Hiking in the mountains along the Mediterranean coast this winter (see previous posts) has reminded us that North Americans cling to a uniquely narrow definition of hiking.

In the U.S. and Canada, hikers expect to depart civilization at the trailhead and remain severed from it for the duration of their hike. Anything less than pristine wilderness, they believe, sullies the experience. In Europe, civilization is often integral to hiking. European hikers don’t expect to always leave civilization behind; they know they’ll encounter it at least occasionally. This doesn’t disappoint them; they appreciate it.

The majority of European hiking trails are historic. Outside the high Alps, many trails are on terraces held in place by ancient stone walls. Others are cobbled for long distances. European trails frequently pass, or grant views of, villages, castles, and myriad structures that are either still used or are now in ruins. Sometimes European trails briefly merge with roads, even paved roads. At higher elevations, most trails link huts or refuges, where hikers who’ve reserved ahead will have everything they need waiting for them: a hearty meal, a comfortable bed, and perhaps a hot shower.

So is hiking inferior in Europe? In our opinion, no. We love hiking here. The European definition of “hiking,” which embraces rather than spurns civilization, allows far more opportunities to hike. It can even make hiking more intriguing and rewarding. Spiderwebbing networks of trails in Europe allow you to tailor each trip to your circumstances, sometimes on the fly. Loops, in which you never retrace a step, are frequently possible. Here, trailheads disperse rather than funnel hikers.

North America and Europe are as different—geographically, historically, culturally—as they are distant. North America, with its vast tracts of wilderness, allows hikers the luxury of insisting that civilization and hiking be mutually exclusive. And many European hikers travel to North America to immerse themselves in “pure nature.” But relatively few hikers from North America reciprocate. They wince at the thought of hiking in “crowded Europe.” We believe their assumptions of Europe are inaccurate, and their view of hiking is blinkered.

We’ve devoted our lives to hiking. The wilds of North America are our natural habitat. Our home in the Canadian Rockies backs onto a mountainside frequented by grizzly bears, cougars, and elk. Yet the months we’ve hiked in Europe—ascending mule tracks through olive groves and medieval hamlets to mountaintops crowned with shrines, frequently greeting our fellow hikers en route—and the months we’ve backpacked in North America—through remote mountains and obscure canyons where we were utterly alone—have been equally joyful.

Travelers often yearn for friends and family to ask stimulating, thoughtful questions. It rarely happens. When it does, it’s a gift. It helps travelers better understand their own motivations and articulate the deeper meaning of the experiences they’ve had en route.

The standard questions… What place did you enjoy most? Where was the best food?… are briefly tolerable but soon wearisome. When asking them, people don’t realize they’re short-changing themselves. More probing, challenging questions elicit more surprising, entertaining, revealing answers.

How do you know if it’s a “good” question? You’ll feel it’s daring of you to ask it. Or you’ll hesitate before answering, because the question demands reflection. Good questions are personal. Contemplation is necessary to think of good questions, as well as to answer them. A good question discloses something about the person asking it. Good questions are the ones you wish someone would ask you. The result of a good question is that both people know each other better and feel closer to one another.

A great friend of ours, with whom we’ve traveled and hiked in the Canadian Rockies, New Zealand, and the French Alps, recently emailed us several good questions about our experiences this winter in the mountains along the Mediterranean. He’s pondering a long, adventurous journey himself and wants it to be soul-enriching, not just a sight-seeing trip. Here’s what he asked and how we answered:

Q: What do you find challenging about your work hiking/traveling?

A: Balancing how much we take with how much we give. We don’t want hiking/traveling to be entirely selfish, which it can easily become. We want to use what we experience to heighten our contribution to others through our books and website blog. We want hiking/travel to make us wiser and more compassionate. What we learn, we can share through our writing. Compassion is a welcome gift in any human exchange.

Q: What meaning did you get from Liguria as opposed to the Costa Blanca?

A: We’re in Liguria now, just inland from the Italian Riviera. The true meaning of a travel experience takes time to bubble up through the soul into the conscious mind. We think it’s yet to do that. We could, of course, offer several answers to that question now. But the real answer will probably emerge later.

Q: What did France’s maritime alps say to you, and what did Italy’s Alpi Apuane say to you?

A: France said “You’re here rather early for hiking.” Italy is saying, “Just in case you didn’t understand it in French, I’ll repeat it in Italian: ‘You’re here rather early for hiking.’”

Q: Why did you choose, or what feelings led you, to go to Liguria?

A: We came to Liguria for the same reasons that have motivated all our European journeys. It feels as if our mental/emotional tank, with regard to Europe, was barely a quarter full. We want to fill up. Our desire to see Europe’s architectural and natural beauty remains intense. Because European society is ancient, there are trails everywhere. More trails per square kilometer here than anywhere. We’re hikers, so how can we resist the Continent of a Million Trails? The reason we came this winter is that we wanted to escape the vastly harsher winter weather at home, in the Canadian Rockies.

Q: How did the feelings generated in Liguria inspire or contribute to your next choice of destination?

A: On the simplest level, we’re compelled to return to these mountains in summer to take full advantage of all the high-elevation hiking trails that are inaccessible to us in winter. On a deeper level, our experience here is nudging our gaze back to North America, specifically to Utah, where we want to build a home in the high-desert canyon country, where the infinite canyons invite endless exploration, and where our souls resonate most vibrantly with the land.

A: Do you get a sense for local people when hiking in Europe?

Q: Yes, but not the present-day locals. We rarely meet anyone hiking here in winter. But we get a strong sense for the Europeans who built the ancient trails. These people are no longer physically present, of course, but we sense them nonetheless. We not only see their handiwork, we use it, much as they did. The trails they built are not just functional, they’re art. Beautiful, earthen art. The terraces they constructed are marvels of patience, engineering, craftsmanship. The trees they cultivated are gorgeous. These people obviously had a profound relationship with the land. We can’t help but begin to see the world through those people’s eyes and to feel kinship with them. And through them, we deepen our relationship with the Earth.

Europe continues wrestling with the most thuggish winter weather it’s seen in more than a decade. Most of the continent was head-dropped* in December, splashed* in January, and is now on the verge of tapping out.***

But we’ve stayed close to the Mediterranean for the past couple months: in Spain’s Costa Blanca Mountains, on the Spanish Island of Mallorca (south of Valencia), and now in France, on the Cote d’Azur. Though the weather has been unusually cold and rainy for this palm-fringed region, it has still allowed us to hike more days than not. And we’ve done it in relative comfort. Compared to a typical winter back home in the Canadian Rockies, it’s been luxurious here.

Our current abode is the ancient city of Vence, slightly inland from Cap d’Antibe, Cannes, and Nice. In a country rife with ancient villages and towns that are certifiably gorgeous, Vence is a gem. Our apartment is literally on the wall that once deterred would-be assailants from ransacking the original village. When we look out our window, we can peer up at the foothills of the Alpes Maritime rising immediately above us, or we can gaze down-valley toward the Med. We’re within a couple-minute walk of numerous pâtisseries and boulangeries d’artisan (pastry shops and artisan bakeries). We’re virtually next door to the cultural center, where we sat front row while a superb jazz quartet performed a brilliant homage to Antônio Jobim, the Grammy Award-winning Brazilian songwriter, composer, arranger, singer, and pianist/guitarist. And all around us, in every direction, are hiking trails. We are as happy as we can be, regardless of the weather.

If a winter hiking holiday appeals to you, we recommend Vence, France. You’ll find lots of accommodation options on www.homeaway.com. After arriving in Vence, go to one of the tabacs (small shops selling tabacco products, newspapers, magazines, etc.) and buy the IGN 1: 25 000 topo maps titled “ET 3642” and “ET 3643.” You’ll also find IGN topo maps at Carrefour hypermarkets along the Cote d’Azur.

Compared to Spain’s Costa Blanca and Mallorca’s Serra de Tramuntana, the mountains of the Cote d’Azur are more heavily treed, with less exposed rock, so they’re not as dramatic. But they’re beautiful and intriguing nonetheless. And they compensate by offering a vastly more extensive trail network, better maintained trails, and superior trail signage. Walking and hiking are more ingrained in French culture. And French tourism organizations understand that trails are a vital asset. As a result, you can expect to see excellent signage at trailheads and trail junctions, plus painted blazes en route. Hiking here can be physically challenging but is never a mental chore.

