Early April in and around Cerbère

The Tramontana wind was whipping around the streets of the town when we arrived causing the singing railings to really do their full repertoire. Braving the elements after settling into the flat, we walked up into the pine forests at the back of Cerbère and observed the after-rain mass of wild flowers, some I've never seen on previous Spring visits.



The sea was a myriad of blues from deep aqua to violet, the waves topped with flecks of white, and the sky a mass of white clouds against vivid blue, moving swiftly from the direction of snow-covered Canigou mountain.



View from above Cerbère when the wind had dropped - a bit . . .



Platane trees near Cerbère church in the last light.

We returned to the town centre, bought supplies, cooked ratatouille back at the flat and settled down for an evening of reading which rapidly turned into sleeping after the drive, wind and sea air.

The following day was a time of discovery of 'what's over the border' a bit more. I'd been to Port de la Selva before but Mark hadn't so that was the objective, except we never got there, distracted by an extraordinary building on top of a hill. I turned left, followed a small road and ended up in a little village called La Vall de Creu.
Mark, seeing a challenge, donned his walking boots and set off to walk to the perched building (in fact the ancient Benedictine monastery of St Pere de Rodes). I followed for a while and then went back to explore the village which had a beautiful source dated 17 something (other carved numbers sadly part-covered by some bit of crap plumbing) and a lovely stone church - sadly, not open.
After walking and exploring, we returned to Cerbère via the Voramar restaurant in Port Bou. Mark had been there before and wanted me to experience the food and ambience. Fantastic! Anyone visiting this area should book a table: amazing: very reasonably-priced food, beautifully presented by welcoming, polite staff wearing black gloves . . .

                        

                              The tiny church at La Vall de Creu



                     Wild lupins

                            

                                                     Port Selva from the valley at Val de Creu



Mark's main course of Dorade fillet at the Voramar

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.

A walk over the 'hill' between Cerbère and Port-Bou

I have done this walk/minor climb once with my son, in the winter when we got stranded in Port-Bou (next town - in Spain). Some hardened hikers showed us the way, and magnificent it was, although somewhat cold.
Yesterday, Mark and I did the walk both ways, with a cake and tea stop in between.
To pick up the trail, you walk up the dry river bed/road at the back of Cerbère and follow it all the way, not taking the route through the big tunnel on the right. Keep walking and you pass through a small tunnel and into a curious area at the back of the railway sidings full of old chicken runs and debris . . . not the most picturesque spot but take the small path to your left, marked with a fellow line and walk/clamber up until you reach the white border-point (disused) building.
The route in spring is beautiful; full of wild flowers, gorse and lavender, and if, like me, you have to stop every few minutes due the gradient, the views of the sea, town and station are wonderful.
Cross over the main road (with care as some drivers take the bends a little recklessly) up onto the top of the hill (small mountain?) feel the wind thrashing you if it's a Tramontane day, and walk down across the border into Spain.
This hillside would have once been equally flower and cactus-filled but due to a severe forest fire a few years back most of the ground is just grass covered, although the trees and bushes are beginning to make a come-back, slowly.
If you have remembered a back pack, you can fill it with pots of local honey, olive oil, nougat, etc, enjoy some Tapas/cake/cervezas, have a wander about and either catch the train back across the border or walk.
If you have a bit more time, it is well worth visiting the Walter Benjamin memorial and grave situated in the cemetery above the town.
The walk, without counting the cake stop etc, is about an hour and a half - two hours, depending on your speed/leg length . . .



the Cerbère side



Cerbère station and sidings

                         

                                                                



         



                 Port-Bou side with the Cap de Creus land mass in the distance




        walk back with shopping bag as we forgot the rucksack

                                      

                                       Port-bou honey, olive oil and Turon (nougat)

where to start . . .

Hello, world, from a tiny cove on the very edge of France as it slips (tumbles, perhaps) into Spain. I'm always fascinated by border points: how they were originally delineated; whose rock/tree/lavender bush was who's, etc. Spanish parasol pine or French parasol pine? Or a bit of both?

Cerbère is classed as a village, or possibly a very small town, and was once part of The 'Banyuls' commune - a real town sized town just along the vertiginous road from Cerbère, about ten km, or perhaps six if you could walk in a straight line.

It has a post office, bread shop, two grocery stores, pharmacy etc, and several good eateries for somewhere so minuscule. I was talking to the owner of The 'Dorade' restaurant recently about how I felt comfortable in Cerbère. He described it at 'cocooneuse', meaning protected and sheltered (thank you spell check for suggesting I meant cocaine use). And it's true, even when the 'Tramontane' wind is blowing at 130 km an hour it feels oddly . . . cosy. I'm sure folk who have their goat shacks blown away, boats sunk, or worse might not agree; but in the middle of January, when the sky in leaden, and everything except the bread shop is closed, it still feels comfortable . . . to me anyway.