Barbara & Provence

Number 94 bus and 'Nice' airport shuttle bus deposited me safely at terminal two, arrivals. Barbara with wheelie bag and big smile soon walked through the arrivals door from her Easy Jet flight from Edinburgh. We together reverse negotiated the buses returning to 'Cagne sur Mer' where a snug, and very quiet, campsite safely housed Sadie and Tanya. Quiet campsite housed us for one more day as Barbara settled in. Part of 'settling' included a very enjoyable lunch at one of the 'Chateux Grimald' cafes amid the old part of 'Cagne sur Mer.'

Next day saw us on our way. I was keen to move away from the hustle and bustle of the highly populated 'Cote d'Azur'. Sure enough as we headed up 'Gorge de loup' it felt good to be once again on the move upon the less busy and well maintained French roads. With of course, sitting alongside me sharing Tanya's seat, the added bonus of a much loved travelling companion.

'Moustier St Marie' is where we are at present. A gorgeous medieval village tucked right into the dramatic cliffs containing the stunning 'Gorge de Verdon'. Sun is shining, tea is being prepared and let me tell you. There is not much wrong with the world right now.
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Pig again. This time however; not a scary scenario. Far from it. These were a rare breed of 'Hungarian Mangalica' piggy's. Big woolly floppy eared beasties with squealing stripy piglets running around mum who snuffled her way about the large orchard enclosure. Barbara and I, plus Tanya of course, were on a morning walk around the beautiful village of 'Maubec' here in the 'Luberon valley' area of Provence. We stopped to watch these piggies and to read how they were near extinction before conservation and good marketing of their highly valued, and rich in Omega 3, meat products saved them.

The plan, after our walk was to move on, find a supermarket, which we did, and travel to 'Arles', which we did'nt. Instead we returned to 'Oppede de Vieux' just along from vineyard surrounded 'Maubec'. 'Oppede' is one of many 'perched on a hilltop' villages in this area. In medieval days it was fully populated but alas it's steep narrow cobbled streets now wind through ivy covered ruins. Slowly though, as artists and the wealthy restore and live in what can only be described as a stunning and unspoilt location, it is coming back to life.

What a treat for us to pay a mere five Euros for the car park and be told by the attendant we were very welcome  to stay the night.

"J'adore la France". Oops, sorry I have to correct that .... "Nous adorons la France".

Birthday boy got 'painfully' moved on

"Wow!  What a view". I exclaimed pulling Sadie into a narrow precarious cliff hugging and stone blocked old quarry entrance. I clambered to the top of a small rise of ground to take in the breathtaking view out over 'Massa', 'Carrara', the port of 'La Spezia' on the blue Mediterranean which was our destination. Just behind us were the tunnels through the solid snow covered peaks and their deep river gorges that had provided the narrow twisty road we had just negotiated from 'Castelnuovo di Garfanga'.

The mountain wind was icily cutting as I turned to descend my viewpoint and gain the warmth of Sadie. Next thing I knew I was screaming obscenities to the heavens while rolling on the ground clutching at what surely must be a broken ankle. The pain was excruciating but behind that pain and behind the coping mechanism of voluminous obscenities I, with utter despair, knew clearly what had just transpired. My right foot had rolled right over and once again ripped muscle and tendon to shreds. I say once again as unfortunately my life has been regularly punctuated with such painful incidents rendering my ankles weak and vulnerable.

The obscenities finally stopped echoing round the mountains and the pain eased. I managed to limp across and haul myself into Sadies warmth. I sat for a while recovering from the shock and assessing the situation. Everything moved as it should albeit painfully and with limited mobility. 

"Nothing broken then". I muttered to Tanya and "Happy bloody birthday Steve" 

I sarcastically said as I gingerly worked Witch-Hazel cream into the now grotesquely swollen and throbbing ankle. Yes; this was April 7. My 67th birthday.

My biggest worry was driving. We were at the top of a high mountain pass and in front of three and a half ton Sadie lay an hour of steep downhill, second gear only, zig zag narrow hairpin roads. Regular right foot brake operation was going to be required. 

"Am I gonna manage it"? I thought to myself. 

Happily the downward gradient of the road was kind to us. Sadie's slow but safe second gear adequately held momentum at a level requiring only occasional light braking. Even so I was wincing with pain well before our rendezvous for the night.

"Got to stop Tan, this is hurting and starting to get dangerous"

We were thankfully on the flatter but busier coastal strip by then with eyes peeled left and right for a suitable bolt hole for the night.

"That's it, that'll do, winker on, hang a left and we're in".

A nearly empty parking area adjacent a grassy field and communal area. Phew! was I glad to stop, make a cup of tea, down a couple of paracetamol and put my foot up to rest. Which is exactly what I did for about an hour till Mr Carabineri poked his head in the open door and said.  

"You no stay here. You no camp, you go!"

I did, with a masterful limping demonstration and best 'poor me' pitiful painful facial expression put forward my case for staying put. This however; only elicited the same few monosyllabic English statements in louder voice and with sterner face. This repeat was accompanied by jacketed Carabineri arm firmly pointing to anywhere else but where we were.

I had no choice but to pack up and go. Which within ten minutes is exactly what I did. Such is the flexibility of a motorhome. I flicked on Mrs Sat nav again and let her lead us the remaining thirty kilometres to our original destination, a Sosta (motorhome parking area) listed in my book at 'Porto Venere'.

This, according to a lovely Italian guy at 'Castlenuovo' was a must see place right out at the point on the far side of 'La Spezia' at the Southern end of the highly popular area known as 'Cinque Terre'. (pronounce - 'chingwaterra') He backed up his enthusiastic insistence with smart phone pictures of his previous days visit with family friends and local priest. It did look inviting.

The journey was relatively easy. I'd had an hours rest and the paracetamol had kicked in reducing the pain. Good old Mrs Sat nav took us right to the spot, a pleasant grassy area above 'Porto Venere'. This in itself was a relief as I've discovered that having a book listing Italian motorhome parking areas and sites is no guarantee they actually exist. This time though it was real. We quickly settled in, conjured up eats and with a 'Phew! Some Birthday', I gratefully placed my throbbing and swollen excuse for an ankle up high for a well earned rest.

We've remained here for two days. There is a parking ticket machine which requires €12.00 in coins for a twenty four hour stay. Quite reasonable but no good if you only have paper money.  

"Need to go down to the port, have a meal and get some cash eh Tan".

So off we go, limping well and leaning heavily on walking pole. The task? To get to the bus stop and board the free shuttle bus down to 'Porto Venere' itself. Now remember Italy is different. The notice I'd espied earlier indicating said shuttle bus runs hourly April to April is, to put it bluntly, a wee fib. We waited for some time before an English speaking Italian lady explained, as though it was obvious. 

"Oh no! Bus only run for Easter in April". Well; how silly of me not being able to infer such 'obviousity' from the big clearly written A4 size notice saying it ran hourly April to April.

We did get our meal and we did get our coinage. We bannister rail and walking poled our way down hundreds of steps to a sea front restaurant (expensive!) then very slowly limped back to Sadie via the hairpin roadway which also involved doing battle with huge German, Swiss and Italian tourist coaches. We made it though and meter was duly fed. Plus I will admit 'Porto Venere' is a very pretty seaside destination. As the rough guide says though. Don't do it July/August unless you love crowds and gridlocked traffic.

Ankle? I hear you ask: Black and blue with ugly yellow patches and limping will be standard for a couple of weeks. Apart from that everything is rosy.

Extortion in Tuscany!!

"Twenty Euros". I sputtered unable to contain my shock at this extortionate price for a twenty four hour stopover on a large tarmac bus park between busy roads and a railway. I grumpily paid up. It was late and I knew of no alternative within sensible bike/walk distance of this the Italian city of 'Siena'.

"They b****y well know how to rip off the tourist do these Italians". 

I muttered as I walked across to Sadie, ticket in hand which I was to; 

'Window, must, must be in window. Ticket, window. Understand. In window, ticket!'  