The following Cote d’Azur trails, all within easy reach of Vence, kept us striding eagerly. We’ve posted photos of several of them among the first 30 images under “France” on the Photos/Videos page of our website.

Circuit de Cavillore
2- to 3-hour loop gaining 300 m (984 ft)
Starting just above the beautiful perched village of Gourdon at 740 m (2427 ft), a well-constructed, switchbacking trail provides an easy, scenic introduction to the area.

Circuit du Castellet
3-hour loop gaining 450 m (1476 ft) including spur to summit
From St. Jeanette (a ten-minute drive from Vence), the trail ascends over the crag towering directly above the village. The summit overlooks a big swath of the Cote d’Azur.

Balcon du Loup
5- to 6.5-hour loop gaining 800 m (2624 ft)
After climbing above the village of Pont du Loup, the trail follows an ancient aqueduct traversing a valley wall. It allows you to hike comfortably and safely along sheer cliffs. You’ll also proceed through eight, long, dark tunnels, so don’t forget your headlamp.  The hike ends with a long, steep, switchbacking descent of Pic de Courmettes on a paved road.

Plateau de Calern
4-hour circuit gaining 250 m (820 ft)
Start near the Obervatoire du CERGA, northwest of Gourdon. Panoramic views are constant. Mt. Cheiron dominates the inland horizon. En route you’ll often pass remnants of ancient civilization, including wells, agricultural plots and, of course, walls.

Gorges de la Vesubie
4- to 5-hour round trip gaining 700 m (2296 ft)
This astounding trail is the one we’d recommend if you had but one day to hike near the Cote d’Azur. It’s an ancient mule path (much of it cobbled) allowing a highline traverse of the soaring, nearly vertical, 800-m (2624-ft) gorge wall between two villages: Le Cros d’Utelle and Utelle. Start at the tranquil hamlet of Le Cros d’Utelle. After a brief ascent, you’ll generally contour all the way to the slightly larger settlement of Utelle. A circuit is possible, but it entails significant elevation loss (which you must regain) and affords little new scenery; better to hike out and back. Afterward, drive road D19, on the gorge’s opposite wall, between St. Jean la Riviere and Levens. The road is an engineering marvel allowing you to fully appreciate the trail you just completed. We frequently stopped the car, got out, and stared in awe. If we hadn’t just hiked there, we wouldn’t believe it possible.

Mt. Lion
4- to 5-hour circuit gaining 450 m (1476 ft)
From the village of Gillette, high above the Var River Valley, hike around Mt. Lion. Time permitting, follow a short spur to the 1049-m (3441-ft) summit. Scenic highlights include a close perspective of 1550-m (5084-ft) Mt. Vial and an aerial view of the Esteron Valley. Before or after the hike, visit the perched village of Bonson.

Baou de l’Arc
3- to 4-hour loop gaining 630 m (2066 ft)
After sauntering through the meticulously maintained, ancient village of Cuebris, you’ll ascend past an impressive waterfall and top out on a lofty crag. On the descent, you’ll hop a stream just above where it careens into a defile and over a cliff. Just before returning to the village, you’ll cross a bridge over a creek roaring through a chasm. From Vence, the quickest way to reach Cuebris is via the N202 highway in the Var Valley, then the D17 through the lovely villages of Gillette and Roquesteron. After the hike, take the long way back to Vence by driving the D1 through the perched villages of Consegudes, Ferres, and Bouyon. Proceed southwest to Coursegoules, then follow the D2 back to Vence.

Brec d’Utelle
4- to 4.5-hour round trip gaining 810 m (2657 ft)
Many of the roads in the mountains of France are mind boggling, like this smoothly-paved lane climbing from the bottom of Vesubie Gorge all the way to the perched village of Utelle at 800 m (2624 ft). And the trails continuing beyond these French roads tend to be equally marvelous, like this one leading to a peaklet on the edge of the gorge. Views extend into the burly mountains of Parc National du Mercantour.

Mt. Cheiron
8- to 9-hour loop gaining 800 m (2624 ft)
Rising 1778 m (5832 ft), Mt. Cheiron is the highest Cote d’Azur peak within 30 km (19 mi) of the sea. Beneath the mountain’s south face are two quaint villages— Coursegoules and Greoleries—where you’ll find trails ascending to Cheiron’s summit ridge. There’s also a trail along the mountain’s 5-km (3 mi) spine, and a trail linking the villages, so it’s possible to hike Cheiron as a loop. Midwinter, however, the peak will likely retain too much snow to allow easy striding. If so, consider a short, three-hour roundtrip starting in Coursegoules at 1020 m (3346 ft) and gaining 480 m (1574 ft) to the ridgecrest at 1424 m (4671 ft).

Cap Ferrat
2-hour loop with negligible elevation gain
After ascending mountains or contending with chilly weather, this often-sunny seaside walk can be a welcome change. Start in Beaulieu sur Mer (immediately northeast of Nice) and follow the coastal path around Cap Ferrat. You’ll often be walking within a few meters of ocean swells crashing on the rocks. Just above, you’ll glimpse the massive holiday mansions of the obscenely wealthy. Be thankful France has a socially-minded government that keeps paths like this open to the public rather than allowing the local moguls to extend fences into the water. Two other coastal walks worth considering are at Cap d’Antibes and Cap d’Ail.

*A “head drop” is a pro wrestling move causing the victim to be dropped on his head, often resulting in an actual (as opposed to fake) injury, such as a concussion or even a broken neck. The intention is for the full force of the move to be absorbed in the victim’s upper back and shoulders, but a head drop always involves legitimate risk.

**A “splash” is any move involving a very large wrestler dropping his full weight across the body of a smaller opponent. It was originated by Big Daddy, a 1970s British pro wrestler whose signature move was the “Daddy Splash.”

***A “tap out” is when a wrestler taps on the mat to acknowledge submission. It means he is giving up due to the unbearable pain his opponent is inflicting on him.

How do I know this? I recently consulted the Walk the Earth Institute. Membership in this highly exclusive think tank is limited to me and my wife, photographer Kathy Copeland.

Both of us are self-appointed experts on everything to do with foot travel, and our methods are rigourously scientific: if we agree, it must be so.

At the Institute’s last convention—yesterday’s hike in the Serra de Tramuntana Mountains of Mallorca—I said “This is one of the most amazing trails we’ve ever hiked.”

Kathy enthusiastically agreed, just as I had agreed with her when she said something similar the day before. And this exclamation/affirmation banter has been a daily occurrence since our first hike on Mallorca a couple weeks ago.

So it’s unanimous and therefore indisputable: Mallorca is one of the world’s supreme winter hiking destinations.

Mallorca is best known as the Spanish isle where Europeans beach themselves for sun-and-sand therapy. Long swaths of the Mallorcan coastline are horrific. Not just overdeveloped but badly developed: a soul-crushing wall of towering, tasteless, tacky hotels and apartments.

The capitol, Palma de Mallorca, has a handsome, historic center. Wrapped around it, however, is an obese belly of crass commercialism where traffic moves like sludge and finding a parking spot is akin to winning the lottery. Fortunately the airport is well outside the city, enabling you to immediately veer into the heart of the island.

But Mallorca is not big. And most of its 3,638 sq km (1,405 sq mi) is not dramatic but merely undulating or simply flat. Pretty? Yes. Fill-your-camera-card gorgeous? No. Though agriculture is prevalent (olives, almonds, oranges, tangerines, lemons), and the remaining, historic wind-pumps are romantic monuments, the island feels urban. It’s peppered with towns and small cities, most of which are bland by French or Italian standards.

Mallorca is also strewn with motorways and roads that are in constant use by a population that seems to be in perpetual motion. The motorways are world-class. All the other roads are smoothly paved but alarmingly narrow—even when bordered on both sides by level farmland. Plus they’re shoulder-less, with abrupt edges. If you swerve 20 cm (8 in) too far (and you must swerve frequently to avoid colliding with these aggressive, road-hog Mallorcans) you’ll plunge. You’ll likely total your vehicle. You might need an ambulance. Definitely pay for the full insurance option when you rent a car here.*

“Narrow” is a petty criticism, however, given the sensational terrain these roads traverse on the island’s mountainous northwest coast. This is the Serra de Tramuntana. And here, Mallorcan roads are marvels of engineering prowess. So what if you have to slow down to cede the road to oncoming drivers? Slow is essential to appreciate the phenomenon of 1400-m (4600-ft) peaks rising directly from the Mediterranean, and the spectacle, the seeming miracle, of exquisitely paved roads switchbacking from sea to summit.

