There are plenty of sculptures at roundabouts, service areas, and so on that don't say anything (to be kind). They're placed to fill an empty space, or to satisfy some compromise. This isn't the case with the one in the car park next to the Collegats Gorge (just before the tunnel, on the north side). It's a large sculpture, featuring two rafters—the one in the back and the one in front—made of iron, on a tree trunk.
I talked about this unique profession a few days ago during my visit to the Coll de Nargó Raftmen's Museum, but I had so much left to say that I couldn't visit the country's other rafting museum, the Espai Raier, in La Pobla de Segur. It is, without a doubt, a piece of our rich freshwater heritage that deserves to be discovered. Yes, I know they don't lower rafts to sell their wood, as they used to, but this activity can't be forgotten. In fact, it's now globally recognized. Yes, the rafters of Spain, Poland, Austria, the Czech Republic, and Germany are part of the Intangible World Heritage.
Finding Espai Raier in La Pobla is easy. It's located on a platform at the La Pobla de Segur train station, and outside, the star attraction is a raft lying on the ground.
The rafting euphoria has its numbers: the Noguera Pallaresa Raftmen's Association, which aims to revive the memory of this trade, has around 400 members. And the Raftmen's Day in La Pobla, which has taken place every first Sunday of July since 1979, is very popular with several rafters (also once a year, during Easter, those from Coll de Nargó also descend).
"The rafters who went down the Noguera Pallaresa were from La Pobla de Segur and Pont de Claverol. The river was a highway for them; the land roads were terrible, especially up here; you have to keep in mind that the river carried more water than it does now. They made rafts with three sections (sets of logs placed parallel, but parallel parallel parallel parallel parallel) five," Laia Porta, a member of the Noguera Pallaresa Raftmen's Association, tells me, and they act like rafters, from here and everywhere. She has had the opportunity to travel to see rafts from other places. She remembers the experience of going down with a raft in Poland, "with a little house, a bar... They even light a fire." In Poland, and in many other rafting places, the rivers are much wider, of course.
"From La Pobla to Lleida, the rafters usually took 7 days, and to Tortosa, 12. There was a clause for the journey to Tortosa: if the rafters didn't arrive within a maximum of 15 days, they wouldn't get paid," Laia explains.
"The rafters' work was seasonal: it took place during the thaw. When there was no snow in the mountains or it was beginning to melt, they would start cutting wood. And when the meltwater reached the rivers, they would set out on the water. The season varied depending on the weather, but it was usually from spring to autumn," Laia explains as she put the rafts together. The two main tools for carrying them are the oar and the hook (a long wooden pole, which could be up to three meters long, with one end made of iron, with a point and a hook). The hook was used to free both the logs when they were going down the ravine, and the raft itself, once it had descended in its entirety. "There is no rafter without a hook, just as there is no shepherd without a flock," Laia says.
Another key piece of equipment for the rafter is the morada, a perch made of a branch shaped like a gallows, which was nailed to the raft. On the floor, the rafters hung a bundle containing their small belongings: their fato (food), their sandals, and their pants—underpants, as they called them—(so they wouldn't get wet and could be put on when they stopped in a town to sleep or dance!)
In the museum, you can see a dwelling with a bundle, and next to it, a rafter's outfit, with a sash and a beret. And long cotton underpants.
The rafting business gradually faded due to improved roads and the arrival of trucks. The final blow came from La Canadiense, the company responsible for building the Sant Antoni dam. This company had agreed to build a raft ramp. But this would come at a huge cost. Its directors gathered the carpentry owners on whom the raft business depended. "Instead of building the ramp, I'll give you compensation," they proposed. The carpentry owners didn't think twice: they opted to accept the money and invest it in the purchase of trucks. In the 1910s, the rais stopped running from La Pobla de Segur to the south. From the Àneu valleys to La Pobla, the rais declined until the early 1930s.
Raftsmen were descending from the Pyrenees a century ago. Just four generations ago! The 20th century was the one that made the most progress in making our lives easier. But we're still angry, and how!
Towards Sossís or Puebla?
"Toward Sossís or Puebla?" was the way to indicate whether it was necessary to steer the raft to one side of the river or the other. To move in the right direction downstream and avoid the rocks, if the front row member shouted "All for Sossís!", it meant that the tail rower had to point the raft to the left. If they shouted "To Pobla!", it meant that the tail rower had to row to move the raft's tail to the right.
This way, they avoided saying "to the right" and "to the left," which caused confusion. Often, the bottom team had their backs to the front team, and this meant that one team's right was the other's left. Since Sossís is on one side of the river and La Pobla on the other, there was no confusion.