Well; ticket IS in window and we are comfortably settled in for the night. Tomorrow we will be off sharp for a day out in well preserved medieval 'Siena'. We'll be away by five fifteen though, when my window mounted ticket expires. There is no way I'm parting with another extortionate fee. We will head back out into the  countryside where I feel much happier, don't get ripped off every five minutes and there are plenty of secluded wild spots where Tanya is free to roam.

We have just spent one such night of meditative seclusion by a rushing mountain stream amid the as yet unleafed Beech forest  South of  'Volterra'. We were by a closed, deserted and vandalized Spa hotel. An English speaking lady encountered on our before breakfast walk, and coincidently the only person we saw while their, told us the hotel's warm sulphuric spa water dried up fifteen years ago. The whole complex closed shortly after. A beautiful secluded location with the lower entrance by the locked and bramble covered gate making a perfect spot for us to camp. Sadie was treated to a clear sparkling mountain stream wash while we were there. I had to wade in to the gurgling torrent to fill the buckets. That water was icy icy cold. No swimming in that I thought to myself as ankles and calves thawed out. Which they soon did as I reclined in comfy chair, soaked up the warm sunshine and admired my handiwork, a sparkling white as opposed to 'road use brown' Sadie.
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'Siena'.

"It's a walled hilltop city". I expounded to Tanya. "With steep hills, loadsa steps, narrow alleyways and multi directional mad scooter mounted Italians weaving between aimlessly wandering tourists. Guess we'll leave the bike and walk eh Tan".

My summing up proved correct with walking granting a rewarding day in a stunning city under warm blue skies. Again I took few photographs as www.land will have them all if you wish to see more. The 'Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta' built with alternate layers of black and white stone was awesome. You need tickets and no dogs to see the inside but I did hold open the guided tour exit door for a while till the security guy very politely showed me it was on springs and was meant to swing shut to stop people with dogs seeing inside which I thought was really nice of him. Such a grasped at peep was enough though. Truly stunning.

'Il Campo' is the heart of the city and everything radiates out from its large semi circular sloping open plaza. All the touristy shops carry posters and pictures of the famous bareback horse racing festival which takes place every August in this 'Campo'. I 'barebacked' a restaurant chair and enjoyed a lovely meal in one of the small squares adjoining. Coffee was long lingered over as numerous people watching cameos unfolded second by second around us. A most agreeable pastime invariably brought to a premature halt by Madame Tanya becoming bored once she has scoffed the little biscuit often presented with the 'I've got a liking for it now' continental small cup expresso coffee.
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Easter Saturday today. We are snug in 'Vinci', birthplace of the great Leonardo da Vinci. We are also being subject to a very British bank holiday phenomena. Heavy and persistent rain. Never mind, according to weatheronline.com the sunshine is due back in a couple of days.

We did have warm blue sky sun yesterday and thrilled to a second and third gear journey over the high and hilly minor roads/tracks of the 'Chianti' wine producing region here in Tuscany. That was till the afternoon when I made a mistake on a roundabout. Mrs sat nav Navigator kindly re-routed us through urban industrial 'Firenze' and 'Prato' before finally depositing us in a scrubby car park right behind a Carabinero (military police) training establishment in 'Pistoia' which; was not where I had expected us to be.

I could not quite understand how this happened. I thought we were headed for 'Vinci'. On checking later I discovered Numpty here had only gone and entered the wrong sat nav coordinates without following up with visual map check as to the correct destination. Memo to self; 'Do check where we're going next time Steve, and best do it before setting off eh ... there's a good boy!' The accompanying self administered (but gentle) wrist slap hopefully will jog my tired and lonely single remaining brain cell into due compliance.

Ho Hum!

Italy continued & ... Hmmmm!

The rough guide waxes lyrically and enthusiastically about the great Italian painters, the historical sites, the museums, the churches etc etc, but nowhere do I find  mention of the sheer joy to be had in simply walking mountainous medieval mule tracks steeply winding their way through the Olive groves between 'Zucarello' by it's rushing river, and the much higher village of 'Vesercio'.

'San Remo' was behind us as we drove Eastwards along the slightly less busy Italian Riviera coastal strip. A wonderful drive but by the time I had reached 'Albenga' I'd had enough of the, 'slightly less busy', the nowhere to park and of marina after marina full of white shiny and jingly mast luxury floating motorhomes nee yachts.

So we hung a left, quickly stopped at 'Freshco' for a warm just baked €1.00 Panini before heading inland for a quiet lunch stopover. That's how we found 'Zucarella' with its large level parking area where no one has bothered us one bit these last two nights.

The village is long, narrow, medieval and occupies one bank of the river while the main road tarmacs its way by on the other. The village is a grid of tiny narrow cobbled streets and stone arches with one steeply leading ever upwards, out of the village to the 'Castello' on a prominent mount where I gazed down almost vertically upon Sadie's roof way below in the car park.

I was delighted with our lunch stop find, our exploration of the village and especially our stiff walk up to the Castello. Delighted as I felt good with no worrying aches or pains from the chesticle area where, as you know I have been having slight concern of late.

The weather was forecast to return to wet and cold again so next day we took advantage of the dry but cloudy day and set off to walk up to the next village 'Vesercio'. To cut a long story short we made it. A three and a half hour circular steep ascent/descent walk. Tanya and I were both pretty exhausted and wet due to the forecasted rain soaking us during our last half hours walking. It was a warm, dry and welcome return to Sadie where once  again I was 'over the moon' delighted with what we had achieved. I do not think in January, as we commenced this years trip, such a walk would have been possible. Back then I got very tired after only short flat walks. Fingers crossed for continuation of good fortune eh:
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Italy .... Hmmmmm!
The Italians themselves are lovely. So friendly and helpful. Maybe they have to be to assist everyone else through 'different, busy and Hmmmm!'

Yesterday I followed Mrs 'Navigator' sat nav (yes, a different lady & very good she is too) to a garage listed as a supplier of GPL gas. One of my cylinders was empty. Mrs sat nav was within one hundred yards of being spot on but it was not a garage as such but a specific GPL filling station. This was located immediately behind another big garage on a side street entered another half a kilometer further on. It is easy for me to say that, now I know; but it took me nearly two hours to find. I kept asking around which is no easy task on the outskirts of 'Genoa', in a large motorhome, where not a soul speaks English. Anyway my frustration, possibly desperation, must have been apparent as finally a kind lady in a little yellow Panda indicated I was to follow her. She took me right to the spot and then drove off with a smile and cheery wave without giving me the time to thank her. Such generosity and helpfulness from her plus all the others who before they launched into copious instructions and directions in rapidly spoken Genoese Italian had shouted to all and sundry, "Heya! Inglesa.Chiunque parlare inglese?" The answer of course was invariably no except for my 'Ave Maria" (big culture here) lady in her yellow Fiat Panda who did know a few English words.

Then the strangest thing. Gas top up was successful and I drove out onto the narrow one way side street to be faced with a low 2.35m bridge sign. This had the potentiality of being a serious problem seeing as Sadie is 3.00m high. I had no alternative but to continue and to my huge relief we sailed under the bridge with plenty of room to spare. Just before the bridge I once again noticed another large prominent 2.35m warning sign affixed to the apex of the bridge arc. I successfully criss-crossed the same railway line and its low bridges twice more before we headed out onto a quiet countryside lane and a safe spot for the night.

A strange, different but rewarding day.
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I'd nearly, very nearly in fact, given up on Italy. The wet dull weather was not helping. Lack of coastal area camp spots plus the ridiculous price wanted by some campsites were all starting to irk me. I've damaged Sadie too. To be fair that is not Italy but rather me playing 4x4 again and getting my come uppance. Thankfully it is not serious, just fibreglass rear skirting split and nudged slightly out of place.

Soooo .... all in all Italy was not turning out to be the best for my strange but particular way of life ..... until today that is. Today has finally yielded an Italy more in keeping with ... 'wot I want'.

'Pisa', complete with leaning tower, warm sunshine and a safe and sensibly priced and located motorhome stopover. Well! Could one ask for more? Bike was very soon out and off we went to join the throngs of tourists (Goodness knows what it must be like in high season) As usual there was no going into the tower or up the Doumo (Cathederal) as doggies are no go. Even so impressive is the correct adjective to use. You also cannot stop that daft little voice in your head from saying, "Gosh it's just like it is in all those pictures".

