Hillside wanderings

So far I have discovered two ways to reach the hills surrounding Cerbère: one, is to walk in the dry river bed (very wet during occasional monumental downpours) at the back of the town; through a long echoing tunnel, (over which the train activity happens), more river bed and then into olive and lavender filled hills.
The other, is to walk through the sprawl of mega-villas at the top of the town and follow the road until the houses run out and you are left with a pot-holed tarmac 'chemin'. These two routes eventually meet up, thus creating a circular walk of great variety.
Last time, I intended to follow the road to something called 'Las Rocas"indicated by an ancient bull-shaped wooden sign. I didn't get that far but did enjoy a couple of hours of total silence except for bees and occasional distant sounds from the railway sidings.
Another walk we have done a few times is up to the old border point customs building (now unused, even the café - what a missed opportunity . . . mm, interesting thought) and over the hill to Port-Bou on the Spanish side.
A lovely hike-ette with the plus of being able to eat a great meal for very little money when you get there, and then walk back/get the train if you've over-indulged.

          Beware bees

       View from bee area

Gecko house

Last swim of the year.

I think last year the final swim must have been around the end of October, just cold enough to ice the ends of my toes.
This year, it may have been the end of September on my last visit.
I swam at seven in the morning when the water appeared to consist of ink blue and iridescent turquoise, silk strips; the morning star and crescent moon hanging in a never-ending expanse of dawn sky.
Collecting a pebble from the beach to add to my 'number of sea swims this year' jar, I walked up the hill to then drink tea, sitting on the front step of our flat.
I watched the late summer swallows weaving and dipping, and tried to recall what the same street was like in January when the Tramontane wind swirled leaves and pine needles from doorways of holiday homes, and the harbour railings sang their mournful four note lament.

Add-on to post - last swim was actually here (next photo) in October, in the poetically named 'beach of no troubles' which it was - completely empty apart from another woman swimming, and someone fishing.

Street art

There's lots of this in Cerbère. Over the years various contemporary art events have left traces all over the town: some defiantly visible like the oblong of violet paint with the word 'Miracle' written in gold paint that decorates the beach wall; or the huge gold letters saying 'You see what it is I want to say' (in French) also gracing that same wall.

A meander down the back streets reveals other works in unexpected places - a beautifully painted woman (picture of, not woman) holding giant antlers at the top of someones garden steps, or this fabulous orange fish near the entrance to one of the town's tunnels.

Dotted about are smaller paintings - a series of pigeons with moralistic phrases accompanying them, skulls, and all the real graffiti that graces walls, doors, steps and tunnels.

One of the passenger walkways tunnels has itself become a work of art by Jean Truel spanning many years.

I wonder if the likes of Picasso and other artists made it as far as Cerbère - they spent time in Collioure, a few kilometres up the coast. I can't imagine they wouldn't have stopped off, intrigued by the Belvedere Hotel perhaps (see last post). On their way to see Dali in Cadaqués perhaps? Someone in the town must know . . . another little project.