Malaga & Benalmadena.

As you go west away from Malaga port and town centre area you walk / cycle along the lovely promenade which eventually peters out. It is next to a major road. Inland of this busy road are all the supermarkets, B&Q type stores and of course MacDonalds. It is a huge out of town retail area.

On the beach side is a large empty area, roughish and not too far from a big block of flats. We had spotted this as we walked along the promenade after a sleep after our drive back down from the mountains after a rough night parked at a beautiful spot overlooking the coast. We could see right down to Fuengirola and Eastwards all the way to Almeria. Such a spot, giving such wonderful views is high and exposed but as we parked the sun was setting, the breeze was cool but pleasant and all was well in Steve, Sadie and Tanya's world.

Aha! You say, what's coming here? You'd be right too.

The weather closed in overnight and it was a rocky, but not too scary a night with strong mountain gusts coming from all directions coupled with rain. In the morning we awoke to no view, thick fog and wet wet wet.

Shame really as the previous day had been bright and sunny. We had enjoyed a wonderful drive up to the mountain top village of 'Comares'. Stunning views from the parapets and an old lady who cunningly lured me into her house for the sole purpose of ..... no it is not what you're thinking, some of that comes later! .... selling me Mandarin Oranges, Figs and currants!

I was now getting short of Mandarins so for once I quite happily allowed myself to be relieved of €10 in exchange for a big bag of locally produced goods plus for good measure some of the old lady's home made cake that tastes of liquorice. She was an expert saleswoman and I chuckled to myself as I left. It was worth €10 just to see inside this traditional and right on the tourist village trail house with it's old couple and one other resident. This other resident happened to be the Virgin Mary and child. Pictures and statues of whom adorned every available space. We parted on good terms and as I left she stuffed another generous handful of plump juicy raisins into my bulging plastic bag.

The mountains beat us back down to sea level and Malaga in particular. High, twisty and narrow mountain roads are a delight in dry sunny weather but no fun in pouring rain and heavy mist.

So here we were sitting and chatting in Wills van which was parked just behind mine. Will was originally from Edinburgh but has lived near Amsterdam for long enough for him to be slightly uncomfortable speaking English. He was on a ten week trip in his large twin axle and very comfy motorhome. Will was on his own like me and we quickly became good friends with our shared interest in Buddhist based meditation. A lovely, genuine and gentle man.

"There is some strange stuff goes on here at night" says Will. A large dark area on the edge of the good and the not so good end of a busy port and tourist town does not need a lot of imagination to figure out what went on. Sure enough, Once it got dark there were all sorts of comings and goings of cars etc. But Peppi, a local who also lived there in his van said they never bothered the motorhomes and true enough they did'nt which was good as being able to park right on the beach with nothing but sand and sea in front of you is a real bonus.

The German guy, bit younger than Will and I, who was just to the side of me was also on his own. I was therefore most surprised when early this morning as Tanya and I walked past his van on our early morning walk we were greeted with a cheery "Good Morning" from a young ladies head poking out of his window which on his van would have been the bedhead. I was with Will much later when we saw him getting his motor scooter off the van then loading young lady onto it and presumably returning her from whence she came.

'Hmmmm!" I thought. "Maybe I ought to get a motor scooter!"

Tonight though all such shenanagins are about 20k behind. We are parked for the night right by the big Buddhist Stupa, where I've just attended a lovely Sunday night public guided meditation, here at 'Benalmadena'.

Chris, Michelle and the children have holidayed near here and Chris, in a recent e mail, mentioned a Buddhist Temple. A Stupa is a sort of a temple but there is no monastery attached. A thriving local Buddhist movement based around the 'Karmapa Kagyu' lineage tradition take care of it, run a little Tibetan Buddhist shop and guide the meditations. Much of the development here is very architecturally Tibetan with gold pagoda roofs and stupa shaped windows. Very attractive.

For me there is a strong energy here. The large Buddha inside the temple is the female, Green Tara emanation of Buddha. It is very much the equivalent of, and right next door to, cos the sign to it is just outside Sadie's door, an Our Lady of Lourdes Grotto.

I guess this coastline has always had it's powerful icons to the Gods of the day with numerous examples of extravagant Muslim settlements, forts and Mosques plus the equivalent Christian defences shrines and Cathederals. Often they are built one atop the other on a sort of last in gets to build a monument basis. It feels now, as I travell down this highly developed and populated coast that humanity has gone right back to the pre Christian Romans with their many Gods, temples and amphitheatres. Only now the Gods are oil based rampant consumerism, cars, sex, drugs and alcohol with the monuments being the never ending, but never the less impressive, strips of hotels, casinos, bars, restaurants and shops. Oh! And must not forget the carefully manicured strips of sand with there sun worshippers of course.

So it is good to come across this very prominent, large and viewable from miles around, symbol of a deep and ancient spiritual tradition now spilling over into the west after being routed from it's traditional and secretive Tibetan homeland. I love too how it enhances and in no way distracts from the traditional feminine Virgin Mother side of Christianity prominent here in Southern Europe.

"Right Tanya. C'mon. Suns up and warming this distinctly cold but clear morning. Time you n me found some rampant and decadent western God. We'll go look for the one they call a Cafe and worship at the alter of a freshly made Americano Coffee!"

Nerja, memories & rain.

Rain was persistently falling on us as we pulled in to a level and empty gravel car park not 200m from a roughish sea depositing itself with customary foamy whiteness on the steep pebbly beach. There was the usual sign as we entered; 'Prohibido Acampacar'. I have got used to ignoring these as I become more competent at seeking out the little spots slightly away from the main touristy bits where you see 'Acampacars' stopped all over the place. No wonder the 'Policia' move them on.

Tanya and I had already enjoyed a good early morning walk in Nerja before the rain started. A walk which gave a bonus discovery of a crystal clear water irrigation catchment right by the roadside where later I was able to park Sadie and replenish our dwindling water supply.

We had overnighted in Nerja one street back from the 'Burriana' sea front and next to the steep and many steps entrance to the complex of apartments where Kate and I had spent a glorious week several years ago. We had one week walking in the Sierra Nevada and then this beach week at Nerja. Fond memories and a good long afternoon walk in beautiful sunshine had been enjoyed by Tanya and I. We strolled far further than I meant to along the seafront promenade, through the busy streets with all the touristy type shops. Tanya attracted her usual clientele of doggy loving couples, in particular the female half, which lengthened the walk even more as we lingered and chatted. This was quite pleasant though as the majority were English visitors, holiday makers or residents. Definitely a favourite Brit area.

So Nerja was now behind us and I was at a bit of a loss as to our future heading. I want to do a detour up into the hills around Malaga. Todays persistent rain here on the coast was putting me off heading inland and upwards. The rain and the mist would only be worse there. So we had decided to follow the coast a little more today and head inland tomorrow with the forecasted return of sunshine.

I was also in a melancholy mood after Nerja and so this deserted car park stop at the edge of the ocean was to be a meditation and reflection stop. I had intended a meditation right where we were parked at Nerja. However; on returning to Sadie after our morning walk we were confronted with a pair of big tanker drain clearance type lorries parked right beside us and doing there stuff noisily and smellily up at the complex of apartments. A message from Kate maybe .... 'Thats enough maudlin, get on with it, move on and enjoy! So we did but the need for some quiet reflection persisted hence our stop.

The rain was not going away. Tanya, tired out after her morning walk was sound asleep. The sound and sight of waves crashing in gave a background rhythm to the deepening state of meditative calm. Heart and breathing slowed and a cooling of the head set in as brain shut down areas such as agitation, impatience or concern. The shoulds, the oughts and the buts became mere background echoes as they left the room. At last we were truly stopped. Body, soul, mind, Sadie and Tanya. All that was left was the in and out of the breath, continually there and frequently returned to as slippery hooks of scattered and mischievous in-attention were noticed, discarded, and also shown the exit.

Refreshed and re juvenated Tanya and I stepped outside as the rain stopped for a while. I noticed this particular spot, ideal for a night spot, had some disturbing and fresh graffiti daubed on various walls much of it in English. 'Capitalism equals terrorism'. 'Capitalist pigs must die.'

"Hmmmm." I thought as I looked around. There were several large, housing development type, high rise blocks a little further back from the narrow coastal strip of plush, but mainly closed and shuttered, blocks of holiday apartments.

