Flood

"Bow wave?" I thought. CLUNK .... JERK ..... DEAD STOP. "Shit!" I loudly exclaimed as the enormity of our sudden and unexpected dilemma dramatically hit home.

The weather, it being Easter n all that, had turned very wet. We were on our way down to the coast from the hilltop village and tourist stop of 'Monchique'. All in all things were going very well. We had enjoyed bike rides, swimming and snorkelling. A real highlight had been wild camping alongside a rural track in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the wild colours, sounds and scents of a flowering Portuguese spring. Such delights had been ours this last couple of sun blessed weeks. But now, Easter Sunday, the rain was tumultuous so we were happily and slowly wending our way to lower and drier levels.

There was a flood under a bridge which at first glance did not look too bad and certainly no worse than Sadie and I had forded through before. 

"Slowly does it" I thought as Sadie crept along. 

We were halfway through when I noticed we were making a bow wave in front of us. Now, the noticing of a bow wave being pushed up in front of a vehicle designed to travel on dry land is good and sort of OK. Unfortunately; 'the noticing' is a sluggish psychological process which is usually some way behind the action taking place in front of your eyes. This of course is not good, not good at all! Sadies big five cylinder diesel engine relies totally on receiving large quantities of dry clean air. Her air intake was now below the bow wave and had efficiently sucked into her engine a healthy slug of water. This had immediately stopped her dead. Simultaneously my brain, which contains years of knowledge and useless information about engines, registered with alarm the catastrophic consequences of said slug of water entering such a precision reliant mechanism as Sadie's large hot five cylinder turbocharged diesel engine

I turned to Barbara and said gloomily. "That's the engine well and truly f****d then!"

I kicked off my footwear and stepped outside to assess the situation. The water was knee deep and lapping at Sadie's entry step. I noticed a youngish tall guy beckoning me over while at the same time speaking into his mobile phone. As I paddled out of the water toward him he said in good English. 

"You got rope? My friend coming back, he pull you out." 

Sure enough edging toward the water a few minutes later was his friends Jeep complete with wife and young child sitting bemused inside. The ropes were soon attached and Sadie emerged from the flood onto the dry road.

That, however, was not the end. Listen to the rest of this story and then tell me who is one very very lucky old codger!

Turns out these two guys were lorry mechanics and really knew their stuff. In seconds Sadies bonnett was up, air hoses were being disconnected and a soggy wet air filter was pronounced as 'No good, need buy new.'  I was then instructed to sit in the drivers seat and occasionally give the engine a flick with the starter motor. They meanwhile rocked Sadie back and forth with her in 5th gear. 

"You must put in 5th gear!" They shouted in unison" 

Sadie's engine was finally cleared of water and able to turn over easily and start. And miracle of miracles she did start. She burst back into life and I just about burst into tears. I could not believe our good fortune. Easter Sunday, a foreign country, a flooded bridge out in the countryside and two Guardian Angel lorry mechanics there on site to assist the crazy tourist who drives a motorhome like he thinks he's got a Sunseeker luxury powerboat!!

I was instructed to drive slowly to our destination, about ten kilometers, and then go to the Mercedes Benz main dealer the next day to finish the job properly. I thrust a generous Euro note into each of their protesting hands before limping slowly away in Sadie with her compromised non turbo charged engine. The air hoses, and turbocharger had been left unconnected to drain out and dry.

I was shattered both mentally and physically when we reached 'Alvor', our stop for the night. To be then cared for and have dinner cooked for me by Barbara was very very special. Especially after she had been suddenly and dramatically told her shared holiday home was, in effect, f****d by her host, a thunderously doom and gloom bearded ancient idiot motorhome driver. An experience that was deeply traumatising for her as well. Thank you Barbara.

We were at the Mercedes Benz dealer early next day. They were excellent and remarkably good value too. Yup! The miracles just kept coming!  I mean .... Mercedes main dealer? Good value? Hah! in the UK you'd need to take out a mortgage if you so much as coughed in one of those places! But here in Portugal we left 2 hours later with a fully functional, fully checked, electronically diagnosed, and all thumbs up raring to go Sadie.

Another day and another story but more to the point. Another example of ..... There is summmat, out there, lookin after me. All I can do is say ..... Thank you soooooo much.

Barbara and I had a bet as to what the garage bill would be. We were happily both way out with our guesses. Even so Barbara was the loser being off the mark even more than me. She was quite happy to stick to the agreement and duly paid for the celebratory meal.

Sadly Barbara is now safely back, courtesy of Ryanair, to her country cottage near 'St Andrews' in Scotland. I can truly say we had a wonderful three weeks and both Tanya and I are tonight missing her a lot. Sadie seems somehow empty.

Special K (with chocolate curls!) & tripping up.

I could not help but laugh with Barbara again as her face convulsed and tears rolled down her cheeks as she recalled the 'tripping' incident of the previous night.

We were at 'Sagres' parked behind Phil and Linda's Burstner Motorhome. I'd first met Phil and Linda last year in Spain. A few days ago in 'Alvor' they had recognized Tanya and called us over. We met them again at our wild spot near 'Lagos' where they assisted in fending off the continuous begging from the local 'travelling people'.

Phil and Linda were enjoying their 'meal in' as we set off to sample an evening meal out at the local 'Sagres' surfers beach restaurant. We knocked on their door on our return, the agreed signal for them to join us shortly for an evening drink.

Now a motorhome is simply a house condensed into a very small space. Upon entering Sadie our immediate task was to 'move' things, which loosely translates as 'chuck stuff on the bed'. This of course to make room for our guests. I lifted the basket of 'stuff' which lives on the bench seat, swung round to take two paces toward the bed. Next thing I am sprawled head-first upon bed with head half in basket. Blue, denim jean clad legs, according to the convulsed with laughter Barbara, were waving around horizontally and alarmingly.

