Mr Lloyd & Flamingo's.

"Well that was relatively pain free eh Tanya." I said.

This as we drove away from Faro airport after a trial run through the pick up area. This 'trial run' was admittedly a week before Barbara is due to arrive but better safe than sorry eh! We also located a local campsite and wild camp spot where we can head for as her plane does not land until 1930hrs.

After stopping to pick up a fresh 5kg bag of juicy fresh Oranges from one of the roadside stalls we headed back out into the wilds of the Rio Formosa salt marshes for a couple of nights solitude.

I'd previously, on one of our bike-walks, found a wee rough track over the coastal railway and out into the salt marshes. So here I am and I've Not seen any other vehicles down here except the locals who are always out at low tide collecting shell fish. Quite a few walkers and cyclists pass nearby on the Southern Algarve cycle route and we have used the same path to visit 'Fuseta' the nearest town. It's a relatively un-touristy fishing based town complete with rail station and campsite.

We visited this afternoon and used wi-fi at a local cafe to organise Mr Lloyd and his pal Visa to transfer cash over to my special Euro card. Only Mr Lloyd was not playing. Mr Lloyd instead had the cheek to set his fraud detection department upon me. Not a big thing and I will sort it over the next day or so. What surprised me though was how 'being dragged back to the real world' got me down. For no reason at all I was suddenly angry with myself. I was upset and the whole day seemed to have turned sour. Tanya did not help either and got the sharp side of my tongue. She did her usual act of being fast asleep right by me one second and the next totally gone. Vanished, disappeared, out of sight and only re-appearing just as I started to reach panicking stage about 5 minutes later. Grrrrrr!  Yes I know, doggy lead. I'd left it back in Sadie ...... again....!

All's well that ends well though. After having given myself a good talking to we enjoyed cycling-walking round the town before heading back along the cycle track to Sadie safe and sound in her hiding place deep in the salt marshes. By the time I'd put some good music on, cooked up the rest of last nights home made chicken korma and downed a cup of tea, well, the world and things in general were back in their rightful place and the unwarranted anger at myself had dissipated.
. . .

Tanya, this morning redeemed herself admirably. At 0619hrs. She awoke and gave her morning alarm of head shake accompanied by loud flapping ear noise. Often when she does this I put on a grumbly voice and tell her. 

"Too early, Tanyas bed, back to Tanyas bed." 

She invariably does just that and we both enjoy another hour or so of sleep. Sometimes though when we are wild and it is safe to let her out I drag myself out of bed open the door for her and crawl back into bed sometimes accompanied by freshly brewed cup of tea.

So there I am, stark naked sleepily opening the door to allow Tanya her freedom and suddenly I am jerked into awakefullness and enthralled by the sight in front of me.

To my left an orange sun disc is, just as I am, sleepily and nakedly, peeping over the threshold of the horizon. In front of me on this as yet windless morning are the shallow mirror surfaced oblong shaped salt pans with about 50 Flamingo's feeding. Long pink legs and downward flexible neck moving a feeding head around in the shallow water. All peacefully and perfectly reflectively mirrored. The vista, especially using my binoculars, was stunning. A mobile phone camera, unfortunately, can in no way capture such enthralment. A few minutes later the sun had donned its clothes of strong glare and the initial beauty was past. I too finally donned robe against the cold. I made my cup of tea and retired back to bed to continue viewing through Sadies large side window. My tea drained deliciously, sip by sip, as I continued to watch my own personal flock of beautiful Flamingo's. I must at some point have dozed off for when I awoke it was 0745hrs, the sun was streaming in Sadies front window and starting to remove the early morning chill. The salt flat was empty. My Flamingo's were gone. I stared out at the salt pans now with rippled water from the cool early morning breeze. In that half awake sleepy hinterland I wondered: Was that all a dream? Sadie then gave a slight shake as the familiar clump of Tanya jumping in through the open door reminded me it was no dream. My early morning gift of Flamingo excellence from Tanya had been real and very special.

Thank you Tanya.

Kayaking with reluctant dog.

"Go on Tanya jump. Go on. Good girl. OMG she's actually done it. Well how about that. Hmmmm! Better rescue her I suppose."

Picture the scenario. For starters there is one blue inflatable 2 person Kayak half way up the river estuary between 'Fort du Rato' and the charming town of 'Tavira' here in the area known as the 'Rio Formosa'. Next picture one strange looking bearded guy kneeling in it complete with straw hat, red life-jacket and wielding a paddle. Finally one small black dog swimming around in the river and starting to panic as she realises there is no beach in sight to swim to. Small black dog by the way does not normally 'do' water and especially not swimming. In fact small black dog is extremely wary of bearded gentleman when it comes to seaside beaches as she has had one too many experiences of literally being dropped in it. She has established that distance between her and bearded guy seems to reduces the amount of 'dropping in it'. Clever Tanya.

