there was an X here” and imagine there was a Y here, and so on.  It was very annoying.  There is also a mikvah, no longer kosher, kept under lock and key.  So much for the romantic Jewish past of Besalú.

But so much tamer than on previous stages:

Could not get out of Oix fast enough, but had to wait until the deep rumble of thunder and the downpour stopped—they were quick—which happened, much to my relief, before there was enough light to get going anyway.  What really bothered me was the air in the room.  It was so foul, it burned the eyes.  There was a filthy version of an “air conditioner” mounted near the ceiling, that made a horrible noise but did not do any perceptible air circulating, and from which, every 15 minutes or so, a tiny puff of cool air was emitted.

Walking felt good today for the first time in a while.  Either the swollen leg is less swollen or I am used to it.  After a bad fall (two, actually) due to boot becoming entangled in some undergrowth and then, in Besalu, due to not seeing a curb, that due to of being utterly engrossed in eating real ice cream.  I am beyond amazed that I have not broken a limb, but there are three more days of walking for that to happen, God forbid.

Mountains are now scenery rather than the path:

House readying for the day:

A little bit farther on and a little bit later:

 That one in front may not be a cow:

A sweet little bridge (crossed):

Old Bridge (not crossed):

Well, you could cross it if you wanted to but it would not help get you where you needed to go.

I am going to miss the apartment in Alpens.  The frig even has a freezer and the local wee shoppee had a box, yes, one box, of mini Magnums, so I bought the box.  I am also going to miss the kindness and generosity of Joan, who drove me this morning 45 minutes from Alpens to the starting point, a few kilometres after Ripoll, a huge huge favour.

It seems as if the pattern is:  first part of the day’s walk much better than the second.  My right leg is swollen, so I wonder if that has anything to do with what seems to be a schlep in my step.  Boots at the falling apart stage, which may also contribute to a mild fatigue since they just don’t support your feet as they should.  There have been a number of diversions the past several days.  Some make the walk better—getting you off the road—some worse—putting you on the road.

Roof top and chimney:

 This kitty took a real liking to me.  Sorry I could not get a better picture of you, kitty:

Arrived in Sant Pau where I had a last minute change of accommodation.  The original B and B was not located where it claimed to be located, nor did it have the features it claimed to have such as a private bathroom.  Actually, the location issue was the biggest deal since lady would not even reveal exactly where her mystery place was, and that makes it really hard to give directions to taxista who is going to deliver your bag and then to the taxista who is going to pick up your bag, AND the lady does not always answer the phone, which makes it hard to know when she would come to the designated pick-up spot—a Cash Point— to get you as she claimed she would.  Just too raro (strange).  It all worked out for the best.

Eleven-ish mile walk, neither thrilling nor dull.  But I do think I am beginning to run out of steam.  Maybe it is the weather….heavy air, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, staying at an apartment with all the amenities for two nights. The biggest thrill is the kitchen.  Again, dueño—Joan—gave me eggs, a good thing, because I am sick to death of tuna and sardines.  He will also pick me up in Ripoll tomorrow, which is great, since now I will not have to rendez vous at a prearranged time with  taxi.  In fact, he has been super amable.  Turns out he and his wife, also  muy amable, have a daughter who is finishing up a PhD program in biomedicine at Virginia Tech.  Hola, Nuria (si estás leyendo ésto).

This being a slow news day, let me just note that I have yet to see a single postcard for sale.

¡Hola!  See that horse in the background?

I think they like each other:

Startled to see a first sign of autumn at the end of July:

The mountains are still in view:

This was described as a fortified farm:

Gironella and Lluça are the start and end points of  this stage.  Since it is over 30k,  I took the recommended taxi to Odan, about 4k from Gironella and made it about 1/3 of the way to Lluça.  Here is what happened.  A couple of hours after a lovely start, on a cool morning, on a path just challenging enough to make you really focus, there was a T intersection.  GPS, ViewRanger, instructions, and common sense all said “turn left,” after which you would make a three corner turn and be on your way to Sagas.  But the sign planted in the ground with the GR1 stripes, said “turn right,” which made no sense at all.  This would be like driving north up Whitney to Quinnipiac when you wanted to go  south to Yale.  So first I explored the “sensible option.”  After the short, initial segment, there was no path, just thick bushes.  Then I started to go the other way thinking I could cut back and meet the path further on.  By means of a long detour, I did just that, but at the “further on” place, again, no possible passable path.  I spent an hour and a half searching for a way to cut across where I knew one needed to go, but other than two big Xs (not this way) there was nothing.  Had I not tried to meet up with the path by means of that long detour, I would have had to walk miles on two highways.  Truly something was wrong, and this is one time I am quite sure it was not my ineptitude.  There was no option except to backtrack to Odan, a little more difficult to do than it sounds.  Once there, at about 1:00, I implored a nice lady in a bar to call a taxi to take me to Lluça. Disappointing experience, and so much for the relatively easy final section. The fortunate part is that there was a town to go back to that actually had people in it so that you knew you would not be stranded.

Looking back at Gironella minus the haze:

Dew coated moss balls:

Like a treasure hunt looking for the waymarks to get through this section.  Fun!!

Taxista picked me up at 6:00 to take me just a couple of miles to l’Espunyola—because hotel, very nice hotel, I must say— was off route—then he went on with the bags.  As usual, though, it took forever to find the path, and the many barking dogs pulling at their chains did not ease the task.  But I was a woman on a mission because I knew that Gironella had a sporting goods store, where I was hoping I could replace HAT, and a major grocery store, and you know that everything closes either at 1:00, 1:30 or 2:00 and may or may not reopen at 5:00 or 5:30.  Also, thunder storms were predicted.

Oh, John, as in the writer of the guide book, suggested skipping this stage, since, after the drama of yesterday’s stage, it is just “a little dull.”  I was thrilled with a little dull.

A little dull?

 It was a pleasant 14.5 mile walk, on good surfaces, with enough directional challenges to keep it interesting.  Well, OK, when I took a wrong dirt road 2/3 through, that cost me a good 1/2 hour, I was not happy.  It wasn’t even really a wrong choice, just wrong for this route.

Cemetery.  Visiting hours, 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Looks like condos in a park:

Move to the side when the big guys come:

 Cow of a different colour (s):

I could hardly wait to get to the sporting goods store here in Gironella.  Four naked mannequins in the window, however, did not make the place look promising.  Let’s just say this was not REI. There were maybe six hats total, so I settled for a supremely ugly chartreuse baseball cap.  The guy did use the word, “technical” to describe it.  I think that is because it has some little holes on the sides.