"What the ..... who the hell put my toolbox there .... First rule of motorhoming is NEVER EVER BLOCK THE FLOOR SPACE!!'' 

This was my furious repost as I regained my feet and stupified, stared vacantly at my toolbox neatly placed on the floor in front of the bed. With pointed wagging finger this now very angry bearded apparition rounded on the culprit only to be faced with a Barbara doubled up with laughter, cheeks glistening with tears and not far off an incident involving the lower regions.

Phil and Linda then announced their arrival at our open doorway which meant the whole story had to be re-canted by the virtually incoherent with mirth Barbara. Phil joined me in the highly male ritual of 'Hmmmph!' Which is the delicate and nigh on impossible transition of male red rage anger into desperate and futile face saving justification when faced with overwhelming, and frighteningly mysterious, female humour. Linda meanwhile 'getting it wholeheartedly' was by now laughing too as the sorry tale of the fuming angry horizontal leg waving bearded motorhomer unfolded.

Overall it was a good start to what turned out to be a lovely evening and a farewell to our friends as they started to head North the next day.

We meanwhile headed for the local 'Supermercado' to stock up the dwindling food supply. All went well until I made the mistake of allowing Barbara freedom to roam. She found the breakfast cereal aisle. I knew immediately we were in trouble as her unmistakable whoop of delight echoed around the supermarket. I arrived as the shelf was being cleared of the unavailable in the UK 'Kellogs Special K with chocolate curls.'

Special K with Chocolate curl (SKCC) addiction is a growing problem across Europe and Barbara, a vulnerable victim, and totally unaware of the lethal and lifelong consequences had tucked into her first milk soaked bowl of SKCC a year ago in Paris. This unexpected fresh exposure brought on a total relapse undoing all the good work SKCC anonymous had achieved over the past year.

Strong action was needed. A threat to report her to the GNR (Portuguese gun toting police) was thankfully enough to allow me to replace all but two boxes. These days, due to the explosive expansion of SKCC use across society, two boxes per shopping trolley is tolerated by the GNR. However; the strange and far away look in her eyes plus the way she clutched tightly to the supermarket trolley reminded me of the injuries I sustained the last time I tried to touch those two allowable boxes.

She is now doing OK after phoning her SKCC anonymous buddy. It's a bit like handling an eggshell first thing in the morning but once she has consumed her morning fix she becomes the Barbara I know from an un-addicted past life. The daily scrumptious Greek yoghurt recommended by her buddy seems to be helping too with her relapsing only once so far into more than one bowl a day.

But overall, and pushing aside for once, the joint crazy humour we both enjoy, Barbara, Tanya and I have been enjoying a wonderful sun blessed time here in the Algarve. She will be missed.

Welcom to Portugal Barbara.

"Shhhh! No don't lower the blind, just lie still n they'll go soon." Says I to a not suprisingly, nervous and worried Barbara.

The pick up at the airport had gone smoothly apart from Barbara's bag being on the wrong plane and going to arrive 12 hrs later courtesy of super efficient (not) British Airways. Sorting that out had taken some time so we arrived at the local Faro Beach car park, our overnight spot, later than expected. No problem. Barbara was delighted and we were both pleased to see each other and share some lovely fruity sweet curry and rice.

Timing is all important in life. Youngsters with boom box rev me up cars arriving to do wheelies on this, an empty sand covered and therefore skid heaven car park, just as we were settling down for the night was timing to perfection. Poor Barbara wondered what on earth she had let herself into. She, bravely and with considerable doubt trusted me as I quietly listened and figured out it was not a crowd but just two cars with a couple of youngsters out for a bit of fun. Thankfully my prognosis of the situation soon proved correct as two rev me up cars disappeared into the dark night leaving us with only some 'end of storm' breakers hurling themselves against the sea wall in front of us. A re-assuring and continuous sound which quickly lured us into a deep sleep till the morning light and Tanya's flapping ears awakened us.

Portugal still and in particular at my favourite wild spot here opposite the small village of 'Ferragudo', just over the river from the high rise holiday complex skyline of 'Portimao'. The river estuary is a busy waterway with lovely sandy beaches one of which is right outside Sadies door. The mooring buoys scattered around the estuary have beautiful big fresh mussels clumped together and tightly clinging to their underwater anchor ropes. Last year I swam out and collected some and fair exhausted myself what with the tugging at these underwater mollusces and swimming against the tide. What a difference this year. Blow up Kayak became my fishing boat and it was not long before Barbara and I were feasting on a lunch of very fresh mussels enhanced, I have to say, by Barbaras delicious tomato onion and garlic sauce. Yummy yum yum!

"My bike. I can't believe it!" 

The look of pleasured amazement on Barbara's face as she gingerly handled this brand new and rather smart ladies bike was, for me, re-payment with generous interest on this 'damm good value for money' bicycle. We were soon embarked upon our first joint cycling trip over the river to 'Portimao' and the beach beyond. A nice easy flat ride. Apart that is from the exposed walk/cycleway which was a bolted on extra to the long steel road bridge spanning the river. This was of course no problem for roughy toughy Steve and his Tanya filled green bucket bike. For Barbara though, embarked as she was on her first bicycle excursion for many years, this very long, narrow and rattley steel floored passageway came under the OMG terrifying label. The open sides showing the swirling waters beneath did nothing to ease her terror. She did great though. With gritted teeth and eyes fixed firmly ahead she kept pedalling and with a "Phew" type exclamation arrived safely alongside me. 

"Now you've done it once the return journey won't be so bad." I said to her. I did'nt get a verbal reply, just a look, a look which said it all!

All was forgiven and we are now, a few days later by the way, in a pavement cafe in 'Lagos, listening to Sweet Alabama from two excellent street buskers. Heaven.

Waiting + Fridge & special guest

'CHECKMATE' .... issued forth the the voice from my smart phone.

