Heron and Home and Abroad – Tales from my travels

Costa Rica (1) – La Ensenada

After months of anticipation my trip to Costa Rica had finally come around. Mum and I were both making the trip, with 10 days of bird photography and a 3 day pre-trip extension with a guide.

Having arrived in San Jose in the dark and with the 6 hour time difference we didn’t stay up long enough to have dinner on the night of our arrival and were we were both awake bright and early on the first full day of our trip, desperate to get outside as soon as the sun rose to explore our environment and mostly importantly to see what birds were in the hotel gardens. We’d picked the hotel based on its proximity to the airport as we knew we wouldn’t be spending much time there, but despite being fairly small there were still some grounds to explore including a walkway hanging with vines, a vegetable garden and plenty of tropical plants.

The first bird of the trip was a Clay-coloured Thrush*, the national bird of Costa Rica, an elegant beige thrush which is ubiquitous around the country and would become a familiar friend everywhere we stayed, with songs reminiscent of our own blackbirds. We were hopeful of finding out first hummingbird of the trip but there were none to be found. My stroll around the property also turned up a Tropical Kingbird*, distant Crimson-fronted Parakeets*, a Great-tailed Grackle* and the first two doves of the trip – Inca Dove* and White-winged Dove*. I took some record shots but the light was pretty awful at that stage of the day. I like the way, though, that the feathers on the right-hand Inca Dove give an idea how windy it was. The final bird before breakfast was the Blue-grey Tanager*, another bird which would be common throughout the trip. All in all, that made it 7 lifers before our traditional Costa Rican breakfast of fresh fruit and pinto (rice and beans) served with scrambled egg and fried plantain

Clay-coloured Thrush (taken later in the trip)

Inca Dove

White-winged Dove

Tropical Kingbird

We were picked up by our guide, Jose, at around 8am and headed westwards to La Ensenada lodge on the Pacific coast, a drive of a couple hours. The first part of the journey was on busy roads so no opportunity to stop for birds but we could see plenty of Black Vultures soaring above us. Looking back on the trip, one of the things that surprises me is just how many vultures we saw, and conversely how few birds of prey, especially given the large number of different raptor species. We did have a brief sighting of a Yellow-headed Caracara as it flew past, but couldn’t really appreciate the details. We had a welcome stop at a roadside cafe where we sampled the drink of Mozote, which is produced from the bark of a tree, and an empanada. This was also where we saw our first iguana of the trip.

Once we were on the minor roads we were able to stop for a few birds, the most notable being a pair of Common Squirrel-Cuckoo* who posed for us in some bushes right by the road. Having included the cuckoos in my pre-trip bird familiarisation, I was particularly excited to this see one and hopeful to see more cuckoo species over the next fortnight but sadly this turned out to be the only cuckoo sighting of the trip.

Common Squirrel-Cuckoo

I also caught a glimpse of my first Motmot, but unfortunately we were weren’t at a place we could stop, so I can’t be sure which species it was, and would have to wait a bit longer for my first good look at another Motmot. Other species we spotted on the last bit of the journey were Groove-billed Ani*, Wood Stork* (flying over), Ruddy Ground-Dove*, Rufous-backed Wren*, Western Cattle Egret (with some cattle, of course) and Turkey Vulture – these latter two being the first non-lifers of the trip.

Groove-billed Ani – we saw quite a few during the trip, but never did see any Smooth-billed Ani.

Ruddy-Ground Dove – you’ll be glad to hear we also saw some on the ground, where they belong!

Turkey Vulture

Great-tailed Grackle – funny to think that one has turned up in the UK this past winter

Rufous-backed Wren

La Ensenada is situated right at the coast on the Gulf of Nicoya and was apparently to be the hottest location we’d be visiting. The weather was fairly windy and that was a huge relief as it gave a little respite from the intense heat. With temperatures of 35C in the shade we were very grateful of the tree cover at the lodge. Having put our bags into our cabin we had a short time to relax and take in our surroundings before lunch. Activity was low in the heat of the day, but I could see birds flying along the coast line, backlit by the sun. Impossible to see any details, but I was sure from their silhouettes that they were Magnificent Frigatebirds*. There were also smaller birds, which appeared to be a mix of gulls and terns and I suspected that they were coming in to perch on the pier which was out of sight behind some trees, but that I’d seen photos of on the lodge’s website.

Great Kiskadee

I spotted a bird with a striking yellow belly in one of the trees and tried to get closer for a better look. Not only did I manage to get a good view of it, but it flew in even closer as I watched. This was a Great Kiskadee* a species which would become very familiar over the course of the trip, with its distinctive ‘kisk-a-dee’ call. Confusingly though there are a number of similar looking species (especially to novices’ eyes), such as Social Flycatcher, Tropical Kingbird and Boat-billed Flycatcher, which also spot yellow bellies and white/black/grey heads.

Great Crested Flycatcher – one of these caused quite a stir a month or so ago when it was spotted in Shetland – the bird wasn’t immediately reported and was never seen again to the consternation of many local birders, as it was the first sighting in the Western Palearctic.

A large group of birders turned up at lunch and their guide told Jose that they’d seen a pygmy owl in the palms just outside our cabin. We spent some time looking for it with little success, until someone else told Jose where exactly he’d seen them standing to view it. With this information I managed to find it and it was clear straightaway that the ID they had given us was wrong – whilst it was certainly a small owl, it didn’t have the distinctive rounded appearance of a pygmy owl and furthermore it had very evident ear tufts. It was in fact a Pacific Screech-Owl* – a bird that I’d come across in my prep but had expected to be much larger, say Tawny Owl size – a great example of where looking at photos only tells you part of the story. This was going to be a recurring theme with the various hummingbird species.