Meanwhile: watching contorted tourists, mainly of Eastern origin, being photographed holding out their palms to appear as though they are propping the tower up in front of equally contorted and gesticulating camera and mobile phone wielders. Well; such viewing is equal to, if not better than, an expensive tour of the great treasures inside these beautiful buildings paid for by the way, and to quote the tourist blurb; 'the sacking and pillage of Palermo and its immense wealth'.

Weather looks better for the next week. Ok then! I'll stay a little longer.
"C'mon Tan. We'll go do some more Bike exploring in this Tuscan open air rich archeological gem stone of an area".

A pig & Italy.

"TANYA QUICK, COME HERE, MOVE, IT'S A DAMM PIG!! 

A big wild boar type pig it was too. I tell you it was some shock seeing this thing lumbering out from the pitch black of the night behind the wheelie bins and into the dim light of the few and far between street lights. My senses did not immediately register this unrecognisable moving area of blackness as someting dangerous. As my adrenalin kicked in pig had it's head down and was picking up speed towards Tanya who was blithely heading piggy direction thinking this was a new doggy pal.

Thankfully the combination of loud panicky voice along with sight of me sprinting away down the road did the trick and she sensibly joined me in this new game of 'let's run away from big black hairy tusky piggy thing'. Pig ran out into the road but then decided what was behind the wheelie bins offered better prospects than one mere mortal human plus small dog. It stopped, sniffed around a bit and shuffled back into the unlit blackness behind the bins.

"Phew!" I muttered. "That, Tanya my girl, is as close as I want to come to a wild boar thank you very much. I think we'll just head back to Sadie now in case piggy is not alone". 

Note to self; take torch on next 'last Tanya pee before bed' walk!!

We were in my favorite safe, level but totally unlit parking area in 'Port Lligat', former home to the artist Salvador Dali. It is a place I love and know very well and always visit if I am entering or leaving Spain from its North Eastern corner. The 'Cap de Creus' ('Cadaque') area is wild, beautiful and unspoiled but only reachable by tortuous bendy mountain and cliff hugging coastal roads.

Warm and sunny it was too. Unlike the charming and pretty little hilltop village of 'Fox-Amphoux' in the French district of  'Provence' where at present it is wet, dull, misty and distinctly cool. On the way here we visited  'camping La Sousta' at the popular tourist spot of 'Pont du Gard' where, being down to my last shirt, we caught up with laundry etc. Popular spot it may be but wet cold early March equals campsite plus large impressive ancient Roman viaduct empty of tourist and locals alike.
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What a difference a few miles make. We are in Italy now, 'San Remo' to be exact. Sunny warm Italian Riviera. I have just watched from our very pleasant Italian Aire a gigronkus luxury yacht motor by. It is probably going to Monte Carlo, Nice or Cannes. All the marinas both here and on the French side had their due quota of these huge plastic 'I've got loadsa money' status symbols. We have spent the last couple of days negotiating our way through this very built up, busy and rather motorhome unfriendly Riviera coastal strip. I've decided it is not my favorite place but seeing is believing and there is no doubt about it; the area oozes of all that money can buy. Just a wee bit out of my league though. No photo's either. For starters there was never anywhere to park Sadie at the few viewing spots and secondly; Google or You-tube the French Riviera. Pointless pointing my phone/camera when every conceivable Riviera photo is already out there in www.com land.

Bike plus green Tanya bucket came out today and we cycled in the beautiful warm sunshine to 'San Remo' proper where we watched the world go by while enjoying a pleasant fishy lunch at one of the numerous restaurants over looking the Marina. Once again it was yours truly in summer gear of shorts and sandals while everybody else was in full winter gear, and, I have to say, very smart too as one would expect of Italians.

One observation which with all things considered goes with the territory of marina plus large plastic gin palaces. There did seem to be a lot of paunchy men of about my age and much older being accompanied by extremely smart young ladies. S'funny is'nt it. I mean I've got a plastic tub too. OK so it's not full of gin and doesn't have a pointy bit at the front but even so. At least there was one thing that got the attention of these 'young things'. My not so young lady travelling companion Tanya got plenty of fawning attention and admiring glances from these glamorous young fashion icons.

Visiting. Moving North. Trauma.

Well that has been the hottest day so far. Nine pm now and we've just returned from a balmy nocturnal walk. My clock cum tempature gauge tells me it is 22° outside. Snugly.

We are just south of 'Valencia'. A semi suburban beachside area bordering the 'Parc natural de l'abufera' which comprises various large lakes, rice growing paddy fields and lots of wildlife. (like migrating motorhomers .... lol) It has been a very busy Sunday with the Spanish out in force  enjoying this lovely warm day and beachside setting.

There are about twelve motorhomes here all wild parked with not a British number plate to be seen. French and German plus a smattering of Dutch.

I arrived yesterday after having spent the last week up in the hills at Lenny & Win's smallholding near 'Rugat'. They have a lovely villa within a terraced orchard which was eighty five percent complete when purchased last year. Lenny is now thoroughly and enjoyably immersing himself in the remaining projects. He and I walked around the land which comprises about four large curved hillside terraces planted with Plum and Almond trees. There were Rabbits galore running everywhere plus a regular wild pig or two nocturnally visiting and grubbing up the soft and fertile soil. They are besotted with their new home and managing well with solar powered electricity and 'delivered in' water. I helped Lenny with his ingenious system for collecting, filtering and storing rain run off water. As a bonus there is a really good local community and social life mainly comprised of ex pats. A lovely week with good company in a beautiful location.
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There is something very peaceful and deeply satisfying in doing nothing whatsoever except watching and hearing the continual roll of waves smashing into the soft rocky and eroding shallow cliff edge  about thirty yards from where we are parked. The feeling is warm, especially so as there is a warm and furry dog nestled in my arms. Transcendent too as all lights are off allowing the full silvery beauty of the clear strong moonlight illuminated scene to parade before us at Sadie's door.

This is 'Peniscola', to be exact, just south of the town on a coast hugging wild track. It is a popular holiday destination with a very attractive and touristy old town complete with fifteenth century fortifications.  It is North of 'Burriana' where, amid its maze like orange groves we have been for the last couple of days visiting Jurate (one of my brothers carers) and her family. Sergio, her Mexican husband cooked us all a truly wonderful, and not too 'hot hot', Mexican meal last night. A very pleasant evening out where Ricky, their eight month old Chihuaha took quite some time to settle down after having his territory invaded by a stranger with a furry black dog. Emily worked hard with her school taught English trying to persuade me to stay another day. No luck I'm afraid as I am keen now to move North toward France and hopefully Italy. We shall see.

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Poor Tanya was once again in my arms for some TLC after being traumatized. It happened as I was cooking the evening meal. The damm smoke alarm went off. Tanya with a fearful and painful auditory passion hates the loud BEEEP....BEEEP  of the infernal but essential motorhome safety device.

Now timing, when cooking is critical, as I do like my food to be hot when it arrives on my plate. So I was stressed as I frantically flapped a towel around to encourage the offending smoky air to exit via the roof hatch rather than aimlessly wafting around the smoke alarm. A difficult task if, at the same time you are also flipping over nicely browning Tortilla and agitating an onion mushroom and green pepper stir fry. In such a delicately balanced situation the last thing you need is for the very small motorhome foot room space to be invaded by a traumatized dog seeking reassuring leg cuddles. I'm ashamed to admit it but I'm afraid her trauma doubled in intensity as she got serious verbal and foot abuse from me.