"Whaaat .... How ... Oh damm, I forgot that knight!" Issued forth the whingy whiney voice of myself. Shoulders slumped and jaw dropped as realisation sunk in of the enormity of losing to a computer chess app set at level one, which is one up from beginner. It did'nt help that the sound of heavy rain beating down on Sadies roof was loud and continuous and had been since we had left Tavira.

Doom, gloom and mental breakdown into depression. This was the clever octopus now tentatively reaching out its multi suckered arms in the hope I would remain in the defeated Chess stupor long enough for it to get a firm hold and drag me down deep into it's lair.

HA!! "No way José!" 

I say as I remind myself of the actual where/what and how well we're doing just now. Barbara was due the next day and we had returned to the campsite in Tavira to clean Sadie, get washing done and prepare, as best as one elderly single brain celled male can do, for the arrival of female company. We had done well. Even Tanya had a bath and we had collected a very smart ladies bicycle from the local cycle shop.

But .... Oh yes, there is always a 'but' where these things are concerned. Day 2 of fridge doom had also arrived. You gotta admire fate's timing have you not. I mean the very day before my special guest arrives. Good timing fate, good timing!

I'd done all I could in the way of re-stripping and re-furbishing the intracies of the fridge's complicated operating mechanism twice now. Master Fridge was not having it though and refused to play ball.

"Where's that leaflet for 'Camper Serv' Tanya?" I mutter as I finally locate it. 

"Aha! They are agents for Dometic (fridge make) and they are just up the road from Faro airport. "C'mon Tanya, in y'get we're on our way!"

In the pouring rain, with me holding the umbrella, a very efficient young man at Camper Serv pulls out two wires, cleans and replaces them and without further ado Master Fridge sputters into gas fuelled activity. Hooray! The day, and more importantly, Tanya, Barbara, and my stock of food, are saved. I would have willingly paid a lot more than he asked for especially as he took time to show and explain to me this particular fault of the fridge and how to fix it.

Well that was yesterday. The rain ceased early this morning and here we are watching the planes come and go in a sun blessed viewing area at Faro airport. Plenty of time to take Tanya for a walk and prepare a nice curry for this evening, Barbara may be hungry, before we drive round to the airport pick up area once I see her plane land.

OH! And Master Fridge? He is happily 'green for go' and keeping the grub cool.

Only fly on the horizon is poor Tanya who does not in any way approve of the regular bird scarer bangs coming from the end of the runway. AH well! Can't have everything perfect can we.

The piccys. Well the rain also forced me to 'Smart phone play'. Guess who found an app in Google Play Store called 'Sketch Guru!'

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!

Thick fog & duff fridge.

I knew there was a 'certain death' drop to the right of me but for once I was quite happy to throw caution aside and fling Sadie as near to the edge as possible. I really did not expect to meet a f**king large tourist coach on such a high and narrow mountain road. Especially not this morning when damp and clinging white-out mountain fog had rendered visibility down to ten metres. We lurched past each other with inches to spare and nothing to the left of Sadie except swirling white mist. A blessing in disguise as if the weather had been clear and I could see the bottomless drop to my left I may not have been so keen to fling Sadie to the very edge of the tarmac and her tyres ability to remain upon it. Mind you if it had been good visibility we would have seen each other much earlier and I would not have shit myself as I was suddenly and unexpectedly confronted with a pair of big fuzzy and very far apart headlights moving at terrifying speed straight toward me.

It was the second day of High Alpujarras. The scenery was stunning with day one being dullish but with OK vision. After an overnight stop next to a viewpoint we set off hoping the worsening mist and fog would lift. It did'nt. As we got higher the visibility deteriorated. The bus incident did it.

"We're not here for this Tan. We stop!" 

I said. 'Pampaneira' was about 5k further on. The fog was now also rain but worse it prevented me from seeing any place where I could safely perch Sadie. In the end we persevered to 'Pampaneira' where I temporarily squeezed Sadie onto a hotel car park and walked to the village. Thankfully, once there. I located a good safe and level car park. We soon had Sadie hunkered down and there we waited for skies to clear and sunshine to return.

Meanwhile Mr Fridge was becoming extremely huffy about working on gas. I was having to manually operate it whenever we stopped. Even then it was taking me two or three goes before he got the message and fired up. Hmmm! Not good when combined with a driving scare and miserable weather. It was getting me down.

A day can certainly change things. Next morning I sleepily opened Sadie's front blinds. WOW!   Blue sky above. The  whitewashed houses of 'Pampeneira' just below clinging to the steep sides of this the magnificent 'Poquera' gorge. In between the brilliant white and sun kissed snowy peak of 'Mulhacen' with 'Bubion' and 'Capileira', two more higher still mountainside villages, beckoning me on to re-visit and re-call the weeks walking holiday Kate and I enjoyed back in 2006.

A good dose of Swearing at Mr Fridge miraculously seemed to also wake him up to the fact this was a good day. He fired up reluctantly and for once kept going. We spent the morning in the high villages where fond memories were re-called. June it was. Warm sunny June was the month Kate and I were there. This however; was Februrary, high in the mountains virtually on the snow line. Enough. It was time to drop to lower levels and some warmth.

'Orgiva'. Ahhhh! Sitting in the main Plaza with coffee and a musician originally from Northumberland whom I'd met ten minutes earlier. One of his neighbours then arrived, a Swiss guy with a twelve string guitar. They were both soon jamming together to everyones delight. The day was definitely improving. I debated whether to stay but in the end decided to move on. A little too much 'in your face' evidence of booze, drugs and skint drifters. I expect it would have been fine but after several days out in the contemplative wild I was not ready for this lively, busy, artisian and youthful town. We ended up west of Granada on a huge empty, 'someone made a packet out of stitching up the E U', industrial estate at 'Escuzar'. Beautiful level road, not a soul in site and a view of the snow covered Sierra Nevada to die for. Only one thing wrong. Mr Fridge stubbornly and with finality, refused to operate on gas. I tried several times to coax him into action but in that part of brain that just always bloody well knows I knew, with certainty, the day of fridge doom had arrived. A glumness returned.