Pacific Screech-Owl

Once we’d found the owl, we took the car down to the dock to see what we could find. As I’d hoped, there were a good number of Royal Terns* perched on the railings, just as I’d seen on the website! A lover of all terns, and with another couple months to wait for our summer breeding terns to return to Shetland, I was really hoping for a tern fix. The Royal Terns are a very smart-looking and large tern species with bright orange bills. I’d hoped that I might be able to pick out some other terns species amongst them, particularly the similar-looking Elegant Tern, but wasn’t able to spot any. There were also a large number of gulls roosting on the floor of the dock, which I believe all to be Laughing Gulls*, in various stages of plumage.

Royal Tern

The heat down at the dock was intense with no shade available, and I soon began to feel parched, with my heart racing. We took refuge in the mangrove trees (having checked for crocodiles) and tried to get a closer look at a large number of waders which were roosting on the beach. In the end we had to leave many of them unidentified, but could conclude that the flock did include a large number of Semi-palmated Plovers* as well as a large number of sandpiper sp.

Lots of tiny waders – wish I’d been able to better appreciate them, I was feeling pretty lousy with the heat at this point.

Very grateful that we’d brought the car down to the dock we piled back in and with the air conditioning on, drove the local roads to see what birds we could find, ending up at a viewpoint which gave us great views of the landscape and over to the mountains of the Nicoya Peninsula. We stayed until sunset watching the birds flitting around the trees and had great sightings of a White-necked Puffbird*.

White-necked Puffbird

White-lored Gnatcatcher

Finally we saw our first hummingbirds – Ruby-throated Hummingbird* and then a Canivet’s Emerald*. Having tried to familiarise myself with some of the hummingbird species prior to the trip, I never managed to look at all the possible species (there are around 50) and as it turned out, both these species were completely unknown to me.

Ruby-throated Hummingbird

Canivet’s Emerald

The views as the sun went down were spectacular as was the almost full moon, with sound effects provided by the howler monkeys. We briefly had some company from a young couple who looked like they were planning to have a romantic sunset together – they didn’t hang around long, so I guess we spoilt their plans.

All in all, a fantastic first day and a good introduction to Costa Rica without being completely overwhelming. My pre-trip prep meant that a good number of species were a little familiar to me, however some, such as the Rufous-backed Wren were completely new.

Having started the day feeling that I was coping surprisingly well with the heat, the effect that the short period we had out in the open at the dock was a reality check. So were the warnings about crocodiles and not leaving your shoes or bag open on the floor in case a scorpion climbed in. An oddity I noticed in our room was that the beds were both pushed about a foot away from the wall on all sides – this was explained later in the trip as being another practice that is used to reduce the risk of creepy crawlies climbing up the walls and dropping onto your bed!

Bird Species Count – 29 (Lifers – 27)

Montserrat

For the final day of my trip I planned a visit to Montserrat, the ‘serrated mountain’, which is about 25 miles from Barcelona and had the dual attractions of hiking opportunities and a monastery complete with boys’ choir who sing daily. A day on a mountain followed by Vespers seemed the perfect way to bring my trip to a close, but the practicalities weren’t as easy to bring together due to the timings of the last train/cable car down from the mountain. I had an early start, but managed to find time for a short stop at a cafe for my now traditional cafe con leche, accompanied by a croissant, on the way to the metro.

The connection to the train was uneventful, helped by the convenient numbering system which makes it easy to identify both the right platform and the right train when it arrives. I had to stand for the first 15 minutes it so, but once we had left Barcelona there was a bit more seating room. The highest point of Montserrat, Santa Jeroni, is 1236m which, if it were in Scotland would put it up there with the ten highest mountains. It’s all the more striking as it’s not surrounded by other mountains and really looms over the town of Monistrol at its foot.

Although there is parking on the mountain, the typical tourist options are to take either the cable car or the rack railway (Cremellana) up to the abbey. I had decided though to hike up, and had the choice of two routes. When I got out of the train at Monistrol Aeri (where the cable car also starts) I looked up at the side of the mountain and it looked pretty daunting. It’s a steep mountain with quite a lot of rocky outcrops and I wasn’t too sure whether I would cope with the exposure of the path. I did briefly consider taking the cable car up and saving my hiking for the top of the mountain but I really wanted to do what I’d set out to.

After a short stretch along the side of the main road, the path off to the monastery was easy to spot (one reason I’d chosen this route rather than the alternative that set off from the next station) and I was soon on the mountain side. There were a few scrambly bits that made a little uncomfortable but nothing too bad. The climb was steep, but not ridiculously so. I’d hoped to have put a little more hiking time in the legs over the past week than I achieved, but even so, I feel like I’ve a bit more strength than I’ve felt for a while.

Tile showing monks, the abbey and the Virgin of Montserrat on the side of a building where the path left the main road

The path was well marked, and I never had any issues with finding it, even through the scrub, much of which was made up of rosemary bushes. Having reached about 300m though I was struggling. There were a couple scrambles which I found uncomfortably exposed and a big stretch. I could see on the map though that the path was going to level off a bit following the contour of the mountain, before joining what looked to be a bigger track. I was hopeful that the hardest stretch was over and that I might feel better, but this turned out to be the worst bit as the path was all of 18” or so wide and with only some low bushes between the edge of the path and thin air. I managed a very short stretch and realised I just couldn’t go on, especially knowing that there was still about the same amount of climbing left to me. I was about half way along this stretch so turning back wasn’t necessarily any better than continuing except that I had no idea what was ahead for the rest of the walk. I had a suspicion it would be better but wasn’t confident enough in that suspicion to continue.