All is well that ends well though. She had her moonlight cuddle with plenty of re-assurance and treats and is now fast asleep sprawled in her bed on the turned around drivers seat. She looks to be a happy dog. I guess I'm a well fed doggy owner. It is a beautiful night in a stunning location. Yes, the words peaceful, satisfying and transcendent sum it up well.
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Isolation & a sore paw

It is hard to describe where we are at present. A beautiful and very isolated spot. Maybe it is that very isolation and its accompanying twin, meditative solitude, I am finding hard to describe. I do know that I crave, love and regularly seek out 'alone-ness'. Often I am disappointed if I cannot find such places. Mindfulness within nothingness amid the 'everything-ness' of wilderness is, for me, a pre-requisite for fullness of being.  I promised that on this trip I would not disappear into such solitude and isolation of wilderness due to family and friends concern in respect of my heart grumblings. So far I feel we have done well on that score with nearly every night up to this point in time being spent in company of other Motorhomes. I will add however that even though I may have been in company that company was in some beautiful spots too. On the whole motorhomers are a respectful bunch where 'alone-ness' is concerned.

Yesterdays travels found us high in the agricultural and jumbled quarrying hinterland East of 'Murcia' and to the back of 'Alicante'. We were well away from the busy coastal strip. We were leisurely traversing small roads where, as per usual, no other motorhomes seem to travel. Cherry tree orchards are just now starting to colour the countryside with pink effervescent blossom while the vast dusty dry agricultural plain is dotted with mountain outcrops scarred by decades of slicing off and polishing up kitchen worktops and shiny granite floors.

Stopping for the night in such areas is never an issue. We choose a tiny local road and a suitable spot is soon presented. Sometimes it can be an abandoned crumbling Cortijo where if you look around you soon spy the smart new bungalow the former Cortijo occupier has promoted him/her/them selves to. This time though we came across a dis-used rail track with vehicular access to our spot where further travel is denied by locked stanchion. Only cyclists and walkers are permitted to continue.

Bike was soon off the rack and off we went down the slight gradient rail track and through five dark tunnels (Good job I took a torch!) We decided enough was enough just after a quite impressive viaduct. The cycle-walk back was easier than I thought and Tanya ran most of the way back nuzzling her nose up to my legs through the darkest parts of the tunnels.

Two days later we moved on but not before the spot was logged within Mrs Satnav as a favourite. In those two days a total of four cyclists and two walkers were our only fleeting visitors. They all without exeption, seemed surprised to see us as they passed by.

Unfortunately poor Tanya must have damaged her front paw during her long walk/run. She is hobbling about pathetically at present with an old sock of mine velcroed onto her leg to stop her licking off the Witch Hazel cream liberally applied to a visibly raw and very sore patch on her paw. At least it has the benefit of slowing me down even further. No bad thing.

Next stop Havea (or Javea or even Xabia) down by the coast for laundry, (I'm down to my last shirt) gas top up and then back up into the hills to visit good friends Lenny and Win in their new home/smallholding.

Strawberry Flan + more

Strawberry Flan

"I've got to have some of that Eve", 

Said Allan to his wife as he observed how I was tucking in to one of Mark's speciality's. Mark was quickly summoned over, he knowingly obliged and orders rapidly arrived at table.

Mark was owner and chef of the very relaxed and welcoming Dancers Bar at 'Burriana' beach, near 'Nerja'. What I was tucking into was a rather large portion of excellent home made Strawberry flan where the sweet juicy fruits snugly nestled amid their bed of creme brulee itself set upon delicate and perfectly cooked pastry. Gosh it was delicious. This was food to challenge the healthiest of hearts. Definitly a no no for me but heh! Life is nought but a strawberry tart temptation and I am a healthy (well sort of)  human being with full working complement of instant gratification weakness's.

I'd met up with Eve and Allan (well you try saying it the other way round.) a few days earlier in Dancers Bar as I enjoyed coffee and Wi Fi access. During the conversation Eve had mentioned that Mark's Sunday roast lunches were simply the best. I thought no more of it at the time as I planned to move on. However; such hinted at ideas, or Eve temptations, take on a life of their own deep in the mind. They linger, mature then ripen into action which saw me make a quick return on Saturday via the A7/E15 motorway and book myself in for a one thirty pm Sunday roast dinner. Eve and Allan were already seated as I arrived and kindly invited me to join them.

A choice of Beef, Gammon, or Chicken plus all the trimmings with the Parsnips roasted in honey being to die for. We were all three of us suitably stuffed after such a feast. Eve and Allan, quite rightly so, declined the sweet menu. Mention of home made Strawberry flan did it for me though and I ordered one. The rest is history. Eve and Allan, still wielding evidence removing table napkins, consoled themselves by promising, once again, dieting would definitely start the moment they returned home to the Isle of Wight. Problem being their return is not until March!
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General opinion down here seems to be this is the coldest Jan/Feb for about ten years. I can vouch for the last two years being warmer from personal experience. It is still bright and sunny though and warmth can be found out of the wind. I can vouch for that too as I enjoyed my first strip off and sunbathe at a sheltered beach just by 'Almunecar'. I was not alone either as much German flesh, complete with bobbly white bits, was on display all over the small but lovely little beach.
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The N340 used to be the main Costa del Sol coastal road until superseded by the amazing viaduct and tunnel wonder of the A7/N15 motorway. It is now a quiet but equally amazing cliff hugging road travelling East. Tonight I am in 'Adra' in the midst of the highly intensive plastic covered agricultural area around 'Almeria'. There are lots of Motorhomes here in a  parking area just behind the beach. I would have preferred to stop at one of the many cliff top wild spots I espied on the way. But with the very strong wind doing its best to push me over the edge into the wild and foaming sea far below, discretion and safety became more important. Not that it is not blowy here in 'Adra' but all four wheels are firmly planted on level tarmac and a line of trees are giving some relief from the rather savage gusts.
~~~~~~
Today though; well today has been all you could wish for from a Mediterranean February. No wind, glassy sea and a gorgeously warm sun.  

I'm a little further East, still very much in plastic greenhouse land, at 'Almerimar'. The marina here, it was explained to me by a guy from Portsmouth who lives with his partner on their sailing ketch, is cheap due to its headland location leading to frequent strong winds caused in part by rising heat from the surrounding hundreds of hectares of shiny plastic drawing in cooler sea air. The marina supplements its income from the many motorhomes, us included, it parks on the harbourside. All very civilized and social and all in all rather pleasant. Especially when weather plays ball as well.

Harbour master says rain tomorrow... Hmmph!
~~~~
Harbourmaster was right too. The rain duly pattered down on and off till about three this afternoon. That was OK though as by then we had stumbled upon the delightful and unspoiled 'La Isleta'. A tiny little fishing village in the hilly and Spaghetti Western type of country East of 'Almeria' known as 'Sierra del Cabo de Gata'. Just a sprinkling of vans here. Rogero and his wife Andy were one of them. Fluent English speaking German X boaters who were well into their seventies. I was enthralled as I listened to this fifty two years married couple tell me their story. A story of how once children had flown the nest they sold everything up, flew to the USA, bought a sailing boat and spent the next twelve years sailing the 'Americas'. They did not return once to Germany in all that time. Not until health and having their boat stolen in Venuzuela forced them to do so. Enough to knock you back into genteel and safe retirement you would think. Me coming across them in their camper van in the wild West of Spain tells another story though. A story both encouraging and uplifting.

Pure Brilliant & Alicia

"Wow! that was pure brilliant Tanya, pure brilliant!!"

I think she agreed too as she reached out and gave me one of her nose lick/kisses while being unhooked and lifted out of her green bucket/taxi on the back of our bike.

Today was the first time my trusty bike has been unloaded and used on this trip. Health-wise I've been nervous and have stuck to walking. I'm feeling better though. I think my health has improved which vindicates my self diagnosis and self administered prescription for all things Mediteranean.

'Nerja'. East of Malaga is where we are, Another favourite place. There is safe parking on the edge of town in a dirt patch down by the river five minutes walk from the beach. Not salubrious but adequate and quiet enough for Tanya to wander around freely. I was nervous at first as no other motorhomes were here, unlike last year when ten to twelve were on this same site all the time. I thought this year local police were maybe moving motorhomes on. It seems not so. I've been here three days with no problem and no sight of police or other motorhomes. Suits me fine.

Bike came off its rack and we set off for a gentle bike walk using the level cycle ways and beach side promenades. Turned out to be a big success which included a light lunch out at a beachside restaurant. We ended up cycling quite a long way westwards on the dead level and easy beachside track.

Right, I thought to myself. I'm not going to push my luck so it's back to Sadie for a rest up and cup of tea.