"Methinks there could possibly be one or two decidedly colourful characters around here. Methinks one with ones capitalist motorhome and capitalist doggy will toddle on a bit further down the coast for now."

The rain set in again as we found a more congenial spot just by the busy fishing port and fish market at 'La Caleta de Velez' just by 'Torre del Mar'. No graffiti here and we watched as all the fishing boats returned. The market was a modern, busy all electric and computer screens auction with burly fishermen unloading boats of their crates of fish and shells of every description which were then electronically bid for and loaded into various white vans. Presumably they moved quickly along to the Paella stage in some restaurant or other up and down the Costa del Sol.

I was thinking of buying fresh fish for the evening meal. This was a wholesale market though and apart from not really understanding what the hell was going on I saw no retail outlet to actually purchase a fish. The amount of fish though amazed me. My ignorant landlubber type thinking went something like; "This is just a small Mediterranean fishing port and look at all these fish and other ocean living stuff. This is going on all over 24/7. Poor bloody fish and no wonder the oceans are starting to get a bit low on stocks!"

However; I really did fancy a bit of fresh fish. The ham eggs salad and chips did it OK but I would have preferred a slippery freshly caught and ocean depleting bit of lovely white fish.

Funny creatures us humans eh!

Patrick x 2 @ Antonios.

'My goodness.' I thought as I watched 77 yr old Patrick tuck into his half of my expanded evening meal of stir fry chopped Chorizo sausage and 'other'. He was sitting opposite me in Sadie relating at length his fascinating life story. We also finished off the last of the delicious Almond cake, care of Consum supermercadi, with a second cup of tea pleasantly assisting it on its way.

This was all going on at Antonios. Now I had heard of Antonios from the Somerset couple up near Aguillas. It seems Antonio has what we would call an 'arrangement' with the Guardia Civil here in Mojacar. They clear motorhomers off the seafront, by orders of the Mayoress I am told,  and direct them to Antonios here at the South end of Mojacar. Now Antonio is very acommodating and you can stay here for up to 4 days free of charge as long as you patronise his restaurant either for a meal or for coffee.

The 'arrangement' is a good one as here I am right on the foreshore. It is 1800hrs and I have enjoyed a wonderful day which started with a swim in the sea (yes in February! Short but very pleasant.) A good walk, another brief skinny dip on a deserted beach and a scrumptious Paella washed down with Sangria at Antonios with next door motorhome neighbours Phil and Linda from Torbay in Devon.

Oh! And I nearly forgot. I also met Patrick number 2 this morning. Just after my first swim. I was drying off in the sun outside Sadie when Patrick number 1, whom I had enjoyed inviting in for a meal the previous evening, ambled over with Patrick number 2. Similar to number 1; number 2 was also a divorced single male. He was younger at 70 and he lived, and had done so for the last 5 years, in a small Citreon van type family car! Well; I had to see this and was duly fascinated as Patrick showed me all the little hidey holes and ingenious ways he had adapted bungee cords, blankets, and sheets of hardboard to fashion his living space. Not for me admittedly, but it reminded me of how fortunate I am in having all the home comforts of Sadie to live in.
-  -  -  -
We've moved on again. Just west of Almeria tonight. I've decided to head on westwards and stick to the coast and the warmer weather for a bit. I'm parked right on the beach and just down from a sign saying 'Acampacar Prohibio' I'm sort of expecting to be moved on but both the local Policia and the Gardia Civil have driven by without stopping so looks like I should be OK for one night. There are a couple of hippie type vans a bit further up and when I asked one of them if it was OK he indicated .... 'No Problemio.'
-  -  -

Sunday 17/2/13
Now deep in the amazing 'Plastic fields' along this coastal strip between Almeria & Motril. I am down a wee track that literally was just wide enough for Sadie to squeeze along between the plastic covered landscape. It opened out not far from the beachfront in a wild area just by an overgrown overflow levee and is so peaceful and quiet with just the odd local passing by on foot or a moped. As I raise my eyes and look out there in the distance are the snow covered heights of the Sierra Nevada. They glistened in the early morning sun as Tanya and I walked the beach but now, with the sun higher, they are misty with some of the lower peaks shrouded in cloud.

Internet, or in particular, wi fi access is once again proving a bit hit or miss down here. Out of 4 cafes offering wi fi only one was successful. It seems there is no problem connecting to the cafes router which of course makes you think you have an internet connection. Trouble seems to be the cafes computer is not actually connected to the internet. I managed to explain this to the one good cafe and hey presto we had wi fi. The other 3 did not understand or just shrugged their shoulders and walked away. Each time it costs me a coffee and sometimes a Bocadilla which is more expensive than me paying out the £3.00 daily charge for 3g access via my Vodafone contract.

In general though things are going well, Tanya is happy, and the schedule?  Errrrr .... what schedule!

........

While travelling we stopped at a Mirador with lots of padlocks on the decorative railings. Lots of them were inscribed with protestations of love and the names of the couple. Unusual and touching.

Boat wreck.

"I think I am going to move my van back a bit. That looks highly unstable to me." Said John.

"Me too." Says I as we watch the start of this unconventional unloading of a badly damaged diving school boat.

The whole thing was hanging dangerously far out the back of a big lorry that had drawn up in front of our motorhomes. It did'nt take a lot to figure out what was being proposed. The big Palfinger crane  behind the lorry cab was going to lift this boat up, swing it over, or as it turned out, through the top of, a palm tree and lower it down onto a cradle on the beach front. We were parked not 2 metres the other side. The slightest slip and one rather large and heavy diving school boat could quite easily end up sitting atop 2 or 3 motorhomes, Sadie included.

Several motorhomes discreetly reversed out of harms way but we all helped out by using our headlights to illuminate the area as this dangerous manouvre was by now happening in the dark.

We had arrived at La Azohia earlier as the stiff N Easterly gale was whipping the sea into large waves which were crashing onto the beach and more spectactuarly onto the rocks out at the point. Unfortunately as Tanya and I started to walk toward the cliff path we witnessed a crowd of people desparately trying to lash this diving school boat onto the rocks where the waves had thrown it. Turned out it broke away from its moorings just as the owner reached it to secure it with more rope. There was nothing he could do but watch the wind and waves carry it quickly to the rocks where it ripped off its propellor and steering mechanism and for good measure put a few holes in the hull.

The lorry turned up later and was able, using its crane, to drag the boat up to where it could lift it onto its bed. We were now watching the final instalment. Unloading of the damaged boat.

Thankfully with quite a lot of shouting, shoving and pulling one damaged boat was safely plonked onto it's awaiting cradle, lorry was all packed away and reversed out. Us, the interested and somewhat concerned crowd of motorhomers were finally able to re-position our vans and relax.

Either side of me were English vans and a little later we all spent a very pleasant hour or so in Paul and Ann's van over non alcoholic drinks discussing the days drama and viewing John's i-pad where he had actually video'd the unfortunate shipwreck as it happened. The case was emphatically made that boats, big waves and sharp rocks do not enjoy the best of relationships. Unfortunately I did not get one photo of the whole affair.

I think I'll find somewhere a little quieter tomorrow!

Bye Bye El Berro. Hello seaside - again!

"C'mon Steve. Out of that comfy seat and get the washing up done" says one half of me. 

My other half counters with; "Yes,yes. In a minute. I just need to stay a while and figure out why I am so dog tired tonight that I can hardly move".

As I reflect on the day it soon becomes clear just why I am so tired.

We were up early for Tanya's morning walk on this our final morning at El Berro campsite. There was a stiff north wind blowing and when you are 600m up in the 'Sierra de Espuna', even though the sun is just about to show itself in the clear blue sky, I can assure you it is cold, bitterly cold.

Shower next in the very welcoming heated shower block with piping hot showers. Breakfast is then followed by the various chores required to get Sadie all packed away and ready to roll. The shiny new, non suspension front forks on our bike look rather good as I lift and secure/lock it into position on the carrying rack.

