I have amused myself somewhat with contemplating the different scenarios I could present following a title for this post like “Last night, guess what”.
Predictably boring, I went for the above and the risqué-elaborative content I will offer is that exploiting the hook-up (electricity supply) with glee, I lay under the fan at 22:30, in-van temperature of 28 deg, with the setting to bring air in, and only on 20% the cool air flow was delicious. The context – see post re heat – is all, and at least the fan does do what the investment hoped for.
The inaugural 3-generation continental trip ended according to plan 2 days ago, as I saw Danni & Mia off into Security at Girona airport.
Practicalities first. Everything logistics-wise worked and it was certainly the best decision to rent an air-conditioned apartment with breakfast rather than stay on a campsite and self-cater all food. The temperature has reached almost 30 degs every day, and it has been great to be able to come back to a cool space. The little apartment was also safe and a good size for Mia who’s not quite walking unaided, as were the communal spaces and dining room. The hotel was within 300m of a beautiful beach with crystal-clear water, as well as supermarket, cafes, restaurants etc, but also had a swimming & toddler pool which was very welcome to come back to each day.
Palamos is a smallish town, but busy with mainly Spanish holiday-makers in this still high season, with different beaches to be able to walk to, so we did pack-horse wise including parasol, beach tent, water/sun protection stuff for Mia, snacks to keep her distracted at fractious moments – usually when she wanted to be not restricted to the pram – to Playa La Fosca and Sant Antoni. Whilst we had the travel pram which was great to be able to fold down and carry with one hand, it was not robust enough like my memories of our trusty McClaren to contain a baby and load all the bags onto it. So we drove to Calella de Palafrugell, and another day to Playa de Castell, which I had come across by chance 5 years ago. We also spent an incredibly hot afternoon inland at Girona, certainly worth a re-visit with more time and less heat, and then the last day before the flight at Tossa de Mar.
The van had to be parked 10 mins away for free in the Palamos football stadium car park, so there was always an underlying concern that each visit to it would uncover some damage. This did not materialise, and other motorhomes staying overnight provided reassurance.
Mia got used to the sea, eventually bobbing about confidently in an inflatable ring in which she’s tipped forward for a more swimming position. Bucket and spade equipment was also engaged with.
There were some successes with her managing to have naps in the beach tent, but generally she definitely had fomo :).
We only had to deal with one major pooping incident in her reusable swim nappy. Presume this has now been put in the washing machine for a thorough going-over.
Overall emotions – absolutely knackering, but a reasonable sleep for most nights brought renewed energy to share in Mia’s delight as she wanted to walk and run, chase birdies, look at doggies, watch ball games, all bent over double and I must mention again, in the heat. She loved the breakfasts and I would say had an adult portion of everything each day.
Bedtime would come at 7.30pm, with the 2 carers then slumped most evenings, only capable of watching episodes of Celebrity Race Across the World, and Freddie Flintoff’s Preston cricket team, rather than joining our Spanish holiday-maker peers out and about all evening. We did make the effort to have a shower and put glad-rags on rather than pyjamas for the last evening which was also my birthday and saunter along the front to find some kind of nice restaurant, but most of these only started serving food at 8pm. All life was happening – walking, cycling, scootering, swimming & playing in the sea, and needless to say, Mia wanted to embrace her inner Spanish child and join in. We managed to enjoy a sangria and churros, before having a burger and chips in relay activity.
Grateful for good health and wherewithall for precious time and memories. I had to swallow a lump in my throat as they disappeared into an airport lift and I waved goodbye.
As I drove here from the Valencia region, the landscape became greener, with wooded hills on both sides of the autoroute, mountains further inland, and vineyards and other crops in the fields. It is interesting that Spain has got rid of its toll motorways, and those areas which used to have the booths and barriers are still there, with all the installations removed and not in use at all.
Having got to the site 2 days early to suss out the lay of the land, I only had to feel minor anxiety at being able to easily park the van to pick up my friend Rachel at Girona airport. None of my fears – eg finding myself stuck in a multi-storey car park entrance lane -came to pass. It’s a very accessible airport and good roads, convenient for the beautiful and varied coastline of this part of Spain.