Somewhere around the point where I lost my nerve, although I’d put my camera away by that point as I couldn’t cope any excess movement/weight

So, with shaky legs and palpitations I made my way back, hugging the mountain side and clutching every prickly plant along the way for security. Writing this now (on the plane home, with ironically an even great drop out of my window) I can feel the same squirming in my stomach and sensation of panic building up. I’d walked about 45 minutes uphill and now I had to retrace by steps, along with quite a bit of bum-shuffling down the scrambles. On the way up I’d thought how I’d not like to do the path downhill, but the relief of getting off the mountain side helped. I had one small stop to watch a very determined ant trying to climb up the side of the rocks along with what looked to be a piece of insect exoskeleton that was huge in size compared to its own body. It kept falling back down and then doggedly carrying on back up. That really put my struggles into perspective.

By the I reached the cable car station again I was feeling rather despondent. Two routes up the mountain remained to me, the cable car and the rack railway, whose station was about a 45 minute walk away. The cable car seemed the logical option but, still feeling a bit trembly, a bit daunting. I was beginning to think I had taken on something that was beyond me, but I was determined to get up there, so I stood in the queue for the cable car and had about an hour to collect myself as a train had disgorged a large number of passengers just as I arrived and the cable car could only take 28 at a time.

Finally I was shepherded onto the cable car and tried to squash my nerves, taking a spot right in the middle and distracting myself by chatting with a group of Americans and their tour leader. The journey was ok, and the views spectacular, but when we arrived at the top I needed to scuttle away quite quickly through all the people who were dithering around near to the exit so that I could find a spot a little less close to the edge where I could relax a little. It’s an odd experience arriving at the little village which is perched on a crevice in the mountain at about 700m altitude and is bustling with activity with hotels, restaurants and plenty of cars parked up, I’m more used to Scottish mountains after all.

My first stop was at the tourist information to ascertain whether I would be able to get back off the mountain using the train after vespers. Oh yes, no problem was the answer. The last train down to the bottom goes at 7.15 and vespers will be finished by then. I had a few doubts but as there was one further train that only went partway to a car park at least there was a back up option.

The second order of business was to get a hiking map and some advice on whether the paths were going to be just as scary as those of the way up. I had the feeling that the staff may be trained to discourage people from the path to the summit at Sant Jeroni which was the longest hike they described but still only estimated as 1h15min walk in each direction. With a couple other options circled on the map and my confidence low I headed to the funicular as it gave me access to a walk back down to the monastery. I felt discouraged, to be honest, that I wasn’t doing what I set out to, but having ‘cheated’ by taking the cable car up I could no longest be purist about my hike, which has actually been a pretty good theme for this trip!

There are two funiculars on the mountain, the other of which is currently out of action, and I was horrified to see workmen climbing on it from the cable car. The funicular journey was a short trip taking us up about 230m over a distance of 500m. At the top I was reassured to see lovely wide paths, more at home in a country park than up a mountain but very reassuring to me at this point.

The hiking routes from Pla de les Tarantules, at the top of the Sant Joan funicular

Feeling a bit better, I decided to start with a 45 minute out and back hike to a number of chapels. The views were tremendous but still rather shaky I was hugging the inside of the path, shuddering at the people on the outside of the path posing for selfies. It was around that stretch that I got talking to an Australian lady, who was roughly of Mum and Dad’s vintage. She and her husband were on a 9 week tour of Europe and I was curious to know where they’d been. Imagine my surprise to find that not only had they just come from Manchester, but that they’d stayed with family in the house 3 doors down from Granny’s house. This little coincidence gave me a great boost, and made me feel better about the way my day was going as I would most likely never have bumped into her if my day had gone according to plan. In the end I made it most of the way along this trail, but turned around a little bit before the end when the trail narrowed and became more exposed with a scary looking set of steps. Exciting perhaps only to me on this section where what I believe to be alpine swifts swooping back and forth over our heads.

The final stretch before I turned around and walked back

Having regained some confidence and with about 4 hours ahead of me until vespers I decided I had plenty of time to attempt the longer walk to Sant Jeroni as had been my original plan. This trail was certainly less popular than the other and narrower, but had good barriers on the side where necessary and felt fine to me. Finally I felt like I’d escaped the more touristy side of the mountain and could enjoy the scenery and the experience a bit more. The mountain truly is dramatic, with steep drops and huge vistas along with giant rock formations some of which were being tackled by climbers. The times when the path passed through the woods gave some much needed shade and a bit of relief from the exposure that still caught me out now and again. The main part of the climb up to the summit comes towards the end of the hike and whilst it was effortful, I’ve done harder hikes, although before I became too smug it shouldn’t be forgotten that I had skipped an uphill section at the start by taking the funicular. There was a big party of primary school kids who seemed to have managed it and were all smiling and happily high fived me with a cheery hola when I stopped to let them past.

