Anytime the earth historically or in the present decides to belch liquid hot magma, it makes me happy. I wouldn’t have considered Catalonia to be a place where volcanic activity took place, though it was one of those obsessive Google Maps sessions that resulted in locating a ‘volcanic park,’ for which I had to investigate, and then found what appears to be a bunch of old cinder cones hiding out under deciduous trees. In no shortage of irony, Catalonians at one point decided to build a church inside one of them (can one not see the Freudian connection to hellfire at play here?).
In keeping with my “the hell with it” approach to weather and flight planning, I did another shot at the Pre-Pyrenees ridge line, cleared it, found the view to be at the very least acceptable, and headed to Olot, where the volcanoes are located. On this day, haze was worse, though manageable. I had to remind myself that it looks 50% worse while flying than the end result on camera, which is an irony given that most things degrade when photographed.
Ridge extending from La Molina. There is a name, and I can’t be bothered to look it up. Even though “La Molina” is spelled the same in Spanish and Catalán, it is pronounced Moe-lean-a and Mull-lean-a, respectively. I find that reality to be annoying.
I shouldn’t be surprised….and I am, every time. Serra Cavallera.
Serra Cavallera. Mediterranean on the distance left/center horizon.
Looking back on Serra Cavallera.
Gave the good old farm field thing a try. Not working out as I would like today.
Olot. More virile and raging Catalonian independence brewing here.
A not-so-sneaky cinder cone. Yes, a church was built *inside* one of these (though not that one).
Appalachian-style foothills, Colorado style mountains.
Looking back toward the Mediterranean, wondering why I haven’t gotten over myself and flown to it yet.
Pyrenees / Pirineos / Pirineus / Pyrénées (English / Spanish / Catalán / French). Why can’t there just be *one* place name?