"There's only one thing we can do Tan", I said. "Lets make a cup of tea, feed you and then have a think about how much of the freezer content we can eat in one night!"

The day however; ended well. Yes, well. Listen and I'll tell all.

A cup of tea. A think. Toolbox out and back of fridge to bits. A good dose of TLC plus clean everything scrupulously before careful re-assembly. Then, and this is the important bit, a few moments of deep, silent reverence with a muttered sincere apology to Mr Fridge for earlier calling into question with loud unsavoury language his impeccable line of ancestry. With breath held and heart racing fingers finally reached out and pressed the start button. Mr Fridge, now highly appreciative of me finally getting the TLC and thorough clean message, fired up with a healthy clunk and has been working faultlessly ever since. Cool huh!
- - -
'Nerja'. Not the most solubrious of stops being a dusty car park between the back of Mercradona supermarket and an elevated section of a busy main road. But it's warm, five minutes from the sea, in among the shops, cafes etc plus several other motorhomes are here too. This will do for tonight. Tanya loves it too. Lots of other dogs plus owners walking by and it is safe enough to leave Sadie's door open for her to scamper off and investigate the newcomers. One of them brought a very attractive and sociable young lady along this morning. We were soon watching both dogs, then chatting and then both laughing our heads off as she could speak not a word of English and I was the same with Spanish. Mind you I think she did say, "Manyana camino perro mi amigo?" With gestures that indicated both of us walking and both dogs walking. Hmmmm... I wonder? Maybe I'll just hang around for another day or so. I mean, the sun is out, the beach is good and I fancy another swim .... after the dog walk that is!!

Kaden my Grandson and first, long time wanted, son of son Keith and his lovely wife Justine was Christened a few days ago. It was good to benefit from the wonders of t'internet, courtesy of son Mark, and receive some beautiful piccys of the event from up there in the cold and wet Co Kerry, Ireland.

May his wee smile stay for life.

The 'Other' or paralell journey.

Rain in the night. Snow on the peak above and a weather forcast indicating iffy for the next couple of days. "Well Tanya." I say as I look across at one happy, just fed, curled up and asleep dog on her 'parked up' perch of drivers seat.

We're very wild here high up in the 'Parque natural sta Barbara' East of Granada and just south of 'Baza'. It's quite cold too but Tanya is able to just run free. I literally open the door when I get up and off she goes. Normally I walk with her but it is quite pleasant to occasionally have a lazy morning where I chuck her out for a solo walk. About twenty minutes later she is back waiting patiently outside the door till I let her in when of course she expects her breakfast to be served up pronto.

"Well Tanya, I guess if there is snow on that peak above I suppose I'd better play safe and take the lower pass over the 'Sierra Nevada", don't you think?"

No reply of course but the question refers to the next stage of this wander which is to visit the 'Alpujarras' area on the Southern slopes of the 'Sierra Nevada'. Kate and I spent a week walking in the area back in 2006 and trecked to 'Mulhacen' at 3482m the highest peak in Spain (I think!). I remember it as a beautiful area but for now, I have to crosss the mountains North to South to get there. As I said, with snow on the 2271m peak above us I think a quick scoot East on the A92 to the lower pass over the col near the 1710m peak of 'Montenegro' and on to the village of 'Olhanes' looks favourable.

If I do decide to move on today that is what we will do but there is no guarantee. Reflecting on the last few days, and in particular yesterday, re-inforced the; 'no plan or guarantee, be as it is, spiritual go with the flow' aspect of my wanderings.

The weather has been warm and sunny albeit cool at night. Yesterday I stuck to my promise and did not drive too far. We were soon perched in among fields and irrigation ponds enjoying the afternoon sunshine, just north of  'Bazen'. We were to the east of, and in sight of the hill 'Jabalcon' with atop it a shrine to 'Virgen de la Cabeza'.

"we'll drive round the other side tomorrow Tanya, look at the resevoir (Embalse del Negratin) and drive or walk up to the 'Virgen de la Cabaleza' shrine."

The action / thought seemed to be confirmed in a later, and particuarly deep, meditation. I have spoken of this aspect of my journey previously. It is integral to everything I do. Religion is often, but not exclusively, the way 'this aspect' is talked of or thought about. For me it is more about energy, meetings and 'at peace' levels of body and mind. Religious language and symbolism as opposed to scientific or psychological reference has been, and to a large extent still is, how humankind expresses or explains the unexplainable. That is why I am often drawn to shrines and places of religious expression. These are the places where I, and before me many others, feel energy and are given, for want of a better word, gifts.

And yesterday, once again, it was so. This 'gift' had a wee twist to it. We were on a service road running alongside a large irrigation channel which of course was wending its level contour hugging way around the mountain to where, according to my map, the road to the shrine branched off just before the village of 'Zujar'.

"Uhho! Whats this then Tanya?"

In the middle of the road, hands in pockets and earphones in ears was a cyclist happily weaving his way along the level roadway. There was a sudden and frantic grab for handlebars and swerve to the right as Sadies large white front slowly edged up into his field of vision. A cheery wave was imparted as we passed.

Cue five minutes later. We are stopped admiring the azure blue of the 'Embalse del Negratin' (reservoir) laid out before us. I was to the side of Sadie, having a pee actually, when our friend the surprised cyclist pulls to a halt beside us. He turned out to be a lovely guy. A teacher at a local school who was out on this warm and sunny Saturday for some much needed physical exercise. He could speak good English even though his English teachers assessment was, he told me: 'not good'. I, an acknowledged expert in many languages (NOT!!) assured him otherwise.

We agreed to meet for coffee a little further on at a restaurant where we spent a happy hour or so chatting away. As I said a very genuine Spanish guy who, like myself, was country born and bred and liked nothing better than to be out in it.