After hiking in the Serra de Tramuntana daily for nearly two weeks, we’re in awe. The stature of this range, given that it rockets skyward from the surf, is difficult to comprehend. Imagine seaside French Alps. Paved access to Tramuntana trailheads is luxurious. Imagine the Canadian Rockies laced with high-altitude roads. Ancient trails in the Tramuntana allow easy hiking in rugged, vertical terrain that would otherwise require scrambling or climbing. Imagine Patagonia with an extensive network of trails—signed and mapped.

As much as we loved Spain’s Costa Blanca range (see previous posting), we’ve been even more impressed by the Tramuntana, which resemble the Costa Blanca’s major peaks (Puig Campagna, Serra Bernia, Sanchet, Montgo) crushed together into a great massif and pushed out to the beach at Benidorm. To see the Tramuntana, go to the photos/videos page of our website. Click on Spain, then skip to photos 53 through 89.

The Tramuntana, however, occupies only a portion of a relatively small isle, so dedicated hikers can thoroughly sample the range in about two weeks—even with a few rain-enforced rest days. Ideally, devote a month to the Costa Blanca and the Tramuntana. Both are too hot to hike May through October. Come in December, January or February. Winter in Alicante Province (the mainland region comprising the Costa Blanca) and on Mallorca is sufficiently mild for comfortable hiking.

It does rain that time of year, however, and some days will be very windy. Daytime high temperatures at 200 m (656 ft) above sea level will probably average 12°C (54°F). At mountain elevations, daytime high temperatures will rarely exceed 10°C (50°F). On Mallorca, the humidity always has a chilling effect in winter. Hope for sun and warmth. You’ll get it occasionally. But be prepared for cloudy, cool weather, because you’ll surely get that too. From mid-January to early February we hiked one day in shorts, a few days in lightweight long pants, and most days in Schoeller-fabric pants. Our toques (wool beanies), neck gaiters, and windproof gloves were occasionally necessary, particularly when were still hiking at sunset (about 6 p.m.).

We rarely encountered other hikers, even on the trails near Deia, Valldemossa and Soller—the island’s most beautiful and popular towns. That’s another advantage of hiking here in winter: serenity. Mallorca is inundated with tourists the rest of the year. Accommodation is substantially less expensive in winter, too.

We were lucky. We stayed at Finca Vista Levante. Go to http://www.ownersdirect.co.uk/balearics/B4090.htm for photos and details. Our hosts, Brian and Inga Drewitt, are paragons of hospitality. Both are constantly beaming with positive expectancy. They’re among the happiest, most good natured people we’ve ever met. And their guest house is very comfortable. By the time we left, we felt Brian and Inga were our relatives who’d retired on Mallorca. Though it’s neither in nor near the Tramuntana, Vista Levante allows reasonably easy access to the entire range. It’s outside Santa Margalida, surrounded by agricultural land, so it’s peaceful. You can reach Brian at <brian.drewitt@arcor.de>. You’ll find him a lively and helpful correspondent.

Though the signposted GR (Grand Randonee) 221 runs the length of the Tramuntana—from the southeast end of the island, to Pollença in the northwest—only portions of it afford superb trekking. The over-hyped section of the GR between Pollença and the famous monastery at Lluc, for example, was historically important but will severely test your patience where it skulks in dark forest and lingers beside a paved road. So don’t assume the GR obviates trail research.

Aim for the big summits on clear-sky days. Hike the premier sections of the GR 221 when the weather is less favourable. See our list of suggestions below. Before leaving home, buy and study the 1:25,000 maps published by Editorial Alpina. If you’ll be hiking on Mallorca ten days or less, get only Tramuntana Nord and Tramuntana Central. For a longer stay, also get Tramuntana Sud. The scale of these maps makes them much more accurate than the 1:40,000 Mallorca North & Mountains Tour & Trail map published by Discovery Walking Guides. Check mallorca-camins.info for updates on trail improvements and closures.

Here are some of the hikes we enthusiastically recommend. These brief notes are intended only to motivate and orient you. You’ll need a map, and perhaps a guidebook, before you begin hiking.

Cami de s’Arxiduc
14-km (8.7-mi) loop / 530 m (1740 ft) gain / 5 hours
An archduke commissioned the construction of this astonishing bridal path so he could admire the scenery from the edge of sheer cliffs rising 900 m (2952 ft) from the sea.

Ascend from Valldemossa to Mirador de Ses Puntes, then follow the archduke’s path to 931-m (3054-ft) Puig Caragoli. From the cairned junction, you can attempt to summit nearby 1062-m (3483-ft) Teix, but the stile allowing hikers to surmount a high stone wall might be gated and locked. (This is a nuisance you’ll sometimes encounter on Mallorca, where trails often cross private land.) Descend the old road from Font d’es Polls, through Cairats Valley, back to Valldemossa.

Puig de Massanella
15-km (9.3-mi) loop / 860 m (2820 ft) gain / 6 hours
Start on the unpaved road just south of the petrol station near the Lluc junction. Ascend to Comafreda, where the land owner’s gatekeeper will probably be there to demand a usurious fee. Pay it, so you can complete a beautiful loop over the mountain. A relatively easy ascent leads to Masanella’s 1392-m (4566-ft) summit.

Hikers confident on steep, loose rock will want to descend the cairned, southwest ridge. Head for the obvious trail in the valley. Ascend to 1205-m (3952-ft) Coll de’s Prat, the island’s highest pass. At the signed junction with the GR 221, go toward Galileu and Lluc. Descend a broad, switchbacking, stone trail to the highway. Then turn right and walk 2 km (1.2 mi) back, past the petrol station, to your vehicle.

Barranc de Biniaraix
12 km (7.4 mi) round trip / 800 m (2625 ft) gain / 6 to 7 hours
Start just east of Soller, in the charming village of Biniaraix. Hike the ancient, cobbled, streamside, mule path through Barranc de Biniaraix. (A “barranc” is a canyon.) The time, labour and skill that the original inhabitants invested to create terraced olive groves here make this craggy niche a wonder to behold. You look up, see cliffs, and think “this trail can’t continue,” but it does, all the way to the summits above.

At L’Ofre farm, follow a rough, bouldery path through forest to a junction in Coll de L’Ofre. Do not continue east on the dirt road descending to Cuber Reservoir, visible ahead. About 15 meters from the trail sign, look for a feint trail veering right (south). In 30 m it broadens to road width. Ascend through forest southeast to Coll des Cards.

The tourist hiking brochure suggests you resume ascending L’Ofre (right) whose summit ridge is bushy and unappealing. Instead, go left (east) up L’Ofre’s sister summit: 1067-m (3500-ft) Franguera. It’s bare limestone, allowing you to enjoy a freelancing ascent with constant views. Sporadic cairns offer guidance but are not necessary. Mallorca’s highest mountain, Puig Major, rises from the far side of Cuber Reservoir and dominates the view northeast. Tossals and Tossals Verds are east. Much of Mallorca is within view. Return to Biniaraix the way you came and appreciate the barranc again.

Torre de na Seca
8 km (5 mi) round trip / 500 m (1640 ft) gain / 4 hours
From C-710, between Lluc and Gorg Blau, just east of the tunnel, drive spectacularly serpentine Road 214 down to Cala Tuent. This is where the ancient, stone path to sa Costera begins. Follow it, contouring around the bay, then ascend an old road to Col de Biniamar. Look for the cairned trail ascending right (west, then north) to the stone tower of Torre de na Seca. The small summit grants distant views along the rugged coast.

Mortitx Gorge and Rafal D’Ariant
11-km (6.8-mi) loop / 780 m (2560 ft) gain / 6 to 8 hours
You must be a confident scrambler and skilled at cross-country navigation to attempt this exciting journey through one of Mallorca’s wildest, roughest backcountry areas. You’ll descend a steep, bouldery gorge nearly to the sea. From Rafal D’Ariant you’ll ascend an ancient trail that soon deteriorates to a cairned, blazed route. You must then traverse gorgeous but complex (i.e. potentially disorienting) terrain back to Mortitx. There are many criteria by which to judge a hike. We give this one five stars for “exhilaration.”

