Herds of wild horses have been known to attack people–would this herd be one those? I was alone in the Pyrenees mountains, quite out of my comfort zone. I had been hiking and climbing upwards for well over two hours to reach this remote spot, at about 2,500 meters of elevation, high above the tree level and I had no cellular phone coverage. I had been worried in places about falling and breaking something, but I didn’t imagine this situation and feeling this vulnerable and alone. I didn’t even mean to come this far. About a half hour earlier I had planned to turn around but, as I kept looking at a waterfall in the distance, about a hundred meters high, flowing over a ridge, I had the urge to keep on going. The view would be great from up there I thought.
The trail was dizzingly steep and slippery along the falls. I questioned my sanity in continuing. But as I crested the ridge, I saw the horses maybe twenty of them, about fifty metres away, on a ridge just slightly above where I was. They were not at all as delighted to see me as I was to see them. As I took photos, the horses glanced at me nervously, looked away, glance again, and stirred about nervously.
I was trembling with excitement and maybe a bit of fear as tried to get some photos of these beasts, with the mountain peaks behind them. I decided to put on a long telephoto lens so I could get some close ups of individual animals without upsetting them more. Unfortunately as I started changing lens, removing the current lens, one of the horses, a male and the most aggressive, started galloping back and forth in front of the herd. He had a shiny black coat and a shockingly long and messy mane that waved and flapped in the air as he moved. Blacky was the name of a neighbour’s horse when I was a kid, and so to me, this too was Blacky. He snorted, lay down on the ground and, while making grunting noises, almost as if laughing, he rolled back and forth on his back, with his feet in the air! Blacky got back upright, and bucked, causing a cloud of dust to explode off of his coat and mane…..I have never seen anything like this. It was so startling and comical, that I forgot I was holding a camera. If only I had video recorded it!
A raptor of some sort, maybe an eagle, screeched high above me. I turned and looked up and wondered if my telephoto lens would be adequate enough to photograph it? Suddenly I was aware of the sound of horse hooves racing toward me. As soon as I had looked away, four of the horses were charging, lead by Blacky. I put my camera down and turned to face them. They slowed to a stop just ten meters or so away. Blacky and the others moved forward a couple of steps. Waited. Then moved forward again. They then slowly moseyed up toward me. Blacky was looking at me carefully. His eyes dark. I was awestruck by how tall and massive the creature was. He was confident and intelligent in his bearing. I reached up with my hand to rub his forehead, wondering if he could sense my fear that he was going to bite me. His face was coated with flies. That’s why he was rolling in the dust I supposed, to get the flies off. I rubbed his forehead. As Blacky and his two buddies got comfortable with me, the whole herd came and surrounded me. I felt as if I had been adopted by the herd and, in my mind, I was being carried away with them.
There was a foal in the group that was black, so maybe he was the offspring of Blacky. He too was spunky and fearless. The foal, as I was told a few days later, was probably the reason why the herd was so aggressive toward me at first, wanting to protect this little guy. But at this moment, he didn’t see me as a threat at all. He was as mischievous as any bold little boy or girl. Whenever I had my back turned he would bite and pull at my camera bag, as if he was playing a trick on me…or because he could smell the crumbs and wrapper of an oatmeal energy bar I had eaten earlier?
An early spring morning walk to the Girona Market, with Elly, Deanna, and Shawn Clark –if only a camera could capture the astonishing scent of wisteria! (Missing from the photo: Mike was at the Gran Premio Miguel Indurain, and Karol-Ann was at the Volta Limburg Classic)
Expectancy. It’s an interesting word.