Sant Jeroni path – there were climbers on the rocks ahead

If you look hard you can just about see the winding around the rock formations

The views approaching the summit were fantastic, but unfortunately my camera battery was empty by this point and I had to rely on my phone for the rest of the hike

The last 30m or so of the climb took you up a set of steps built into the rock formation. I was dubious I’d manage it, but figured I’d try it. I only got a couple steps up before deciding that it really wasn’t for me. I was, I’ll admit, somewhat comforted that the lady coming up behind me only got a couple steps further than me before coming to the same conclusion. I was a little sad not to see the views from the very top as there’s something special about a full 360 degree vista but I suspect I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it much! Time then to turn tail and hike back to the monastery. I stopped for a few minutes to look at the Sant Jeroni chapel which had been surrounded by a group of chattery Germans on the way up but was now deserted. It was another plain building, most notable for the presence of a desfibril-lador (defibrillator) on one side. I’ve seen plenty around in public areas on this trip but this did seem the most bizarre location.

The final set of steps heading up the rock formation and someone at the summit at the back of the photo

Not long after the chapel the return path to the monastery split off and wound downwards through the woods. My feet were beginning to feel the weight of the day’s walking by this stage, although my legs felt as strong as the start. I enjoyed the wooded section but the last part of the walk was a bit daunting with an endless set of steps winding along the side of the mountain again, twisting and turning to its contours. It certainly wasn’t as exposed as previous sections but it did feel a bit daunting coming at the end of the long day. It was quite a relief to catch sight of the village ahead and walk down the last steps and find myself a bench to sit on and rest.

The rock formations never failed to appeal

A nice set of steps, with no drop to either side

The village was finally back in sight, though it still felt too far away on tired legs

My aborted attempt to climb from the bottom, the cable car and funicular and finally my hike

I found myself back with about an hour and a half before Vespers so I thought I’d find something to eat. Despite being a touristy site though, nowhere was serving food it being too late for lunch and too early for dinner. Time then to dig out the emergency chocolate ration that I’d purchased before setting of on my hike. Apparently made by the monks and flavoured with crema catalana. To be honest it was rather odd tasting and I can’t say I’d recommend it.

The basilica was a rather dark building and very ornately decorated. Truthfully I was too tired to appreciate it. Although early for Vespers I found myself a pew and allowed the praying the Rosary to wash over me. High up behind the altar is a statue of the Virgin of Montserrat, and there was a steady stream of people climbing up to her and paying her homage. As the Rosary came to a conclusion, the monks started filtering into the pews around the altar. Expecting a procession of choristers to follow I was disappointed when one of the monks opened the service and I realised that there was to be no choir that day. Still, there was something very evocative about being part of this daily office and thinking about the monks living their lives up on the mountainside. The service was in Catalan, and reminded me that I’d read about the monastery being a protector of the Catalan language and people. It wasn’t the musical experience I’d been looking forward to, indeed some monks were clearly more musical than others, but an emotional one nonetheless.

As the service drew to a close I rushed out to catch the train down only to find, as I somewhat suspected, that I’d just missed it. Fortunately my feet were feeling better after their short rest as I was going to have to walk the final stretch to the station after all. After 15 minutes of waiting I was the only passenger in this last train down and very glad of its warmth. After some stumbling around the multi-storey car park I found the way out and was relieved to find myself within the little town of Monistrol in a matter of minutes and not walking along a dark road the whole way as I’d feared. This walk I’d dreaded became something to enjoy as the village was quite attractive even at night, and I thought that in daylight it would be worth making the walk up to this other station rather than taking the train from the main station just have a better look.

I didn’t stop to read the information, but I assume this was the original train up to the village (at Monistrol Vila station)

Finally at the station I had another 20 minute wait for the train back to Barcelona, and eventually arrived there at about 10pm. Although I was worn out and had another early start in the morning to catch my flight, I took advantage of Spanish restaurant hours and stopped at one of the places I’d visited the night before. I’d seen a tempting plate of what looked like wild mushrooms being brought to another customer, so the garlic mushrooms seemed like a good choice and then with the help of google translate, I decided on Cazón en Adobo (fried, marinated fish). The mushrooms, when they arrived, were sadly just your typical garlic mushroom, nothing wild about them, but good nonetheless. The fish was delicious, with a very good herby coating. I walked the remaining 5 minutes back to my lodgings feeling that my day had been a success although certainly not as planned.

Sant Feliu de Guixols

My original plan for today was to walk to Tossa de Mar, which sounds like a fantastic old town and well worth seeing. It’ll have to wait for another trip though as given the terrible weather forecast I ended up changing my plans. Having had a hard time sleeping two nights ago as it was too warm, last night found me tossing and turning until 2am, and eventually falling asleep once snuggled under two extra blankets. It was a night of frequent awakenings and most peculiar dreams and at 7am I was wide awake and listening to the rain pouring down. The more I thought about it, the less good an idea it seemed to follow my original plan as the remaining two days were the most demanding yet with no good options for bailing out part way and complicated travel plans at the far end. With the blister and thunderstorms forecast, discretion seemed to be advised. After much thinking on my options I decided to find out if my room would be available for another night, in which case I could backtrack up the coast tomorrow, filling in the missing part of yesterday’s hike, and then catch the bus back to El Prat airport. Fortunately that wasn’t a problem, and having organised to extend my stay, I was able to head into town to find some breakfast.

I wandered along to the market square where there was a lone trader selling fruit and found a cafe in the market hall where I acquired a coffee and a sandwich. I had not, however, reckoned with the Catalan taste for rubbing their bread with tomatoes, and some minor surgery was required to remove the seeds before eating.