The bike, fully repaired had been returned the day before and we had taken the opportunity to go on one of our 'bike-walk expoditions'. Espuna is a seriously mountainous area and there is no way I could cycle up some of those hills. Walking and pushing the bike is equally enjoyable though and Tanya loves the mix of walking, sniffing and then zooming down hills in her green doggy carrier. We got all the way up to 'La Perdis' recreation area where the day before we had parked Sadie and climbed, nay scrambled some of the way up the 1444m high peak that dominates the area. I knew I would not be able to make the peak for that is a serious day long climb. However; an hour and a quarter of steady steep climbing was enough to give amazing views and a place to enjoy our lunch in the warm mountain sunshine. Plus it also left me with enough stamina to come back down. Always the tricky bit requiring full concentration when so steep and treacherously gravel-slippy underfoot. All went well I am pleased to report and here we were again the next day only this time on bike We were able to cycle on and get a good view of where we had walked the day before. OK so it was a long way off the peak but I was impressed all the same when I saw just how far up this brute of a mountain we had struggled.

OK; back to today. Bike on the rack. Water tank topped up. Electric cable disconnected and stowed. Chair, table, awning and floor sheet all packed away. Cupboards closed, seats turned around and Tanyas travel bed prepared and last of all, with Tanya shut inside (!! No more running over thank you very much!) Sadie is rolled back off the levelling ramps and they are collected and stored.

Phew! That only leaves a walk round to say cheerio to all the good friends I've made during the week and of course the painful bit, pay the bill.

Finally we were off and as always sadness at leaving is soon replaced by excitement as Sadie effortlessly starts to negotiate her way up hair raising hairpin stairways on this the long and scenic route through, up and over and then down and out of 'Sierra de Espuna'. A slow but thrilling drive especially built by the Spaniards for this foolhardy, nay stupid old bearded Inglesia pensioner who, without a risk averse wife to temper his madness, flings his motorhome with gay abandon around sky high and crumbly edged hairpins atop a downward oblivion of nothing but stubby pines and mountain goats. Ahhhhh bliss!!

'Totana' was the first small town we arrived at which conveniently had supermarket and fuel stop. In fact the supermarket had an under cover car park big enough to fit Sadie in which was very convenient. Onwards we went now fully stocked and ready for a few days wild camping down by the coast and hopefully where it is a bit warmer. Around 'Lorca' we speed and eventually end up here at a beautiful spot right by the sea just north of 'Aguillas' and if I look out of Sadies side window I can see the village of 'Calabardina' across the bay.

There are lots of other motorhomes here which is how I found the place. You have a job to hide a motorhome away and these were clearly visible from the nearby coastal road. The Somerset couple parked just in front tell me the coastline south of here is littered with beautiful wild camping spots like this one. We are the only two UK motorhomers here the rest, about 30, being mainly Dutch and German.

So all in all a busy busy bee day. No wonder I am tired. But tired or not I think to myself;

"I got a feeling the blow up canoe may be coming out tomorrow!"

-  -  -

2 days on.

Still here .... stopped, walking, biking, canoeing, & lazing in the sun.

Robbery & 'El Berro' campsite.

Y'know; God likes a good laugh, and, God's good laughs usually involve our misfortune in some way or other. I chuckled as I reached this conclusion amid the pouring rain as Tanya and I trudged our soggy way back to the 'El Berro' campsite here in the beautiful mountains of 'Parque natural Sierra de Espuna'.

Tanya had awoken me at 0830 and, as we often do, I had flung on a few clothes and headed straight out for an early morning Tanya constitutional walk. It was windy and definitely cooler than the previous two days of unbroken and windless hot sun. There were clouds about but also some early morning warming sunshine. As we trudged our way up the well marked GR 252 footpath deep between steep pine covered hillsides my befuddled and not yet fully awakened brain started to register a darkening accompanied by an increase in wind noise through the pine trees. This was not a big walk at all but even so we had walked for about half an hour with Tanya fully into her sniff and mark territory mode. Me? Well I was in another world and musing on whatever it is a half awakened and befuddled early morning mind muses upon.

It was time to turn back. Only then. Only at that furthest and highest point did I notice the first raindrop and how cleverly God in his/her humour had kept my eyes down watching where I walked while he/she sneaked the dark storm clouds over the mountains to a position where for Tanya and I there was no escape. We were rapidly soaked to the skin as we trudged back. By the time we returned to Sadie my totally innappropriate light hoody top and tracksuit bottoms were fully in the heavy rinse cycle. I'm afraid it was on with central heating while we dried out and changed clothes.

Now it is 1100hrs. We have had a lazy breakfast, the sun is once again shining, although it is quite windy, and I have been watching the campsite slowly come to life. Mind you. God did'nt have it all his/her own way. Last night I did, after viewing the weather forecast, gather in all my lovely sun dried washing. I also safely stowed Sadies 4.5m wind trap of an awning too.

So God, sorry but I figured that one out. Admittedly that scenario would have been a better laugh. Half naked and bleary eyed Steve struggling in the middle of a very cold and windy night to get washing in and stow unwieldy awning. However; catching me out with rain early in the morning. Hmmmph! That's a pretty good laugh too and I fell for that one hook line and sinker!

We are at the El Berrow campsite due to a number of circumstances. One is I was running out of clean clothes and needing a laundry stop. Another is this part of the coastal strip is not doing it for me whereas the beauty of the mountains is. That fact has been both my downfall and my uplift.

We were on our way to El Berro, on the cart tracks as usual, when we came across the stunning 'Embalse de Algeciras'. A man made lake high above the fertile Murcia to Lorca valley. There are lots of these created lakes in this fertile but hot and arid area. Algeciras is, on the map, a small one but it still took my breath away as we arrived at a level viewpoint right above it and alongside a fast flowing canal presumably taking water to the many irrigation channels and smaller storage containers which were dotted everywhere you looked.

'Well' thought I, 'let's delay El Berro for a day and stay here in this beautiful spot.' Which indeed we did. In fact we found a brilliant walk up the ridge which just kept getting higher and higher and presenting ever more stunning views of the valleys and hills near and far all the way down to the Med coast. We were in high spirits and pleased at this unexpected bonus.

So you can imagine my surprise, annoyance and disappointment on our return to Sadie when I noticed we had been robbed. One bike wheel was at a strange angle and only hanging on the bike rack courtesy of the still locked and secure chain. The one thing the locking chain had not been wrapped round were the bikes front suspension forks. The bit the front wheel fits into. It seems, or at least I presume, some opportunistic mountain biker happened by and thought; 'Mmmmm! Got my wee tool kit with me, 2 minute job, methinks I'll just help myself to those!' And he/she did. The upside is there was no other damage to either the bike or to Sadie. A huge relief I can tell you. All in all an annoying happening but one where, on hindsight, I see I had parked and left Sadie in a very exposed viewpoint with a steady stream of traffic passing by be they walkers, bikers or car drivers. A lesson and a warning for the future as I head even further South. Do'nt wild park in full view at regularly used public spots.

We arrived at El Berro the following day and once booked in I queried availability of a bike shop and explained best I could the problem. Well! Mr campsite booking in man became quite upset and was on the phone speaking agitatedly and loudly to, as it turned out, the site owner who appeared a few minutes later. Understanding was soon reached with bike being loaded into his car to be taken to Alhama for repair. Seems it is going to cost me .... 'Total absolute senyor .... €30'. Unfortunately it is going to take a few days but I have booked into the campsite for a week so .... 'iss OK, no problemo mi amigo! '. 

Hmmmmm! Have faith and just trust Steve. It will come back and all will be well ..... I hope!!

Saturday today. A 6 mile walk and just the best motorhome cooked sausage casserole ever. Courtesy of the small El Berro shop and a long length of locally made goat sausage. Different but yummy yummy!

2 piccy's. One of bike minus forks. 2nd of Sadie on El Berro site.

Alicante, the coastal strip & internet.

"Oh I'm sorry about this Tanya." I said as we once again started to pass by more depressing Spanish Costa seafront esplanades along with their obligatory sea facing high rise blocks of apartments. I suppose they are not all bad and If you stop, as we did in Ste Pola, and walk around a bit some are quite nice. This however was gone 5 O'clock and past the time for Tanya and I to be looking for a perch for the night.

"It's my fault Tanya, I should not have spent so long trying to find a beach side parking slot."

There had been a wide beachy type area just south of Alicante where other motorhomes were. We stopped there for lunch and 75 year old Vanna, a German fulltimer like myself (including small dog) helped me with his very fancy sat nav locate the garage, which turned out to be only 5 minutes away, where I could once again top up my gas bottles. I was really quite pleased at how Vanna and I got on seeing as he spoke only German and I only English and our communication was about finding a Spanish location! However; I decided to push on once gas bottles were replenished as the beachside site was by a busy road plus a rail line. A whole night struggling with German/English language impasse was not too appealing either despite our earlier sat nav success.