We did too, for over an hour, but then; well; I'd always wanted to follow the road/track up river further than the few Tanya walks we'd done. It's a good, well used track servicing riverside small holdings with veg growing, horses, and some building based businesses. And of course it very gently slopes uphill following the river bed as it wormed its way into the steep deep valleys and hills behind this narrow coastal strip.

We set off walking and pushing the bike. My idea was to walk as far as I felt comfortable knowing I had the free get out of jail card of bike plus downhill slope all the way back to Sadies door.

We soon fell in with an Irish couple out for a walk. What with chatting away and the warm late afternoon sunshine we ended up further up river than expected. I still felt really good. The Irish couple took a small road to the right which gave them a circular route back to 'Nerja'. Tanya and I continued  on to where we entered the 'Reserva Nacional de Sierra Tejeda'. Further and further we went even though by this time we were literally walking the wide flat river bed itself. Finally, the river bed narrowed entering a gorge. The path headed off steeply up to the right. Time to call a halt.

"OK Tanya, lets be having you and we'll head  back down." 

By this time she was quite happy to be offered a free ride. I can always tell as she leans herself against my leg waiting to be scooped up into her green 'taxi' bucket.

The ride back was the 'pure brilliant' bit. Gently sloping, rough and bouncy but just such fantastic fun. Down the river bed, splashing through the shallows, out of the National park, under the huge viaduct carrying the main A7/E15 coastal motorway and all the way down the well used tracks and occasional tarmac road until, swinging into the dirt parking area we arrive alongside Sadie safely awaiting us. I, for most of the way had stood tall and upright on the pedals with legs bent and acting as springs. I only had to pedal once, and very briefly at that. Tanya, even though she sits on a sponge seat and is clipped firmly in still bounces around a lot. She seems to love it, leaning out to one side with nose thrust forward and ears flapping in wind.

I've got a feeling we'll be doing that again!
- - - -
Laundry, water top up and of course the inevitable emptying of the 'black water' (toilet) cassette. Not a very exciting start to what turned out to be a delightful and very unusual 'Alicia' day.

Six kilometre's inland from 'Nerja' is the delightful hillside village of 'Frigiliana'. Sadie, after having to be negotiated through a too narrow street care of yours truly once again missing the correct turning, was finally and neatly parked. Off we went at a slow easy pace to explore this very steep, whitewashed and touristy Spanish village.

"Excuse me sir; do you know how I can get up to there?" 

The arm, i-phone in hand was pointing to a peak with what looked like a tower perched atop. It seemed from where we were standing to be directly above us albeit a long way up.

I smiled at this young Korean lady and indicated I was a tourist too. Off she went only for me to bump into her again as we, with like minds, sought out all the little roads, stairways and tracks leading upwards through the orchards and scrub pine forest. We fell in together, as you do, and finally fetched our peak with it's amazing views over village, surrounding countryside and beyond all the way down to the sea.

Alicia was a thirty year old, about to graduate, law student. She was an adventurer with a kind, open manner and youthful zest. With her trusty i-phone guide she was on a tour of Spain and Italy via local bus routes and hotels.

We chatted as we descended and it was agreed, over drinks, that she would love to ride to 'Nerja' in Sadie and would catch a later bus back to Malaga and her hotel. This was no problem as via her trusty i-phone all the relevant information was there for the asking, or rather, button pressing.

I tell you this. It puts a real smile on your face having a young and very excited Korean lady bouncing excitedly up and down in her ladyship Tanya's seat for a few kilometre's. 

"This new experience for me, this first time ever in motorhome. Wooo hooo!!"

We spent a lovely afternoon and evening around 'Nerja' before Tanya and I waved goodbye as her bus pulled away from the stop not two minutes from Sadies safe wildcamp spot.

Different culture, different age, different worlds but the same spirit of fun and adventure . A rewarding and enriching day. May you travel on safely Alicia.

Yup: a good one.

"Y'know that has been a good day Tanya."

Calming down has taken until now. Health anxiety is this time an added ingredient to the roller coaster of emotions always affective when starting my 'foreign' wanderings. Calm down and slow down I most definitely have to do. My body is giving me suitably clear indications (tiredness plus bits of aching where aching is not really supposed to be.) This happens when I do too much driving, walking, or whatever. I notice this year I aint gonna be doin 'stuff' the same as previous years.
Today however; has shown all is far from doom gloom and worry.

DODGY TICKER MAN & DOG are staying here in Spain and are gonna enjoy it.

'Zafra': a pleasant enough Aire at an edge of town showground for all things agricultural. This was where the day started. A late start for me too as once again I got caught out by my clever satellite signal clock which, and you would think I'd have learned by now, always reverts back to UK time no matter how you set it. 

"Aha! That's why everyone else is gone Tanya. Tis gone nine not eight".

'Time anxiety' entered mind at this point intent solely upon firing up an unhealthy dose of adrenalin fueled panic. The trick is recognizing anxiety's early arrival and then dealing with it quickly. Much like the unwanted salesman at the front door. The skill is to send them packing straight away before they get a foot in your door. Now of course I'm lucky. I'm retired and can afford to send 'Time anxiety' packing. Time is not my boss any more. Poor mind. There it was retreating in confusion and grumbling in utter dismay upon reading the new A4 sheet of totally opposite instructions. 

Instructions such as; "Don't matter I'm late. Is not a problem. In fact I think that today I'll go even slower. Lets start by having a long slow breakfast. Off you go now 'Mind team'. Go and re-organize. I know you can do it because you've done so well all these past years with the old panic and rush instructions".

We finally leave 'Zafra' with Mrs Sat nav set for the 'now redundant' main road rather than the super duper motorway. What a wonderfully relaxing drive. All the way to Seville, stopping to walk up to 'Castillo de Santa Olalla del Cala' on the way. We were passed by one car and I saw two tractors going the other way. All the traffic was whizzing down the new motorway leaving this former main road, which was in excellent condition by the way, delightfully winding its way to Seville criss crossing the motorway every now and then.

Mrs sat nav then faultlessly guided us through and round the busy Seville traffic to a welcoming Aire situated in a small Marina at a suburb called 'Gelves'. Literally we were parked in among the 'on dry land' boats with the 'Rio Guadaquiver' flowing by just behind us. Shower, toilet and cafe on site, other English folk to talk to; What's not to like?

We were very quickly settled with tea brewed and Tanya tucking into her evening meal. Yup. We both agreed the day had indeed been a good one.

Stormy Trip

I remember back in the early 70's sailing on the aircraft carrier 'HMS Eagle' Northwards through the 'Bay of Biscay'. Her bow was digging into the huge Atlantic rollers so deeply water flowed of her flight deck, some 40 or 50 feet above the waterline.

As Brittany Ferries good ship 'Eterat' pulled away from Portsmouth straight into gale force winds I said to Tanya:  

"I reckon we both gonna need our sea legs for this one". 

I was not wrong. A rock and roll trip indeed. I enjoyed it but I am fortunate in not suffering seasickness and having my Naval seagoing history. 

The 'Bay of Biscay' is notorious for rough weather as is the English Channel. As we headed down the channel into the teeth of the gale it was fairly heavy going but tolerable. Once the end of Brittany is rounded you are headed directly South which means the unstoppable Eastward travelling Atlantic rollers catch you sidywayse and literally toss and roll all 25000 tonnnes of Creaking banging ferry around like a cork.

So there am I, at table in the cafe, which on this ferry is right forward, trying to juggle keeping food and drink on the wildly pitching table while occasionally, and hastily, grabbing a mouthful of breakfast. Next to you, also juggling, is a cheery lorry driver informing that the recently burnt out with some loss of life Greek ferry is 'Eterats' sister ship. 