So on this occasion, even though it was a beautiful warm and sunny day, bearded gentleman was most surprised to see little black dog move from her position up front of the Kayak (Not her favorite mode of transport it has to be said) to a position with front paws on the side, head overboard, and rest of body indicating I'm going in for a swim. The encouragement from me did the trick and into the clear water she jumped. A first for Tanya. I soon had her hauled back in and after a good all over body shake she resumed her position up front and gave me a look as if to say; 

'I done it man. I done it and am a lot cooler but don't go thinkin I like water now cos I don't, right!'

We continued our 3km paddle up the tidal estuary to 'Tavira' helped by the incoming tidal flow. A couple of hours to enjoy lunch and explore more of the town would give time for the tide to turn ready to assist us on our return journey. It was good fun, good exercise and an adventurous way to enjoy such a warm and windless day. I finally lifted the Kayak out in the centre of 'Tavira' just by a restaurant where a scrumptious meal of Sea Bass and simple veg really hit the spot.

I guess for a while we entertained the other diners as we emerged from the river steps onto the Plaza with Kayak, paddle and waterproof bag. All were stowed against the riverside railings, lifejacket was stripped off and clean shirt donned. Bearded gentleman, still with straw hat on plus a still decidedly wet looking black dog then nonchalently strolled over to the outdoor very smart restaurant tables and joined  the other diners. Most satisfying!

Now move on a couple of days. We're still wild-camped in the same place. Weather is still beautiful so bearded gentleman is seen once again preparing Kayak as the tide rises. "We'll go the other way this time Tanya. Down to 'Carabas'. Says bearded man. Tanya however; when it comes time to go keeps her distance and in fact quite pointedly trots over to Don and Gails motorhome to see their dog 'Ruben'. No doubt to say. 

"He wants me in that bloody boat thing again. No way! Can I stay with you for a bit?" 

Don and Gail whom I've got to know over the last few days were there for the afternoon and quite happy to act as dog sitters. So she got her way and there she stayed until I returned a few hours later.

What a dog eh!

Tanya, the beach walk & Portugal.

I was concentrating really hard you see. The tide had not gone out quite far enough and so cycling westwards along this stretch of the 'Barria el Rompidu' was difficult. The barrier was simply a large sand dune spit stretching Eastwards from 'La Antilla' where Sadie was parked. it was created by the 'River Piedras' flowing into the sea.

Yesterday we had cycled all the way into 'Isla Christina' along the delightful cycle tracks that wound through the dunes and among the Pine trees. It had entailed quite a bit of walking too as the soft shifting sand covered the path in places and was impossible to cycle on as you will know if you have ever tried it. After a mediocre lunch and coffee we set off back along the beach. The tide was well out and the flat hard sand down by the tidal line was easy to cycle on. It was miles and miles of beach so Tanya alternated between running along the beach then hitching a ride in her green taxi bucket on the back of the bike.

Today though was different. We had cycled East as far as we could go, or so I thought. I locked the bike up and we walked off into the dunes for a bit of all over sunbathing plus swim in the sea. We walked deeper into the dunes on our return and found a cycle track travelling Eastwards along the sand spit. Well it was not long before we were merrily spinning along it on the bike with the result that about 20 minutes later we were virtually at the end of the spit. So far so good and it was beautiful with not a soul in sight. In fact the whole area has a bit of a ghost town feel to it. It is very much a resort for the Spanish and, I am reliably informed, does not even start to come to life until May or June. Huge great hotels with mile upon mile of wide sea front promenade and cafes every few hundred metres. All shut, closed, gone home and empty apart from the odd maintenance workers and the small local fishing area in the middle. Good for us motorhomers though as huge empty beach side parking areas are there for the taking with the local police nowhere in sight.

So there I was miles from Sadie and at the end of this 'Barrier de El Rompidu.'
"I know." I say to myself. "We'll do the same as yesterday and cycle back along the beach.

" Hmmmm! I never learn do I". 

We'd just cycled along a lovely fast, level and bendy hard surfaced track which would have been good fun to cycle back on. But no. Oh no! Steve tromps down to the waters edge. Stamps his foot in the sand a couple of times and pronounces it cyclable. Well that bit was! the rest would have been too if I had been an hour later and the tide had gone out further. By now though the sun was behind grayish clouds and there was a coolish breeze blowing. We set off. Tanya running the beach and me concentrating hard on finding that narrow strip of cyclable sand between the sea and soft upper beach sand. It was hard work with low gear engaged and legs working like pistons on a fast steam train.