The campsite is in a lovely setting which is worth the very steep descent and even steeper 🙂 ascent from its very steep wooded, terraced hillside, to its own beautiful private coves and beaches. The toilet block was also a good 50m significantly downhill, part of the same outweighed disadvantages. Did I mention that it was steep?
The e-bike managed to transport the SUP board rucksack with all the other necessary beach apparel down there, and it was worth the experiment as Rachel and I did manage to kayak across the bay, and briefly paddle along from a kneeling position. Only briefly because the sea was choppy, and in the wind it was hard work for the unpractised two of us to avoid the rocks, if not sitting and using the kayak oar. The bike later got me and the board back up. What a steed.
A beach below our Cala Llevado campsite
One day we walked across the headland the 6 or so kms to Tossa de Mar, recommended by Rachel, which was well worth the up and down in strong afternoon sun. We caught the first live music in the 4 weeks of travel, with very enjoyable flamenco, and a guitarist/singer at a lunchtime restaurant.
I had booked another site for 4 days, the ‘Yelloh’ chain Sant Pol Village at the next town up the coast, Sant Feliu de Guixols, and we could only hope that it would be as enjoyable as the one we were unfortunately leaving. It was very different but great nevertheless, and felt like we had landed in some select 4-star club, with only 20 touring pitches in almost a tropical garden setting with a lovely heated pool with cafe and restaurant, and the rest of the site having wood cabins of various sizes. But guess what? We were at the bottom of the site on a hill, with the toilet block up the equivalent of 4 or 5 flights of stairs, and 350m down the hill to the beach.
Sant Pol seems to be the posh end of Sant Feliu, with several impressive-looking hotels and a gated whole area and headland at one end of the beach.
On one of the days we walked up and down several kilometers across the headland, part of the Costa Brava Cami Ronda I think, to Sant Feliu, and on the way back to realise thankfully that it was only 1km down the actual road from the campsite. The next day we were amazed to see the mediterranean turn into Cornwall, so walked the headland path almost to the town of S’Agaro, finding a red flag on one of the beaches with strict guarding going on, so we couldn’t even cool off. All of this is really beautiful and worth visiting/doing. We had hoped to be able to hire a kayak on our last day there, to go and explore the coves, but the sea was still too rough.
All the extra kit I carry in the van for guests came into its own, particularly as by her own words, Rachel declared and I think still maintains that she likes camping.
⭐⭐⭐⭐
The only additional piece of equipment I could add, but there’s no room in my ‘garage’ under the bed, or anywhere else, given the e-bike, SUP board, power unit, solar panels, tent, etc as well as the other usual camping stuff, would be a second porta-potty. This would offer the annexe an en-suite, and prevent guests from having to walk upto the toilet block in the middle of the night/or very early mornings and then calm the heartbeat to get back to sleep again. This guest was willing (or had to accept that the campervan doors were firmly bolted at night against intruders 😂) to accept the condition of stay, so that I wouldn’t be disturbed by the sliding door being opened to gain access to my toilet. In my defense I am an extremely light sleeper, and you can imagine campsite interruptions. Her stay gets 4 stars from me, with one star dropped as she really could have opened and closed the tent zip more considerately.
We’ve had a great week, and I’ve really enjoyed having company again to share it all with.
Decided to do another long stretch from Nerja to the house of long-standing university friends in the above area.
The landscape through Almeria, and into the Murcia regions is very arid and the word ‘brutalist’ sums it up for me. Lots of agriculture under plastic poly-tunnels. I do like a tree, or many, and there aren’t any unless veering off into the towns and cities.
As Mojacar was only 10km off the motorway at one point, I went there for a lunch stop and to have a think about Mum. This was one of her happy places which her partner had introduced into her life, and I had also joined them on two occasions in March with the last one in 2019. I wanted to see whether any half-built apartment blocks had been completed, and whether it was still as beautiful and welcoming in June. It was, and some of the buildings had been completed.
