Forays into Spain

When in Cerbère, it's only a brief nip over the border - about ten minutes by car, five by train and an interesting ramble of about half an hour up a hillside behind Cerbère - to cross into Spain.
Long gone are the days of border control although the vestiges are well apparent in the shape of the now-graffiti covered customs buildings. Here's an image of what it used to look like.

                          

We like Port-Bou. It's rather like a mirror of Cerbère with its huge railway sidings, although a little bigger in the way of shops and restaurants. On the port-side is a clutch of good and inexpensive eateries, our favourite being The Voramar - this for slightly more extravagant occasions as its a little more up-market than its neighbours - that said, it's still a lot cheaper than anything similar on the other side of the border. At time of writing, our beautifully prepared and rather Nouvelle Cuisine menu, including 'amuse bouche' and selection of olive oils to taste was still just under 20 euros a head.

                       
Port-Bou, for those who like, as we do, slightly 'Insolite' as the French say (a little odd, atypic, weird even) places, this is a must with its relaxed and slightly run-down air, sea views, and little interesting-to-explore back streets.

Port Bou Ramblas at night

                       
Moving along the coast a little, the towns become a little busier and more sought-after, the prices in the estate agents windows reflecting this.
Inland is well worth an exploration (in car, as I don't think buses are much of an option, or a good hike - excellent sign-posted footpaths everywhere.)
This time we did a tour around various villages and small towns, many of them featuring beautiful old stone buildings, little shady squares and . . . no humans, or virtually, although we were there on a Sunday afternoon so probably everyone was eating or sleeping off eating.
Peralada was particularly lovely and I think if it had been in France might have given a 'Plus beaux village de France' badge.

                                 

                     

I can't remember which village this was but I loved this communal hall and the strange but rather wonderful tea we were served

A different route to the border

Within half an hour you can be up in the wild landscape behind Cerbère (depending on your walking speed). Today we decided to walk over the border into Spain and find the fresh water lake or barrage that supplies Portbou.
It was a beautiful walk, a little windy as the Tramontane was blowing, but not enough to be a danger, (and it kept us cool).
The Cerbère valley is quite different to that of Portbou, the former being wider and sunnier with vines, olive, wild lavender etc; the latter, more pine trees and less imprint of man.
Before we arrived at the top, I was musing on how people would have decided where the border between the two countries should be; when you look at the terrain on each side and the vegetation difference, it suddenly appears quite obvious how the decision was arrived at.
No animals noted apart from bees, but still a fair amount of wild flowers blooming despite the heat and dryness, and amazingly several blackberry bushes with ripe fruit - I assume their roots must be well down into some underground source.
I saw a weather warning on France Meteo before setting out on the risk of forest fires in the South of France. Standing amongst brittle, bone-dry vegetation I could imagine the speed at which a fire would take hold.
I walked back to Cerbère, and the more intrepid Mark, into PortBou. Next time I will walk to Banyuls along the crest of the hills - not on a windy day . . .

                                          

View back to Cerbère, about half way along to the border point




The barrage above Portbou at its low summer level.

Hillside wanderings

So far I have discovered two ways to reach the hills surrounding Cerbère: one, is to walk in the dry river bed (very wet during occasional monumental downpours) at the back of the town; through a long echoing tunnel, (over which the train activity happens), more river bed and then into olive and lavender filled hills.
The other, is to walk through the sprawl of mega-villas at the top of the town and follow the road until the houses run out and you are left with a pot-holed tarmac 'chemin'. These two routes eventually meet up, thus creating a circular walk of great variety.
Last time, I intended to follow the road to something called 'Las Rocas"indicated by an ancient bull-shaped wooden sign. I didn't get that far but did enjoy a couple of hours of total silence except for bees and occasional distant sounds from the railway sidings.
Another walk we have done a few times is up to the old border point customs building (now unused, even the café - what a missed opportunity . . . mm, interesting thought) and over the hill to Port-Bou on the Spanish side.
A lovely hike-ette with the plus of being able to eat a great meal for very little money when you get there, and then walk back/get the train if you've over-indulged.

          Beware bees

       View from bee area

Gecko house