'Oh f*****g great' 

you think spooning in a tasty morsel as the ship noisily shudders and digs her bows deep into another mega wall of watery Atlantic immensity. Thank goodness for the strictly enforced safety rules on this side of the European continent. I don't think anyone on this trip would be foolish enough to even contemplate lighting a cooking fire on the car decks below us never mind the fact we cannot even access them while at sea.
- - - -
Santander was eventually 'fetched' (nautical way of saying reached) 3 hours late. A quick detour to a local beach gave Tanya a much needed walk on solid ground before we headed off down the smooth and uncrowded Spanish motorway to 'Palencia'. This was our stop for the night selected to heed everyone's, plus my own, concerns re my health. I pulled safely into the Aire  (official motorhome stop) which was already starting to fill with other motorhomes.
I have to tell you it was difficult resisting temptation and not pulling off into the vast high Spanish plains where I would normally wild camp within my beloved solitude & emptiness.

The sun was out though and before it dropped out of site Tanya and I enjoyed a leisurely and pleasant walk around the town.

Oh! and I just have to tell you it is SOOO good to be back down here again under warm blue skies.

Tis not all roses mind; Oh no!

Awakening this morning to -2° and fog reminded me it is not only rain that falls mainly on the Spanish plain. The cold and clammy fog and mist stayed as we travelled on. Thankfully we emerged from it nine kilometres before 'Salamanca', our next stop.

Both the 'Rough Guide' and 'Michelin Guide' wax lyrical and extensively over this city's history and architecture. Google the place and you will see.
My perspective is more a 'pets-pective', accompanied as I always am with my faithful amigo Tanya. The guides from their perspective are correct though, a stunning place indeed.
On only my second day of travel and in the cold month of January to be sat in Salamanca's 'Plaza Mayor' enjoying an Americano coffee in shirt sleeves and warm sunshine was very special indeed. What a plaza.

It's bloody cold again tonight!!
- - - - -
'Caceres' tonight in a crowded out motorhome Aire. UGH!! Peaceful enough but I do not like being packed in like Sardines.

Tis decision time too as to which direction from here. I am tempted, being as the weather is so good, to go West into Portugal. Health has a say this year though and it is gently reminding me every now and again that maybe, just maybe, South and East would offer an easier to access get out clause should it be required. South East and the Costas means X Pat English spoken land. Maybe for once I'll choose the cautious option.

Wow! Some adventure this eh! Will Steve make it or not?  Will anxiety and worry get the better of him or will the early morning porridge and fresh fruit drive him on successfully through yet another day of intrepid adventuring through the wild Spanish Costas?

We leave our brave / stupid (you choose) wandering hero on the precipice. Should he face emptying his toilet cassette or just go straight to the supermarket for more fruit? Will he survive either?.... What will his decision be? 

Big drum roll here please. 

Stay with us reader for the next thrilling instalment of .......

DODGY TICKER MAN + DOG HITS SPAIN.

Time for the off.

I guess that's it. I'm ready to go. Insurance done, ferry to Santandar booked. Sadie fit n well (apart from the grumpy footstep alarm which we can cope with quite happily thank you very much!) Yes, all done and ready to hit the road for some more Continental wandering.

Well actually; not quite all done.

We seem unfortunately, during this last few weeks, to have developed a worryingly consistent engine problem with, I am informed by t'internet, the possibility of sudden terminal failure. This has  financial implications including possible abandonment of current travel arrangements. All in all a rather unhealthy mix of personal anxiety and trauma.

Confusion is magnified even further as the engine in question is nothing to do with Sadie. That big lump of purringly sweet German engineering is raring to be off and is never happy with the silent cold stillness of stationery existence.

The engine in question is mine. My heart to be precise. Even saying that is unfair as heart itself is strongly beating away but giving firm notice via tiredness and odd bits of chest pain that ......

"Look mate. I'm actually under a bit of stress here. Errrr d'you not think it's time to get me properly checked out and serviced?' I'm good to go but some of the plumbing you've got round here is starting to creak & in need of a re-furb."

I know and am fully aware of this situation. A early life farm upbringing with ample supplies of rich Channel Island milk and cream liberally pasted my arteries with 'stuff' reducing both their capacity and flexibility. My heart attack in 2006 where I was fitted with one stent (little metal spiral that widens an artery) plus subsequent and regular medication has given me 8 years of wonderful health and wellbeing. Believe me, the difference to my life is, and has been, way beyond amazing.

However; in any system if you repair one weak link the system will, given time, throw another one your way.

So dilemma. Do I throw caution, but not common sense, to the wind and carry on as normal albeit it at a slower easier pace?
Or
Do I throw myself upon the uncertain expectations of the NHS knowing, once I do, then my present lifestyle will dramatically change for a few years or maybe for good.

A dilemma indeed.

I'm happy to report option number one as being strongly preferred. Apart from the symptoms mentioned my health is good and things seem stable, not deteriorating, plus I have all necesary medication and insurance in place.

I guess what I'm hoping is that warm sunshine, healthy food and plenty of relaxation will be as positive a prescription as any the NHS could hand out.

So wish me luck as I head off tomorrow for Portsmouth where my ship awaits.

Santandar and Spain here I come.

New Fridge ... well nearly!

Followers of this blog will know that 'Final Fridge Doom Day' was only a matter of time. Well time is nigh. It is upon us. Bank balance has been raided. New and horrendously expensive fridge, is on its way. They are 'horrendously expensive' as they are a rather different animal from your conventional Curry's whitegoods special. As such they fall into a specialist category labelled 'Caravan or Motorhome' which for the manufacturer translates into: 'We'll charge you whatever we like.'

Day 1 ~ Old fridge removal.
This, surprisingly, was relatively easy. Exit was through Sadie's passenger door. Old fridge slid gently down the back of the folded and blanket covered passenger seat. The handle was removed from Sadie's door which facilitated a guiding/lowering of said fridge, to the floor with able bodied Hannah, Richards carer, assisting. Richard acted as dutiful observer.

Day 2 ~ New fridge arrival.
Excitement all round as a large well packed New fridge arrived. Unpacking and investigation were quickly followed by decisive action. No storing in the garage to be dealt with later by this skilled and willing crew. Oh no! New fridge was going straight into Sadie. This reverse operation was happily also trouble free with assistance once more from a very strong and willing Hannah.

Problem 1 ~ There always has to be one problem does there not? It is mandatory with any job or task as far as I know. Anyway this 'number 1' problem reared it's ugly and mocking face as I replaced/re-assembled Sadie's passenger door. I was required to re-connect the wiring to the electric window. Uhh ho! Guess who cocked up and blew a fuse!!  It took a lunch break, a longish think (Read; "How the hell did that happen.") and a scrabble about under the drivers seat before I finally found the blown fuse. Thankfully all worked well once new fuse was slotted neatly into its housing.

Problem 2 ~ (I find problems usually come in multiples of three. Read on, number three follows, big time!) Hannah & I decided to lift new fridge into position, which was a tight fitting wooden cabinet, to see if it would fit. Well it didn't but we established what needed modifying and removed the fridge. This was awkward and we damaged the gas burner pipe at the back of the fridge. Grrrrrrrr!

I decided 'enuffs enuff'. I gave myself the rest of the day off as I was now a grumpy old man with the added bonus of a fast developing snuffling and sneezing head cold. like lightening this head cold had actioned a nuclear explosion affect in all my snot, sneeze and feeling absolute crap departments.

Shoving, sawing, measuring and much pondering over the next few days saw one new fridge neatly slot into place all ready for a visit to local dealer 'Webbs' for a trade professional to connect up and test gas and electric connection. An hours job at the outside.

Yeeah right!!!

Gas no problem. Electric? Well lets just say we did establish that the fridge worked but after three hours of expensive labour charges I threw in the towel and said: 

"Done for. Can't afford no more." 

They were very understanding and Ian the experienced electrician was gutted at not having got to the root of the connection problem. The bill was tolerable and thankfully was for considerably less labour than actually expended.

Now I'm not going to bore you to death here with reams of technicality's. Much as I would love to I will refrain; satisfying myself instead with insider knowledge, as a former therapist, that personal therapy, or sectioning, is required for such technical outpourings. Lets just say that two days later, after blowing up a solenoid and nearly setting fire to Sadie I now sort of understand the electric system and am pleased to announce Sadie has a fully functioning brand new fridge.