Between Lluc and Pollença, park at the Mortitx vineyard gate. Follow the unpaved road down to the vineyard, fork right and continue beyond. In about 25 minutes look for a route veering right (northeast). It’s marked by a cairn and a few red paint daubs on boulders. After briefly winding across a level, grassy, boulder-studded flat, the route plunges into Mortitx Gorge.

The sometimes scrambling descent leads, in about two hours, to a pool that blocks passage. Bear right here and ascend on loose rock, then through tall grass. Where the grade levels, look for a cairned path. It leads to the ruins of what was once a shepherds’ hut. But once the hut is visible, well before you reach it, slow down. Look carefully for a cairned-but-easy-to-miss, right fork that immediately begins ascending toward what, at first glance, might appear to be an impassable wall but actually affords a gradual, ramping exit up and out of the barranc. The path soon broadens into a well constructed, ancient trail—supposedly a smugglers’ path.

Locating this exit point tested our ability to read the land, decipher an inadequate map, and quickly make vital decisions a mere one hour before sunset. Should we return via the barranc? It was challenging but familiar, because we’d just descended it. Or should we attempt to continue navigating the loop return?

The barranc would require a two-hour ascent, so we’d spend half that time in the dark, wearing headlamps. We knew the rest of the loop would be a route-finding puzzle, but we were confident the terrain would be less physically demanding than the barranc, so we could hike faster and probably reach the vineyard before dark. We also wanted to see what was up there.

The longer it took us to find the smugglers‘ path, the more the pressure mounted. It seemed we were wasting our precious remaining daylight on a futile search. We did find it, however, and we were able to navigate the entire loop at high speed. We passed the vineyard with a little time to spare. We reached our car before dusk.

We tell you this so you won’t make the mistake we made. We started this loop way too late in the day (after 1 p.m.), which forced us into a potentially dangerous predicament at the bottom of the barranc. Our excuse is that our absurdly vague and inaccurate guidebook did not describe the severity of the terrain. We urge you to start by 10 a.m. so you’ll have plenty of time.

We’re very glad we completed the loop. It’s a fascinating tour of limestone crags and ridges—a swath of the original, untouched Mallorca.

Mortitx to Coll des Vent
11 km (6.8 mi) round trip / 492 m (1615 ft) gain / 3 hours
This a road, much of it paved. Yet you’ll encounter no vehicle traffic, because it’s gated year-round. And the final stretch is closed even to foot travel between February 1 and July 1, because, according to the sign, this is sensitive black-vulture habitat. “Then why build a road here?” we wonder. Whatever the reason, it was no doubt very compelling, because this is tumultuous terrain. Building the road must have been hugely expensive. All we know is that it accesses scenery as magnificent and uniquely Mallorcan as any on the island. And because it’s a road, the hiking requires no more effort or ability than do the steep sidewalks of San Francisco.

Between Lluc and Pollença, park at the Mortitx vineyard gate. Follow the unpaved road down to the vineyard, fork right and continue beyond. Stay on the road. At a fork, bear right to cross the dam retaining a deep, crystalline, spring-fed pool. At the next fork, ascend left where right descends to a rifugio.

Proceed on the road up and over 502-m (1647-ft) Coll des Vent, then down to 410 m (1345 ft) where the road ends in a large, cleared field at Les Basses. The field itself is utterly anticlimactic, but it’s not a destination. The reason to hike all the way to road’s end is to see as much of the national-park-quality scenery as possible.

Puig Tomir
9 km (5.6 mi) round trip / 570 m (1870 ft) gain / 4 hours
Tomir’s 1103-m (3618-ft) summit offers a panoramic view of bays, peninsulas, and the eastern end of the Tramuntana. The initial ascent is on a gated road. The upper ascent is on solid limestone. This is one of easiest peaks to surmount on Mallorca. After passing it numerous times while driving west from Pollença to Lluc, we couldn’t resist the friendly, “Come on up!” invitation it seems to extend.

Tossal Verds
12-km (7.4-mi) loop / 470 m (1542 ft) gain / 5 to 6 hours
From CV-710, beside Cuber Reservoir, this trail circles 1047-m (3434-ft) Es Tossals and 1097-m (3598-ft) Tossals Verds. Initially follow the service road on the east side of the reservoir. At its southernmost point, descend 450 m (1476 ft) through the gorge beneath the dam.

The rough route follows an old canaleta (water conduit) down to terraced orchards. From there, ascend to the substantial Rifugio Tossals Verds. Follow signs for the GR 221 to Coll d’es Colloms on the east side of Tossals Verds. Then, on its north side, the trail follows another canaleta west, back to Cuber Reservoir.

Passing the Rifugio Tossals Verds on this engaging and varied loop, a girl of about seven years old asked us “Donde va?” At first we didn’t understand. But by the time she followed us up to the next switchback, we realized she was asking, “Where are you going?” So we said, “Lago Cuber.” Then she said, “Esta bien,” and queried “Por que?” We liked that she was so open and curious, so Kathy dug into our paltry Spanish and said, “Es muy divertido, y interesante, y buen ejercicio.” “Comprenda?” Craig asked. She and her brother smiled and nodded. So off we went with their unspoken but very evident blessings.

*Full insurance with Gold Car, the Spanish rental-car company we recommend, will even cover the cost of replacing the ignition key, should you lose it. I know this because in an absent-minded moment I (Craig) dropped the key to our chili-red Citroen C30 into the marina at Palma de Mallorca. I’d previously never lost a car key—ever, anywhere. And wow, are remote-entry keys expensive. It cost 150 Euro ($225 USD) to replace ours. I later imagined how I might retrieve the key and earn back the replacement fee: go fishing with a magnet. But our time was limited. We were busy hiking. Where was I going to find a magnet? I thought no more of it, until one evening after hiking all day, Kath and I were strolling through the town of Soller. We passed a large hardware store. She said, “Maybe they have a magnet.” I walked in and met a clerk who spoke excellent English—a rare skill among Mallorcans. I humbly told him my story. He lit up. “Yes, we have a strong magnet!” he said. This magnet was huge, at least 10 kg (22 lb). It had been in the store for 30 years and was currently employed as the door stop. He generously offered to loan it to me, along with a 20-m (66-ft) rope, in return for a 50 Euro ($75 CDN) refundable deposit. The serendipity was too miraculous to ignore. So at 9 p.m. Kath and I drove across the island, far out of our way, into the traffic of Palma. I spent an hour dredging the marina precisely where I’d dropped the car key. Nada. It remains in the muck, 15 m (50 ft) below the dock. But we gained from the experience. We met Joseph, the muy sympatico clerk at Bernat, the hardware store (ferreteria) in Soller.

To reach the Costa Blanca Mountains, we trained from Barcelona to Valencia, then rented a car.* We glimpsed the city only briefly, but it seemed intriguing. So before our flight** from Valencia to the island of Mallorca, we devoted an afternoon and evening to exploring the city. We’re glad we did.

Most European cities have interesting historic centres. Naturally, some are more compelling than others. Barcelona’s ancient centre, for example, is fascinating, whereas medieval Valencia is more oppressive and dilapidated.

Most of the architecture here—including the Longa de la Seda (silk market), Torres de Serranos (Europe’s largest Gothic city gateway), and heavyweight cathedral in the Plaza de la Virgen—is somber. The National Ceramics Museum is a weird, garish, rococo affair. The modernisma Plaza del Mercado is unimpressive from the outside but houses an enormous, thriving market.

Urban floating (walking through a city at the pace of a float in a parade, slow enough to see and be seen) is always enjoyable. But in Spain, the joy is marred by smokers. Apparently, lung cancer is to the Spanish what global warming is to Americans: a myth. When we weren’t dodging the cigarettes they thoughtlessly wave about, we were ducking the clouds of smoke they spew.

Having seen enough of old Valencia, we began navigating back toward our hotel.*** En route we entered the Jardin Del Turia. In 1957, the Turia River flooded, wreaking havoc on Valencia. Fearing a repeat disaster, the city diverted the river and reclaimed the riverbed, cultivating it into a lovely, sinuous, leafy park running 7-km (4.3-mi) through downtown. It was now dark, so we were wary about walking here, but we soon realized this is where athletic Valencianos exercise after work. The former riverbed was coursing with joggers.

The Turia led us directly to La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias (The City of Arts and Sciences). We anticipated contemporary architecture, but La Ciudad is magnificently futuristic, as if it had been beamed down from a distant planet whose civilization is far more advanced than ours. And La Ciudad is huge, comprising several, glorious structures. This, we realized, was all the reason we needed to visit Valencia.