"This aint good." I thought to myself. 

I looked ahead and gained some encouragement as I espied in the far shimmering distance the start of the beach side villas which meant tarmac road leading to promenade leading eventually to Sadie. Head down, concentrate, keep pumping!

Then OMG! Where's Tanya? 

I immediately stop and look back toward the horizon along the miles of beach. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I turn the bike round resolved to start cycling back even though I could feel my legs protesting loudly. Wait a minute what is that? I thought at first it was a trick of the light but no, a tiny black dot appears right at the edge of the distant gray haziness. This tiny black dot slowly takes on a  familiar bobbing up and down movement. Soon I can just make out ears flopping up and down as she steadily runs along trying to catch up with me. 

Phew! What a relief!

She finally makes it, flops down exhausted on the sand about a metre from me. She then gives me a look which translated  clearly as; 

"I'm f****d. What the hell d'you do that for?"

 Mind you. After a short rest, a drink of fresh water which I always carry for her, and a slow walk on toward the distant buildings another dog plus owner appears. Poor exhausted Tanya is suddenly tearing up and down the beach again in hot pursuit of puppy Labrador. 

"Hmmmph" I mutter as I once again start the leg pistons pumping pedal to push bike through softish sand and on toward the still distant vision of tarmac and easier cycling. I did keep an eye on Tanya this time though and I think she had learned her lesson too as she kept close. Boy was I glad to reach tarmac. I loaded a panting Tanya into her green taxi and set off again on the lovely level, easy peasy tarmac. I tell you. We slept well that night!
-  -  -
Portugal. Yes we are now by the beach near 'Tavira'. The spot is familiar and is down by 'Forte do Rato', which contrary to expectation translates as 'Fort of  mouse'. Rat is 'ratazana'. Errr no! My Portuguese language skills are still the same as my Spanish language skills. Non existent. This bit of translation was via the interesting English version of the 'East Algarve Magazine'.

This is a beautiful spot but once again busier than last year when I spent several days here as the one and only motorhome. There are 7 of us down here at the moment. Lovely couple from Scotland just up from me. Always good to get some chat. Canoe has been out, swims have been enjoyed and if the weather holds I'll probably stay here for a few more days.

Back in the rough

25° centigrade at 5pm with a clear blue sky. A level and 'little used' Urbanization road directly above 'San Jose del Valle'. Chair out, cup of tea and yes, this is what it is all about. We're in cattle and grain country. A hillier and much larger version of the Cotswolds if you like. Very agricultural, un-touristy and 'me' to the core. We are SE of Seville and in a couple of days, because we are not speed merchants, we will be North and west of Seville moving nearer to Portugal.

We left Costa del Sol once I collected Tanya from Shampoodle in 'Duquessa'. My goodness she is one smart little Shnauzer now. She seems much happier with her short coat too especially as the tempature has decided to pamper us with a move to very warm rather than decidedly windy and cool.
................

I guess it's me getting old but tonight I am seriously pooped. I think the last straw was the circular walk around under and over the dam at 'Aznacollar'. Afterwards it was as much as I could do to get a meal ready although I was rather fetched out of my 'poor me' when the smoke alarm decided to go off. What a racket and it continued till every window, door and roof-vent had been opened. I eventually and very gratefully seated myself and tucked into my fry up of last nights left overs. The blackened and burnt side definitely had the taste advantage! A second cup of tea plus a quiet half hour sitting doing nothing seems to have put a little juice back in the tank. Even so it's bed early for me tonight.

On reflection the day has been full so being pooped is OK. It commenced with an amiable chat to Mrs Sat Nav and her subsequent decision to give us a trip right through the centre of Seville.

"If there is a parking spot somewhere within cycling distance of the centre me n you is gonna hit Seville Tanya." 

Well there was and we did.

Seville is not a hilly city and was very pleasant to negotiate by bike. One of the many little Plazas eventually saw us stop for a delicious two courses of tapas. I'm not exactly sure what of Seville we did see but the big busy Spanish city experience in warm sunshine was very pleasant. Of course we ended up miles away from Sadie so were exhausted when finally we returned.

Here by the 'Barrage Aznacollar' is very pleasant indeed and was espied about an hours drive from Seville. We're here for the day and I've promised Tanya we do nothing all day apart from the occasional swim and walk into the surrounding hills which are liberally tracered with goat tracks. Two herds returned to the village last night with at one point Sadie being completely surrounded by the curious and delightfully 'Oh! I want that baby one', creatures. Tanya had to be held close. To her goats are the same as sheep and are for chasing unfortunately. On seeing the size of the two goatherders dogs, I figured releasing her before they were well past to be prudent and the best way of removing her from the menu of two said large, hungry and mean looking dogs.. Poor Tanya. Frustrated again!!

