Observation & 1997.

On a bike/walk just now in the middle of a large field of Barley between the little hamlet of 'Littleworth' and 'Faringdon', in the county of Oxfordshire. The barley is just starting to turn as the gentle, breeze driven rustling sway of the drooping barley heads reveal the merest tinge of the forthcoming golden sheen it will display upon full ripening.

I'm in 'observation' mode on this particular excursion after reading yesterday's Guardian article  'Where have all our insects gone?' (https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/jun/17/where-have-insects-gone-climate-change-population-decline?)

This refers to a survey in Germany which clearly showed a 76% drop in insect numbers since 1989 when the survey was last undertaken. On a more personal level I have noticed during my Moho travels this year a significant absence of the messy death toll of squashed insects on my windscreen that used to be a common problem during the first few years of my wandering and nomadic lifestyle.

Back to the barley field and its enormous expanse of weed free even height healthy looking grain. My observation is noting the distinct lack of insect buzzing sounds. I'm seeing no swooping Swallow or Swifts. Today is a blue sky sunny and warm June day. I'm sitting on the narrow footpath smack in the middle of all this healthily growing grain. One fly  has just buzzed by plus I just noticed one small Aphid crawl across my hand. I spotted one dragon fly as I entered the field but as I penetrated deep into the crop the sight and sense of insects, birds and their accompanying summer sounds are eerily absent. Don't get me wrong it is beautiful out here in this warm June sunshine and the view does have an appealing agricultural technicality to it.  I understand this type of agriculture which completely shapes all of our countryside. I can relate to it from my many years of working involvment in the farming community. But this is different  And not how I remember it. I suppose it has been happening gradually but to me it seems as if it has come suddenly over the last 2 or 3 years.

OK; so I read an article and then, because human nature works this way, I see what I want to see. To some extent that must in this case be true as the Guardian article was the trigger to my curious 'observing'. But such concern is not a new phenomenon to me. In fact the whole episode reminded me of an article I wrote in June of 1997. I was noticing things then and the incident and feelings articulated became a strong precursor to my change of career two years later. Here it is, unabridged and unashamedly presented for your perusal.
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Thoughts -  8th June 1997

MOTHER NATURE

I used to sell agricultural machinery and in that capacity I set off a large shiny and new mowing machine. I was left standing amid the exposed underbelly of cut grass, watching as machine and tractor whined away down the field successfully cutting a swathe through a strong and healthy mix of meadow grass and self sown green stalks of corn.

A slight movement and a tiny screeching made me aware of a family of field mice at my feet scuttling in all directions, except for the one doing the screeching who was obviously injured. Their home was gone, their vulnerability exposed, their world irrevocably changed.

The mower wound down after the first circuit of the field and operator and manufacturers representative became deeply involved in technicalities. I, while trying all the time to stay ‘technical’, was totally fascinated by the thousands, of tiny beings, grasshoppers, aphids, greenfly, butterflies, caterpillars, bugs etc that were moving on the shiny green flat metal surface of the mowers safety guards. They were like some huge panicked crowd  trying to escape but only managing to run this way and that and get nowhere. Just like the field mice.

In front of my eyes was a whole population of creatures. A complete swathe of Mother Nature forced from their active conscious life of being insects, into a different state of being. A totally alien state of being. From my vantage point, it seemed all they could do was revert to this instinctive and compulsive behaviour of running this way and  that in the vain hope that what was before, if remembered, would once again return.

Such an abundance of natures life in such a small place and time and just ‘altered’. Altered with not a thought to the consequences, by one fairly ordinary machine built by humans to help ‘improve’ humans lot.

And for now this improving, I am told, seems to work and is beneficial. Bigger, better, always better, and more efficient machines and technology in every direction are, so say, controlling and changing mother nature for my benefit.

Oh! And yes; in the past Mother Nature has been harmed. But not to worry. We are aware of that now and technology and ever increasing knowledge and sophistication will overcome that and give us the very best of Mother Nature.