We said goodbye and continued only to find every road leading to the shrine was blocked and undergoing repair. The walk from that point would have been major and so we continued on our way. It seems someone had decided a visit to the shrine was not to be. It was not until evening as I reflected upon the day that our 'non visit' and the 'gift' became clear.

You see, I was on my way to visit Mary, mother of, or 'Virgen de la Cabeza' whereas I was instead gifted a meeting with a lovely Spanish guy.

And his name?

'Jesus'.

Yes, his Christian name was Jesus and he has to live with it as he explained to me. I left him my card so, if you read this Jesus please forgive my inference to your name and may you also see our meeting as one example of this area's / earth's powerful, wonderful, and once again for want of a better word, spiritual ability.

Onward & inland

"That, if I may say so, was very nice and it hit the spot well!"

 This said to myself as I pushed away the empty plate, licked my lips and relaxed in my favourite chair, Sadie's turned around passenger seat. Chicken breast, stuffed with Chorizo plus onions and mushrooms cooked for 35 min in a wrap of cooking foil. As reccomended by friend Jurate  back in 'Burriana' where we've been for the last few days.

Our time in 'Burriana', home to Jurate and her family, was relaxing and fruitful. Relaxing as I treated us all to a scrumptious meal out at a local buffet type restaurant. The place was huge and so were we by the time we left. You just have to try everything at a buffet don't you. The stomach may be saying 'no more pleeeease.....' but the eyes ...... well the eyes just see gorgeous and 'must have' food everywhere they look ....so back you go just one more time! The following evening was more sensible. We all enjoyed a meal cooked by Sergio, Jurate's husband. We were then entertained by children Emily and Alexandro's dancing. The stay was fruitful because with Jurate's translation skills I got the puncture in my rear tyre repaired. At a very reasonable price too.

The 'hit the spot' hot meal felt even more delicious as where I am now in 'Alcala del Juca'  is very cold and wet. A pity as this is a stunning location. Fetch it up on Google and you will see what I mean. On our walk round earlier it was winter coat, brolly and avoiding the middle of the steep cliff paths winding up to the castle as they were running with water. The castle was still worth the trek though and I marvelled at how people live very much on top of each other in these Troglydite houses where the back half is dug out of the cliff face. We are parked on a level patch by some flats right under the cliff face and its dug in houses on the opposite bank of the 'river Juca'. No piccy's though. Too dark and wet.

I mused to myself as we drove up here into the 'La Mancha' high plains area that, as usual, I decide to head inland for a while and right on cue the weather turns decidedly Scottish. Ah well! I guess it is still February. Sadie however; is beautifully snug and warm. The specialised small diesel heater I had fitted in the UK by Steve, the Mikuni agent in Southampton has been worth its weight in gold. It quite happily burbles away blowing hot air into Sadie with virtually no drain on the batteries and negligble use of diesel. No more worry about running out of gas trying to keep warm which was previously the only way to heat Sadie. Now I can keep snugly warm on cold dark nights and oven cook a lovely chicken supper. Can't be bad eh?
- - - -
What a stunning drive we've had today. In sunshine too. 'Alcala del Juca' to 'Valdeganga' following the river Juca and it's deep gash of a ravine all the way. Doing such a road in a 3m high and a tad under 7m long motorhome was Ok but I would not have wanted to be any bigger. The road was properly surfaced but narrow in places with huge rock overhangs coming uncomfortably close. What fun though. All the way along more Troglydite houses with quite a few sporting well weathered for sale signs. They would not be my choice of home but as I explored one old and derelict example I could see the advantage of having half your house consisting of cool rock during the fierce heat of a Spanish Summer. The abandoned one I explored was very old and tumbledown with a rush and timber roof and one end for the animals. The two bedrooms were dug deep into the cliff face with blue painted walls/cliff. Fascinating.

A late lunch and a quick walk round the busy and cosmopolitan (read; same as any other city centre) city of 'Albacete' saw us soon being led once again by Mrs Sat nav toward 'Elche de la sierra'. Only we did'nt make it. 'Penas de san Pedro' (yes I know, & I expect Pedro is sick to death of the never ending jokes & innuendos!) hove into view with it's mouth watering rock pinnacle complete with zig zag track to the walled fortifications at the top. Fraid Sadie was promply parked at foot of said rock pinnacle on a very conveniant empty roadway. It was not long before Tanya and I were at the top espying with the Bonnacles  'Albacete' all those miles back across the dry undulating agricultural plains.

OH! And I have not seen another Motorhome since I turned inland from the favoured narrow coastal strip.

A visit to Tosall Gross

Lenny and Win are just that kind of people,  friendly, welcoming, generous and Win's cooking? Well! can you blame me for staying at their villa for a few days rather than just the one which was my original intention.

This morning was a typical example. My plan was to move on. The plan was going well when around mid morning I get out watering can and water container ready to top up Sadies fresh water. We were parked roadside just outside the villa and water top up was all I had to do before being on my way.

"C'mon Tanya. Lets pop into the villa, get this water and say cheerio."

3 hours later after more motorhome chat as they hope to upgrade theirs this year plus some computer sorting out and plus a yummy lunch of cheese and salad rolls I remembered my original intention. We did eventually get away and I reflected happily on an enjoyable 3 day stay as we slowly negotiated the wickedly steep and twisty road to 'Oliva' at the base of the mountain.

Win lost her beloved husband Dave several years ago but not before they had together created their beautiful mountain villa at the 'Urbanization' of 'Tossal Gros' overlooking 'Oliva' and the coast as far North as 'Cullera' and South to 'Denia'.

She eventually decided to move to Spain permanently with new partner Lenny. I met Lenny last year purely by chance while I was wandering around 'Javea'. We got talking about the dogs, as you do. They have a lovely wee Shi-zhu. Tanya and Buster were soon good friends.

They're both involved with a local church and Win runs Burmese cooking classes to raise cash which then goes into feeding the local street people. It's a big English speaking x-pat area and Win tells me there are lots more ladies around than available men. Hmmmm! Best keep moving methinks!