Costa del Steve loves them really!

Yup! I don't mind admitting the 'Costas' suit me well. Warm sunshine, clear blue sea, miles of long flat cyclable promenades, Cafes, wi fi and supermarkets everywhere. Heavily populated by English speakers and UK run business's. Very comforting. Almost feels holidayish!  A good foil to my time away from tourist areas.

There are a lot more people and motorhomes down here this year as opposed to last. The Spanish seem to be tightening up on some wild or free camping spots too. Take where I am at present. Tucked on a wee car park right by the beach in a small 'Urbanization' called 'Castilla de la Duquessa'. (castle of the duchess.) I did not stop here last year but I do remember seeing from the A7 road a scattering of motorhomes wild camped all along this stretch of beach. Not this year though. New signs designating it a 'Site Ecologique' with all vehicular entrances to the beach area now blocked off. A big plush expensive campsite has opened up, and by the looks of it is full to bursting with gi-normous American type RV's and caravans. I can actually see them from where I'm sitting now where there are 4 of us in total. 2 French, 1 German and myself tucked into a parking area next to the beach.. No problems at all. Last night the 'Policia Locale' came round, chatted amiably with the German, obviously a good Spanish speaker, and then toddled on their way. I've said it before and last night was a good example of the relaxed attitude of the local police to motorhomers at this time of year. That is, of course, where there are no problems and not too many of us congregating in the one spot.

I spent a few nights at Nerja prior to arriving here. There were several other motorhomes there and I could see trouble brewing. I watched a couple of guys carrying their toilet cassettes over to a manhole. I did not actually see them disgorging the contents but presume they did as they left the manhole catch open for others to access. When I looked carefully at the drain run I classed it as a water run off pipe from the roadway and not a sewer drain. A big difference and a lovely way to contaminate water that probably runs into one of the irrigation lakes used by the local fruit growers. And why? I asked myself, when just up the road a garage offered all motorhome service requirements plus launderette.

Just to emphasize the above I am now on Police records here in Andalucia after being chucked off a beach side stop along with a few others. A first for me and a 'not too unpleasant' experience with the female and English speaking member of the two person 'Policia Locale' team hinting there had been complaints. Not suprising really as this open grassy area right next to the beach was just south of  'posh expensive' Marbella and right next to some extremely plush millionaire type villas. I think I'd complain too if I owned one and woke up to a view of pikeys and their vans from my obscenely large patio cum terrace cum nearly Olympic size swimming pool.

I had arrived ten minutes before Mr Plod arrived so it did not worry me to be moved on. I had only popped in for a look as it was visible from the main road. The rest, about five vans were quite put out and animatedly discussing where to go next. I shrugged my shoulders, kept my mouth shut and quietly left when asked if I knew any good spots. Fraid it was a case of, 'well, for one van yes I do know where to go. However; in this wild/free camping game, especially with so many motorhomes about, such places are, unfortunately not for sharing!'

I'd been back to the Buddha Stupa at Benaldamena to attend an advertised teaching by a member of the Sangha  (Buddhist community). Excellent it was too. I had stayed locally overnight and had called into the 'Mr Plod wants you gone' spot on my way back to 'Duquessa' where I had already sussed out several places to park up. I had also previously booked Tanya in to 'Shampoodle' for some TLC, or in Tanya language 'More Woofin Torture'. An obliging and enterprising English couple ran it and I was told about it by a guy in the Dolphin Cafe & Bar at 'Puerto Duquessa' marina where we were both enjoying a light lunch in the warm sunshine.

The appointment is tomorrow morning and we are discretely camped just a short walk away. After, and hopefully with a smartly turned out Tanya, it is off to Portugal time.

Errr! what happened to Morrocco I hear you say?  Weeeell ..... after a few days angst, a visit to Algeciras' where I encountered the German and French en masse all returning, plus various stories of hassle plus lack of other English speakers going to Morocco I decided I just could not be bothered.

A warm and mutually uplifting phone conversation with Barbara (poor B has had 'The Bug!) helped me decide on a plan for her to fly down to 'Faro', Portugal early April to join me for a few weeks. It all felt so relaxed and free of hassle as opposed to Morrocco which seemed to be sending me nothing but obstacles and difficulties. I'll do Morrocco in 2015 and join up with others early January which is when they all seem to travel over.

So all being well tomorrow should be bye bye Costas as we once again head inland and, in my roundabout and wandering way, aim for 'Seville' ..... roughly, I think, I'll check with Mrs Sat Nav tomorrow!