Sólheimasandur _ Iceland

In 1973 a United States Navy DC plane ran out of fuel and crashed on the South coast of Iceland.
Lieutenant Gregory Fletcher, a 26-year-old pilot in training who had only flown 21 hours in a C-117, grabbed the controls of the plane and made a forced landing on the black beach at
Sólheimasandur.

– “I knew we were flying somewhere over Iceland, but I swear that thing looked like the goddamn
moon”, he said.

Fortunately, everyone in that plane survived.

I hate to interrupt at this dramatic point of the story, but there are a couple of things you should know before I continue.

First, is that during the summer months in Iceland there’s something you’ve maybe heard of called “the Midnight Sun”. This means that the daylight hours are endless. Yes sir, there is no night. When midnight arrives, the sun barely deigns to touch the horizon line and stays there like if it were doing some kind of strange dance surrounded by beautiful lights. Only three hours later, resumes its path to the highest, leaving us, poor mortals, with the most beautiful sunrise of our lives.
And this keeps happening over and over again, every day, causing us this need, like an addiction that pushes us to travel only by night. While others sleep, we stay awake and keep driving to not miss a second of this wonderful show.
The second thing you should know is that after midnight, the roads along the coast belong to the fog. It’s just a matter of minutes. A great mass of white mist rushes and assails land like an ancient giant conquering new territories. We were there just to witness it and there was nothing we could do about it. Suddenly, we were surrounded by nothingness in the strangest land.

Serra de Tramuntana, Es Teix, Majorca Spain

Last spring I moved with my partner from Madrid to the beautiful island of Mallorca. We settled unexpectedly in the small village of Deiá, the first place my majorcan love showed me when we  we visited the island together, a long time ago. I immediately felt in love with its pink old stones, the idyllic mediterranean landscape of olives, lemons and oranges trees and its vibrant bohemian ambient. Above all I truly felt impacted by the imposing presence of the rocky mountain standing behind the village, silently facing the mediterranean sea.

Deiá is part of the natural environment of the Sierra of Tramontana, called after the mediterranean cold wind from the North. In fact this rocky rough mountain range runs as a thick backbone from south to north among the island and represents an surprising variation from the flat landscape pattern of the rest of the Mallorca.

The panoramic view of the sea is partially hidden from the village, but you can smell its humidity when the first air of the morning comes in the bedroom windows. You can’t visually spot the sea, unless you walk up the hill reaching the old centre or, as we soon discovered exploring the nature around the village, you climb up to the mountains on its back. From this privileged point of view you can spot all the profile of the northern part of the island, the sea and beyond.

It’s the first time in my life I live literally ten minutes walking from real woods and usually during weekends we just prepare something simple to eat, we take our cameras and we just climb the path from the village to the top of the mountain. This route is part of the so called GR 221 which goes all through the Sierra, connecting every village to another. Most of the trail is based on the network of ancient footpaths restored to make them accessible for hikers of all ages.

The first time we walked from Deiá to Valldemossa, another hidden pearl embedded in these stones, it took about 4 hours to complete the section. Its an easy path, without no particularly climb points. Half the way the road reaches the so called “roof” “Es Teix”, the peaks of the mountain transform itself into an amazing walk between stones and clouds.

This time, tough, we decide to walk just half the way until the the top to have a picnic facing the sea in just a couple of hours without reaching Valldemossa. This way we have the time to come back home before lights goes away, around 5pm. We start directly walking from our home in Es Clot, to the main road which splits the village, the MA-10, and turn at the km 62,9 to take GR 22, direction Valldemossa. It’s 11.30 AM and we can’t wait to arrive for lunchtime.

The first part of the route we climb the street and we still have on our backs the bell tower of Deiá’s old church, as we finally start to glimpse the blue of the sea behind the olive trees. We pass the complex of an elegant hotel, now closed because end of season. After passing a small built-up of farm houses, finally we find the first sign of the route to Valldemossa and we enter in the luxurious mediterranean scrub walking about one hour. After passing through a small portion of land filled with solitary centenarian abandoned olive trees, we enter the woods, made of oaks and pine trees. The air is fresh, all the branches and trunks are  covered with a thin soft cover of green moss. Light gently find its way through the dense crown of trees and we finally spot some shyly mushrooms growing around.

Segade waterfalls, Galicia _ Spain

The arrival of a new season is always a gift for those who find real beauty in the intimate details of a fleeting, ever-changing moment. Through nature’s ability to sow our path with tiny treasures in the shape of wild seeds, that beauty transcends as a powerful reality from which a connection with authenticity emerges and a voyage towards intensity is born where nature is the only possible canvas.