We have a bonus too. A grumpy electric footstep. I believe I may have upset Monsieur footstep by setting fire to and thus damaging his personal solenoid. This essential item has decided to flash the French words 'Alarme, Alarme' at me accompanied by annoying, and dreadfully out of tune, buzzing noises.  

I guess, as a footstep life can be termed a raw deal when your sole purpose is to be continually stepped on but, hey; come on. I'll have you know I've been close to ending it all over the frustrating vagarities of Sadies highly complex electrics. Poor Richard did not quite know what to make of it two days ago after the unfortunate smoke pouring from Sadies control panel incident as I sat in his living room glum faced, deathly quiet and smelling of electric smoke. Mind you he did cheer up when I appeared for lunch toting Sadies control panel motherboard for us both to peer at with some vague idea of it miraculously fixing itself. Botch job and the blind leading the blind comes to mind.

So come on Monsieur footstep. Give us a break willya. Sort yourself out.

Wanderlust.

"That's it, that's my lust. Wanderlust. That is the thing I cannot let go of ....... yet."

It was cold this morning 4.5 degrees C inside Sadie. The first sharp cold of the year reminding me I was headed in the right direction, South. Both Tanya and I were snuggled down in our warm beds. Me with cup of tea after venturing forth into the nippy coldness to boil up kettle and switch on heating. Now, as I rested warm and snuglyback in my warm bed I dreamily mused on my minds arrival at 'Wanderlust.'

I had spent the previous day with my X family. Indeed I am due to spend another one with them in a couple of weeks. Weddings and funerals eh!

Listening to and being part of, for the day, the busy-ness, the 'doing', the success and the difficulties of younger generations reminded me of how much busy-ness and 'doing' I have let go of as I have been on this journey and as I have gotten older. Not that busy-ness or 'doing' is in any way wrong. Far from it. It is very much one of life's pleasurable norms. I was reminded of that very fact as I called in to see good friends Mike and Marion in their beautiful home near Gloucester. Mike is not too far behind me in maturity and loves his busy-ness and 'doing' to creative perfection. He has no intention whatsoever of letting any of that go. It got me thinking and pondering over what I am not, and have no intention of, letting go. That is when 'Wanderlust' strolled round the bend and exclaimed:  

"Hey! Listen up. Y'aint lettin me go. We'se havin a good time me n yuh aint we? I takes yuh good places huh? I lets yuh have bits of the settlin stuff but ah knows when y'feels them itchy feet n wanna bit more venturin so off we'se go wanderin again t'find some more quiet n off the beaten track, n lonesome nooks n crannys. Ah knows y'likes them n we find some crackin ones me n you eh?"

I guess you're right wanderlust. While health and good fortune are intact its you I have no intention of letting go of. Tonight's and last night's wild-camp spots have proved the point too. Last night It was the edge of a small village. Quiet, peaceful and with abundant juicy Blackberries to pick and cook with my big bag of fresh cooking apples. A gift from Mike and Marion.

Tonight though is a 'Wanderlust cracker'. Quorn, Leicestershire, is a mile and a half away from this lonely track winding its way through ancient 'Charnwood' forest around 'Swithland' reservoir where Memories of a forest playground from fifty plus years ago are still vivid. Sadly the group of rocks I used to know as 'Cowboy hill' are no longer in existence. The prehistoric granite playground from the past now a gaping quarried hole in the ancient forest.

The moon is out now, peeping at us through the huge beech tree towering above. The small and friendly crowd by the railway bridge have all left and the gala steam railway weekend has ended. All the lovingly restored 'Thomas the tank engines' are presumably safely tucked up in their sidings.
Seeing and hearing those evocative steam engines chuffing and tooting their way over the reservoir on the old Victorian arched bridges was the icing on this 'wanderlusts' cake. Clearly it illustrated 'why I aint letting go of my wanderlust passion ... yet!'

I think tomorrow heralds some bicycle wanderlust. I wonder if 'Unit Road' is still there?
NB: Awoke to heavy rain & wind. Hmmmph! Ah well. We'll meditate and accept 'Wanderlust's' different offering. Wonder which bend we're going round this time?

Referendum - final say & moving on.

"If Steve does not live in a house how come he is able to vote in the Scottish referendum?"

Barbara reliably informed me this was the question fired at mum Kirsten by six year old Angus as he was being driven to school.

We were visiting Barbara's niece Kirsten, partner Pete and children Angus and Rowan in their lovely rural Scottish Borders home. The previous night Barbara and I had thoroughly enjoyed a concert in 'Kelso' of Scottish Folk music by Phil Cunningham and Aly Bain. Two highly accomplished musicians with a wonderful line in banter. The evening was excellent and so was the walk back to Sadie afterwards. We were parked up for the night right outside the concert venue and a lovely park where Tanya could be walked.  

We were now twisting our way up a narrow lane toward 'Woden Law' which looked on the map to be a good 'Cheviot Hills' walk for a sunny and warm autumnal day. As I drove I pondered on the question asked by Angus. A six year old asking such a question sums up the almost unbelievable involvement by all strata of society in the recent roller coaster Scottish referendum. Schools from primary to senior had been involved as well as people from all walks of life. Many of whom had never before been motivated toward any sort of political involvement.  

This was the 'win win' of the referendum. From six year old youngsters to the very aged. All had got involved. Got involved enough to think about things and ask questions. Got involved enough to enable 3.6 million individual votes to be cast. 3.6 million votes indicating the governmental staus quo of the United Kingdom was not, in it's present form, OK.

The vote is over. The backtracking and mistrusted slippery political manoeuv'ring has now resumed. Oh but Wow! Scotland! What a place to be those few weeks before the referendum. I don't suppose I will ever experience anything quite like it again in my lifetime.

Now the leaves are dropping and the time has come for Sadie to turn South. Saying farewell to the little cottage called 'Sunnybraes' and Barbara contains an emotional roller coaster in its own right. One we both understand and know is the key to our times together being

 enhancing of both our lives.

Bye bye East Neuk of Fife and welcome to new travels.

Independance etc

Barbara and I walked ceremoniously away from Sadie toward the village post box. Two postal votes were safely consigned to the familiar red depository leaving us no turning back from the individual decisions we had made. 

Scotland was proving to be an exciting, fully involved, and impassioned, place to be in this, the run up to September the 18th and the momentous referendum on Scottish Independence from Westminster governance which, depending on 'yes' or  'no', could also mean separation from the established and historical norm known as the United Kingdom.  

My years of experience in the counselling room showed me emphatically time and time again the value of change, of stepping outside comfort zones, of facing up to difficult decisions. Whether and what sort of change will happen to our nation will be decided on Sept 18th. My hope is that whichever way it goes the energy that has been created by so many will not be lost in the acrid dust of political stagnancy.

"That's it done then." I said to Barbara as we walked back to Sadie to commence our journey. 

I had for the last 10 days enjoyed staying with Barbara in 'Boarhills', Fife. Her company and charming sun blessed wee country cottage made for a delightful pause in the journey that is 'Steve and Tanyas wanderings'. Sadie got to once again rest for a while at neighbouring Kenlee Green farm curtesy of Frank and Bernice. Big tractors, combine harvesters and straw balers busy with harvest and constantly in and out of the farmyard. This was familiar territory to me and I will admit to enjoying being in among it once again. Well, I  admit to it with one caveat. Distance. I am no longer directly involved. In my days of selling into this industry I used to call this busy time 'the season of the demented beast!' A time when weather, machinery breakdowns, bureaucracy and overall pressure forced farmers and agricultural contractors into tired anxious and often ill tempered mental states. Boy am I glad to be well past all of that.

How things move on though. A long chat to farmers son Andrew educated me as to how much 'Self steer' is now in use. This is a system whereby the tractor driver sets up a computer and Mr hunking big tractor and Mrs hunking big implement decide for themselves the best way to 'do' the particular field they are in. Tractor driver then sits and catches up with his facebook pals as Mr and Mrs hunking big clever and precise sprayer/cultivator or whatever do the job. They maximize on land usage while minimizing wastage. Clever clever stuff made possible by the same GPS signal that my motorhome Sat Nav system relies on.

