April? Must be Spain.
We left Sainte-Maries-de-la-Mer on a gloriously calm morning and headed down the coast. The sea was clear and bright, the birds swooping and darting, wavelets sparkling with reflected light. It was lovely to be on the water again. Just a few miles into our journey we were joined by a couple of dolphins as they headed south along with us. It never gets old!
We stopped for a couple of nights in the village of Valras Plage, a modernized French fishing village at the mouth of the Orb River. It’s a lively little town with a beautiful beach, friendly people and a traditional covered market. We continued on with the intent to enter Spain in the city of Roses, and spend several days exploring. I had sent a request for berthing a few days ago but had not heard back. This had happened to us before and we figured we would simply call en route and secure berthing the day of our arrival. As we cruised I sent another request assuming it would be answered once the office opened at 10am. A couple of hours later, when I’d still not heard back, I decided to send an email which I translated into both Spanish and Catalan.
The Catalonia region, in northeastern Spain, is known for the lively beach resorts of Costa Brava as well as the Pyrenees Mountains and the regional capitol of Barcelona. It has two official languages; Spanish and Catalan both of which are spoken.
Hours went by and we were now entering Spanish waters. I decided to call the marina. When I asked about berthing I was told something in Catalan and then the line went dead. Assuming we’d been disconnected I called back, explained what I wanted, and again the line went dead. Annoyed, I decided to try a different marina. I called on the phone, again they said something I didn’t understand, and once again they hung up on me. WTH? Not the most pleasant welcome to Spain. Frustrated, I started looking up other marinas a bit further south. Not knowing how far we needed to go (our altered course could mean several more hours of cruising or we could be arriving shortly) I decided to phone the next nearest marina rather than send an online request. This time I was greeted by a cheerful voice who welcomed us in for as long as we wished to stay. Hoorah! The greeting I aways hope for.
Thanks to Goddess Athena - for her guidance and council, we have a place to stay.
We arrived in Empuriabrava just a short time later. Unbeknownst to us, this community was built in the 2000s and is one of the largest residential marinas in the world. Developed around a complex series of waterways, it is known as the Spanish Venice. Lining the channels are simple apartment buildings and small casitas amongst sprawling villas with landscaped swimming pools, each with it’s own yacht moored alongside. On the coast, outside of the 22km network of canals, are several sandy beaches, some with umbrellas and loungers, showers and changing rooms, cafes and restaurants, others more remote, backed by forests and without any services at all. This was going to be a complete switch from the ancient cathedrals and monuments of the past six weeks.
Our berth was in a quiet neighborhood with apartment buildings overlooking the canal and one local pub which just happened to be directly behind us. We stayed a week here which gave us time to order a few things at the chandlery, check out the enormous three story grocery store and experience the largest open air market I’ve ever seen - along the beach no less!
Just around the next point from here is a place I remembered fondly. Ten years ago I had visited the town of Cadaqués while on a walking tour down the Costa Brava. This particular town held treasured memories for me and I wanted to show it to Tom. We had gorgeous weather and time to play so we rented a car for the day and drove up the coast. I was feeling a bit apprehensive; what if there’s really nothing special about it at all, perhaps it’s entirely different from what I remember, maybe it’s totally changed - or I have…?
As we wound down out of the mountains I recognized the trail where we’d walked out of the hills so many years ago. My heart skipped a beat as we dropped down into the village. It was EXACTLY as I remembered. Like so many other villages along this shore it has a tiny harbor, waterfront restaurants and boutique hotels. It was home to Salvador Dali so, despite being perhaps the most inaccessible town along the Costa Brava, it draws many celebrities. But that’s not what I find so alluring. This ex-beatnik seaside town has maintained its independent character. Its hidden cove has drawn artists for generations, and remains, for me at least, seductively beautiful.
After a fabulous lunch we hiked up over the hill to the Salvador Dali House Museum in Portlligat. We toured the grounds and the olive grove, gawking with confused curiosity at his flamboyant style and the striking and provocative pieces around every bend.
On our final days in Empuriabrava we walked around town and checked out the local hangouts. We also accomplished some long overdue boat chores — rewarding ourselves afterwards with a stroll across the street to the neighborhood bar for some tapas and sangria. It turns out this little haunt is super popular. The food is decent and the prices are amazingly cheap (less than $30 for two meals, 3 glasses of wine and dessert). Once seated, a waiter ambled amongst the tables offering tapa samples, and after our meal we were served a complimentary aperitif. The place is almost always busy and we enjoyed the local nightlife.
Our final cruise of the season took us south down the Costa del Maresme which is a narrow section of the Catalan coast between the Mediterranean Sea and the Catalan Coastal Range. It is 55 km (34 mi) long with sandy beaches, pine woods, and fishing villages nestled among the mountains. We were headed to Arenys de Mar just 35 km (22 mi) from Barcelona.
The port of Arenys is one of the most important on the Catalan coast due to its long history of seafaring traditions. Fishing is one of the main economic activities in the town and almost the entire fishing fleet of the Maresme is based here. The marina is located next to boatyard where we would leave Meraki for the next three months while we build more Schengen time. We will return home for what we are calling “wedding season”. Our youngest daughter is getting married in May, followed by two of our ‘surrogate’ daughters who are both marrying in June.
We had given ourselves a week here in part so that we had time to both prepare the boat for storage and visit Barcelona, but primarily so that we could meet with a serviceman to repair the electrical problem we had improvised and cobbled together for the past couple of months. He did manage to ‘repair’ the problem though we are somewhat skeptical of it’s longevity. We’ll not really know until we return at the end of summer.
The wedding season excitement was growing making it difficult to focus on the many tasks required to ready the boat. The lists seem to grow rather than shrink so we took to creating a daily timetable. ‘A’ needs to be done before ‘B’ which needs doing before ‘C’, ‘D’, ‘E’ etc. However, each morning we’d switch up the schedule. Initially I found this quite annoying, but thankfully it proved a savings grace as we found a serious engine oil leak on what was originally planned for the morning of haul out - that would have made for a crazy frenetic and highly stressful morning!
We ultimately got there in the end. Nothing to do now but make the long, 28 hour trek home to Alaska.