La Ciudad ranks among Europe’s great monuments. The architect was Valencia-born Santiago Calatrava. The scope of the project he completed is staggering. It’s originality is inspiring. Its beauty is stirring. And the details he incorporated, such as Gaudiesque fragments of tile (an historically important industry in Valencia), are brilliant.

But La Ciudad isn’t just a monument. It functions as a performance venue, an oceanarium (Europe’s largest marine park), a planetarium, and more. In addition to the photos we’ve posted above, you’ll find more under “Spain” on the Photos/Videos page of our website. And La Ciudad’s website (http://tv.cac.es) is rich with imagery. Right of the main, homepage photo, scroll down to, then click on, “Great Events.”

*In Spain, we recommend renting a car from Gold Car (www.goldcar.es/en). Their Valencia office has a free airport shuttle. Gold Car’s rental vehicles and the quality of their service are excellent. Yet their rates are much lower than those of their international competitors.

**From Valencia to Palma de Mallorca, we recommend flying with Air Europa (http://www.aireuropa.com/en/default.html). Compared to other airlines, Europa is less expensive yet allows a higher weight allowance (23 kg) for your one, allotted, checked bag.

***In Valencia, stay at the NH Villacarlos (http://www.nh-hotels.com/nh/en/hotels/spain/valencia/nh-villacarlos.html). It’s clean, modern, quiet, reasonably priced, and the staff is very helpful. It’s also within easy walking distance of La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. And it’s very close to the busy roundabout graced with a fantastic sculpture by Juan Garcia Ripollés. To us, it looks like a huge, childlike, dancing, sun god. You’ll no doubt have your own creative interpretation. You’ll find it at the intersection of Eduardo Boscá and Paseo la Alameda, at the end of the Puente Angel Custudio, just above the southeast side of Parque de la Rambleta, a mere 2.5 blocks from the Villacarlos.

Last week, in mid-January, we were hiking a long, slender ridge in Spain’s Costa Blanca Mountains. Spiny bushes clawed at our calves. We saw ancient villages far below, each looking as if it were pinned to the earth by its dominating church tower. And in contrast to the corrugated topography, the horizon was a straight line formed by the Mediterranean Sea. It all seemed so exotic we wondered how we got there.

But we knew the answer. It’s because we share a passion for mountains that runs deeper than conscious thought. We each felt it long before we met. These independent forces within us grew stronger when we and they merged. Our honeymoon backpacking trip in the Colorado Rockies inaugurated a shared life of wilderness exploration. Ever since, we’ve been researching and traveling to the world’s most spectacular vertical terrain. Gradually our work and our passion also merged. Recently this has allowed us the flexibility to seek mountains we can hike in winter, when our home range, the Canadian Rockies, is frigid and laden with snow.

So here we are, among peaks and canyons appreciated only as the backdrop for Europe’s most popular beach-resort cities. We’re convinced they deserve to be equally famous as a refuge for hikers fleeing winter. We realize that probing the Costa Blanca Mountains has been an essential leg in our endless journey: a devotional practice we think of as “the way of the hiker.”

For five weeks, we’ve confined our forays to an 80-square-km (31-square-mi) radius. It’s rare for us to be content on such a short tether. But the Costa Blanca Mountain scenery continually surprises and engages us. Beautifully engineered, smoothly paved roads easing into the barrancos (canyons) and switchbacking up the tossals and puigs (summits) grant vehicle access everywhere we want to hike. And hiking is nearly always possible thanks to a profusion of routes, paths, ancient trails and unpaved roads.

In a range topping out at 1559 m (5115 ft), the trailheads are remarkably high, often between 400 and 800 m (1312 and 2625 ft)  And the trails themselves are marvels. They enable us to stride where we’re astounded not only by what we see but by the fact we’re able to walk there. In North America, negotiating terrain this steep and rugged usually necessitates skill and courage and makes us yearn for James Bond jetpacks. Here—miraculously—we’re simply walking.

Compared to North American ranges, another distinguishing trait of Spain’s Costa Blanca Mountains is that civilization is always evident, which enriches the hiking experience. Stone terraces and walls, ranging from 1,000 to 6,000 years old, are everywhere. We often pass the ruins of ancient, stone fincas (farmhouses) and walk through groves of olives or almonds. Occasionally we skirt 20th century homes built in traditional style, perched on promontories commanding telescope-worthy views.

The Costa Blanca Mountains, as the name implies, rise sharply from the shore. They’re on a blunt peninsula, about two hours’ drive south of Valencia, inland from Denia and Benidorm. The latter is a characterless mass of high-rise apartments and hotels that makes Las Vegas seem charming. But if you can do what for most people is unthinkable—turn your back on the sea, the sand, and all that cement—you’ll soon be driving among vast citrus farms and through quaint villages.

In January, the tangerines, oranges, lemons and grapefruit are ripe. Yes, we became fruit banditos. But in our defense, we were careful not to prey on only one farmer. We stopped here and there, picking only enough to fill our pockets. According to local custom, we spat seeds and tossed peels out the windows while we drove. The fragrance of a fresh, Spanish tangerine is sublime. The taste is euphoria inducing. And flinging organic refuse feels liberating.

Winter, by the way, is the only time to hike here. In summer, the 40°C (104°F) heat makes hiking not just uncomfortable but muy peligroso (very dangerous). In winter, you can expect daytime temperatures to range from 6 to 22°C (43 to 72°F). Cloudy days are common, but rain is scarce. This winter was Europe’s harshest in decades. Snowfall in Great Britain was so heavy and widespread, on satellite maps the country appeared solid white. Yet we hiked nearly every day in the Costa Blanca Mountains. Twice we did it in shorts. Once we encountered a patina of snow. Occasionally we were buffeted by strong, gusty winds. Mostly the ground was dry underfoot, the weather agreeably warm.

Never are the Costa Blanca Mountains crowded, but in winter you’ll feel they’re your private reserve. Usually we encountered no one. The tranquility was glorious. On weekends and holidays, we shared the popular trails with others: some locals, several expat Brits, a few Germans or Dutch. We met one Canadian couple who’ve been coming here to hike every winter for years. We were the second and third Canadians they’d ever crossed paths with in the Costa Blanca Mountains.

Affordable accommodation is another winter advantage. Summer is when Costa Blanca rentals are booked out and rates soar. Of course, the closer you are to the water, the higher the price. Inland is undesirable to most people but superior if you’re here to hike. You’ll be in or near an authentic Spanish village, far from the crowds, traffic, and commercial onslaught, and much closer to the trailheads. Keep elevation in mind, however. You want to stay where the nights are not too chilly. That means at or below about 200 m (656 ft).

We rented the lower portion of a home in Orbeta, a neighbourhood on the edge of Orba. We hesitate to recommend it, however, because we want it to be available when we return, because we’re definitely returning.

Oh, alright. Here you go. The owners are Lesley and Ron Griffin. Their email address is <lr.griffin@terra.es>. Their phone number is 34 965 583 494. They’re kind, gracious hosts. Their modern, immaculate apartment is ideal for two people: a fully equipped kitchen, a spacious living room with a mountain view, one bedroom, an elegant bathroom, and a private terrace above an almond grove. Visit http://www.ownersdirect.co.uk/spain/s10840.htm for photos and details.

So, precisely where in the Costa Blanca Mountains should you point your boots? We used three hiking guidebooks. All were exasperating. Not just bad, but horrific. We would have flung them off a cliff in a screaming rage if we didn’t have the ability, born of experience, to read mountains and maps. The criminally inadequate books we urge you not to purchase are Costa Blanca Mountain Walks by Bob Stansfield (Cicerone); Costa Blanca: 50 Walks by Gill Round (Rother); and Costa Blanca by John and Christine Oldfield (Sunflower). They’re outdated. The writing is awkward, ambiguous, full of assumptions that readers cannot decipher. They give no compass directions, relying instead on “left” and “right,” and rarely state elevations. They’re detailed about frivolous matters, and vague when detail is critical. None gives complete, precise directions to the trailheads.

Europe is a bird’s nest of roads and tracks. So the primary reason you need a hiking guidebook here is to help you find the trailheads. Using the Cicerone, Rother, or Sunflower books, each time we arrived within 500 m (547 yd) of where they seemed to say a hike should begin, we’d have to play Sherlock for another 30 minutes to determine the most efficient way to strike out toward our objective. A guidebook should save you from having to ferret out this essential information. Actually, a guidebook should go beyond accurate detail. It should inspire you. But the Cicerone, Rother, and Sunflower books are not guides. They’re suggestion books. Buy maps instead.