Spring is a start over, an ok…this has been good, let’s do it again! And every year at CE we accept the invitation and join in on this cyclic game. We prepare for it during winter by building birdhouses, in our workshop, for passerines so that during breeding season, in the spring and summer months, they can use huts, hollows and holes to lay their eggs.

For me, as a maker in CE, it is the perfect excuse to go outside and connect as an active participant in this time of efflorescence.  Packing your backpack and setting off in search of a place to hang the birdhouse you’ve selected, with hopes that a pair of birds will call it home this season, transforms the day into a sort of pilgrimage to a place, a personal sanctuary, where you can return and check the level of success, measured solely in units of attitude and intention. Food for the soul.

This time around I wanted to chose a different place, somewhere other than the previous forests or landscaped grounds where I alone or accompanied by my family had hung other birdhouses. On this occasion, I felt like testing out a river zone and going in search of the Grey Wagtail, probably the most fluvial and slender of the wagtails. This species always seeks out areas where water is present, and in this case, fancies stretches of currents and rapids.

The stretch of the Umia River that passes through the town of Caldas de Reis in the Pontevedra region in Spain was the spot I chose. I was familiar with the area and knew that during the hike up to the waterfalls the surroundings offered a very interesting landscape of old mills, boulders and trees where I could explore and find the perfect place for my birdhouse this spring.

Although the sun was shining when dawn broke, I packed a jacket to keep me warm from the lingering chill on a late winter’s morning and basic items I never leave home without such as my pocket knife, serrated knife and slingshot along with some water, food and coffee.   I chose the Forest birdhouse, the first model I started making in series somewhere around 2011, and for which I have a particular fondness.

Heading upstream, I followed the river’s course in search of unmarked trails, jumping from rock to rock. I zigzagged amidst the trunks some of which had kept up their vertical fight against the current. Others had lost the battle, surrendering in a horizontal homage to the Umia and, at times, forming unrehearsed bridges and dams.

San Juan de Gaztelugatxe , Biscay _ Spain

Usually, when we think about breathtaking landscapes, we tend to consider faraway places. Nevertheless, we can enjoy wonderful places closer than we actually think. In our case, we feel lucky for belonging to this beautiful northern land, the Basque Country.

When we are asked about one amazing place to visit here, we always have doubts… It´s so difficult to pick just one! But we have to confess that San Juan de Gaztelugatxe comes to our minds every time. Besides, this can be one of the best places to eat surrounded by nature.

It is said that Juan de Gaztelugatxe (“castle in the rock”) that was a monastery, then a fortress stormed by pirates and finally, a hermitage, the appearance that shows currently. That imposing silhouette, that rock, is the most photographed sites around the area. On the other hand, it´s true that it´s unavoidably becoming a well-known tourist spot but if you choose the correct time to visit it, it will welcome you with arms wide open, as if you were the only soul on earth.

Our walk begins in the car park of this natural and architectonic sight halfway between Bermeo and Bakio, where we have arrived by car. There is another access (first gravel, then soil path) next to the superb Eneperi restaurant where you can park and start your walk. But we choose the asphalt road because it´s less busy.  It´s 8:15 a.m, still dark, and the temperature is unusually mild. Against all odds, it´s been a warn winter so we´ve decided to make the most of it.

We descend for over 20 minutes until we reach the base of the rock. In our way down, we enjoy the views almost at every step we take: the colors of the winter, the different silhouettes of the site… When we finish going down, we start climbing the stairs. Although traditionally, it has been said that there are as many as days in the year, 365, the truth is that nowadays it is said to be 241, which is no small thing. It is quite tough at times but – oh god – it is worth more than enough.

 

 

Mercantour National Park _ France

Day 1

We started our journey on a Friday. It was Fall. We had prepared our backpacks and our excitement was already there. After several hours on the road we arrived in the evening to the starting point of our route: the village of Colmar-Les Alpes, gateway of the Mercantour National Park in the Alpes du Sud region. Quick night indoors to have a fresh start the next morning.

Day 2

We started our adventure walking along the river, we come across beautiful forests of larches, a typical tree of this region. After 2 hours we reach our first base camp, a little prairie next to the river. We had found this place in a previous expedition. We haven’t met anyone so far. The weather is changing but the temperature is still nice for this time of the year. Its 13h00. Time for lunch! We start a little fire to heat water to make our coffee. Our lunch today is Forestia: Basil Pesto Pasta and Chicken Madras. What a discovery. The Forestia heating system allows us to eat warm food with just cool water. What a pleasure to enjoy a warm meal outdoors surrounded by the beauty of nature. I think I understand now the meaning of Forestia claim: “Nature is the best place to eat”. We spend the afternoon cutting wood for the evening and setting our tents. Before the sun sets, our camp is ready, the temperature drops quickly, a last chat next to the bonfire and soon its time to get into our sleeping bags.