Right now though we have taken advantage of the calm before the storm. Literally and in a weather sense rather than political. There is a large high pressure area sitting atop Scotland and as I raise my eyes to take in the vista I see the result. Here on the empty and remote peninsular west of 'Arisaig' it is Stunning. The islands of 'Eigg and Rum' loom out of the sea mist to the west. They are barely visible across a mirror calm and sun drenched silent sea. To be on the west coast of Scotland parked but ten yards away from glassy smooth incoming high tide with no waves crashing or gale force winds blowing is very very special. All the huge and universal forces, normally so vociferous here on this violent coastal 'edge' now silent, benign, still, sun blessed and beautiful. Such a moment in time is privilege indeed. Privilege which outwardly says unwordable; while simultaneously inwardly demanding mind to fling electronic words at smartphone screen so others may in some way be similarly touched, calmed and inspired.

Grandchildren trips.

'Jedburgh' Caravan and camping club site in the beautiful but at present wet, Scottish Borders. Sadie is full of son in law Chris, two young uns, Aiden and Rebecca plus of course yours truly with Tanya.

The large pull down bed over the cab area is in use which means driver and passenger seats have to be folded down making a cosy little nest for Tanya in the dark and 'cannot be got at' drivers footwell. She disapeared in there last night as soon as the bed was lowered and did not emerge until after eight this morning. She is not used to our limited floor space being invaded by another six randomly moving sock clad feet. Mind you, she was quite happy to run the gauntlet and dodge all sock clad feet this morning once she got a whiff of sausages being cooked for breakfast.

The sun soon re appeared and the delights of Jedburgh's magnificent and skeletal Augustine monastry, its Castle and Gaol and the local swimming pool were all enjoyed.

A few days later it was 'Auchingarrich' wildlife park near 'Comrie'.  Only this time my travelling companions were Mia and Jenna. We had such a good time there and Tanya, on a lead, was able to accompany us everywhere. Mum Kirsten was happy too as I delivered the two girls safely back in plenty of time to dress up and show off their new school clothes ready for the next days school term start. Mia in particular with her brand new local high school uniform looked really cool. Is it me getting old or do children grow up far faster than they used to?

So. Here we are once again a Tanya and I twosome. We are on the edge of Loch Lomond walking in the beautiful Cashel Forest amid skudding showers and forever changing light scapes. Lunch was enjoyed sprawled out on the purple heather right by the small Rowan tree marking the spot where Kate's ashes were interred. I am so glad we chose this stunning viewpoint. Seeing that the sturdy memorial seat is being well used is heartening too. It is still in very good condition with a well trodden path leading to it.

The only dampener to an otherwise worthwhile day was the local C & C C campsite cost me double this year. £18.00! So much for their 'careful review' of fees.  Is it any wonder I free or wild camp whenever I can.
Rant over!

A day of 'Happenings'

Warm clear clean water flowing by and over me as I swam quietly away from  'Finney' bridge on 'Lough Mask' right on the boundary between County Mayo and Galway. I felt a difference in water temperature as I swam away from the bridge and encountered the mix of waters between the smaller lough and the much larger Lough Mask. The colder water refreshed even more and I revelled in this early morning bathe amid the stunning scenery, low grey misty cloud, silence and overall calm. The tourists  had not started to arrive yet with their, camera out and; 

"Willya jurrst look at this you guys," brief picture gathering and cigarette butt leaving stops.

Fishermen were not to be seen at this early hour either. They were absent late last night too as I stood with mug of tea in hand watching numerous largish fish taking the late evening fly. Earlier, in the same spot, I had watched fishing lines whooshing out from long sleek rods only to be reeled back in empty toward frustrated faces. The Heron I espied and watched at binocular distance was having no problem though. Mr, or Mrs Heron, as I watched, downed a three course meal of Cordon Bleau fresh lake fish oblivious of being beautifully encapsulated within focused convex lenses.

Oh! but how it can all change. Peace, calm, slowness & no hurry. The way every day should start and remain throughout. We were doing so well too. Meandering slowly along in an Easterly direction with the Larne to Cairnryan (Stranrear) ferry slotted into the plan sometime in the next few days.

Meandering slowly is not a choice here in Ireland. If you drive a 'Sadie' it is a basic fact rendered as necessary due to the condition, bendy'ness, and at this time of year, exaggerated narrowness due to heavy vegetation, of the Irish roads. Mind you I do sympathize with Irish road builders. An awful lot of this beautiful green island is bog. Soft wet spongy bog. Very much akin to that yellow soggy sponge sluggishly floating in your bath. Try building a road on that.

So: slow n easy it was with hot sun shining from a rain free blue blue sky. Pleasing to the eye rural Irish heartland slipped effortlessly by Sadie's panoramic windscreen. 

Then,
in an instant,
life's chaotic choice factor takes over.

Hurtling into view round a sharpish bend appears a gi-normous green tractor towing a wider, heavily loaded, equally gi-normous, trailer. He was on his side of the narrow road but not tightly so and as I dived to my non existent left to squeeze through the impossible gap I observed two things. The monster was not slowing down and the young looking driver only had one hand with which to control the beast. His other hand was holding a feckin mobile phone to his ear!

There was a sickening, loud, obviously painful to Sadie, screeching of tough hedgerow seeking to rip off all fibreglass skirting down her left side. Miraculously we made it through the gap and into a layby a few hundred yards on. Monster tractor and trailer continued on and out of sight.

Examination revealed damage. No doubt about that. Closer examination established Sadie was still in one piece but with her recently cleaned and polished left lower skirting scratched and holed in places but importantly, still attached and serviceable.

I briefly considered following the monster for insurance etc. Only briefly though. This is Ireland. The route to less hassle was shrug, be thankful it was not worse and once again remind myself: Big van, narrow roads, my choice and therefore to be expected every now and then.

That was number one 'Happening'. Number two was in 'Athlone'. A pleasant town on the 'Shannon' waterway. The sun continued to grace us with its presence as we lunched outside while watching the comings and goings of boats through the big Irish waterways lock. We continued walking through a park and back through the town. Least I thought it was back through the town. Somehow I had become dis-orientated and gotten us completely lost. I, in general, have a reasonably good sense of direction but for some reason 'Athlone' decided to render me totally lost for a full three quarters of an hour.  Maybe it is a game for which 'Athlone' is known. I say that as I asked directions of one local who sent me:

"Straight now, straight to the traffic lights, you'll see then, you'll see straight enough then".

Well I didn't see 'straight enough then'. When I got to the traffic lights I was even more confused and lost so I asked someone else. This elderly lady proceeded to send me right back the way I had come but:

"be sure to bear left now, just past the top of the hill now".

I eventually, with tired dog trotting alongside reached Sadie. I gave my head a good shaking to wake up just in case it had all been a dream. "That's two "Happenings", I muttered. "What on earth is going to be number three?"

Yup. Sure enough there was 'Happening' number three.

I'd headed for a small road that Mrs Sat nav said went down to the waters edge of 'Lake Ennell' just by 'Mullingar'. Well it did. Even better was that it led to a local authority adventure centre cum Pitch n Putt golf course. An ideal spot for the night with freshwater swimming on the menu. Just one problem. Prominent 'No Camping' notices.

"This is too good to miss out on Tanya. C'mon lets go ask the staff."

I had espied another notice saying: 'Dogs must be on a lead at all times' so Tanya  was firmly attached to my belt as we walked across to where lots of children were milling around, the majority of whom were very wet.

I'd just approached a young lady staff member when behind me all hell broke loose. I whipped round to find Tanya on her back fighting off a Collie who was giving her a right pasting. A savage swipe from my right hand removed the Collie and Tanya was quickly scooped up in my arms.
The young lady stepped between Collie and me and shouted whereupon Collie slunk away. Turned out Mrs grumpy Collie had three pups close by, was not on a lead and was owned by the young lady, who turned out to be joint centre manager with her husband.

Number three 'Happening' had two positive outcomes. Firstly Tanya. She was shaken but thankfully not seriously hurt in any way. The second positive? Well after that little incident young lady was most apologetic and saw no problem at all with us staying overnight.

Boy oh Boy! Was that not a lovely cooling swim to finally bring to an end our day of 'Happenings'.