As it was now dry, and there looked to be a minor break in the rain, I decided to visit the Ermita Sant Elm, on a hill overlooking the city. This necessitated a good steep climb up some steps and I was really pleased to see how easily I managed them.

The Ermita was attractive with good views out along the coast, but unfortunately it wasn’t possible to get inside so my visit was very short.

I decided to extend my walk and try to find a path back down to sea level in the hope of walking back to town alongside the coast. Unfortunately my route took me along a dead end, but there was plenty of bird life to enjoy, including a robin perched on a cactus, which seemed to me to be a very strange sight, and my first ever crested tit.

Having identified the little path that would drop down to the sea, I confidently started down the steps, only to find that they vanished into the scrub. I followed the path, getting soaked by the bushes I had to brush past but it all looked dubious and narrow, perched on the side of the hill. I chickened out, and returned to the road to consult the map. As I did so, a gentleman appeared and posed a question in rapid Spanish. Having ascertained that English would get us further he told me that he was French and used to visit here and walk this way in the past. Emboldened I thought I’d give it another go, with the reassurance of company, but no sooner had we turned the corner onto the rough trail again, he said, ‘well, there used to be a good path here, but anyway, I have to get back to my family who are waiting in the car.’ And with that he was gone! I tried again to follow the path, got about 3m further than the first attempt, panicked again and gave up on that option. Instead I followed the road thinking that I could carry on a bit further and get to the coast that way. Once I reached the main road though I had a proper look at the map and realised that there was no continuous coastal path back to Sant Feliu as I had thought, and that really I would be better turning back. Since there was an option of a forest track, I took that. It was a strange experience being in the midst of forest that didn’t make seem so different from home, and then suddenly happening upon some cacti. There was also an unexpected ghost like silver tabby kitten who sadly turned tail and ran whenever it saw me.

After a few double backs when I hit a main road, I found my way through the forest and back towards the town. By the time I got back I’d walked about 8km and although the pain was bearable, the blister was making its presence felt. I certainly felt that walking double the distance with twice the amount of climbing would not have been so sensible, although with the sun coming out, I did wonder if I should have pressed on to Tossa after all.

Rather than going straight to my hotel I decided to stop for a look at the monastery, which also houses a museum. Although it was interesting to see a small glimpse into the life’s of the town and monastery from the items on display, the one thing that really grabbed me were two huge books of illuminated plainchant. How I wish I could have taken them out of their display cabinet and looked through the pages.

After a short break back at the hotel, I went out for some lunch and found a great little cafe just off the market square. As I was sat enjoying my meal, my decision to stay in town today was backed up by the arrival of the anticipated thunderstorms and torrential rain, which encouraged me to order a dessert and drag out the drinking of my espresso as long as I could.

On the way back to my hotel I stopped and looked at the yoga studio next door. It would be lovely to do some yoga, I thought. There was a schedule on the door, and before I could think too hard about it and hold myself back I opened the door and asked the man on reception if I could come to class that evening. Of course, it wasn’t quite as simple as just asking, but with the help of some French we established that I’d done yoga before, and didn’t have a mat with me, and lo I was booked in for 8.30 class.

I spent the rest of the afternoon snuggled up on the comfy sofa in the living room of the hotel looking at my photos and updating the blog whilst I listened to what sounded like a waterfall outside. Looking out of the window later I saw that where there had only been weeds growing earlier there was now a fast flowing stream.

Come dinner time I headed back to the same little cafe where I took my place at the same seat I’d had at lunch. It didn’t take long to make my choice as I’d been admiring the dishes on the table next to me at lunch. The good thing about tapas is that if you make the right choices you can have something quite light and suitable for a pre-yoga meal.

It’s amazing how something like yoga can be both utterly familiar and utterly different everywhere you go. Going to a class in another style and another language made me realise just how attuned I am to my usual practice, even if the classes differ every time. The studio was lovely and the class small. When it was time for Savasana the teacher came around each of us and put a pillow under our knees, a blanket over us, and the next placed a wee eye pillow on us. As I left after class I received a very whiskery double cheek kiss – I had the feeling that his day had been brightened by the presence of a random foreigner dropping in as much as mine had been by attending. What a lovely way to finish a special, and very different than planned, day.

Sant Feliu wanderings: 8.58km, 278m ascent/275m descent, 2h57min

Palamos to Sant Feliu de Guixols

After a poor night’s sleep due to the heat, the first order of the day was to venture into the local Lidl, conveniently across the road from my AirBnb to try and find some plasters for the blisters on my left foot and a new iPhone cable to replace the almost useless one I’d brought with me. I succeeded with the plasters but no joy with the phone cable so I followed GoogleMaps to a local electronics store, which turned out to be closed despite its stated opening hours. I thought about not bothering but given that the phone/iPad hold all my information for the trip decided that it was worth continuing onwards to the next shop on offer in the opposite direction to today’s planned hike, after stopping to patch up my feet! As luck would have it, I rounded a corner to find a ‘dollar store’ type emporium and could see a display of cables from the street. Problem solved, it was time to turn around and head southwards along the beach.

The first 3km or so were indeed along this very long stretch of beach and I began to feel that I would never leave Palamós.

A middle aged gentleman (I feel I must stop saying this as I may be classed as middle aged myself now) passed me 3 times on his roller blades and there were plenty of dogs being walked. The forecast was for rain today and there were a spots but nothing that amounted to a shower. Finally the end of the beach came into sight and with it the promise of some more interesting scenery.