So here we are once again out in the high scrub and forest between 'Llombai' and 'Montjoi'. A roughish but well used track which when Tanya and I walked up it presented us with a delightful spot. Sadie was soon levelled up, parked and cup of tea was enjoyed as we watched the sun drop over the distant hills while in the large and fertile plains below us the lights started to twinkle in the various towns. One small white van passed us early this morning just as I was sleepily pulling old clothes on to take Tanya for her early morning walk. Ablutions you say? On such a beautiful morning they come later. The owner of the white van cheerily greeted us as we passed him later collecting up his baskets full of pine cones. So far he has been the only passing traffic.

This combination of social immersion then 'alone'ness' seems, at present, to meet and satisfy my needs well.  The 'alone'ness' is time for Human 'Being' with meditation, reflection, reading, silence and of course Tanya. The social immersion quickly returns me to normal 'Human'ness' and places my feet firmly back on terra firma.

I guess a superb meal of Cod and Chips from a British owned and run fish n chip shop in 'Moraira' counts as Terra Firma. Lenny & Win recommended it, and they were right too, it was sooo good. Sadie took us all down there and afterwards we took Tanya & Buster for a walk on the beach and around the 'as pattern' Spanish holiday resort Marina full of expensive sleek and obscene looking plastic gin palaces. A little unkind maybe as I do like to walk round these marinas with usually the sailing boats attracting my attention. Especially the more traditionally built ones. I still prefer Sadie though and her ability to effortlessly sail the roads.

Viva l'Espana etc etc.

"Oooh Sh*te!! That was a bad one. Something must have broken somewhere. Now come on Steve, concentrate, bloody well concentrate!"

The trouble with travelling on smaller rural roads, which is what I like to do in order to experience 'off grid' Spain is that sometimes you don't actually see the important bits you need to see. Like speed bumps. This happens to me once or twice every year before I learn. I hit one too fast and wham bang wallop everything gets shaken and strained to breaking point. Its the same in France and Spain, but Spain in particular scatters these sadistic vehicle killers liberally around on anything other than major roads. They are big too. Really big, often with a pedestrian crossing on the top. The entry and exit slopes are usually pretty savage which demands Sadie be in second gear to creep over them. This particular 'Ooooh sh*te' was hit unexpectedly at about twenty mph. Disaster!! Thankfully the only damage was a bent bike rack and a sticky door which were both fixable. My nerves were in tatters though and I was pretty amazed no other serious damage happened. I've been very careful since.

Sadie was not let off lightly though. She was immediately flung into the gorgeous windy, as in hairpin bend after hairpin bend, cliff hugging road complete with breathtaking views of the sea between 'St Feliu de Guixols' and 'Lloret de Mar'. We even did an excursion up into the hills to the old hermitage at 'Sant Grau' where we enjoyed a peaceful night. While there out walking following one of the many 'cork tree bark cutter's' trails, there was lots of evidence of wild boar. At one point I could hear them snuffling away in the forest below us. Tanya was kept close as we quietly retreated.

Sant Grau at one time must have been a school or holiday centre as there was a large abandoned and empty swimming pool and sports area. Graffiti adorned most walls with one in the games area sporting a lurid, highly coloured, and sexually explicit but beautifully done piece of very clever artwork. I've attached a photo but it really does not do it or its creator justice. I'm afraid it knocked the scenic trail of Rennie Macintosh landscapes back in 'Port Vendre' firmly into second place.
- - - -
Mmmmm: warm sunshine, no early morning heating required (a first for this trip) and a view across the 'Delta De L'Ebre'. All this as I tuck in to my breakfast of fresh Mango accompanied with Jordans Almond and Raisin Oat crunchy. We are at a very pleasant Aire near 'El Poblenou del Delta' way out near the coastal edge of this flat wetland, rice growing and bird sanctury 'Parc Natural'. I've already 'binocular spied' the Flamingos, numerous Herons and the prowling Marsh harrier. Plus, as you'd expect, the large tractors with huge rear cage type mulching wheels. At this time of year they literally drive through the flooded rice paddys mulching last years rice crop stubble into a big mushy and muddy mess. Next month they drain the paddys allowing them to dry and be cultivated and then re-sown with this years rice crop.

I also had a long chat to a German guy and his 'Eagle One' rig of big old Mercedes truck complete with live in trailer. He too is a fulltiimer, travelling solo and also runs a blog. Then he tells me his blog has 750,000 subcribers and the Google adverts on his site are what fund his adventures. Well, when I last looked I had 9 readers of my blog. Guess at that rate I would have to pay Google! The downside is he was moving on as he needed internet access. His followers demand an update almost on a daily basis. Not for me I'm afraid. I quite like my alone'ness and out of touch'ness. Once a week internet seems fine for me at present. Mind you if my readership should rise to say 10 or even 15, my goodness, then I'd have to think again would I not!

Bike came out today. Another first for this trip. And why not. A lovely warm and breezy day with completely flat rice paddy and dyke land to pedal over. Eeeezy peeezy. Errrr no! Going out to the coast was exhilerating with the wind at our back nearly making pedalling unnecesary. Coming back was not so easy with the afternoon wind even stronger and me tired after running the legs off Tanya on the huge beach. However; because of this slow cycling we were treated to a beautiful  Kingfisher sighting. For some time it skimmed along the dyke to my right just above the water then perched on one of the many small entrance bridges to the rice fields. It seemed to be waiting for us to catch up. As soon as we did a flash of red and blue and off it went skimming to the next bridge. Tired legs fade into the background when nature allows you a glimpse of Kingfisher magnificense. Mind you it could have been the other way round. Mr kingfisher may have been saying; "Will y'get a load of this. Bright yellow (my bike jacket) green (Tanyas bucket) and black moving thing with red and yellow (Tanya + red collar + flourescent yellow harness) Boy oh boy; as a Kingfisher I thought I was pretty cute with my blues, reds and greens but this human thing .... I tell you guys it was something else. Got me proper turned on it did!"