This need to move on from company, or the crowd, was especially so after the two nights and days we had just spent up in the mountains between Xabia and Cocentaina. Such beautiful terraced hillsides with nothing but agriculture, small villages and the Spanish rural population. Most importantly though; this high country contained ample places to park Sadie where we were alone, with virtually no traffic, and certainly no other motorhomes. Tanya was free to roam and we could together walk the innumerable tracks leading inwards and upwards through the terraces yeilding ever more spellbinding views the higher you got. We even found the odd castle and beautifully adorned hilltop church.

Consequently it was now a bit of a come down following this coastal strip and being met with signs phrohibiting 'Acampacar' at every reasonable stopping place. This was coupled with more than frequent sightings of 'Guardia Civil' (A type of cop that carries a 'not nice' reputation!) riding about in cars or on motorcycles. The message it gave me was;  'you will get moved on if you stop and yes, we do know it is January and not high holiday season and we do'nt care!'

The problem was soon solved with a decision to move inland a little way just past a huge complex of 'Salinas' (salt producing lagoons) where a conveniant bit of scrubland presented as an ideal spot for the night. We were just in time for the beautiful sunset to flood Sadies windscreen while to the side and just down the lane we watched a big artic lorry being loaded with medium sized potted Palm trees. I wonder where they are off to?
-  -  -  - 
Internet & wi fi seem to be a bit more hit and miss here than in France. I was in a cafe yesterday and logged on to their wi fi. Or to put it more precisely logged on to their router which was not connected to the internet. I had a go at explaining this to the guy behind the bar whose total command of the English language comprised the words; 'No problemo mi amigo!' Delivered, I have to say, with a beaming smile indicating that indeed, connected or not connected it was .... 'no problem' ..... to him. I gave up in the end and left feeling a little peeved as this was the second so say, internet cafe where this had happened.

The real problem though is as I am getting older I cannot be bothered with the difficulties around these, so say, essential modern day technologies. For example; the TV is now not working. I think it is because I need to change to another satellite which involves entering new numbers somewhere into the satellite dish control box. Out comes the instruction book and after ten minutes of reading a dawning realisation that I was losing the will to live finally persuaded me to stuff all back in the cupboard and put my music back on, which I enjoy more anyway. What better than good music and the Terrific View from Sadies panoramic 3d colour with no adverts front windscreen.

New Friends and a mountain villa.

New Friends and a mountain villa.

"Is that a Shnauzer?" I said as I approached this tall handsome looking man just up from the seafront in Xabia.

"No. It's a Shitzhu." He answered in perfect English.

As I drew close and Buster turned to see and smell Tanya I could see that indeed he was a Shitzu. A bit smaller and with different colouring but very similar to Mitzi the Shitzhu belonging to Doreen. my brothers partner,

Lenny and I stopped where we were on the pavement and chatted, as you do, for some time. It turned out he was in town with his partner Win and had clocked Sadie as they were driving past where she was parked. They had recently bought an older Hymer Motorhome themselves and Lenny was eager for hints and tips from an experienced fulltimer like myself.

Hmmmm! Not sure about that accolade but it made me feel good. We parted company after a while and that should have been that.

However; a short time later I was in Sadie experimenting with my wi fi aerial in a supermarket car park just opposite a Mac Donalds. I have to say without success. I am not sure whether it is something I am doing wrong but the aerial is a piece of junk as my laptop without the aerial plugged in was getting a better signal. Ho hum!

Anyway; there was a knock knock on Sadies door. Made me jump I can tell you! I opened the door fully expecting to see some sort of uniformed law enforcer ready to shout at me in Spanish about a local parking infringement or similar. No such thing. There was Lenny again offering me his card and phone number. Well that soon extended to further chat and to me being introduced to his attractive and charming partner Win with a follow up invite to visit them at their Villa the following afternoon.

Win loves cooking so a fair exchange was soon agreed of more chat and mutual viewing of motorhomes and Villas with in return an invitation to join them for an evening meal. Oh! And yes there was plenty of roadside space to park up Sadie for the night.

So the next afternoon found me wending my way back Northwards for about 20km to Olivia and thence directly up 'Suicide hill', aptly named by Win and, incidentally, a way I did not leave by. This aptly named zig zag of a hill was challenging even to Sadies admirable capacity to defy gravity as we slowly but surely found our way to Lenny and Win's stunning mountainside villa with magnificent views over the coastal plain and out to the Mediteranean.

Sadie was duly parked and levelled on the roadway just outside and just in front of their car. The villas own parking space was given over to their recently purchased in the UK older Hymer motorhome. It seems they had a great time collecting it from Hastings and driving it all the way home to Spain over the Pyrenees. No mean feat as they did not know it or motorhoming well. Carrfour supermarket car parks did them proud as overnight stopping places and Lenny coped well with the total loss of second gear in the Pyrenees and the subsequent removal and re-fitting of a re-conditioned gearbox once home. A very different kettle of fish compared to Sadie but ideal as a weekend away vehicle for them and it was obvious they both thought the world of their good looking and much improved since purchase, vintage Hymer.

Lenny and Win are a lovely ex pat couple and I feel very privileged to have met and spent time with them. We all shared a very pleasant Friday night and Saturday, with a Chilli dinner to die for, at their beautiful villa complete with turret and pool, high up in this stunning Spanish hillside 'Urbanization' (a development of 200 or more dwellings)

Tanya and Buster got on really well together too. I think Tanya was quite sad to see them all drive off to their Sunday Baptist Chapel service this morning. I guess I was a little sad too but it was time to move on. The mountains and warm sunshine were beckoning.

I needed to get my confidence back too. Lenny had been dubious about the mountainous back road route I was proposing to take over the next few days. His doubtful looks and dire warnings about the difficulty of some of the roads had eroded my confidence.

Until that is he said; "My motorhome does not have power steering and some of those bends are quite difficult."

That cheered me up some. Sadie is big but with her short wheelbase, rear wheel drive, tight turning circle and very good power steering she is a delight to drive on the majority of minor mountain roads normally deemed only suitable for the likes of Fiat Pandas. And even those have power steering these days!

That is why tonight we are indeed parked below the 'Embarrage de Beniarres' after a confidence building drive up the windy CV700 from Pego. Mind you the last bit was hairy.

We arrived at the dam and my intention was to find a track that led to the waters edge and park there for the night. Just before the dam was a little sign that I thought directed to a park and picnic spot. Well in a way it was; but it was down a ruddy long and quite uncomfortably narrow strip of tarmac. So much so that I am a wee bit nervous about how the hell will we get out tomorrow morning.

We had to come down this far, which is a very nice spot amid the mountains and a stream and some caves, before we could turn round. Ho hum and Ahhh well!  And well we are here now so we may as well settle for the night here. Tanya can roam freely which she loves.

We got down here by Sadie having to run one set of her wheels in the drainage channel at the side of the track. Guess if we did it coming down then we can do it going back up.

Hmmmm;  that is as long as Sadie does'nt start skidding on the gravel in the drainage channel as we try to get round those steep, uphill, hairpins that were not all that easy to steer round on the easier downhill run.

Oh I do like a challenge!! But I do have power steering and also lots of grunt under the bonnet.

NB - we did get out!

Platja la Barraca + Xabia.

This tiny little typical Mediterranian beach down a very steep and twisty lane between 'Rich peoples sumptious villas' is, at present, being battered by wind and rain. Sadie is rocking in the wind but not alarmingly so, and every now and then the rain batters on the skylight above. We, that is Tanya and I, are snug, warm and well fed. My Zen player is on random play and things ain't at all bad really.

Earlier I was feeling a little down and sorry for myself which I now accept as par for the course of this, my travelling life, when certain conditions come together.  Conditions which usually comprise of leaving one place which has been enjoyable and driving quite a distance to another, which on unfamiliar roads and in bright sunshine can become tiring very quickly. Put that together with the difficulty of finding a wild camping spot down here in the Costa Blanca area between Xabia (pronounced 'havia') and Benidorm. It is highly populated, and popular with the Brits, built upon, but attractive all the same, area. Plus this particular spot is steep and Sadie, despite being perched right on top of the levelling ramps is still sloping to one side.