Almost as soon as the path left the long beach and turned a corner away from Palamós there was a drop down to a small rocky beach. It was clearly sign posted with a cross indicating that it was off the walking route but I was keen for a small sit down to enjoy the solitude and view. I was joined about 2 minutes later by a couple walking their chihuahua, who was sporting an Adidas hoodie (well, I think I may have imagined the hood) who was very interested in the macadamia nuts I was enjoying for my breakfast.

I’d been a little unsure what to expect from this stretch as from the map it looks rather built up. The great thing about this coast though, is like a good ecosystem, it is built up in layers and to each their own habitat. At sea level, some stunning coves each differing from the last. After 3 days it still surprises me how one beach will be fine sand, the next rocky and the next large grained sand. A little above sea level are the paths, hugging the hillside and dipping down to wander along the beaches. Higher still are the houses I could see marked on the map, but they mostly didn’t intrude, although they often have their own beach access via the main paths.

I find the pathways between the beaches almost as appealing as the scenery itself, and there was plenty of variety today, including a few tunnels through the hillside. There was one place where you had to clamber over the rocks between one beach and the next, and timing was key to avoid a splashing.

Although the plasters had helped I was struggling a bit because of the blister on the sole of my foot and never managed to get into a comfortable walking rhythm, frustrating as my legs were full of energy. The scenery was fantastic, though, and I stopped for many photos along the way. I was amused to come across one small beach whose sign had been ‘updated’ to indicate that nudists were at large and photography was therefore prohibited. With not a single nudist in sight I disregarded their instructions!

As I approached Platja D’Aro the anticipated rain made its appearance. By this point I was beginning to think that walking the whole distance to Sant Feliu might not be the smartest idea, particularly given the two longer days of hiking (with plenty of climbing) still to come. My plans having been very much determined by availability of places to stay and public transport back to Barcelona at the end of the trip I knew that today was also the easiest day to cut short as the bus I’d taken to Begur stopped at Platja D’Aro, S’Agaro (the next town along) and Sant Feliu. With two possible exit routes in mind, I thought I’d stop for lunch and see how I felt.

Finally I rounded a corner and Platja D’Aro was in full sight. Never have I been so glad to see a rather uninteresting looking beach town! Even this close to town there was a fantastic little beach with glorious clear water and I really wonder why people are attracted to dull, long, sandy beaches. Although, as it was raining heavily by this point there was nobody sunbathing anywhere.

I didn’t spend any time trying to identify the best lunch option, but simply took advantage of the first place I came to. It was bright and friendly, but there was only myself, two North American girls and a middle aged Brit at the table next to me who somewhat disconcertingly held an audible, but incomprehensible, conversation with his beer throughout the duration of my meal. I’d intended to take advantage of the menu del dia but having been handed a full menu I choose from that instead. The challenge of being a solo traveller in Spain is that many dishes are really intended for sharing, and certain items, such as paella are generally only available for 2 or more people. Given they had the option of a single person paella I had to go for it although I knew it wasn’t likely to be the best one as a result. I also ordered a portion of patatas bravas ignoring the advice ‘dishes for sharing’ at the top of the page. Well, they were delicious, and despite the vastness of the portion I ate them all, and still found plenty of room for my paella. Having noted yesterday that drinking at lunchtime was probably not the best of ideas with an afternoon of walking ahead, I nevertheless ordered a glass of red wine in the knowledge that my walking day was done somewhat sooner than expected.

Having polished off this vast quantity of food I looked at the bus schedule I’d so helpfully stored on my phone. I nearly deleted it having completed my journey to Begur, but I’m glad I didn’t. There was a bus due in 20 minutes, and the next one wasn’t wouldn’t be along for another 2 hours, so I packed myself up without a coffee and headed out into the pouring rain. The waiter looked horrified as I left and suggested I stay a little longer. ‘Autobus’, I replied sadly to explain my rush. ‘Ah, si’, said he, and let me go. Thankfully the bus stop was only a 5 minute walk from the restaurant and in no time I was on my way to Saint Feliu de Guixols. Although I may have missed some more good scenery the weather was miserable and I was also saved some trekking through town which looked decidedly uninteresting.

20 minutes later I was in Sant Feliu and found my hotel easily, just a few minutes walk from the bus station and opposite the monastery, which I thought I might investigate later. The hotel wasn’t staffed, but a quick phone call and the very friendly owner arrived. His English being much better than my Spanish we were able to converse a little. He looked rather impressed by my plans for tomorrow, which is slightly unnerving, but I am hopeful my foot will be feeling a little better and the weather more in my favour.

The hotel room is basic and old fashioned, but has everything I need, namely a bed (two, in fact!), a hot shower and an electrical outlet. There are very comfy sofas downstairs where there is wifi access, but it took me a while to check those out as having warmed up in the shower I fell asleep for the rest of the afternoon. The rain never did stop, so I probably wouldn’t have have gone out exploring anyway. Finally around 8pm, which is still earlier than most Spaniards would go out for dinner, the torrent came to an end and I ventured out for some food. Most of the options I’d identified on Google Maps were closed today but I found a tapas bar that looked promising. When I arrived the waitress was stood outside smoking and there were no other customers at all. I decided to stay regardless and soon had a plate of Pedron peppers and some delicious garlicky razor clams in front of me. The bar brightened up with 3 more customers during my meal, and I savoured a slow coffee whilst writing this post.

