How can I tactfully relate what today was like? I can’t. It was one mean “M-F”. It began with ample sunshine and we decided it was going to be a t-shirt day. The usual routine…ate breakfast, left the suitcases for transport…and walked outside. It was downright cool if not cold and the wind was roaring across the mountains. Back inside Hotel La Masia, changed into long sleeved polypropylene shirts and set off on the GR 92 right in front of the hotel. Got lost immediately and had to do a little backtracking before finding the right way, up stairs between buildings.
Continuing up the first hill with the train tracks below, it became windier and windier (if that was possible). The “Tramontana/Tramuntana” winds were vicious. The Italian word is, Tramontano, from the mountains. However you spell it, the Tramontana is a cold wind from the north or northeast that can be anywhere from Force 8 (Fresh Gale) to Force 9 (Strong Gale) on the Beaufort Scale. A Force 8 will break twigs from trees and cause cars to veer on road. A Force 9 will blow over small trees, break large branches and topple signs and canopies. And this (what we discovered later) was what we were walking in today. The Tramontana is extremely dangerous, occasionally blows from November through March, and if you’re ever in this area and hear the word “Tramontana,” don’t do any mountain walks.
Just working our way up a short distance on the first small hill was almost impossible while I got blown from side to side. Fears of, “Oh my god, I going to get blown off the mountain and killed” ran through my mind and when we reached the top of the first pass, the N260 (a main road) was right below us.
Caution was the better part of valor today and we began walking along the highway, fortunately with a nice median strip alongside to walk on without getting run over.
The highway ran to, and through, Colera. The topographic map showed the GR 92 going downhill through Colera, up the other side. This looked like it would save some distance and get us off the highway. Through Colera, and climbing up other side, the wind picked up as we neared another pass. Hanging on for dear life at the top, we followed a trail through a vineyard paralleling the highway – hoping it would lead back down to the road. It didn’t! A padlocked gate with no way to exit.
Back through the vineyard into the area receiving the full blast of this gale with winds that had to be upwards of 74 km/46 mph because neither of us could stand upright. I scootched forward on my butt, inch by inch (trying not to abrade all the skin off) to a part of the embankment that didn’t look as steep as other sections to slide down on the highway. My hat took off like a jet somewhere into the mountains, ex-Marine had to take his glasses off to keep them from being blown off his face, and it even felt as if my contact lenses were going to be blown out! This entire story is not an exaggeration!
Reaching the embankment, the two of us used rear ends to slide carefully down, holding on to rocks, and on to the highway where cars were having trouble staying on the road. And even on the road, neither of us could stand up straight without being blown about, holding on to the guardrails at the side. Another problem was the camera and map case straps around my neck became twisted from the gale-force winds and were slowly strangling me. (I’m trying to choke out, “Sonny (ex-Marine’s nickname), help me…I can’t breathe…) Once around the curve and off the highway pass, we continued on the highway to Llanca, very shaken from this experience.
Did the usual “ask for directions” (now in Spanish, and we can both Donde esta – Where is?… with the best of them) until we found Hotel Goleta…View image, locked but with a doorbell. Someone finally materialized and showed us to the room. Mother of God, there’s a bathtub, scalding hot water and an orange tree outside the window…View image…
The owners of Hotel Goleta also own Restaurant Pescadores…View image… where we’d eat dinner (beautiful restaurant), and I’m prepared to eat up a storm. Bags not here yet, it was back outside and down the street to a Patisserie that was just closing but sold us two sweet rolls.
A few minutes later, staff from Hotel La Masia, Portbou pulled up with the suitcases. Put them in the room and went back outside to look around and find a bar. We needed a drink (or two) after today’s harrowing experience. Into a tiny bar, filled with a haze of smoke and ordered Vino Blanco…View image. Three glasses of wine, shrimp tapas and a dozen, delicious green olives later (approximately 4 euros for everything), we were feeling much better and grateful that the only casualties were: a tear in the seat of ex-Marine’s pants; cuts on my hand; and mutiple black and blue marks on my butt. It could have been much, much worse.
Llanca is another gorgeous town (much bigger than Portbou) with a big yacht harbor and must be wonderful in the summer but right now, it is cold and incredibly windy even off the mountains. Tomorrow’s walk takes us from Llanca to Port de la Selva, and if the Tramontana continues blowing with this force, we’ll look for an alternative to stay off the mountains. This “Gale” was strong enough to blow ex-Marine over and with a backpack on, we’re talking over 200 pounds! Conversation with Helen and Kevin who experienced identical experiences, wonderful dinner (they had the best Cannelloni for a starter) and bed.