Escaping the Heat in Spain: the Prequel

The French hill top town of Eus. We stopped here for lunch on our way to Prades...

 We're back from our travels! We've made our own rentrée (French for re-entry: back from vacation and back to school... and work!)  Back to our new apartment in Montpellier, and very happy with our adventure. We had bought some wine, we had had a great eclipse, and we got away from the heat of Montpellier. We had to modify our route a bit due to the fires, but that lead us to some unexpected finds. 

But where did we go, exactly? 

(Note that this blog covers the beginning of our summer; we've already talked about the second week in this blog, Escaping the Heat in Spain.)

To escape the heat we headed up into the mountains, the Pyrenees: the range that divides France and Spain. We started at the eastern end of the mountain range and followed it west, making three stops on our way to the Atlantic. And we discovered that this part of the trip was, as Paula put it, more about the people we stayed with than the places we visited.

        Prades

We spent a couple of nights in the town of Prades, just a bit inland from the coastal city of Perpignan. The people we stayed with were amazing! This middle-aged couple had about a third of an acre (1500 sq mtr) covered with fruit trees and other crops, and they were constantly busy in their fields. And constantly bringing us food from their extended garden.

Our hosts' property near the city of Prades, where we spent a couple of nights.

We found these towel swans on our bed when we arrived at our B&B in Prades. What a nice touch!

One "feature" of their property that unsettled me was the constantly running water. Dennis, our host, explained that a 14th century canal brought water from the snows in the mountains. Their property was crisscrossed by small, foot-wide trenches with swift-running water that provided water for irrigation. (I stuck a thermometer into the water: 66°F! Very refreshing in contrast to the 86° air temperature!)

Paula examines the mini-canal. Water running free!

So, water running wild. But my years in drought-plagued California left me vaguely uncomfortable with all that water flowing free!

Pablo Casals refused to live in Franco's Spain until democracy was restored; he moved to Prades, just across the border. This cut-out of him is a reminder that he is treated here as an honorary "native son."
That's our host Dennis in the background.

One attraction in this area was the Little Yellow Train, a narrow-gauge electric line that runs across the valleys and over the steep slopes of the Pyrenees. We got a seat on the first run in the morning and found the other passengers were mostly tourists like us, making a round trip just for the fun of it. There were a few hikers, though, using the train to get to trails high in the mountains. And, no doubt, a few locals getting from one town to another.

Looking back at the Little Yellow Train. Most passengers opted for the open cars.

We had just crossed this bridge spanning a canyon as we wound our way through the Pyrenees.

After the train ride (and lunch, always very important!), we wanted to visit the Abbey Saint-Martin du Canigou, a clif-top church.  We found the only way to get there was to climb. The hikers coming down assured us it was a fine hike, so we started up into the forest.

I won't say it was a mistake, but we certainly will not be trying a climb like that again! The thick green forest was beautiful and shady in the heat, but the trail was very steep and every step required far too much attention—I didn't even stop to take photos.

Our first view of the Abbey Saint-Martin du Canigou, perched on a cliff edge.

We were pleased to reach the top without mishap... and were greeted by a sign announcing the location of a defibrillator! How convenient is that? You're having palpitations after a long steep climb, and a defib is right handy!

At last! Level ground, and the abbey!

What a greeting we found at the top—a welcome (Accueil) and a defibrillator. 
Which, fortunately, we did not need.

After that long hike (it took us an hour to cover something less than a mile—did I mention that it was steep?) we were keen on visiting the church.  We didn't mind the entry fee, but found quickly enough that the visit was guided; no free roaming, we had to stay with the group (only four, plus the guide). We were not interested in all the fine details of who owned what when; and when I moved to the opening to take photos of the canyon we'd just climbed, I was told to stay in line and wait for that part of the tour. 

The closest we got to seeing the trail we climbed, before being reigned back in by the tour guide.
"No, come back! We'll get there soon!"