These are day to day difficulties but the last few days have been really enjoyable which made the emotional burden of moving on heavier than normal.

We visited Burriana and Jurates family. Jurate is one of the team of dedicated carers tending to Richards considerable day to day needs. She was in the UK with Richard so I was royally welcomed into their Burriana apartment home and treated so kindly and generously by husband and first class chef Sergio, who cooked two delicious meals for us all. All of us included daughter Emily and son Alejandro who, poor wee soul, went down with a bug while I was there. It seems it was affecting half his school class. He did look sorry for himself but I expect he will bounce back in a couple of days.

It did not stop us all enjoying several firsts though. First time they had seen Sadie and met Tanya (and rode out to Port Burriana too.)

First time for me picking and eating straight off the tree lovely sweet juicy Mandarin oranges. Sergio knew just which trees had the juiciest and sweetest ones. Yummy! I now have enough Mandarins in Sadie to keep me in vitamin C for the next few weeks!

First time that Tanya, along with loads of other pets of every sort, partook of the festival of St Anthon. Not sure she quite got it but she did definitely get a good splash of holy water from a very jovial and fully robed priest before we all followed the procession to the bonfire and traditional Spanish dancing in the square.

Another first tonight too which is my second night here in Xabia. I'm listening to Bay Radio which is broadcast in English. Same as all commercial radio mind. 90% dross but nice to have all the same. Tonight we are street parked in town after doing two quite long walks in the bright sunshine but very windy conditions to promontories both East and West of this lovely bay with Xabia nestled snugly in the middle.

According to the English Spoken weather forecast the high winds are here to stay for the rest of the week. After my Scottish gales experiences the high winds tonight are giving me little concern. However; they are making the news down here. There is an amber warning out and the DJ has just announced his friend's outside settee has been blown into the swimming pool. Wow! Now I know I am in Spain. Never mind the difficult Spanish Euro crisis. News here is when the wind blows garden furniture into swimming pools.

You just gotta laugh have you not ....... and I did.

Fear, animals & LPG.

Fear. 

It rules my life, and most others also, according to my previous experience's with clients in the therapy room,  Fear not of ultimate annihilation but fear manifesting as anxiety and worry around unwanted or unwelcome change in daily life. Pi from the book 'Life of Pi' explains it well as he reminds us as humans we are merely territorial animals who have compressed our territory, our comfort zone if you like, into four walls. We call it home, work or, in my case, a motorhome. I, like any animal whose territory becomes threatened or is subject to unwelcome or unfamiliar change, becomes anxious and stressed. So it is with my motorhoming life on several levels.

Anxiety is heightened by basic things such as a new country, unfamiliar language, different shops etc etc. I choose to do this though, which is where we differ from the animal kingdom. 'Animals in the wild lead lives of compulsion and necessity in an environment where the supply of fear is high.' (Life of Pi) This leaves little chance for anything other than instinctive choice around survival. We humans have evolved a modified form of choice knowing we have a thing backing us up called intelligence which for the most part allows us to successfully survive a much higher percentage of choices made.

However; When I see gas is getting low in my re-fillable butane cylinders and realisation dawns that the one thing I forgot back in the UK was the correct filling adaptor for Spanish LPG pumps. Well that is when anxiety rises to panic proportions and I am fiercely reminded of just how close to the animal within I really am.

As realisation dawns fear arrives complete with clammy sweat breaking out on my forehead. Only after that original Amygdala driven fear response has passed does intelligence kick in and allow a reasonable solution to be planned.

Mrs sat nav, being a major player in this reasonable solution, guided me to within a stones throw of one of the few garages in Spain, and the only one in Valencia, to supply LPG. Now forecourt service is quite common here in Spain and it was a wonderful site indeed to see the uniformed attendant walking across to Sadie with his box of various adaptors.

Phew! Problem solved! Anxiety level reversed and replaced with secure jubilation.

Are not animals just so fortunate in that they do not require Low Pressure Gas adaptors!!

-  -  -

I used the TV tonight and note, on this the 17th of January there is heavy snow due across the UK tomorrow.

The pink blossom photo is today, the very same Jan 17, in the hills above 'Gatova' where Tanya and I enjoyed a pleasant walk in a cool wind but warm sunshine once sheltered from the breeze.

A stunning drive and a further steep uphill walk to 'Gurugu', in this the 'Parque natural de la Sierra de Espadan'  were then enjoyed as we meandered slowly along the very narrow continual hairpin bend CV200 road between 'Segorbe' and 'Ain'.

A truly stunning mountain pass drive but not one for the faint hearted or anyone in a hurry. I expect most would also say not for motorhomes either. Suffice it to say I have not seen another motorhome anywhere in these hills and I do get some amused and quizzical looks from the swarthy and well wrapped up locals. The main AP7 route South is about 6 miles away toward the coast. All the motorhomes will be speeding down there. They just don't know what they're missing!

Why I do'nt get very far in a day + more.

"Well will you look at that Tanya, 8.00 am, only 9 degrees inside Sadie and thick freezing fog outside. This is not what we came to Spain for is it?"

It was not long before we were warm and snug having had breakfast and re-set Mrs sat nav to use more main roads and so speed our way south to some warmth. Off we set in the thick fog until that is we hit a longish tunnel. Well not actually hit it but like go through it and it is a magic tunnel like cos on the other side is bright warm sunshine and no sign of fog anywhere. Just an amazin magic tunnel like!

Well that considerably cheered things up. So much so that when I saw the lovely old church of Bastida up there on the side of the hill with the sun shining on it I could not help but say; 

'Tanya old girl. I've just seen where we're gonna do that walk I promised you yesterday."

Beautiful indeed it was. Warm too. We walked on to the top of the hill above the village where it overlooked the magnificent Rioja vineyards stretching out for miles in front of us. Behind us a high ridge with inviting and traffic free roads winding way up the steep and rocky limestone bluffs.

Well! Could'nt resist could I!  Mrs sat nav was turned off and original plan of speeding south abandoned. For today anyway. It was not long before we were having lunch high above the Rio Ebro valley and as I said before, with Rioja wine country stretched out to the westerly horizon. A recently completed and very plush Mirada (viewpoint)  is where we were and still are this evening. The day was still warm and sunny so we rigged the bike and cycled to the top of the ridge and then walked and clambered even higher on the rocky bluff to admire the views.

Being higher it is once again cold tonight but with wonderful views of the stars and the star-like orange lights of the many small villages laid out before us across the plain.

We may have only travelled 40 or so miles but that is insignificant against a day of such surprise and pleasantry. Hopefully tomorrow we may make Logrono on our route to Soria and eventually the Med coast.

Or maybe we wont!
-  -  -  -

2 DAYS ON.

The rough guide dismisses the high plains of central Spain as of little interest and bitterly cold in the winter. Today and yesterday Sadie carried us safely across them. They are fascinating and I want to see more of them but .... Aha! There is always a 'but' is'nt there. This particular 'but' confirmed the second part of the rough guides description. The bitterly cold bit.

We were doing well and kept going via a diversion up to a bitterly cold and snowy Montana Alavesa mountain pass then back onto the N234 heading south toward Daroca and Teruel. The road was totally deserted but beautifully smooth and winding its way over the high plains and through numerous small Hacienda type villages. Finally it was time to stop for the night so we veered to the left near Ciria and soon had all four wheels level and stopped on a convenient track between fields of deep red soil. The dark ominous north easterly front we had been outrunning soon caught us up. We were 1100 ft up so this was not gentle rain falling on the plains of Spain. This was blinding snow! Freezing too. Nothing we could do so we  snuggled in for the night. My tired mind kept me awake most of the night with needless worries about gas running out and us being snowed in and no one finding us. Crazy as we were clearly visible from the road which as I recall had one car go by while we were there.

Morning came and yes we were snow and ice covered but not too badly. Brrrrrr! It was freeze your whatsits off cold though with long icicles mocking me as they hung off the wing mirrors.

"C'mon Tan, best thing we can do is drive out of this till Sadie gets toastie warm inside."

The small roads we had to negotiate were literally slicks of ice so it was a case of proceed slowly and with extreme caution. Sadie has unpleasant characteristics once she starts to slide on ice. She is definitely not a 4wd off roader that's for sure!