- - - -

Few days later.
Fourteen kilometres of Sadies 1st and 2nd gear it was. Magic though. Totally un-metalled (ie rough track) hugging the coast and well on the way to being washed away by it in several places. The plan (Ha ha!) was to move to a campsite for a few days as laundry was building up and Tanya needed a good wash and clip. "I'll just put 'Peniscola' in the sat nav. Looks nice and it will make a good lunch spot." Says I. It did too with a bonus amazing sand sculpture on the beach. Re-setting the sat nav I noticed a much smaller road hugging the coast to 'Camping Ribamar' near 'Alcossebre'. Camping Ribamar was listed in my ACSI book of European campsites as quiet, near a rocky beach and with all facilities at the standard ACSI price of €16.00 per night. 

"Just the job. Now how do I find my way out to this smaller road mrs Sat Nav".

  Mrs Sat Nav gets all flustered and grumpy when I start doing things like telling her she is a bicycle which forces her to show me the little roads Motorhomes are not supposed to be on. Bless her, she's only getting flustered out of concern for us which is fair as usually it takes a bit of; 

"Oops! Don't really think we should be going down here Tanya!"

 before we finally clear town and reach small rural roads proper. As I said earlier this was definitely rural with only mountain bikers and locals in their 4 x 4's raising the dust on this stunning track along the coast. Yes it was rough. Slow slow very slow was called for. The reward? A night out on a clifftop over the sea right out in the wild with amazing views both ways along the coast. Plus a long chat with a couple from Wrexham! Yes Wrexham! They were on holiday in Peniscola and walking the hills and coast. We all enjoyed a coffee courtesy of Sadie, and I think they appreciated, as you do, the accompanying chat with the owner of this British registered motorhome which had perched itself in  such an unexpected place.

We resumed the next morning slowly easing ourselves along the track which was perfectly serviceable and well used but shiny protruding beach rock rough. Beaches were walked and crashing waves were watched. Camping Ribamar hove into view mid afternoon and it was not long before we settled onto pitch H2 and bubbling kettle birthed a welcome cup of tea. I'm sure I heard a big sigh of relief from Sadie,  particularly her wheels and suspension, as I turned the key and let her engine stop.

Downside of campsite? 3g signal is zilch and wi fi is an expensive extra.

Upside? They have a dedicated doggy washing area c/w warm shower. That is cool yeah?!

Plus - unusually there are 3 other Shnauzers in the vans around me. I've met 2 and been told of the other. One of them is called 'Anya'. Even more cool yeah?!

Good days & bad days

"Tanya this is a toolbox job!" 

Out came the plumbers wrench which when combined with a wee bit of elbow grease made short work of removing the reluctant to open barrier obstructing my exit from the 'Milleau' motorhome Aire. I had met 80 yr old Keith from 'Wetherby' with his van as we tried to enter the previous night. That was bad enough with the automatic payment booth very quickly extracting €9.60 from our credit cards but then giving no instructions as to how the little plastic card it issued gave entry. I finally swiped mine across the green exit button and hey presto the barrier opened. I stood in front of it to prevent it closing while Keith drove in, stopped and then stood in front of the barrier allowing me to enter. Now of course I was reaping the benefit of having already used my little plastic card on the exit button. The silly machine just kept saying ''carte abus'' as I re-presented it in order to leave. I was also last to leave so there was no one else around to assist. Hence the plumbers wrench engineering solution. I hasten to add I did re-assemble the barrier after my exit. The bolts are now just finger tight though. Maybe it will help some other poor motorhomer facing the same dilemma.

I decided after such trauma to go 'off Piste' and head into the hills stopping off just outside Milleau to admire from below the world famous viaduct. I will leave actually driving over it for another day. I instead headed out into the delightful 'Monts de Lacune' area and struck lucky. 'Chateau de Montaigut' beckoned for me to hang a left and head up the steep twisty road to where she perched very prominently and impressively overlooking the valley below. She presented us with a lovely but windy car park for the night. Not a soul did we see as we explored this closed but still fascinating historical monument. Most interesting of all though was that the buildings/barns were full of antique farm machinery. Well! I was in heaven. Old binders, ploughs, fodder presses, threshing machines and crown of all ..... wait for it as this is really exciting .... Oh come on wake up, it's not that boring ...... an old red Massey Harris bagger combine harvester ..... Wow! n just how cool is that? And how tiny compared to the red, yellow and Green monsters that munch through modern day cornfields. Yes I agree. These things depend very much on personal history, memories and associations which were all there for me as I clambered around and over these 'from another era'  rusting iron memories.

We continued our meander through the hills next day, Saturday. Weather was deteriorating and every time I spotted a place to stop for lunch there was another group of hunters out in their orange jackets, guns slung over their shoulders and with their howling and ferocious looking dogs. Not a place for letting Tanya out for a run. We found out what they were hunting too. Coming round a sharp downhill bend a wild boar suddenly burst out from the forest and nearly ran straight into us in, I presume, it's headlong and probably doomed rush to escape the hunting dogs and ultimately the guns of their owners. It was only a fleeting glimpse but that is all you need to reccognise terror be it it in a wild boar or a human.

Finally blue sky and sun although it is accompanied by a strong and very cold wind coming straight off the snow covered Pyrennes. No matter. In the lee the sun is warm and today for the first time it was down to shirt sleeves on a beach walk with Tanya. We are actually on familiar territory. Familiar in that I am now on the Med coast at 'Port Vendre'. We spent happy days here on our first trip 2 years ago. Last time I was here March/April time and things were starting to open. At present everywhere is still in full Winter mode. Ie; closed! Apart that is from Supermarche's, Boulangerie's, Banques and around every corner the illuminated green neon cross symbol of the pharmacie. I tell you there's money in them there drugs, big money, for somebody. France, I can assure you, is according to my observation even more addicted to pill and potion for any and every ailment as we are in the UK.

