Satori in La Garrotxa

An afternoon walk in the mountains and the hidden surprises of the wilderness.

Spring has finally emerged here in the Alta Garrotxa, my temporary base in the wilder parts of Catalunya. The deciduous trees have exploded into a flurry of fresh green leaves and blossom, swarmed by enthusiastic bees and other eager pollinators. The sun has increased in intensity, ceremonially marking its appearance as a consistent and intense presence in the Iberian Peninsula for the next six or seven months. Life has awakened once again. These past few weeks have been a blur — many days spent filming and editing, sleeping little and working lots. Most days have become more or less indistinguishable, merging into a flurry of intense schedules and a chronic feeling of fatigue. Welcome back to the modern world, I tell myself. I can remember my arrival to Catalunya like it was yesterday, and how I said I would need a while to recover before the next road trip. It’s hard to imagine that I will be leaving once again in only a matter of days. C’est la vie.

It’s the weekend now — not that it seems to matter with this lifestyle. After spending about 6 hours hunched behind the computer screen, I decided that it was time to break free of the technological shackles and go for a walk with Lupa in the woods. The beauty of living deep in the mountains is that adventure is never far away. We walked out of the front gate and immediately found the trail, following the Riera d’Oix into a limestone canyon, back in the direction of its source. The path followed parallel to the river, past green pastures filled with daisies to the left, and forests of cork and pine to the right. Crossing over an old Romanesque bridge, pieced together with chunks of ancient granite covered with moss and lichen, it was like entering a fairytale world. I passed an elderly couple who were tending to their garden and some brown lambs who were grazing in the field next door.

I’m not sure if this was enhanced by the recent spring rains and grey days, but it seemed that the further we walked, the more magical it became. The sun emerged from behind the clouds and I began to notice the diversity of colourful and unfamiliar wildflowers and shrubs. When the trail eventually crossed a small stream, I could hear the trickle of water turning into a deeper, cascading sound just a few metres away. I decided to go and investigate and I was pleasantly surprised to discover a crystal-clear plunge pool, formed by a small and gentle waterfall above it. The scene reminded me of the cenotes of the Mayan Peninsula in Mexico — regarded as portals into the underworld and revered by the indigenous peoples, this pool had similar characteristics. The water was pure — contained within it a unique ecosystem of small fish and tadpoles that were basking on the algae-covered rocks. In a sense, it too felt like a sacred place. A portal to another world.

Lost in a pleasant reverie, I noticed in the corner of my eye that Lupa was chasing an object that was flowing down the stream. By the time I realised what would happen, it was too late. He skidded down the algae-covered waterfall and plunged into the water below. I wasn’t overly concerned because I know I could reach him quickly, so I clambered down the side by holding onto the shrubbery and rocks, before lifting him up and placing him back onto dry land. By this point, since I was already partially submerged, I decided to take the opportunity presented to go for a wild swim. I hesitated for a few moments before overriding my primal fear of what creatures could be lurking the depths — unlikely, but I’ve seen some pretty big crayfish in Portugal and I’ve never felt as comfortable about swimming in fresh water ever since. Thankfully my concerns were not justified, since the only creatures I could see were a mass of tadpoles and a few small fish swimming just below the surface. I dived in and swam across to the other side, assuring Lupa that all was well despite his concerned whining. I guess he didn’t feel too positively about his first swim.

I climbed back up, moving carefully to not slip on the algae and end up tumbling back into the water. Having joined Lupa back on the slate rock, I emerged from this small canyon with new eyes — a feeling of freshness and rejuvenation that is consistently provided when one goes swimming in the wild. The rest of the walk back to the house was joyful, quite the contrast to the tense state in which I started. I stopped for a moment in the grassy meadow to soak up the sun and admire the scenery. The rays of sunlight felt intense and satisfying, as if the warm glow was somehow diffusing its essence throughout my over-exerted body, relaxing my nervous system and bringing me into a state of natural harmony with my surroundings. I looked below as Lupa sat patiently, also quietly observing the buzz of life that was present around us. I crouched down to examine the details of a butterfly that was feeding on a flower — it had a speckled pattern consisting of shades of brown and white, before fading into a purple centre. I had never seen anything like it. Struck by a sense of awe, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the wonders of nature.

If only I could hang onto this feeling more often. Although, I suppose what makes it so wonderful is the fact that it is fleeting — that this moment will be replaced with another, creating a sense of contrast and perspective which wouldn’t be possible without a diversity of experience. We can try and cling to these beautiful states, but I know that through letting go and allowing, this is what allows the mystery to continually present itself, often in pleasantly surprising ways. The words of a wise man I once crossed paths with reverberate in my psyche:

“Stay in the contemplation. Dedicate your life to great mystery.”

It’s been a few years since this mystical encounter with Saško in the mountains of La Palma, but the profundity of that experience still echoes within me today. This feeling of oneness and inner peace is the place that I always come back to eventually, even if takes a while — especially in the moments where I go off track once again, finding myself lost in the chaos and tumult of modern existence. I suspect that in one way or another, this is the place that all of us are heading back to at some point, whether we look for it consciously or stumble upon it unexpectedly, similarly to how I came across the paradise pool in La Garrotxa. Inwardly and outwardly stumbling or wandering towards the light.