Bonnie’s Story – Part Four – The High Road to Scotland with a Border Collie

March 3, 2014November 16, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

At the end of the last post I was describing how well Bonnie took to her new diet. It was slightly harder for me, a longterm vegetarian. Butchers shops are not comfortable places for me and ordering things in Catalan was difficult. I felt I had to pretend the meat was for us humans, especially if I was ordering steak. Buying lots of human grade meat for your dog is not a common practice in Catalunya, maybe not anywhere.
But I did get borrowed kudos when I started enthusiastically asking for less popular animal parts. Livers, kidneys, hearts….heads and necks….I even spent a few weeks searching for raw tripe only to find the EU has banned its sale.

Did you know that dogs like raw fish – whole and straight from the freezer? Mackeral was popular.

Finding and storing fresh raw meat is harder when you are on the move. In July we set off yet again in the camper van, this time with our noses pointing north to explore the Highlands of Scotland. Bonnie was in the best of health and so I took a flexible approach to her diet – dried food here, sausage and chips there, a chicken wing, half a rabbit.

The weather was very hot right from day one and as we drove north we looked for cooler days but it seemed never to happen and the sunshine followed us all the way to Inverness and beyond. We were so lucky to always find inviting waters

Rivers in France rarely disappoint

Punting in Cambridge. Bonnie was the Queen of the Cam – tourists took photos of her

We passed through London and I showed Bonnie my old home in Stoke Newington. We were going to sleep in the van but our neighbours were still in the same house and invited us to stay overnight. Next morning we walked through the Victorian cemetary that stretches along the back

My Catalan partner finds this interest in old graveyards totally incomprehensible but I like them and loved the view from the back window of my house

It was like living beside a nature reserve and in Spring the dawn chorus was amazing

I have a story to tell about this sculpture but will save it for another time

Visiting Family

We met family all along the route – without planning it we visited almost everyone, even those who are no longer with us. One niece lives near Folkstone where we landed. Then in London we went to my brothers old home, still full of memories both happy and sad after his death the year before. Then to my sister in Cambridge. Up to the borders and another niece and nephew and grand-nephew. After that we headed north with the sun still blazing and met another of my sisters in Newtonmore in the Cairngorms. Close by is the river where my fathers ashes were scattered and as we were also visiting many of his hydroelectric dams we felt that we were really on a family odessey
We were heading for Inverness where I was born but first we took a right turn to Findhorn Bay. It was still incredibly hot and we stopped for some more river swimming before we reached the coast

I was born on the east coast of Scotland but we moved to the west when I was 6. I hadn’t realised it before but my deepest sense of home is in this north eastern corner. So good to take Bonnie there.
The light feels just the right sort of light and the beaches seem like proper beaches

We stayed at the long established New Age Centre and Ecological Community, Findhorn, famous at one time for its huge vegetables grown in sand and apparently aided by nature spirits

Of course we visited the house where I was born in Inverness and also went to see the Dolphins that live in the Moray Firth. Every day there are groups of visitors and professional photographers waiting at the point for the tide to come in bringing fish, and dolphins close behind.

All the coast line is magical.

This is Rosemarkie where I first learned to walk.
My mothers ashes were scattered here so the place is thick with memories and feelings

For the first five years of my life we spent the summers in Rosemarkie.
The Fairy Glen is just as mysterious 50 years on

One day we met a look-alike puppy even more foxy than ours

We headed west through spectacular mountain scenery. Every day was better than the last
Some fellow campers at Fortrose had recommended the free camping at Shieldaig

Heaven on earth – apart from the midges which finally began to attack us at nightfall
Now we were driving southward and stopped to camp on the Silver Sands near Arisaig

Here began the part of the journey requiring Ferries – Caledonian MacBrayne took us from Skye to Mallaig, Mallaig to Rhum, Ardnamurchan to Tobermory on Mull

And finally from Mull to Oban.

Bonnie is used to boats after all her trips to the Scillies and was a natural island hopper

On Mull we camped wild, spending some nights alone in the car park above spectacular Calgary Bay

There is a nature reserve with sculptures nearby – Calgary Art in Nature.
Bonnie with recycled sandpipers

We stayed with my other sister in Port Appin and then slowly made our way out of the mountains down to Glasgow, stopping off to visit the spirits of our aunts in Tighnabruich.

Clutch Foot

In Glasgow we parked the van and finally had a rest from driving. Too late I realised that over 4000km of driving is hard on the legs and I developed tendinitis in my clutch foot which took more than three months to resolve. We visited my niece who lives in a flat overlooking the River Clyde and I felt amazed that this journey had so cleverly wound its way around all the family as well as many of the special places of my childhood.

In early August we arrived in Cornwall – in spite of my ankle we managed to climb Carn Galver

After a month in our lovely cabaña we set off again for Folkstone and the journey through France. My ankle problem meant abandonning the camper van in Cornwall and we bought a little Spanish car in the UK which carried us home.
No more camping so we stayed in hotels.
One rainy night we went dripping into a family hotel in who-knows-where mid France.
They welcomed us and Bonnie with smiles and I had one of the best meals in my life.
Trout with almond sauce.