We quickly disengaged ourselves; the abbey was happy to refund our money, but we were disappointed that we did not see the inside of the church! (And I never got my photo over the edge of the canyon.)

We poked around the outside a bit, and were soon ready to return... but not by the way we'd come up! There was an alternative, a long steep narrow road with switchbacks every few dozen steps—but paved. We took it!

Mont Louis and the Solar Oven

On our drive to Foix, our next destination, we stopped at the old fort of Mont Louis. We had little interest in the fort, but this is where we'd gotten off the Little Yellow Train, and thought we'd get a different perspective of this small town.

Entrance to the fort at Mont Louis.

The town owed its existence to the fort built in the 17th century as part of a line of defenses stretching to the Mediterranean. But what we found interesting was considerably newer: a giant solar oven, designed to produce very high temperatures for research. It consisted of a wall of mirrors directing the intense sun to a large parabolic mirror focused on a high-temperature crucible.

The smaller solar oven at Mont Louis. The flat mirrors on the left reflect sun onto the large parabolic mirror, which focuses it on a high-temperature crucible.

We learned that it was the first generation of solar ovens, and a prototype for an even larger oven built into a whole hillside. I had read of this larger oven years ago, and was very keen to see it. I did some quick research and found that it was only a dozen miles away, along our route to Foix. We were on the road again!

Odeillo solar furnace

This intriguing structure was planned and built in the early-mid 1960s, and fully functional in 1969. It consists of flat mirrors (some 9600 of them) located on a hillside directing sunlight to a massive parabolic mirror. It was used for many years in research into high-temperature physics.

The huge parabolic mirror of the Odeillo Solar Furnace, some 180 feet high. Sunlight is focused on a special test crucible in the white tower in front, achieving temperature of some 3000 degrees. (Fahrenheit or Celsius, it doesn't much matter at this point.)

It's an impressive sight, with its 180 foot tower and huge circular mirror. It doesn't seem to be used much now; we were able to stroll around the grounds and examine the structures. And I remembered the photos I'd seen so many years ago. How exciting to actually be here!

The flat mirrors, reflecting sunlight onto the large parabolic mirror.
The panels are made of multiple mirrors, each of which can be individually adjusted.

The whole affair seen from the highway that passed above it.
In the foreground are the flat mirrors, reflecting that hot high-altitude sunlight onto the circular mirror in the middle.

Foix

Having a car is a mixed blessing. It's essential for a trip like this, where it allowed us to visit smaller places, and modify our itinerary as we wished. But having a car while visiting cities is more complicated. Finding a car park can be difficult and expensive. One option, which we chose this time,  is to not stay in the city. Instead of a place in Foix itself, we stayed a few miles outside town, at a Bed & Breakfast in an old farmhouse. 

View from the farmhouse of the surrounding countryside near Foix, France.

The owners of the B&B, a delightful couple, had been dealers in brocante for 30 years, and retired to this farmhouse owned by one of their families. (Brocante is old stuff that occupies that interesting space between cheap junk and expensive, true antiques.) Needless to say, the place was full of... stuff, most of it interesting and well chosen. Furniture, of course; pitchers and pictures, baskets and books. Everything seems to have come from the brocante market; this was definitely NOT an Ikea household!

Entry way to our farmhouse B&B near Foix.

The eating area, where we had breakfast. Lots of, er, interesting stuff!

We spent one evening with our hosts going through a box of old treasures: pocket watches (one of which may have worked); a telescoping brass spyglass (which brought to mind images of Jack Aubrey and Horatio Hornblower)*; coins, buttons, and other curiosities.

A pitcher collection. Note the model of a wood-burning cook stove.

Our first visit to Foix was during market day. The market was very extensive, overflowing the main square and occupying several blocks around the center. It had a large brocante section, full of old, interesting tools, housewares, lamps, and items that were completely unidentifiable. 

The Foix brocante market, full of an astonishing variety of knacks and knicks.
(Mundane things like wonderfully fresh fruits and vegetables, clothing, cookware, and other household items were in another part of the market that sprawled around the town square.)