Palamos to Platje D’Aro: 7.07km, 105m ascent/102m descent, 3h20min

Begur to Tamariu

After a run of night shifts I had a 2.45am start to drive to Edinburgh airport for my hiking trip in Catalunya. To add to the usual anxieties of getting up in time for my flight and finding the right bus on arrival to take me from Barcelona airport up the coast, there was an additional concern, the protests that were taking place following the sentencing of some Catalonian independence leaders. In the end, the biggest challenge was indeed identifying the location of the bus, though I was eventually helped by a friendly bus driver who made sure I knew exactly where to stand in wait, and I was relieved not to see any sign of the protests nor to have my travel plans delayed in any way.

Prior to the trip I debated back and forth with myself about the best starting and finishing points and how far to walk each day. In the end all these aspects were defined by the practicalities of finding convenient public transport back to Barcelona and the number of days I had available once I’d factored in a day of guided birding as well. Nonetheless on the day of departure i knew where I would be staying the night but hadn’t totally committed to a departure point for the hike. Begur was the sensible option, giving an roughly 8km walk, whereas Pals, which was 6km further just sounded really attractive and worth seeing. In the end common sense won out and I bought myself a ticket for Begur. With the bus ride taking over 3 hours and sunset at 7pm that only left me about 3.5 hours and I needed to get something to eat before heading off on my hike. I dozed for the first stretch of the trip along the motorway, but woke as we reached the coast and stopped at towns I’d be passing through on my walk.

Arriving in Begur the bus stopped just around the corner from a little square with a viewpoint over to the castle on the hill opposite. After stopping for my first photographs of the trip I went to a little cafe in the square for a quick meal. Having been attracted by the word tapas, the only menu I was given was the three course menu of the day, so I went for that, trying croquettes, fideua and cream catalana and setting off rather more full that expected. Still, between night shifts and travelling, I wasn’t sure when I’d last had an actual meal.

I had a very small explore of the town centre before heading off to find my way to the GR92, the long distance route I’d be following for most of the trip. I was slightly nervous about the start of the hike which would involve walking side of a winding country road, but in the event I only saw a couple of cars, neither going particularly fast so it wasn’t an issue.

It didn’t take too much hiking to bring me to my first way marker and then my first official view of the sea (the unofficial one views earlier being from the air and the bus). At this point I was some 250m up on the cliffs looking down to sea and along the coast to my destination which was somewhere hidden in the mist ahead. The drop down towards sea level was a steep and rough one and certainly would have been a good challenge going in the opposite direction at the end of a day’s hike.

My first views of the sea and the coastline I’d be walking along

The final stretch into Tamariu took me away from the coast again and through a forested area. It was easy to find my way through the town and to my hotel. Having checked in, I wandered down to the beach where I found a couple of restaurants to choose from for my dinner. My decision was made based on the one which offered up squid, alongside which I had a glass of wine and grilled sardines for the main course. The latter were very tasty but far too much effort to work around the bones.

Begur to Tamariu: 8.16km, 223m ascent/423m descent, 2h 50min

Shetland (2) – Houss

The day started off bright and sunny and I took advantage of it for a small potter around the neighbourhood, first discovering the not so native wildlife, in the form of emus and wallabies. I was more interested in finding native wildlife, but the hoped for curlews were not in sight, although I did find an obliging pair of wrens.

I then headed along to the shore, startling plenty of rabbits and lapwings along the way. I was treated to fly bys from fulmar, lapwings, a bonxie and what I think were a group of whimbrel but nothing that I managed to get decent photos of.

I finally lucked out with a group of 3 ruddy turnstones (in non-breeding plumage) who were too busy feeding in the seaweed to be too perturbed by my presence.

I finished my walk with a short leg inland back to Jen’s place in the hope of finding some signs of the otter. I think I spotted some spraint amongst the geese and sheep droppings, but I’m not totally sure.

A couple hours later the weather changed and the rain came pouring down. Time to settle in with a cup of cocoa and my knitting – my sock is coming along apace. Given the weather, no walks planned for this evening, but a visit to the moving pictures in Lerwick instead, to see ‘Children of the Snow Land’, a documentary about Nepali teenagers, which is showing as part of the Screenplay festival.

Shetland (1) – A Circumnavigation of Houssness

After a busy morning doing all the housework and admin that had been left abandoned whilst I was on a long run of shifts, I headed up to Aberdeen to take the M/V Hjaltland (aka the North Boat) up to Shetland. After a delightfully peaceful train journey with some lovely views of the coast, I was treated with a calm passage and the glories of a cabin to myself. Despite leaving our berth at Aberdeen harbour 15 minutes ahead of schedule, we didn’t actually leave Aberdeen itself for a while, thanks to the requirement to swing the boat’s compass, which basically mean that we performed slow pirouettes for the best part of two hours. As a bonus though, we did see some dolphins, or possibly porpoises, in the distance whilst we were waiting.

Once underway we made good speed and caught up all the time we had lost, arriving in Lerwick at our scheduled arrival time of 7.30am. The light was glorious and as I drank a cup of tea out on deck, it felt like the perfect start to my holidays. We stopped for breakfast at the Fjara cafe/restaurant and watched for seals (no joy) before braving the supermarket and heading back home. I spent some quality time working on the sock I’m (re)knitting and then just before we headed out for a late afternoon walk we had a fantastic otter sighting.