Six days before leaving for Spain, our financial advisor came to our house to discuss retirement plans. She handed me a document with, among many financial graphs, projections, and illustrations, a colourful chart that was meant–I think–to demonstrate two things: that she was doing a great job in growing our savings (which she most certainly was) and that my wife and I should be financially comfortable until…well…until the far right side of the chart. One line of the chart followed our “Projected Assets.” This indicated that we should not be eating cat food in our retirement unless for some reason, dementia or other dramatic change in food preferences, we chose to. Another line showed “Forecasted Spending” which ran more or less parallel but below the first. That would be a good thing. Below those two lines was a chronological listing of years from 2017 to 2046, the last being labeled two things: 1.“Projected Life Expectancy,” and 2. “90 years”—that’s where the page ends and presumably I do too. I recalled the old adage that nobody wants to live until that age, 90…until of course they are 89. I then spotted another expectancy on the chart: the “Average Male Expectancy” date, something that seemed more likely. If I were lucky enough to get to this point, I would have, let’s say, just 22 more Christmases left. But then, I reminded myself there is an unmarked but another possible expectancy, a more genetic one, whereby if I lived as long as my dad, I would have just 3 more of those family gatherings.
These “expectancies” are not bothersome in of themselves, because as Groucho Marx observed, “Getting older is no problem. You just have to live long enough.” But they did startle me in the way that, say, I have experienced on a long hike before, where I stumbled upon a posted trail map, with the “YOU ARE HERE” marker, and realized I’m suddenly close to the end (Wow, I must have really been enjoying the hike to forget how much ground I’ve covered!). The good news with the trail map example, versus the retirement one, when I passed the finish line, if someone said, “He’s in a better place now,” they’d be referring to an Irish pub.
I prefer other expectancies–the non-statistical ones. The ones that stumble into my awareness. I’m thinking about the warm and hopeful ones, of a new baby coming into the world, or of the coming of first light after a long dark night. Or, from a cold Ottawa winter perspective, the pleasant expectancy of a spring about to arrive.
Spring in Girona
Morning sun finding tulips at the fountain in Plaça de Catalunya, Girona.
A wave of welcome from Mike as we strolled along the Roman Wall.
As Mike suggested, “When in Girona, you need to think ‘Cottage Mindset.’ Rush nothing.” Mike and Elly’s balcony was a good spot for cottage chilling–a place where we shared many conversations over morning coffee and afternoon wine, enjoying the views of the backyard, the Roman Wall, and the mountains, as well as the most blood-red sunsets I have ever seen.
Morning on the balcony, having a café con leche and appreciating the coming of spring, below the Roman Wall.
An afternoon exploration of the Wall, while wondering about its centuries of ghosts. Girona is the city of sieges, with 25 sieges against these walls…with 7 losses where the city was overwhelmed by military force, starvation and/or disease/plague.
The Catedral de Girona dominating the old city and the Riu Onyar–always worth us pausing on the bridge when returning from a café con leche in the Plaça de la Independència.
Early spring foliage along the Rambla.
A favourite meeting place, outside the Federal Café
Joerg and Ann, with wine-assisted smiles!
Mike and Elly looking like movie stars!
The whole crew together: Ann, Deanna, Mike, Shawn, Karol-Ann, and Joerg at Federal Café for dinner
Two views from Joerg and Ann’s AirBnB apartment in the old city
Laundry day in Girona.
Like kids! Joerg and Ann stop to share gelato in the Plaça del la Independència, enjoying what Mike calls the best gelato in Girona.
Morning sun burning through fog along the Riu Onyar.
Elly and Shawn joining us at Brots de Vi (Break Out the Wine) restaurant in Girona.
Exploring Basque Country–via the Vuelta al Pais Vasco
A Bike Race is a Good Way to See a lot of Territory!
Where the Retirement Graph had me in the Autumn of life, or even early Winter (depending on which expectancy is chosen), when it comes to being a fan of the UCI World Tour, I’m a spring baby! There’s a lot to learn.
And to watch a World Tour stage race live, like the Vuelta Ciclista al Pais Vasco, you have to plan…a lot. The races typically cover large geographical areas, requiring long car drives and hotel hopping. You have to plan out the details of each day, accounting for road closures, crowds, parking, If it is a key race, you have to arrive hours ahead of time to find a good viewing spot.
And sometimes serendipity is key–one of the days, we found an Irish pub with Europort TV race coverage, just a 100 metres from the finish line. We saw the race develop on tv until the last 10km and ran to the finish line to see it end!