Some of Mojacar Playa
The motorway journey was great and only really got busy around Alicante. The landscape suddenly changed at Ca;lpe and became green with trees, and it felt as though I had driven all the way to the Cote d’Azur.
When I finally found my friends’ house in the La Sella area, I spent a geat 4 days with them, staying in their annex, enjoying the beautiful location and having them as tour guides around Denia, Javea and into the mountains for a paella. Hopefully I’ll have other times in the future to visit. They haven’t aged a day 🙂
Ultimately heading for the Costa Brava, I decided to stay at a small site at the medieval town of Bocairent, passing Ontinyent inland from Valencia. Very beautiful wide valleys here with vineyards, and surrounded by hills/low mountains. The Beach Boys accompanied some of the rising temperature to more than 30 degrees. Most unfortunately the little campsite of 6 pitches was fully booked, and so I drove on, stopping at a site at another medieval town, Xativa.
On final arrival I was shattered from some of the drive taking me through very narrow residential streets in towns along the way, and having to do more than one u-turn due to the lack of signs for the campsites. And how could I almost forget another of my most hated episodes: trying to navigate to a gas station which had LPG, and then trying to get some out of the pump and into the vehicle, in this case from what seemed to be a completely un-‘personned’ station.
After about 10 mins in the heat of the midday of repeatedly reading the destructions on the pump (another sign of madness) and trying to get the pump to clamp onto one of my 4 or so adaptors, there suddenly appeared a hero-type with his polo-shirt indicating he was a gas station attendant. Between his Spanish and my English, and my obvious welcome at his appearance, he conveyed that I needed to activate my card payment on another machine away from the LPG pump first (not in the instwuctions), He then proceeded to achieve the process with ease, and deal unflinchingly with the explosion on de-clamping the pump. My jubilance lasted all the way until the narrow residential street driving.
After the arrival cup of tea and period of collapse, I forced myself off to walk round the town for a couple of hours, and it was well worth the visit, even though I will not be going upto the castle at the top.
The castle is at the top of the hill behind the town, and is more impressive from different placesMany historic buildings have beautiful courtyards, and still being used for current purposes; this one is a music conservatoryOne historic building being used for an art exhibition of an artist ‘Boix’?
It’s the last day of 5 days at the Camping San Miguel Aula de Naturaleza for which I have ‘Ourtours’ couple to thank. A lovely campsite, 200 yards across the road from one of Nerja’s beautiful beaches. My only downer would be that this road is the main coast road, so particularly at commuting time, is reasonably busy and therefore somewhat noisy.
It’s possible to cycle along the beach on a dirt track which then brings you to the built-up part of the town from where it’s easy to cycle/walk to the centre, the Balcon de Europa, and other beaches. This time of year seems perfect to visit, as the temperature perhaps goes up to the mid twenties, the cafes and restaurants are open and the beaches are not over busy. There are many nationalities around in addition to Spanish, perhaps Dutch people in the majority, then Germans and Brits, and a sprinkling of other vehicle number plates.
I love the beaches as many of them are in large coves, the water is beautiful and clear, and I have been able to use my SUP board. In fact for my kayaking along the beach this afternoon, Google has classed me as being on a ferry. I’ll take that. The mountains are the beautiful backdrop for this area, and the motorway I arrived on, wends it way impressively across viaducts and in tunnels through them.
The view from my ‘ferry’
The bike continues to enable me to leave the van in place and explore, and I’ve cycled on the dirt tracks that go under the motorway and into the hills/mountains. Frigliana is worth a visit, and today I walked up the Rio Chillar path which in effect from a certain point is walking up a stream. A magical walk which reminded me of ‘Puck’s Glen’ near Dunoon in Scotland, although of course completely different in landscape (& weather when I was there, which was winter, but I know that area has had some similar summer weather around now).