Our walk took us widdershins along the coast and we flushed an incredible number of snipe along the way, along with seeing bonxies (great skua), curlew, cormorants, great black backed gulls, northern fulmars and a couple of ruddy turnstones.

Mundy Park

One of the strangest things about coming to Canada these days is changing base from New Westminster to Coquitlam. We’re unbelievably lucky though to have a good friend of my mum’s who’s happy to not just host us, but also mother us, whilst we’re here. It’s also been a great opportunity to discover some new places.

My first morning here Jen, Dad and I went for a walk around the local park. Just 10 minutes down the road and marked by a typical, unassuming green square on GoogleMaps, I was totally unprepared for what we found – a 400 acre rainforest hiding just behind a shopping mall.

We didn’t even manage to set foot in the park before we spotted the first bird – a stunning little yellow chap, flitting around in an evergreen. It was very fast moving and the branches were thick, but fortunately it flew over to a smaller tree where I could get a slightly better look, and a fuzzy photo. Back at home with the bird book and the help of a Facebook group dedicated to British Columbia birds, it was identified as a Wilson’s warbler.

The park was fantastic with tall, tall trees which helped create a barrier against the street noise and plenty of decaying trunks. After the bright sunlight, the shade was very welcome.

We only explored a fraction of the park and I hope we have time to visit again before we leave. There was plenty of wildlife around, as we could tell from the birdsong, but not much that we actually managed to see – a couple American robins (unrelated to our European robins, and actually members of the thrush family) and two Eastern grey squirrels, which I must confess look slightly odd to me now after our beautiful reds back at home. There are also black bear and deer, although we didn’t see any signs of either of them.

Back outside the park, the sun was glaring and I was missing my sunglasses.

Back on our own street there were two Northern Flickers on show – stunning woodpeckers with a lovely spotted breast. Far, far at the top of a tree (remember, everything’s bigger in North America) was another American Robin singing gustily.

Colony Farm Regional Park

Our second trip out for the day was with a friend from Shetland to Colony Farm park. Situated on the Coquitlam river, there are great views to the snow capped mountains on one side and the Port Mann bridge on the other with a soundscape of birdsong and freight train whistles.

It didn’t take long for me to start lagging behind as I tried to get decent sightings on birds. The first is, I believe, a song sparrow – one of a vast array of New World Sparrows which are rather larger than our Old World Sparrows.

There were swallows flitting above us catching insects and a couple of them had the good grace to perch for a short while so I could see them a little more closely. The barn swallow was particularly obliging, allowing me to get close enough for reasonable photos, a task made more challenging by the fact that the branch was bouncing around in the wind.

Further along we spotted our second yellow bird of the day, this one identified as an American Goldfinch.

The absolute highlight though were the Rufous Hummingbirds. Tiny creatures who beat their wings about 60 times a second and whose hearts can beat 1200 times a minute, getting a close view of one out in the wild is a challenge indeed. This one was on the top of a tree and heavily cropped. It features a stunning ‘gorget’ – a patch of throat feathers which gleam like metal when they catch the light.

Pine Martens

Having joined a couple of Scottish wildlife photography groups on Facebook recently, I’ve been getting all sorts of useful tips on where to find local wildlife. Amongst these was Nature Nuts Photography who run day trips to see mountain hares and beavers (amongst others) and also have a hide, just an hour or so away from me, where you can see Pine Martens. Needless to say, I was pretty keen on this idea and took advantage of my week off work to book a visit. Since Mum had come up to stay with me, the timing was perfect.

We found the hide easily enough and settled in to watch the birds. Fortunately the hide has a heater as it was -3C. I was delighted to see my first ever brambling, although my photos of it aren’t so great as it kept hiding amongst the chaffinches. The treecreeper and woodpeckers were my other favourites amongst the avian kind. Bob, who runs Nature Nuts, was a fount of information about all the local wildlife. Usually there are plenty of squirrel visitors, but none of them decided to show themselves for us, unfortunately. Although the day had started off quite bright, it had dulled by the time we arrived at the hide, and we were under the cover of trees so the lighting conditions were a little hard for the camera, and I had to shoot at a high ISO to compensate.

Once it hit about 4.30pm the birds left us and we had a bit of a wait until it grew dark. Just as dusk was falling, but before we had the lights on, we spotted some movement in the distance. Something dark and close to the ground. About 5 minutes later the shape passed by again, much closer to us. Almost certainly the dog pine marten, really quite a large chap. He didn’t hang around for long, though.

Bob got the lights set up and we waited again, with the hope of a sighting of ‘Donna’ who tends to show up quite consistently in the early evening. Sure enough, at around 6pm she appeared out of nowhere and jumped up onto the logs in front of us. Although she was clearly aware of our presence, she didn’t seem at all perturbed by us, and concentrated on clearing up some of the remaining bird seed. After 5-10 minutes she moved into the light and posed for us – what a beautiful sleek creature.

Once she wandered off we thought that the show was probably over, but we waited patiently, just in case. Then, unexpectedly, I saw a small face poking up and looking around uncertainly. This marten was more shy and took a little while before she dared climb up on to the logs. It was clear that she was less comfortable, perhaps worried about the male we had seen earlier, as she frequently checked over her shoulder to be sure that she was alone. Bob is pretty sure that this was ‘Bonny’, one of last year’s kits.

We waited around for quite a while after Bonny left. We had one false alarm when we thought we saw the lights coming on again, but it turned out to be a vehicle instead. All in all, a fantastic afternoon/evening.