Cork from Llop
The cold and the forecast of snow drove the visitors away this weekend. The streets were empty, and the sea was so smooth that a jump from the port seemed to be skimming over it. There was only one man. Perhaps he was like me; as I've gotten older, his relatives have passed away, and now there are very few at Christmas and Three Kings' Day meals.
Even my dog has grown old, and she no longer follows me on long walks. When she sees them coming, she stands rooted to the spot by the car as if to say, "I'll wait for you here, and you'll come back." She prefers to stay home. That will happen to me someday too, and therefore, it's best if I go up to Ardenya alone. I walk about five kilometers to El Corcho from Llop, which is a crossroads that passes through Turó de l'Avi. Towards the sea, from there you go down to Vallpresona, climb back up to Sant Grau, and continue on to Tossa. Further up, you reach Can Cabanyes. I stay at El Corcho, near Llop. I look for that cork tree, but I don't see anything special. The story is different. It says that a man encountered a wolf here. He got scared and climbed a cork tree, but the wolf wouldn't leave, and they were left alone: man, cork, and wolf—hence the name. But the man is gone: only the cork tree and the wolf remain in the name of the crossroads.
I prefer it's not here. Solitude is a great luxury. Never having lived alone, I've often gone out in search of it. I've ended up finding it within myself, which is where it grows deepest, a portable and well-protected solitude.
The sea visible from here is a desert; only a merchant ship, a ghost ship loaded with empty metal containers, has a single vessel on the horizon. I continue my walk without encountering anyone—no strollers, no cyclists, no motorcyclists. Only an empty plane passes through the sky. The cold is colder because it's mine alone; the solitude is more solitary because it's my solitude. The rock is more rocky, and the path is more path-like; the acorn is more acorn-like; the strawberry tree is more itself because it is alone, with no one else. The robin comes out to meet me with more curiosity because we are alone, and we are alone with each other. The forest has darkened with the rain, it's more tense and compact, more self-contained and more itself. The cork and pine trees raise their fists and shout "Strength!"
The lack of a model for life makes us more solitary. We search for an ideal and sometimes give up on life, but the ways of passing through this world, our deepest desires, seemingly freest and most indispensable, change from era to era and leave us alone with our quirks and tastes.
