Given our temporary revised mission to 'embrace the familiar' rather than 'boldly go where we've never been before', it was inevitable that we would end up here, in Cala Montgro.
It's a modern development dating from the second half of the twentieth century. The campsite we stay at - Ila Matua - used to have a wall sized black and white photo of the bay behind its reception desk. It was taken in the 1920s, back then the area was just a big bare hill next to a cove with a few fisherman's huts. Now it looks like this.
The place proves that not all modern developments are horrible. The once bare hill is now covered in stylish white villas, one side of the cove has a few bars and restaurants and a couple of lo-rise hotels occupy the area next to the beach.
Inland among the pines there are two big
campsites. Waking up in a forest of umbrella pines under a cloudless sky, the temperature already in the high teens and forecast to hover around the high twenties by mid-afternoon - it's perfecto!
To the west of Cala Montgro the coastline is pristine, stretching for about 8kms towards l'Estartit.
Cala Montgro itself is a suburb of the small resort of l'Escala, but it doesn't feel like that. There's a patch of protected forest between the development and L'Escala, which as Spanish resorts go is quite low key, lively without being raucous.
A gate at the top of the site connects with a clifftop path. You get a great view from here across the Bay of Roses. The eponymous big resort across the bay does not dominate the scene, it's merely a small pyramid of white concrete on the low coastal hills across a broad expanse of blue, with the misty Pyrenees on the horizon.
We love it here and stayed for a week, which by our itchy feet standards is more or less forever.
In late September the local supermarket still operates, it's big enough to meet most of our needs, so we only pedalled into l'Escala once. It's an alluring seaside town, though bigger than it seems from the promenade.
Villa developments have spread out from the old town centre, many are half hidden in the pine forest. It doesn't feel like a sprawl. In some ways the area reminds me of Moraira, another low key Spanish resort we enjoy revisiting. Not this trip though, the northern Costa Brava is as far as are going to get.
So unusually we have mooched about for a week, taking it easy, respecting my various 'conditions'. Well, up to a point. Gill must have noticed me getting ever more frustrated about not being able to do normal stuff, like pick heavy things up or cycle more than a few kilometres. What I needed, she decided, was a new challenge that was within my capabilities, I just hadn't realised the fact.
A few days before we left home a large Amazon parcel arrived. Unusually it wasn't for Laura who seems to buy everything on line - ingredients, cosmetics, clothing. She is such a regular she is knows most of the Evri drivers by their first name.
It's for you, Gill explained standing beside the big box - a surprise present. She had bought me a stand-up paddle board. The calm waters of Cala Montgro are the perfect place to practice. After watching half a dozen instructional videos on YouTube we headed for the beach. The board comes in a big backpack, too heavy for me at the moment. Luckily we carry a small folding trolley with us which was perfect for trundling the board down to the sea.
Inflating the board is good exercise in itself, luckily only involving arm and chest muscles as you work up a sweat. SUP (stand up paddle) boards are bigger than you imagine, more small kayak sized than an overgrown surf board.
Over two days I managed to paddle about kneeling on the board and mastered the art of going in a straight line and steering the thing. My two attempts at standing up ended with a big splash. It is very tricky and will take a lot more practice. What my inadvertent deep dives taught me was how to clamber back on board after you've fallen in. An essential skill.
So work in progress which I will continue early next year when we return to Spain. I guess I will be wearing my trisuit as the Mediterranean in February is considerably chillier than in late September. Maybe the prospect of falling head first into very cold water will improve my balance and finally I will manage to stand up on my stand up paddle board.
No comments:
Post a Comment