We took a new route south and passed over the Millau Viaduct

When I was passenger I could have Bonnie with me.

We got home in time for the big Independence demonstration on September 11th.
They took my name! – Via Catalana or The Catalan Way!

I really expect the next episode with be the final one but please don’t avoid it thinking it will be too sad. I leave you today in the late sunshine of that September on the coast road near Sant Pol. There were many more lovely adventures to come. I hope you will accompany us to the gentle peaceful and beautiful end of the story. Till tomorrow my friends

The Coast at Roses

January 24, 2014November 26, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 4 Comments

Back at Sant Nicolau! Tomorrow we leave again which is hard as I love it here but I must admit I am looking forward to fast internet, coffee and cakes with Lydia and Tiffany and the possibility of a hot bath. And Burns Night! We are having our Burns supper on Saturday in Granollers

Today however we were able to enjoy the pleasures of the Costa Brava

We went to Roses to look for a hidden cove and had a wonderful walk along a path that so reminded me of the Cornish coast path. Bonnie was happy and seemed to glow in the sunshine

It was rocky and wild, the sea was aquamarine and crystal clear

There were some differences though.
One of was the sight of the snow covered Pyranees over on the far side of Roses bay

Another was the occasional scented blast of fresh herbs flowering in the sunshine

I have never seen such a profusion of wild rosemary in flower

Another strong scent was from the Alyssum, a flower I remember from our Troon garden.
It smells of honey and is very hard to photograph as it is so tiny

Later we drove back through Roses town just in time to catch the starlings preparing to roost. As always we were the only people who seemed remotely interested in watching birds. It was the most wonderful sight. There must have been a thousand birds and they filled the air with their cries while creating magical heart-stopping ever changing patterns in the darkening sky

Market Day in Figueres

December 19, 2013November 19, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 1 Comment

Up bright and early to go on the school run to Figueres. Bonnie was a bit surprised to be leaving the house at 7.30am when it was still dark.

We had a wander around the market watching them set up their stalls. It was much quieter than the market in Granollers – people standing around chatting rather than shouting at the top of their voices.
But to be fair perhaps they are like that in Granollers too at 8am – I have never been to look!

In the vegetable market there is a large sculpture of George and the Dragon – both looking strong and proud – forever caught in that moment before the fight begins. I much prefer it to depictions of the dragon losing the battle. But whatever George thinks – that Dragon will always rise again!

Beside the police station with it’s Spanish flag there is a window with the Catalan one

A Figueres hotel welcomes old cows like me! In the Taurean sense of the word.
As we left town it began to rain – I can’t remember the last time it did – and as usual most people had umbrellas handy – except us!
Yesterday we took the Blue Dog sculpture down to sit in place beside Blue’s grave.

A very peaceful place to sit and dream.

Borrassà

September 16, 2013November 26, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 1 Comment

People have told me not to look for a house in Borrassà as it smells of pig farming and yes perhaps it does have a country whiffy smell sometimes but so does Lamorna.
I like Borrassà very much. Every time I arrive in the Emporda I go there for shopping and start relaxing as soon as I park in the small town square.
I don’t eat much meat myself and for most of my life I was totally vegetarian. The idea of pigs being reared in barns upsets me as do the conditions that all animals have to suffer as they live out lives in service to human beings.
But today I am sharing a photo of the butchers in Borrassa

It is strange to find in myself the possibility of liking a butchers shop but I do like this one.
They are very friendly and non-intimidating. I don’t have any anxiety when I go in even thought I am not in my natural element – I have to speak Catalan and I need to talk meat about which I am almost completely ignorant.

So why do I go there?

To get food for Bonnie of course. After her tick disease I changed her diet onto one of raw meaty bones and it has taken me into many butchers shops and turned me at last into something more like a typical Catalan housewife.

I ask about liver and kidney, I buy whole skinned rabbits, I peer with interest at the pigs trotters, I try to buy green tripe (impossible to find so far), I stop the butcher from removing the chicken’s head and feet.
“No, I want all of it!” I say confidently.

What a difference from the old days! When I tried to buy chicken breast and came home with all the parts, not knowing what to do with it. Now I would know

September 11th Catalunya

September 10, 2013November 27, 2014 ~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

September 11th has many associations for people all around the world but here in Catalunya it is the National Day also known as The Diada. It commemorates a defeat in battle but has been given a new positive slant by the annual celebrations all around the region.

Like many people outside the country I had never heard about any of this before coming here but perhaps after last years huge demonstration in Barcelona where over one and a half million people marched in support of Independence, there may be a wider interest in what happens tomorrow.

My first year here was in 2009 and I spent September 11th up in the Pyranees. I had no idea then why there was a group of people carrying a flag up to the top of Costabonne, showing my ignorance at the time but isn’t it wonderful how much you can learn and change in 4 years?

Looking at these photos reminds me of those lovely days walking in the mountains when my main concerns were about relaxing into my newly budding relationship, trying to understand the Catalan conversations of my three friends, and wondering if my legs and lungs would make it across the mountains to the refuge where we slept for three nights.