Cami de Ronda – 8


Begur to Palamós – 16th November

Things started off a bit chilly this morning with a stiff on-shore breeze. The plan was to follow Herman the German’s trail for most of the start at least, but the way markers – the little white over red rectangles – said otherwise. I should have ignored them.
They took me due east to the coast and then up and down the cliffs around far too many bays to the town of Tamariu which I would have reached two hours earlier if I’d gone the other way.
The upshot was that I was struggling come the end of the day to make it to civilisation before darkness fell. It was a close run thing.

More narrow medieval streets but they managed to cram a decent hotel in that one.
The church in the square twenty metres away. Chimes the quarter hour and does the full bong suite on the hour right up until Midnight. Then, I assume the bell ringers go to bed so that they can get up to start clanging again at seven.
I’ve hit the coast much earlier than I thought I would at St. Tuna, who as you will know, is the patron saint of fish canners.
Statue on the climb out . It looks to be a headless human, the back of a large fish and an I don’t know – it sort of has a hoof. I’d like to think that it is Roman,
Absolutely hideous descents. But doesn’t seem to stop them, building going on everywhere. I suppose they like to get it done in the off season when it is cooler.
The guy had his digger with one track over the edge to get at the end of that bit. Mad.
I think that that was Platja Fonda. On to the next.
Tamariu at last. I reckon that I’m two hours behind schedule with five miles extra to travel.
Fornells. If those marbles have just rolled down the hill, I’m in for a shock when I climb up and meet her.
I’m a little uncomfortable, Herman. Happy now.
I’m down and just along the track a little fruit tree. I thought perhaps Kumquat but the tree is too large.
Llafranc seems well guarded. The horse is looking out for people who are not woke enough so she can report them to Lala Franc.
Calella and after a stop for lunch and a rest, I’ve decided to give it a push for an hour. V. Worried about the time.
Looks like the little bear got run over. I can’t spare the time for CPR or mouth to mouth. She’ll have to live or die on her own.
A nice tower conversation.
The back end of Calella and more cliffs ahead.
You can’t even have a fag when you’re walking your dog, which you can’t walk anyway.
They look well nasty. And they were.
Looking back at Calella. Food, water and rest equals new lease of life for the picture taking.
Oh frig!
I’m past and I think that I avoid the next lot and head up past that churchy thing.
More forest but good track. It is getting twilighty. The camera doesn’t seem to mind.
At last. Those bloody dirt bikers are a pest round here.
Track is getting narrower and rougher and it is getting darker.
My best estimate is that I can now make it at 6:00 pm. I think I put three miles behind me in that last hour.
Crap. This stuff on the cliff paths is bloody hard to move fast on.
I’m out of that and heading to the last bit of forest, I hope.
Platja de Castell. And I think that the sun has already set. Just ambient light left.
Some kind folk have taken the seats from their old Ford Cortina and brought them up here.
The Castell of Cala Castell.
God! This is never ending,
La Fosca and my last chance for a swim. Oh well.
That girl with the giant marbles lost it ‘cos they rolled down the hill and I wouldn’t stop to pick them up. She shy’d one of her pebbles at me and it crushed this man’s wall.
Okay. My old eyes are not really seeing things very clearly. I know that the phone is, but that don’t help.
The mutt tasked with guarding the cliff path and the way in to Palamós.
The marina on the outskirts and I have streets and streetlights. Twenty minutes to six.
The Platja and behind me the Hotel. Phew!

That wasn’t meant to be the toughest day but it was by far. Ended up eighteen miles of hard downz and upz and many more hills than I anticipated. Tomorrow, thankfully, is a short day – unless I go off-piste again – so I hope to get to the gaff early and have a relax in the private whirlpool room I’ve treated myself to.
As they say here, Adéu (A day you).