Petrol stations, including the one in Orba, sell 1: 20 000 topo maps. You’ll want “Terra Ferma: Marina Baixa Serra d’Aitana” for the west half of the Costa Blanca Mountains, and “Marina Alta Serra de Bernia” for the east. With a compass, the patience and confidence to occasionally suss out a meager trail, and the ability to recognize landforms and stay oriented, you’ll have a great time here.

If you’re a keen hiker, plan a three-week trip to the Costa Blanca Mountains. We were there five weeks and would gladly have stayed longer. Below are the hikes we enjoyed most and enthusiastically recommend. For now, all we can offer is a brief summary of each. Use this info to locate the trails on the topo maps mentioned above. (You might also find maps online.) To see photos of these hikes, go to the Photos/Videos section of our website and click on Spain.

Mozarabic trail – Val de Laguart
4.5-hr loop / 14 km (8.4 mi) / gain 800 m (2625 ft)  / highpoint 600 m (1968 ft)
West of Orba, drive CV 721 to Fleix (438 m / 1437 ft). Find the trailhead sign in front of the school. A Moorish trail constructed 500 years ago switchbacks gently into the canyons 250 m (820 ft) below. The loop, which also crosses Barranco del Infierno, entails three sharp descents and ascents.

Serra Bernia
4-hr loop / 8.5 km (5.3 mi) / gain 315 m (1033 ft) / highpoint 850 m (2790 ft)
From CV 750 north of Jalon, take the first right onto CV 749 (signed for Pinos). Drive the fascinating, serpentine road 8 km to Pinos. Continue ascending to Casas de Bernia (625 m / 2050 ft). A good trail circles the ridge, contouring just below the sheer cliffs of this massif. Like Montgo, Bernia is frequently visible and recognizable throughout the Costa Blanca region.

Montgo
5-hr loop / 15 km (9.3 mi) / gain 560 m (1837 ft) / highpoint 752 m (2467 ft)
From Ondara, drive to Denia. Continue through the commercal zone to Placa Jaume I. Turn right and ascend to the Ermita de San Juan, where the national-park entrance is signed. The sheer walls of the isolated Montgo massif rise directly from the sea. This and Bernia are the area’s most popular hikes.

Serra del Penyal – Caballo Verde Ridge
5- to 6-hr loop / 15 km (9.3 mi) / gain 560 m (1837 ft) / highpoint 847 m (2625 ft)
West of Orba, drive CV 718 to Fleix, then continue to Benimaurell (532 m / 1745 ft). It’s the last and highest village in the beautiful Val de Laguart. A Mozarabic trail ascends through terraced orchards to the ridgecrest. Here, a narrow but easy-to-follow trail follows the crest east to Penya Alt and Penya Roch. Villages are visible below both sides of the ridge. Midway along, you can peer into the Barranco del Infierno and see far up the Mediterranean coast.

Barranca Almadich
5- to 6-hr loop / 15 km (9.3 mi) / gain 560 m (1837 ft) / highpoint 800 m (2625 ft)
Drive CV 720 to Benigembla, between Orba and Parcent. Having tried two access roads, we think the best way to begin the loop is from the Mirabo road, west of the bridge. A trail leads south toward Cocoli summit. From the head of the gorge, pick up a trail leading 5 km along the top edge of Almadich Canyon’s 300-m cliffs. It eventually descends past a communications tower to Benigembla.

Penal Gros – Serra de la Forado
3.5-hr loop + 1 hour viewing ruins / 8 km (5 mi) / gain 220 m (722 ft) / highpoint 854 m
From the village of Alcala de la Jovada, walk east to the 13th century Moorish village of L’Atzuvieta. Continue following the unpaved road through terraces toward desolate Forado ridge. Ascend to, then follow the ridgecrest. Val de Gallinera is visible below. Near the summit of Penal Gros, the ruins of an ancient castle are visible on the mountain’s far slope.

Monte Ponoch
5-hr circuit / 12 km (7.5 mi) / gain 730 m (2395 ft) / highpoint 1181 m (3875 ft)
Start 6 km north of Finestrat (255 m / 837 ft). Initially hike to Collado de Pouet, below the southwest side of 1410-m (4625-ft) Puig Campagna. The gradual ascent of Ponoch continues, affording views of nearby Sanchet and ultimately granting an aerial view of the coast.

Pena Divino
3.5- to 5-hr round trip / 14 km (8.7 mi) / gain 207 m (680 ft) / highpoint 1157 m (3796 ft)
From Sella, drive 5 km north on CV 770. Immediately before a bridge, turn right onto a decaying-but-still-paved road. Continue 6.5 km to road’s end at Font Pouet Alemany (950 m / 3117 ft). Pena Divino, a 1-hr round-trip hike, affords a vast panorama. It also allows you to survey three major Costa Blanca peaks at close range: Sanchet, Ponoch, and Puig Campagna. Continue walking the unpaved road 4 km to crest the summit ridge of Mt. Aitana (highest peak in the range) and overlook the Guadalest Valley.

Bocairent – Cami de L’Escaleta
3-hr circuit / 12 km (7.5 mi) / gain 280 m (918 ft) / highpoint 675 m (2215 ft)
This historic mule trail once served the textile factories of Bocairent—a medieval town that in the 13th century had 80 looms working full time. It descends into a ravine, climbs over two minor summits, then returns to the village.

Barranco de Cau
3.5-hour loop / 9 km (5.5 mi) / gain 375 m (1230 ft) / highpoint 600 m (1968 ft)
Just east of Jalon, on CV749, across from the garden center, turn south on Camino Partido Cota. Follow it 0.9 km to an unpaved parking area at 225 m (738 ft). On foot, continue up Camino Partido Cota on what appears to be a driveway. Just beyond the house (right), proceed onto a trail. Near the mouth of Barranco de Cau, the trail ascends past a ruin. It soon becomes a Mozarabic trail climbing to the high plain of Casas del Cau. The first peaklet is an excellent viewpoint and a worthy destination for a short, round trip. The loop continues across the plain to the head of the barranco, then gradually descends it back to where you started.

We just spent four days in Barcelona. At every opportunity, we asked residents how they like their city. All of them enthusiastically said, “I love it!” And it was easy for us to appreciate why.

Barcelona is vibrant, eclectic, culturally rich, architecturally beautiful. It has that easy, inviting, comfortable ambience so characteristic of Spain. And, like most European cities, Barcelona is entirely walkable. For urban hikers like us, it’s an ideal destination in winter. At the Calgary airport, the ground crew spent 30 minutes de-icing the wings of our jet during a blizzard. When we arrived in Barcelona, we left our hotel wearing short sleeves.

Go to the Photos/Videos page of our website (http://www.hikingcamping.com/photos-spain.php) to see far more shots of Barcelona than we could possibly include with this blog post.

You’re a traveler, and Barcelona is on your “gotta see” list? Here are a few notes from our recent stay that will further encourage you to visit this great city, might help you plan your trip, and could be useful once you arrive.

Make reservations at Aparthotel Silver (www.hotelsilver.com). This 40-room hotel is everything a traveler could ask for: modern, clean, comfortable, efficient, friendly, and an excellent value.  We chose what they call a “comfort” room. It even had a kitchenette and a safe. We were entirely pleased. The hotel is in the Gracia neighbourhood, which is authentic, low key, neither commercial nor touristic. Yet there’s a subway stop within 100 meters of the Hotel Silver’s front door. (In Spanish, the subway or metro is called “el meteo.”) And its an easy walk from the Hotel Silver to Parc Güell—the huge, gorgeous, unique, urban park designed by Antoni Gaudí, Barcelona’s most celebrated architect. From the park’s highpoint, you can survey the entire city. It’s dazzling at night.

Upon arriving at the Barcelona airport, we caught the Aerobus (runs every 15 minutes, 4 euros per person) to Plaza Catalunya. From there, we rode the meteo to the Fontana station, then walked five minutes to the Hotel Silver. Utterly easy. Even enjoyable. Suggestion: In all the public transport facilities, look for the elevators (ascensors) so you don’t have to portage your luggage up and down lengthy staircases and end up in need of a chiropractor.