I've just finished a very nice platter consisting the last of my frozen chips, the last of my spicy Chorizo, accompanied by mushrooms, egg and tinned tomatoes. Delicious. Especially so as when we drove in to Port Vendre, a working port by the way, it looked as though it was actually open for business. There were even some cafes open with folk drinking coffee. So park up we did in the Aire round the back of the port. Changed into respectable clothes I did. Tanya duly fed and off we walks to see if we could treat ourselves to a meal out. Ha! They must have seen me coming. Everything was closing up as we walked down the attractive front by the harbour. The only premises alive and functioning with about 5 or 6 people in it, yes you've guessed, le, or maybe its la, Pharmacie! We enjoyed our walk though and did I not do well, resisting the temptation to nip into the local Super U supermarche and grab a pizza!

Ahhh France! So good to be back.

Oh yes, definitely good feelings as Sadie rolled along at her leisurely pace over the wide expanse and highly agriculturised 'Marne' & 'Seine Marne' plains. Sun gleamed through the windscreen as memories of our lunchtime walk around 'Epenyar' were recalled. Lighter jacket had to be donned to accommodate warm sun upon cheeks.

Long, stretching to the horizon, and sparsly trafficked roads are such a delight and relief after the busy, stressful and badly repaired roads of the UK, the South in particular.

Not that everything is perfect. That would be too much to expect. I still have a dodgy fridge and could well at some point be changing diet to accommodate fridge being re-named as 'storage cupboard, non cool'.

The Champagne city of 'Reims' was not kind to me either. My book of 'Aires' I (overnight stopover places for Motorhomes) indicated there was one within five minutes walk of the famous 'Reims Cathederal'. Mrs Sat Nav gobbled up the destination and took us there faultlessly. Only it wer'nt there!! Or else it was so well hidden as to be beyond finding for this ancient traveler who was knackered after an early off the ferry start plus a good but longer journey than he ought to have done. Evening rush hour did not help either.

"Sod it!" I exclaimed as I dived into a side street to recuperate. Mrs Sat Nav soon had us safely ensconsed in the car park hinterland of a mega mega huge 'e le Clerc' Hypermarket courtesy of a quick Google search. A safe night where we were not bovvered by anyone was subsequently enjoyed.
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Just had a knock on the door with a very kind French gentleman saying, ''Securitie monsieur. Vous remainez ici et tres dangeroux".

Now. This is half past eight at night in the sleepy little French town of 'Pont sur-Yonne'. I am well fed, snug, warm and parked by the Yonne canal/river. Very pleasant and quiet it is too. However; and to my surprise, just behind me is a motorhome cum camping accessory store which I browsed around earlier. Seems kindly French gentleman is a friend of the owner who allows him to stay there in his motorhome. He is parked inside the store security fence.  I presume he became concerned as I, a fellow motorhomer, was outside in the dark world known as, 'Dangeroux'.

He seemed very genuine so I accommodated his anxiety and allowed him to escort us inside where, after securely locking the gate behind us and wishing me "Bon nuit" he entered his little Tardis and I entered mine. A lovely gesture and concerned action from a complete stranger. How cool and kind is that!

And boy Oh boy do I feel safer now I am locked securely away behind high wire fences and well away from that dangerous outside world ....... !
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Next Morning. Turns out kindly and genuine Frenchman is manager of one of the local Hypermarkets and chooses to live, with his female partner, in their motorhome as homeowning is so expensive here in France. Now where have I heard that before?

Tonight, Sunday, another sleepy village 'Quarre les-Tombs'. We are in the 'Parc Nationale Morvan'. A hilly forested and very wet area but with a very nice Aire for motorhomes right next to the church and 'centre ville'. As usual for all of these mid sized villages, there is, right next to us, a magnificent gym, activities hall, and playing field complex. S'funny, but they seem to value them over here rather than selling them off for housing!
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The warm sunny weather did not last! Wet and cold last night but a lovely Aire at Autun right by a big lake. Unfortunately it was also opposite Macdonalds and yes: last night I cheated. Chicken and bacon wrap with large fries for supper. Yum yum but only every now and again. It was wet, cold and we had done a long walk by another lake earlier. We needed a bit of familiar comfort!!

It is such a shame as here I am, a teetotaller, travelling through some of France's most famous, and prosperous wine areas. Burgundy, Beaujolais, Champagne and they are all beautiful even in this cold and wet weather. I did however make a lunch stop today in 'Charolle' with it's 32 bridges. They are not ''Charolle's' main claim to fame. That honour belongs to the surrounding countryside which is all grassland farms proudly displaying their big chunky white Charollais beef cattle. The ones outside had distinctly muddy coloured lower halves but were still unmistakeable in confirmation of their home town.

Just East of 'St Etienne' tonight. Lovely Aire right by a huge man made lake complete with marina and beach at 'St Victor sur Loire'. We will explore it a little more tomorrow. Had to laugh when we arrived. I had not intended driving so far today but the weather was lousy so we just kept going South. Sure enough as we dropped down toward 'St Etienne' the skies started to clear and the mood lifted. We arrived here at 'St Victor' and parked overlooking the lake. 'Just the job' I thought to myself as I moved from one seat to another to alleviate trouser department grumbles.

"What the ******** !" I exclaimed from my compromised position as Sadie started to do a rock and roll while my ears were assailed by the thunder of heavy wind driven rain hammering the roof!  Mischievous cheeky Gods I thought. They'd followed me, waited till I'd stopped, viewed and approved the location and got all enthusiastic about taking Tanya for a good walk. Then sneekily they had struck while I had my trousers down. I shook my head in dis-belief as I spoke out in frustration the words made famous by 'St Victors sur Loire's' namesake. 'I do not believe it!'