San Sebastian–as a newbie spectator of World Pro Tour, I am overwhelmed at times by the complexity and richness of the sport: who-is-who and what team is doing what to the other 20+ teams. While picking out a favourite rider is not too difficult when everyone is sitting still at the start, Deanna and I are still slowly getting better at spotting that one rider in a peloton moving at 60+kph, among all the other 180+ skinny guys in helmets and sunglasses and in mind boggling arrays of colours.
Mike’s teammate, Alex Howes, in the King of the Mountain Jersey, with Mike waving at me at a neutral start–in San Sebastian
Son and mom at the pre-race sign-in. Mike got us VIP tickets for most of the stages…an extra special way to have access to the riders and special treats like cervaza (beer) at the start and finish of the races.
The Race Day Routine
The stage races typically last 4 to 5 hours each day, starting around 1p.m., which means our mornings and evenings were free to explore the towns and countryside, the food and the wine.
Pamplona. In terms of Life Expectancy, running with the bulls could have an impact (pun intended) based on all the photos we saw in the shops lining the route. The photos typically feature runners with a horn up their buts, being rammed through doors or into walls, or tossed on trajectories into Low Earth Orbit!
Apologies. As an English graduate, I had to visit the Café Iruña (Basque for Pamplona), which is featured in Hemingways “The Sun Also Rises,” and was a hangout for him.
While this statue in Vitoria-Gasteiz commemorates the defeat of the Napolean’s army–it’s part of long history of war and continuous invasions.
A quick stop behind a farmer’s truck, to soak up the experience–long drives on narrow roads, through field after field of Rioja, winding through mountains and valleys.
Views from the finish line in Elciego: on one side there is the modern–the Bodegas Marques de Riscal hotel architected by a Canadian (Frank Gehry).
Views from the finish line in Elciego: on another side there is the old–the Iglesia de San Andres.
Views from the finish line in Elciego: on yet another side (looking up), there’s the crazy–beer happy fans celebrating from the top of the VIP bus, among all the thousands of bike-crazy fans.
Day Trips from Girona: To Figueres to the Dali Museum
You can take photos in the Dali Museum–of all the impressive, the bizarre, the obscene and the popular works. Figuerres is worth the 40 minute train ride.
Chilling in Figueres
Car Trip to Hike Along the Mediterranean
From the top of our hike, looking back at the beach where we started.
Lots of little surprises in tide pools–in amazingly clear water.
Stopping in Cologne: Amazing Winery
A big highlight of the trip was visiting Mas Molla winery in Cologne. Here the wine maker, Monstie, is in an intensely technical wine discussion with Joerg. The winery has been in her family since 1338! The barrels, bottles, dust, spiders, dampness, odours…all seem from a different century!
Round-Trip Bike Ride: Girona to Llagostera
Llagostera, our lunch destination on our 46km bike ride.
Poppies & wild flowers lining the bike path.
Along the bike path, I stopped along this Canola field and reflected proudly that I have either hiked or cycled up to the peaks of the biggest mountains in the immediate background, while enjoying the patchwork of the canola crops and green fields and other spring colours.
Albert, an hospitable Catalan gentleman, not only demonstrated a local tradition, drinking wine from a porron, he bought one for Joerg and I to embarrass ourselves with!
Joerg begins to master the technique of the porron, though as much wine ended up all ourselves as did in our mouths!
Picnic with Mike & Elly’s Friends: to Watch the Sunset
Good wine and friends, while looking over Girona.
Long after the sun had set, and while we were on our walk to our restaurant,”El Cul Del Mon” (Catalan for “The Boonies”), we saw a dark and sinister shape lurking in a field about 50 metres away. Big black dog? Bear cub? It was a wild boar–as confirmed by this enhancement photo!
Last Evening in Girona
So, expectancy is an interesting word. And to me, Life Expectancy is more about this: the anticipation of good things that happen when you mix family and good friends, in interesting places!