We enjoyed wandering the Gracia neighbourhood. Flow east along Carrer d’Asturias, then north along Verdi. You’ll pass a superb bakery that offers organic, alternative-grain, gluten-free bread. You’ll also see silver-jewelry shops, a couple exotic tea shops, and of course numerous boutiques selling those utterly impractical, extremely sexy, nearly knee-high leather boots that fashion-conscious women everywhere from Montreal to Moscow are tucking their tight jeans into these days.

Eat at La Lola. It’s on the corner of Carrer de l’Escoria and Carrer de Saint Lluis, near the Joanic metro station, about a 20-minute walk from Hotel Silver. This is by no means haute cuisine. It’s fresh, hearty, local fare at a reasonable price served in the Spanish equivalent of an American diner. The collegial staff rightfully takes pride in their excellent work. They hustle, but they’ll also stop to chat with and kindly touch the cheek of a long-time local patron. Watching them in action was gratifying and entertaining. When we came back a second time, they all beamed, then proceeded to treat us like friends. This is “community” in action. For about 10 euros, the lunch special (approximately 1 to 3 p.m.) is an enormous meal that includes a cerveza and dessert. La Lola is a convenient place to stop while walking from Parc Güell to the most famous Gaudí creation of all: the wildly whimsical cathedral known as Sagrada Família.

From Barcelona’s iconic cathedral, we entered the city’s medieval center. The Barri Gotic and Ciutat Vella are intriguing warrens where you can wander (we call it “urban floating”) for hours through narrow, serpentine alleys and streets, admiring an encyclopedic variety of unique shops and distinctive restaurants. Like hot, colourful, liquid jello poured into an antique mold, people have oozed back into this ancient setting and exuberantly revived it. Contemporary creativity and sophistication ambushes you around every archaic corner. Locals obviously find everything they need here—including stimulation. Independent entrepreneurs such as these artfully demonstrate how soul-less the world-dominating superstores really are.

Be sure to see Eglesia de Santa Maria del Mar. It’s a marvelous, Gothic cathedral that will inspire you regardless of your spiritual leanings. The Placa del Rei should also be on your agenda. If possible, see it at night, when golden lighting romantically softens the harsh stone of this stalwart plaza.

We also enjoyed the relatively new district of Eixample, which has many, impressive Modernisme apartment buildings. On Passeig de Gracia you can admire Gaudi’s famous Casa Milà, better known as La Pedrera. It’s more sensuous sculpture than monolithic structure.

As for tapas, you’re spoiled for choice in Barcelona. We saw dozens of tapas restaurants we yearned to sample. Tapas, by the way, are a sophisticated, Spanish cuisine—a slow meal in which you continue choosing from a vast array of appetizers. They can be cold (such as mixed olives and cheese) or warm (such as puntillitas—battered, fried, baby squid). Tapas are conducive to conversation because a single, large meal never distracts you from your companions, and because you all share, plucking the toothpick-speared delicacies from numerous, small plates. In some restaurants, diners stand and move about while eating tapas, which further stimulates social interaction. Caveat emptor: the bill can quickly swell to three figures well before you’re sated.

After much deliberation, we finally chose Longja de Tapas. We’re glad we did. Superb food, gracious service, congenial atmosphere, reasonable prices. Here, the chefs respond to each order as it arrives in the kitchen, so every tapas dish arrives at your table fresh. (Some restaurants have counters laden with trays of pre-prepared tapas.) You’ll find Longja de Tapas at Pia del Palua 7, in Ciutat Vella, across the alley from an exotic tea shop that seductively offers free samples.

People who’ve visited Barcelona tend to launch their description of the city by telling you about Las Ramblas—one of Europe’s most famous pedestrian arteries. It’s true that walking Las Ramblas is an engaging experience. We enjoyed it. But everything else we’ve described here outranks it in our memory. Most of the commercial establishments lining Las Ramblas are not particularly interesting. And a large percentage of the people strolling Las Ramblas are tourists, much like yourself. What’s of interest here is the ambience. Tidal surges of humanity aimlessly sauntering up and down a grand boulevard and eyeing each other with curiosity is… well, a curiosity. By all means, join the promenade. But only once, for a short while. Don’t fixate on it the way most visitors do.

More impressive than Las Ramblas is Monestir de Montserrat—an ancient monastery perched on a spectacular massif just beyond the edge of the city. After exploring Barcelona for a day or two, it’s refreshing to switch from urban hiker to mountain hiker and stride among pinnacles and along ridges to Montserrat’s 1,236-m (4,055-ft) summit. A mere 16 euros buys you a 3-hour round-trip train ticket from the city center to the monastery, where marked, maintained trails begin.

Infinitely more impressive than Las Ramblas is a performance, any performance, at Barcelona’s gorgeous Palau de la Musica Catalana. Immediately after you settle in at the Hotel Silver, find out what’s on at the Palau and reserve seats. For us, the planets aligned: we discovered Cecilia Bartoli, the world’s most famous mezzo-soprano, was performing the night we arrived. She was perfection. And the venue itself beats many of the world’s great art galleries.

After the performance, we walked across the city, back to Hotel Silver. It was late. The Spanish are creatures of the night, but by now the streets were quiet. Barcelona was ours. And we felt absolutely safe. Guidebooks had warned us about thieves, pickpockets and such, but we detected no threat whatsoever.

We could have ridden the meteo. Barcelona’s public transport system is extensive, swift, and comfortable. Ten meteo passes cost just 8 euros. But we rode the meteo only when we were burdened with our luggage.* The rest of the time we walked. We  urge you to do the same. Barcelona is a brilliant city for urban hikers.

*Wish we could say we travel in svelte, ultralight style, but we don’t. Between destinations, we’re beasts of burden: humans imitating mules.

In the Canadian Rockies, winter is a malicious brute. And here he is again, barging back into our lives, obviously intending to stay a while and rough everybody up. For the next week, the forecasted high temperatures in Canmore and Banff are approximately -20°C. The lows will plunge to -30°C.

Even if winter isn’t quite so brutal where you live, we urge you to run for it. Because it’s surprisingly easy to escape. You don’t have to go far to find sunny skies, warm temperatures, and an abundance of hiking trails accessing exotic, spectacular wilderness.

Our recommended destination for winter hiking: Arizona’s Superstition Mountains, a mere 45-minute drive east of Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. If you’re a keen hiker, the Superstitions are worth a two-week vacation.

“The Supes,” as we call them, comprise 160,000 acres (646 square km) of snow-free, desert mountains and canyons. Summers there are too hot to safely enjoy hiking. But late October through April, the days remain warm enough that you can often comfortably stride in shorts. We’ve backpacked in the Supes in January, when daytime temperatures averaged 21°C. After twilight, however, heat always dissipates rapidly in arid lands, so be prepared for freezing nights.

From Calgary or Vancouver, Westjet and US Air fly to Phoenix. Round-trip fares start at about $350. Within the States, US Air offers inexpensive fares to Phoenix. Renting a car at Sky Harbor might cost as little as $20 per day.

If you arrive in Phoenix in the morning, that afternoon you can begin sampling the Supe’s extensive trail network. You’ll hear the satisfying sound of gravel crunching beneath your boots. You’ll be surrounded by bizarre cacti: writhing ocotillo and statuesque saguaros. You’ll see monolithic cliffs, sharp pinnacles, plunging, boulder-strewn ravines. Tilt your head back, and you’ll likely be staring into a brilliant, blue sky. Not only will you see the sun, you’ll feel it massaging the muscles that just hours ago you’d held taut against the onslaught of winter. Only on weekends, on certain trails, might you encounter many Phoenicians. Tranquility reigns in the Supes.

Trails Illustrated Map 851 “Tonto NF Superstition and Four Peaks Wilderness Areas” is adequate for dayhiking. If backpacking, get the USGS 1:25 000 topos so you can pinpoint springs, which will be your only water sources.

These are our favorite hikes in the Supes:

Siphon Draw
Drive the Superstition Freeway, then Hwy 60, east to Apache Junction. Turn left (north) off Hwy 60 onto Idaho Road. Set your trip odometer to 0. In 0.6 mi (1 km) turn right onto Hwy 88. At 6.2 mi (10 km) turn right into Lost Dutchman State Park, at 2080 ft (634 m). This is a very appealing campground.