Once we reached the main N234 things improved a bit and it was not long  before we were once again parked with a now defrosted and toastie warm Sadie.

"Ahhhh! Now we can enjoy breakfast eh Tanya."

We've done well since then and tonight we are lower down and only a few miles short of Sagunta and the Med. Much warmer too although still cool but our perch here in the middle of an olive grove has a warm Mediterranean feel about it.

Oh! And we still have plenty of gas!

-  -  -  -  -

And now? Jan 15th.

Well here I am in a cafe where I have Wi Fi at the Port of Sagunto. I'm on the edge of a huge area of empty condominiums where there is wild parking galore and nobody about. Today is sunny and warm. Steve is OK & happy with his lot! This will do me for a while. I'm just down the road from where Jurate, one of  Richards carers, lives. She is in Salisbury at present but I reckon I will stay in this area for a couple of weeks and maybe make contact then.

Buenos dias amigos.

Spain in January. We are actually here!

To Spain in January.

"I reckon Tanya it is 43 years since I last sailed across the Bay of Biscay."

We were in our doggy friendly cabin onboard Cap Finistere as she ferried us across the millpond of a sea toward Spain. Very different from 43 years ago when I recall being on the viewing deck of the aircraft carrier HMS Eagle watching below me the bow of the flight deck, itself 50 or 60 feet above the water, bury itself in the front of another storm lashed wave.

Memories of youth, of fearlessness and of how fortunate I am never to have suffered any sort of sea or travel sickness.

Bilbao at last, and apart from missing an exit sign and ending up at the UK bound check in gate where I was kindly U-turned around and pointed in the right direction, all went well.

With the help of a downloaded Google map (thank you Richard.) we were soon safely tucked up just over the hill at the beach resort of La Arena.

The weather was damp and cool which this morning helped 'the plan'. Yes Steve now has a plan. That is why tonight we are wild parked by a stack of big square straw bales on a rather good farm track in the hills above .... Well actually I don't know. I can see that there is a small village below me. We came through it and onto this track but I was following Mrs sat nav while absorbing all the sights and I missed the name of the village completely.

Ahhh! It is Aminon. Just asked Mrs sat nav.

'The plan' is now to head across Spain to the Med coast and a firmer guarantee of mild and sunny weather. The town of Soria was selected as being on that route and Mrs sat nav was duly given instructions to take me there using mainly secondary roads. Fun it is. Fast travelling it is not. Especially as Mrs sat nav in Spain seems to take great delight in regarding unpaved pot hole riven tracks as secondary roads. Couple that with the fact of nearly all pedestrian crossings being atop giant sleeping policeman which Sadie loves as long as its at crawl speed. Well you get the picture don't you. Steve Tanya and Sadie will get there, but ever so slowly!

Tonight though is fine. Mrs sat nav was turned off half way up this agricultural track and here we are safely perched for the night. It is dry, 18 degrees and the day has been a mixture of cloud and sunshine. That will do me nicely thank you.

One more Seasonal memory/reflection.

"Hi Steve, I'm glad I've caught you as this is my last day at work."

Shocked at this disclosure I turned away from my workstation computer screen and replied.

"What do you mean your last day?"

"I've won big time on the lottery." Replied Stefan, a good friend and colleague within the Counselling and Mental Health environment we both worked in.

"You are the last to know and I am so glad to have caught you today to be able to tell you personally."

I immediately rolled backwards on my office chair, swivelled around and rose to my feet. We shared a big congratulatory hug.

"I am just soooo pleased for you." I genuinely said to him while inwardly noticing and pushing firmly aside my mischievous alter ego which of course was a; disappointed it was not me, b; felt it should be me, and c; was whirring away deciding which game I should now play in order to be justifiably at the head of the queue for any generous re-distribution of Stefans newly aquired wealth.

Stefan and his partner Rolly were great guys whom I got to know and became very fond of through both Counselling and Buddhist worlds. Stefan as I learned later, was reaping a handsome return on twenty years, or since the lottery first started, of dedicated and disciplined weekly buying of lottery tickets. His win was no fluke and it was truly heart warming to see well deserved good fortune such as this going to the good guys.

Now. Let us move onto the very next day and a little closer to the heart of this tale.

Again I was at work and had been noticing the severe and upset faces of several of my colleagues as they individually emerged from our team managers office. My heart was sinking as my name was also on this meeting list. It gave a jump and I felt a cold sweat appear as the allotted time came and I entered the office.  

A beaming smile greeted me from Dawn, our team manager.

"Hi Steve and am I glad to see you. I have purposely kept your meeting till last as you are the only one I have good news for."

"Aha! Well I am certainly pleased to hear that." I replied as Dawn went on to explain in detail to me what was by now a puzzling conundrum.

As it turned out it was about pay and how our remote paymasters had cocked up by making salary overpayments to various employees. Hence the severe and upset faces of colleagues as they were informed this overpayment was, over the next few months, to be re-paid via deductions in their salary.

"I am happy to inform you Steve," continued Dawn, "that your earlier increase in working hours also got missed by our pay office and they owe you quite a sizeable chunk of back pay which you will receive in this months salary."

I was stunned and initially felt a bit sheepish about the fact I had not personally noticed such loss of pay. I consoled myself with knowledge of how extremely stressful the last few months had been. My much loved and beautiful wife Kate, over those same few months had moved slowly downhill to eventual loss of life courtesy of a vicious cancer. My personal financial situation had been off the radar for some time. My intermittent attendance at work had been a vital support structure.

However; I also, as I heard this good news, vividly remember another strong, almost wondrous and joyful train of thought.

Only the day before I had genuinely and sincerely, despite mishievous silent inner thoughts, congratulated my colleague Stefan on his Lottery win. Now here was I getting mine.

Wow! How weird, how cool, how spooky is that?

Financially this was nothing compared to a lottery win. In my mind however; it was not only equal to Stefans good fortune it also felt like being rewarded, granted a gift or some concrete sign acknowledging cessation of a period of tremendous heartbreak, suffering and grief.

It was not the season of goodwill but it felt like it to me. My Santa Clause had been Stefan and some of his good fortune had rubbed off on me. Been re-distributed if you like.

Hmmmmm! Maybe, just maybe, for once, my much loved but highly mischievous mind knew what it was doing.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Sadie in a Stable.

Seasonal eh! seeing as how Christmas is just round the corner.  Actually it is not exactly a Stable rather a former, large agricultural livestock building. Now a log store and general storage barn which on this cold and stormy December night is a welcome refuge for Sadie, Tanya and I. It is the first time since I have owned Sadie she has spent a night under cover. We are snug and warm here and very appreciative of our hosts kindness and generosity.

I have known Richard and Lesley from way back when I used to travel the length and breadth of Gloucestershire selling farm equipment. They were wonderful hosts and we spent many a lunch hour enjoying food, chat and putting the world to rights. We even, on rare, in fact very rare, occasions deigned to discuss farm equipment. Richard, however was far too canny a customer to be 'sold to'.

Well, I suppose I might, if I arrived at the right time, had the right piece of equipment, at the right price, paid extortionately for his old equipment and did'nt want paying for months, then I might just make a sale. Only might mind you. There was never any guarantee. Such was a sales reps lot. Especially when dealing with farmers who by their very nature happen to be some of the most skilled dealers, manipulators and negotiators I have had the pleasure to associate with. They make some of the highly paid professional buyers of large organisations look like amateurs in comparison.

I am in this area on the Christmas card run. A few days out from Salisbury to personally deliver a few cards and meet old friends and aquaintances. Slightly more expensive a delivery than the fifty pence for a second class stamp but far more rewarding.

To all my good friends, colleagues and family who have not had a visit from me. Merry Christmas to you all and please be patient. I will get to visit you one day even though as I travel my list of friends complete with promises to visit gets longer and longer and spreads over a Europe wide area.

So, glasses raised, and from me a warm non alcoholic toast to say; Seasons greetings along with good health and happiness for 2013 to all family, friends and my blog readers. You have all touched my heart during 2012 with your encouragement, comments, warmth and love.

Thank you.

Right. Where are we.

Right now, on this 26th day of November 2012, I'll have you know, we are perched quite happily at a local Beauty spot at the Roundway White Horse, Devizes, Wiltshire. I look down over the escarpment and there below me, twinkling orange and white, is Devizes town on a blustery cold, dark and damp winters eve.