In typical fashion, I was just musing to myself that even the rocks in the water were not slippy, (unlike most streams in the UK) when sure enough I slipped, and fortunately only ended up with scratches and 50% of my shorts wet from falling into the undergrowth at the side! 🙂 It was early enough in the day for the hordes not yet to be in attendance, so one’s pride was not a problem. I don’t seem as yet to have any longer-term effects from the vegetation. The higher they climb ……
This picture captures my sentiments to Nerja and its environs
I’m looking forward to a glass of wine and conversation this evening with Gabrielle, a german, fellow solo traveller, and then long drive up to Denia tomorrow.
The idea for this trip had settled on shaping the initial part of it around a first visit to Madrid, and the unexpected Christmas present of the michelin guidebook ‘L’Europe en camping-car’ from my sister and brother in-laws provided exactly the itinerary for this with Burgos as the first stop.
Yesterday I decided that I would visit its Museo de Evolucion Humana, on the way to my next destination of La Granja/Sitio Real de San Ildefonso. For 6 euros entry and 1.40 eu parking I spent a really interesting 2 hours learning about what was discovered from the prehistoric human species sites in the local Atapuerca region as well as my own personal evolution 🙂.
In the afternoon 2-3 hours easy driving on the toll-free, empty A-1 motorway between Burgos and Madrid went through beautiful countryside, climbed to higher uplands and skirted the mountains of the Sierra Guadarrama, arriving at my current camper stop 3km from La Granja and 11km from Segovia.
This is a park-up without electricity but with a toilet and shower for 10eu in the grounds of an outward-bound/farm residential centre for schools from Madrid and roundabout. There are animals just over the wall and a resident peacock, which is regularly calling the shots. I was given 5 eggs from one of the wardens and information about the location, namely that we are already at about 1200m, and the mountain within 16km has a ski station at more than 2000m.
Having got the van battery warning sound last night from watching too much TV when I cut short my intended evening walk because it felt too remote, I was debating not staying for a second night in favour of moving to a campsite with hook-up and more people around. This would have meant missing a visit to the Spanish royalty Versailles equivalent in La Granja, and visiting the old town.
But waking up to sunshine, I found the motivation to get on the bike without any further procrastination such as breakfast, and visit the gardens, free entry is always attractive. It was a great decision. The photos don’t really do it justice and don’t capture the mountain backdrop. Another piece of information I was given about this area was that it only has 4 weeks of summer, and by summer, Hassan the warden meant reaching 38 degrees (he is originally from Morocco!), whereas in winter it can be -15. So I could easily imagine the hoi polloi of the Madrid court needing to move outside of these 4 weeks to this fresher mountain air, and do their aristocratic sauntering up and down the beautiful shady ‘calles’, interspersed with their gorgeous fountains. The fountains are switched on every Saturday in late spring/summer these days.
So I got back, had some of the eggs which were delicious and then debated with myself whether to up sticks and move the van to Segovia, or cycle there. In the meantime, I paid for my stay to another worker at the centre, and found out that she had spent a couple of years working at Wath, a village in the middle of nowhere in North Yorkshire. Who would have believed it! I felt surprisingly encouraged by this conversation to stay another night – still no other company turning up – and therefore use the bike again.
I wish I was able to express just how delighted I was to find myself cycling on part of an official Santiago camino trail, as I took the risk and headed off the road onto a bumpy track, past a field of bulls, with no sight in the distance of my medieval town on a hilltop destination. But thankfully I passed another solitary human and a quick question to him about whether this track would eventually end up there, resulted in reassurance as I determined that this American was walking part of the camino to there, before getting a flight back to his Chicago home. I should have asked whether he wanted any conversation – as I would have been up for some – and through his sunglasses and hiking attire I didn’t detect an axe-murderer, but instead zoomed off with my new-found confidence in the route. The track went across moorland, with a bridge over a significant high-speed rail line, and then under the A-1 motorway, and indeed eventually took me straight into the centre of Segovia, famous for its Roman aqueduct and other sites, medieval old town, walls and churches. Well worth the visit, and the bike ride. I was fortunately able to re-trace the return journey at speed, driven by the anxiety of a phone without battery. Alls well that ends well, and I have been joined by 3 other vans.
Time and again, the moral of the story for me is get out and do it. Avila and then Madrid here I come.
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