The trail leads to the mouth of Siphon Draw, where a steep route ascends 2470 ft (753 m), culminating at 4550 ft (1387 m) just below the summit of Flatiron where you’ll enjoy a vast, aerial panorama. Time it right, and you’ll see the sparkling lights of Phoenix on the western horizon while you descend.

LaBarge Creek / Boulder Canyon
Drive the Superstition Freeway, then Hwy 60, east to Apache Junction. Turn left (north) off Hwy 60 onto Idaho Road. Set your trip odometer to 0. In 0.6 mi (1 km) turn right onto beautiful, winding Hwy 88, known as the Apache Trail. Drive northeast 14.5 mi (23.3 km) to Canyon Lake. Park at the marina, then return to the trailhead opposite the marina entrance. The trail initially climbs above an arm of the lake, then enters a dramatic desertscape. Most people will want to return the same way rather than loop back northwest through boulder-strewn LaBarge Creek Canyon.

The trail climbs above La Barge Creek 1 mi (1.6 km) to a ridgecrest, then descends into LaBarge Creek drainage at 2.5 mi (4 km). Turn around anywhere along here for a fulfilling, half-day hike.

Strong hikers who examine the map will see they can continue south to 7 mi (11.3 km) where Trail 104 splits into east and west forks. Go right (west) briefly, then right (northwest) on Trail 241 to pass beneath Black Mesa. Loop right (northeast) on Trail 236 back to Battleship Mountain at 13 mi (21 km). Then rejoin the Boulder Canyon trail and you’re on familiar ground for the final 3.5 mi (5.6 km). Total circuit distance: 16.5 mi (26.6 km).

Fremont Saddle
From Idaho Road in Apache Junction, continue east 8.5 mi (13.7 km) on Hwy 60. Pass King Estates. Turn left (north) at the sign for Peralta Trailhead. Follow FS Road 77 (unpaved but graded) north 8 mi (13 km) to the trailhead at 2400 ft (732 m). This popular trail leads 2.5 mi (4 km) to 3766-ft (1150-m) Fremont Saddle and a startling view of the Supes’ most famous sight: Weaver’s Needle. Elevation gain to the saddle: 1440 ft (439 m).

Swift, eager hikers will continue, descending the far side of the saddle, proceeding northwest of the Needle to a junction at 5.5 mi (9 km). Go right (south, then southeast) beneath Black Top Mesa. At the 6.5-mi (10.5-km) junction, go right (south) on Trail 234 to 3410-ft (1040-m) Bluff Saddle. Bear right on Trail 235 in Barks Canyon to return to Peralta Trailhead. Total loop distance: 11.5 mi (18.5 km). Map: USGS Weavers Needle.

West Boulder Canyon to Siphon Draw via Superstition Crest
This 8- to 9- hour, one-way traverse is for athletic hikers who are competent, cross-country navigators and have either a second vehicle or a willing shuttle slave. The USGS topo maps Goldfield and Weavers Needle are required equipment for this long, highly scenic route linking the east end of the crest with Siphon Draw in the west. The distance, a mere 12 mi (19 km), sounds relatively easy but isn’t. Though the route is distinct the entire way, the terrain is rough, going astray is a constant possibility, significant ups and downs are frequent, and the elevation gain and loss totals about 5000 ft (1524 m).

In winter, it’s essential that you start hiking by 8 a.m. because the sun will set at approximately 5:30 p.m. If you think you’ll be too pressed by the limited daylight, consider hiking out and back. Start at the east-side trailhead and go only as far as the cluster of pinnacles on the ridge near 4300 ft (1311 m). Well before reaching the pinnacles, you’ll attain an impressive view of Weaver’s Needle. The ridge climaxes at 5057 ft (1541 m).

To reach the West Boulder Canyon trailhead, follow the above directions for Peralta Trailhead. About 1.2 mi (2 km) shy of Peralta, just before the road dips into a wash, park in the unsigned but obvious trailhead on the left.

Begin hiking the rocky road (chained to block vehicles) north-northeast. Ahead you’ll see two drainages. Your trail will ascend the one on the right. Soon reach a fence where you’ll pass through a hiker’s maze. About 1.5 hours from the trailhead, surmount a pass. Bear left here. The trail contours briefly. Do not descend right into West Boulder Canyon. Further directions should not be necessary if you have a compass, the topo maps, and the requisite experience.

Tortilla Flats / Upper LaBarge Box / Peters Mesa
For a superb two- or three-day backpack trip, drive Hwy 88 to Canyon Lake marina (described above for LaBarge Creek / Boulder Canyon). Set your trip odometer to 0. Continue past the tourist hamlet of Tortilla Flats. At 8.6 mi (13.8 km), immediately after milepost 221, reach Tortilla Flats trailhead on the right.

Ascend FS Road 213—a rough, 4WD route best traveled on foot. Gain 350 ft (107 m) to a pass.  Follow the road southeast, descending 200 ft (61 m) to the wilderness boundary at 3.2 mi (5.2 km). You’ll pass a windmill and watering hole. Hike the JF Trail 0.75 mi (1.3 km) southeast on a rocky hill to a junction. Turn right onto Hoolie Bacon Trail 111.

At 8.5 mi (13.7 km) reach the east side of Upper La Barge Box and possible campsites. Exit the west side of the Box at 10.25 mi (16.5 km). At the junction with Whiskey Spring Canyon, go right (northwest) toward Music Canyon. Another good campsite is at 13.5 mi (21.7 km), near Charlebois Spring. Go right on Trail 105 over Peters Mesa, then generally northeast via Kane Spring to Tortilla Flats trailhead. Total loop distance: 20.5 mi (33 km).

Further Information

There are several guidebooks on the Superstitions. None is exceptional. All will suffice. In addition to describing the trails, they explain the intriguing legend of the Lost Dutchman Mine. Supposedly, enough gold to finance a life of luxury awaits you at the tip of the Weaver’s Needle shadow. Precisely where the gold is buried along the arc of the shadow is the question that remains unanswered.

As guidebook authors logging up to 1,000 miles each summer, we began using Leki trekking poles way back when poles were a rarity on North American trails. Having never seen poles, other hikers frequently commented on them. Each assumed his quip was oh so witty. But it was almost verbatim what everyone else said: “Hey, you forgot your skis!” We tolerated this tedious sarcasm for years. But eventually the fatuous comments slowly decreased, while the number of other hikers using poles increased. It was as if we were observing the evolution of the hiker, from cretinous bipeds to astute quadrupeds. What a relief. We could stop wincing. And our faith in the intelligence of our fellow hikers was gradually restored. So thank you, Leki, for refining trekking poles into precision instruments and for popularizing them. You’ve made hiking easier, safer, and more enjoyable for all of us. And you’ve saved some poor fool—the guy who would have said “Hey, you forgot your skis!” once more than we could endure—from getting whacked with a trekking pole.

We just returned from the Banff Mountain Film and Book Festival this weekend. One of the vendor booths was for an international travel company selling spectacularly expensive, guided, group tours. Their brochure, full of colour photos of enticing destinations, is stunning. And throughout, the word “adventure” appears with wallpaper frequency.

Flipping through the brochure, we couldn’t help but shake our heads in dismay.

Is it really an adventure if everything is organized in advance for you? If you’re making none of the consequential decisions? If you’re sheltered among a group of well-to-do westerners much like yourself? If a guide is leading you?

Perhaps, if you’re mountain climbing or backcountry skiing. But if you’re simply traveling? No, it is not an adventure. It’s daycare for adults in exotic locales.

You want a travel adventure? Plan it and do it yourself. Most of the world is far more accommodating of independent travelers than tour companies would have you believe.

Prime example: Cuba. A couple winters ago, we took our bicycles to Cuba and rode across much of the island in five weeks.

We cycled from Havana, west to Vinales. Then we caught a bus back to Havana and on to Santa Clara. From there, we cycled through central Cuba and visited the UNESCO World Heritage town of Trinidad. Our favourite region was the three-day stretch along the south coast, between Montezuma and Santiago de Cuba.

It was a magnificent experience, sometimes challenging but always rewarding, because figuratively as well as literally we were self-propelled.

Exploring Cuba by bike is possible for anyone who’s athletically fit, reasonably adaptable and, yes, adventurous. If you’re intrigued, click on “Free” in the menu bar of this website. Under “Free Articles,” click on “Bicycle Cuba: They’ll Love You For It.”

That’s the article we wrote about our Cuba trip. It was originally published in the Calgary Herald travel section. Read it now. Winter is the time to go to Cuba.