Over the last few weeks we have been with my brother Richard in Salisbury. This very welcome haven has seen various odd jobs completed on Sadie and slowly all is being readied for the dash to warmer climes early in January. Sadie now sports new mudflaps and all damage to the side skirts is now fully repaired by yours truly.

In a previous life, a life where make do and mend was a financial but enjoyable necessity, I undertook the rebuild of a fibreglass Reliant Robin three wheeled car. It was a daunting project but at the end of the day an excellent looking little three wheeler wobbled its way around Cirencester, Gloucesrershire, for several years. The repairs to Sadies side skirts and subsequent re inforcing of her leisure battery casing had me dredging up all those long forgotten skills. I am pleased at the result plus I guess I have saved a few pennies.

When in the UK I love visiting and spending time with relatives not seen for years. Also with friends, X wives/girlfriends too, who, incidentally still retain a preciousness to me in respect of how each of us are who we are today only because of those past relationships. All are on my 'visits to do' list which never seems to grow any smaller. Personally, and with a career history behind me of both sales and counselling, conversation and meaningful exchange is important, needed and sought after. For the last few days  visiting of good friends has been the agenda. My dear friend Pete the Poet and lovely wife Anne welcomed me warmly as I gingerly reversed into position in front of their garage. Frome is a very pleasant town and it is good to see them settled, happy and with good friends and neighbours.

Rather than return to Salisbury immediately I battled the atrocious stormy weather plus flooded roads and headed for higher ground here at Devizes. After all the visiting I needed some alone time. I enjoy and often find I am in need of such reflective time and space.

There is quite a raunchy story behind this particular need of a reflective space. Soooo .... If you are not 'adult' or don't do raunchy now is the time to stop reading and put the telly back on!

A few weeks ago I had the very popular and erotic book  '50 Shades of Grey' thrust into my hand with instructions given to; 'go read it!'

Now I am a normal heterosexual male with a chequered history of wonderfully intimate, healthy and conventional relationships. They of course all contained their individual cocktail of erotic physical escapades. I am also well informed through my years of counselling work of other not so normal or healthy, and sadly in my experience, damaging physical and psychological relationships.

So it was with some trepidation that I delved into the first few chapters. Basically; I did not want my tentatively balanced sexuality disturbed unnecessarily at this delicate point in my life where I have so recently lost the love of my life, Kate. I know me. I know how well my strong spirituality and meditative practice supports me. However; I also know how too much exposure to eroticism is deliciously and mischievously capable of 'buggering' my psyche about.

Well; 50 Shades of Grey did not disappoint. The psychological story was good. The author knew her stuff. The erotic physical escapades were also good and, as anyone who has read it will know, filled the majority of the book. The 'turning on' capacity of the book is not to be denied. Yes, '50 Shades of....' did as predicted, bugger me about both deliciously and mischievously. Hence the need for an away weekend, and contact with close friends and  companion to share, understand and dismantle the tangled web of erotic mischief. This final quiet 'alone' time is a facilitative space. One where the psycho-physical tree of stability can find and gratefully rest once again on secure deep roots.

50 Shades of Grey is a trilogy. I can pretty well guess the continuation and eventual outcome of the psychological storyline. And the raunchy eroticism? Well, guess I'm gonna leave that too. Exposure to one book is enough for this pill popping, x heart attack, doggy owning motorhome maniac!

"C'mon Tanya. Time for walkies."

Reflections

'Great art is there to raise the will above the purgatory of daily life'.

Radio 4 start the week with Andrew Marr. The source? Alas author of the quote, although reaching my ears, declined to lodge within mind for later recall

The colour, perspective and horizon absorbing misty-ness, now surrounding me, recalled this quote. As I walked I noticed at every new pace and movement of eye there was the 'great art'. I, for a time, walked slowly, absorbing myself within  and into this low coloured misty landscape of tree shape and reflected autumn leaves upon still water. The sensation, unlike being in a gallery viewing a picture, had the hardly felt touch of minute mist drops pinging cheeks along with the sound of pigeon wings flapping as tree roost was swapped for roof ridge. This total immersion of the senses within 'great art' heightened and sharpened mind to a point where I could not help but notice I was receiving a wonderful gift.

For Tanya and I this was in some way the full circle. This was Avebury and visited last in the frost and snow nine months ago in January. It was just before we set out over the water to France. Personally I find this area bodes a powerful and calming affect emanating as both a physical and mental felt sense. Today did not disappoint.

A final night is being spent wildcamped on the Ridgeway just by Avebury before tomorrow heading to Salisbury where I will spend time with brother Richard. A welcome base where we will be able to catch up on various tasks and maintenance work before heading off to Spain and Portugal early in the new year.

Memory lane + stewed fruit.

I could not believe what I was looking at. They were like a trigger, a mental one, now pulled. What came erupting out from the barrelled depths of my mind were forty six year old files spilling out their megabytes of memory. 

"Gosh." I said, as I was transported down through seven sets of watertight doors, all having to be individually and manually closed above me as I descended into cold metallic depths. My descent took me to the deepest bowels of the twenty seven thousand ton aircraft carrier HMS Eagle. Destination? The explosives locker right on the ships hull and just forward of the armour plating. This in case the lockers content should, for whatever reason, explode. The idea being to limit blast damage to a neat hole in the hull allowing ingress of water only to the locker itself as of course all watertight doors above were tightly shut. I remember it as a spooky, creaky and tomblike place. I used to briefly place my hands on the cold and grey painted thick steel hull plates. Standing quietly in the creaking silence  I would, for a few seconds, visualise the freezing ocean depths flowing by only centimetres away. The quicker I deposited my load of 'out of date' explosive Martin Baker ejection seat cartridges and re loaded with the new ones the better. Reaching once again the workshops of the upper aircraft servicing decks was always a relief.

Now here I was in Steve's engineering workshop on Richard and Lesley's farm near Cheltenham staring at the familiar sight of a set of these bulky shiny brass cartridges as they noisily jostled in the palm of my hand. Thankfully these were not filled with explosive but nevertheless, they were a powerful dredger of old, deeply submerged memories.

It seems the rise in popularity of flyable vintage jets complete with Martin Baker ejection seats is now prompting enthusiasts to seek out engineering capacity to manufacture these cartridge casings. As I handed the casings back to Steve he explained how, because of his workshops particular set of skills, he had been requested to look into the feasability of manufacturing such items.

More chat and further memories were chugged through before the broken arm of Sadies passenger seat was handed over to Steve for a minor repair. This of course was my original intention upon entering his workshop but I left with mind still whirring from the regurgitated memories prompted by sight and feel of those bulky round brass shell casings. Explosive shells, I may add, designed and successfully used on many occasions to save aviators lives.

This visit to old friends in the Cheltenham / Gloucester area was turning out to be productive in respect of minor mechanical ailments afflicting Sadie. Poor Tanya for several days now has not been able to enjoy her frequent visits to the open passenger door window for a blast of travelling air as we roll along. The electrically operated window has been reluctant to close and when, a few days previously, I had managed with some difficulty to get it closed I decided it had best remain so until further investigation.

A visit to the local Mercedes dealer revealed that the door plus window mechanism were not Mercedes parts.
"Oh dear" I muttered as I summoned my helpless and pleading voice to request any ideas as to what to attempt next.
"Have you tried lubricating the cables and window runners?"
"Well no I hav'nt." I replied and the gloomy bubble of ultra expensive and difficult to locate spare parts receded just a little.
He was dead right too. I now have a happy Tanya able to request a briskly opening and closing passenger door window. She can now once again allow the wind to lay back her ears and stream her beard rearward as she thrusts her head out of a happily trundling Sadie.

The fridge and freezer have also been working overtime too. Our walks over the last few days have yielded bulging doggy bags (always in my pocket.) of delicious blackberries. Combined with Richard and Lesleys Bramley and Worcester Permayne windfall apples plus a little heat and hey presto! Enough delicious stewed fruit for pies and deserts a plenty. Yummy yummy!

Travelling East & sad to leave.

"Fifty eight years!" I exclaimed, as his old head nodded in approval of my awe. 

"Aye, fifty eight years at sea and this boat now some nineteen years old and having saved twenty lives." 

Tommy continued with his story of how even he was surprised at how many times he happened to have been in the right place at the right time to pluck a life back from the sea.