We toured the castle, the castle of the counts of Foix; important men in times gone by. But what we remember of that stop is our two hosts, their remarkable collections, and the old farmhouse in the country, amid the sounds of cowbells and, well, cows!

* (Jack Aubrey and Horatio Hornblower were fictional British naval officers who served during the Napoleonic Wars; they were created by authors Patrick O'Brian and C.S.Forester, respectively. Russell Crowe played the part of Jack Aubrey in the movie adaptation Master and Commander.)

A model of a wood-burning cook stove. We were told these were found at hardware stores; you'd go in and select which model you wanted. The full-size stove would then be made and delivered to your home.

An old wood-burning cook stove (a real one!), among some newer appliances.
Compare with the model in the previous photo!

Hendaye

A few days in Foix, and we moved on to the Atlantic coast, to the French town of Hendaye, right on the Spanish border. We stayed with some folks who had built a large, modern house a few miles outside the city. Our apartment was on the ground floor, comfortable and cozy, tucked under the house. Our hosts were exceptionally nice, and every morning provided us with fresh eggs from their chickens.

Our first afternoon we took the car and explored, driving through the town of Hendaye and out along the coast. My, that was a mistake! Narrow roads, no shoulders, and lots of other tourists out driving. We quickly learned the bus routes through the area and left the car at "home."

Hendaye has an extensive sand beach along the city front. Our beach going days are behind us, so we spent little time there, instead exploring the city and surrounding areas. One day we went to the harbor and took a small ferry across to Spain, to Arkolla, a neighborhood in the municipality of Hondarribia. Very picturesque, and quite different from the French side. Also quite different from other Spanish cities. 

The entrance to Arkolla, near the port.

These colorful houses made for a very picturesque neighborhood!

But then, this is Basque Country. If you asked the residents, most of them would have denied being part of either France or Spain. The Basques have a long and quite interesting history, and many aspire to being a country unto themselves. While violent in the past, the controversy has calmed now, and we never felt at risk while traveling.

Colorful houses like you don't see in France. But it doesn't look like Spain, either!

        Pheasant Island

I had one more mini adventure here: long long ago I had read of an island that was shared by two countries. Half the year it belonged to one country, the other half, the other. Was that here? Was that mysterious island on this border? Another quick research project, and yes! Pheasant Island sits in the middle of the Bidasoa River, which marks the boundary between France and Spain. Not only was it close to where we were staying, it was right at the end of the bus line we took every day.

So on our return that day, Paula got off the bus at our usual stop, and I kept going. 

Now, after reading about it all those years ago, there it was, Pheasant Island. It isn't much more than a sandbar in the middle of the river, but it does have a history. It wasn't French today; since this was July it was Spanich. In a few days, on the first of August, it would become French for the next six months.

Pheasant Island (L'île des Faisans in French; Isla de los Faisanes in Spanish; Faisaien uhartea/irla in Basque). Only  690 ft long and 130 ft wide and uninhabited, it's not much!

It's not much to look at. When I was there it was covered in brush. But right in the middle can be seen the monument placed there in 1659 when representatives of France and Spain met to put an end to the thirty Years' War. Later that year it was here that the French King, Louis XIV, met Maria Theresa, the Infanta of Spain, his future consort. (No doubt that union was to seal the deal of the treaty.)

The monument marking the treaty of 1659, barely visible through the bushes.

So even though this island is completely unremarkable, I found being there strangely satisfying. I was quite pleased as I remounted the bus for the short ride back to our regular stop and the walk home.

A day or so later we packed up the car again and headed west through northern Spain to the city of Santander, where we spent a week, and then on to Logrono. But we've already covered that part in another blog post, which you can find here: Escaping the Heat in Spain.

            In our next post we'll cover the last week of our travels: the eclipse, the sudden changes we had to make due to fires, meeting up with our American friends Mark and Mary, and our adventures, some unexpected, with them.

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The road home. This country road lead from the bus stop to our apartment near Hendaye.