There was also a sombre tale. His old fisherman's head swivelled in the obligatory polo necked seamans sweater to give a cursory nod to a plaque on the opposite wall of Fethard quay on this the South East Irish coast. The plaque remembered a 2002 tragedy at sea where three members of a local family had perished. Tommy had also been on the scene then but had the grim task of pulling bodies out of the sea. Anger and resentment were evident in his otherwise experienced seafaring wiseness as he told how the boat involved was known as being rotten as a plum and should have been off the water months before never mind have got a licence to take anglers out to sea.

Tommy went on his way. Tanya and I saw him later further up the estuary by his moored boat as we were on our river mussell collecting walk.  The walk was pleasant and for the first time in two days the thick and clammy wet sea mist had cleared and we could actually see things.

We had left Castle Gregory two days previously. There was a lump in my throat as I waved Keith and Justine goodbye while slowly driving past them waving back from the doorway of their shop. They had been wonderful hosts and had made me feel very much at home and part of their large community/family.

Moving on though is what we do so eastwards we headed into the ever decreasing vision and wet gloom of what I would normally call 'classic Scottish mist'. Guess here it will have to be Irish Mist. The dismal feel and mood of its close clammyness coupled with lack of any distance vision eventually found us quite early on securely set up for the night on a forest track.

There was not much to recommend it as an overnight spot apart from safe to walk Tanya and the barrier preventing entrance into the forest proper had a sturdy metal post which was just what I needed. Earlier in the day I had another scrunch as I reversed Sadie and once again not noticed a low, bright yellow, water main marker. No damage apart from it bending the full width towbar. This is exactly the reason the towbar is still on Sadie. To prevent me damaging her rear end more seriously. Sadie was carefully positioned in front of the sturdy metal post. Rope was tied between sturdy metal post and towbar. A gentle nudge forward from Sadie and hey presto! We now have a 'hardly bent at all' towbar.

Another sightless day of misty wet Irish gloom saw us travel the coastal path and eventually make tiny Fethard Quay our perch for the night. The mist cleared next morning and I was finally able to see what a delightful spot we had found. All the more so when you add in Tommy's seafaring yarns, three fresh herrings thrown up to me from the boat they had been caught in not an hour before, and of course the delicious river Mussells which were later enjoyed for lunch.

Next stop was Wexford and then a touch north to Merton, home to my niece's current boyfriend. Gerald welcomed me to his tidy, clean and efficiently run dairy farm on the grass rich land running down to the river Slaney. I have to admit here to very comfortably slipping back into my, prior to counselling, work role of agricultural rep as I listened to the difficulties Gerald outlined as to farming in Ireland during this time of financial crisis and extremely limited cash flow. My spot for the night was in front of their beautiful and purpose built home overlooking the gently sloping river valley. My three fresh herrings successfully gutted and filleted by yours truly went down a treat for dinner.

Now moving on again. This time with Sadie snug down below on deck three with (fingers crossed) a sleeping Tanya inside her. The Irish coast is now dropping away to stern while Wales, my gateway back into the UK, slowly fetches our helm. It is late at night so cannot see a thing but memories of my trip around Ireland are good. I have a feeling I will be back next year ..... 'to be sure now!'

Derrynane

'Here a man can think, reflect and gain perspective'.

'Governments, large institutions and the church tend to be convenient confusing bureacratic vehicles wherein individual greed may flourish'.

"Watch my eyes yourself now." 

So I did and I observed a gorgeous wink as this smartly dressed and attractive middle aged lady said;

"Well of course you'll be knowing now I can only give you the official line saying no camping."  She continued after she had seen I understood the sub text. "Now be sure to visit the house tomorrow. We'll be there to welcome you and we'll recognize you now to be sure."

She and her younger and equally beguiling colleague completed the locking up of Daniel O'Connell's house and went on their way. A short walk around the tropical feeling and looking gardens soon brought me back to Sadie neatly positioned as is her want in front of the 'No Camping' sign in the car park of Derrynane house. The car park was deserted but it felt more comfortable to stay the night now I had the 'un-official' permission of the two ladies who managed the house. I have found during my travels that out of season most officialdom take a pragmatic view, if treated respectfully, of these 'no overnight camping' notices.

Derrynane certainly is a beautiful spot. Mild too with lush vegetation, beaches and a wee harbour to die for. All is snuggled neatly below high peaks and overlooking the Kenmare estuary and Atlantic ocean. I did visit the house and now am far better informed as to Daniel O'Connel and his key role in the creation of Ireland as we know it today. I feel the sad part of the story is how his eventual falling from favour was partly due to his lifelong conviction to, and use of, non violent means to further his causes. His exposure to the ravages of the French Revolution resolved in him this flame of non violence, but as I trod his footsteps around Derrynane I could not help but agree as to how the very beauty and peace of this place must have played an equal and continually sustaining part in his life.

Awoke this morning to a mist-ical sunrise from my lucky find of a wild camping spot right on the Kenmare estuary at Kenmare quay. The mist is just lifting from the mountains across the estuary on the Beara peninsular. Down the estuary slowly creeping over the glass smooth estuary is the Catamaran I watched last night as he changed sails at his mooring just off the quay. I wonder where he is headed? Maybe he is slowly heading south too.

First nasty crunch for Sadie

"Oooooh! I did not like the sound of that Tanya. That, if my thinking is correct, was an expensive crunching type of sound!" 

I had not seen the low brick wall on my offside as I turned sharply into the harbour front car park at Portmaghee  on my way round the Kerry Ring.

We left Castle Gregory earlier in the day but intend to return for the weekend to accompany Keith and Justine to the Dingle food festival. I had heard a lot about the Kerry Ring so thought we would take a couple of days to sample it's delights. Weather was good, road was shite! Good views but narrow, bendy roads with years of 'patch me up' repairs giving a surface that rattles the b'jesus out of Sadie. Plus, being a main road it was quite busy. This is a combination I do not like. It means slow. In Sadie terms that is very slow. To other road users it is annoyingly slow. Personally I get anxious when I see traffic impatient and up my arse! Consequently I am always seeking out a place to pull in and let them by which of course gets tedious and slows you down even more. Ideally I like to get off such roads and take a longer route using back or minor roads. This is what I did at Portmaghee with a quick decision taken to pull into the virtually empty car park to give Tanya a walk plus explore the village. That is when the nasty crunch was heard and I knew the result was not going to be nice.

Sadie was duly parked and round we go to view the damage. Oh dear! Two of the lower skirting panels damaged and blowing in the breeze but thankfully not completely detached from Sadie. I picked up the sorry looking scratched and scraped wheel trim and managed to push that back into place. A half hour later and thanks to plastic cable ties, a bendy piece of tin and some sticky tape the two panels were rendered secure enough for the journey to continue. There looms a costly professional repair job for the future methinks. I tried to console myself with the fact I knew this day would come at some point and overall it could have been a lot worse. However; I could not shake off the low ebb of my mindset as we continued.

A pleasant night was had by the waters edge south of Portmaghee before next morning heading over the bridge and onto the Island of Valencia. A walk to Bray head above the stunning cliffs under sunny blue skies was a real bonus. Especially the views out to the Skelligs. These two phallic like rock promontories sit about 13km offshore and the bigger of the two is a UNESCO world heritage site due to it's 1400yr occupancy by monastics up till the twelfth century. Their 2300 steps and beehive shelters, all laboriously hacked out of the Atlantic gale lashed bedrock, still survive to this day. This was all clearly explained at the excellent Skellig experience centre on Valencia where a welcome lunch of yummily good Irish Stew was enjoyed.

At one point on the circular walk around Bray head we were high on the cliffs and walking on the stiff, coarse bog grass. There was a good path but I had diverted to cut out a corner and was walking across this grass. Tanya lagged behind and in the end stopped. I walked back to her, placed my hand on the grass and understood why she was reluctant to follow me. Even lower than the grass there grows a prickly type of green gorse. To sheep, cattle or goats with their cloven hooves it is no problem. To a small dog with soft paws this bed of prickly gorse must be like walking over a closely packed bed of upturned drawing pins. I tucked her under my arm and carried her back to the well worn and soft grass path. Off she went quite happy to be back to plain old grass, bog and black mud!

Thank goodness for all the doggy blankets I carry in Sadie!