Which is.?

A Mother Nature that humankind will carry on cherishing and recognising and will carry on being ‘environmentally correct’ with. A nature that humankind will be proficient and efficient with. We will be able to alter and to manipulate it so as to provide all our needs.

A laudable aim indeed which humanity actively pursues and is relatively successful with in some areas, and for short periods of time. A sort of, ‘Look, if I throw enough resources and controls at it I can do it’.

However, Mother earth’s nature is not just a benign system taking in all and meekly subjecting herself to humanity's will and needs.

Over time immemorial, and in guises as obscure as gaseous explosions of unimaginable force in the outer extremities of the galaxy, to, simple breezes rustling leaves on a balmy summers evening Mother Nature continually mutates. Mother Nature is a highly interactive, flexible and powerful system and instrument of change. She proves and shows to us on a daily basis how fast and adept she is at coping and combating and defeating anything that our brains, never mind our feeble machines and as yet prehistoric computers, can devise or challenge her with.

No. This shiny new machine will not assist in famine. It will not stop Global warming or the destruction of ozone. It can do nothing for the changing weather patterns, the increasing floods or the rising sea levels. Or even the saving of field mice.

The great Mystics and sages throughout time have been, and still are, aware of how superior Mother Natures brain is to our own. Our civilisation has now labelled that brain ‘Chaos’ or the ‘Chaos theory’.

Mother Natures brain, Chaos, is not hampered by having to think, or to do. Chaos just ‘is’. Neither does it have morals or values. There is no problem or attempted avoidance of death and of course there is no time limit, only infinity. Chaos has no greed or vanity, jealousy or hate. Only beauty, vastness beyond comprehension, and the spiritual power of continual evolvement and renewal.

Now I, as a human being am simply a part of that chaos, a part of Mother Nature, no more no less. So are the insects and the field mice. I am in no way superior and in no way have I anything that would remotely pass as an equal intelligence to that of Mother Nature. I grow, like nature, am flexible, like nature, and I survive alongside other individual parts of nature as a whole.

Extinction in nature is commonplace and I am not immune. Indeed the planet is not immune to changing its ‘Natural State’ to one that would not support life as I know it. To Mother Nature that is simply of no consequence, just progression, a change of state, a normal and perfectly sane ‘chaotic’ Happening.

I once listened to a radio program about a man who spent most of the latter part of his life planting acorn seeds by the thousands in an area that was remote and uninhabited due to humanity’s despoiling and deforestation. Many years have passed and the old man long gone. But his simple action is now a forest, with rivers, and wildlife, and communities.

He had figured it out as the sages and mystics also had. He just became a part of Mother Nature. He did no more or no less than Mother Nature herself. He gently fed back into Mother Nature that which earlier humanity had removed. Mother Nature sprouted fresh life and offered back to humanity another small chance to learn a little more about being truly immortal and everlasting.
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There we are. The same still applies. Plant trees. Hmm; yes and maybe but will the insects come back? Who knows.

NB - I missed Tanya on my 'observation' bike walk.

NB - photo - For the 1st time in 8 yrs of fultime moho'ing I open my front windscreen blinds & find myself staring up an inflatable yellow ducks arse! 

RIP Tanya & Thanks for 9 years of Love.

 A new chapter starts.

'steveandtanyaswoofspot.blogspot.com' will continue in name only in honour of Tanya who was undoubtedly the most loyal and loving companion to my wife during her final months and to me for 9 years.

I have her ashes now. They will travel with me and Rap3 where, in the Autumm, I will scatter them in Cashel Forest on the East Side of Loch Lomond. She will lie overlooking the Loch and once again keep company with Kate.

Farewell Tanya. You defined my life so positively this last 9 years. You will not be forgotten.

Despair, Lamentation & is this the end?

Despair & Lamentation. A state of mind I used to be familiar with on a daily basis. Thankfully and due to the twin 'Counselling' and 'Buddhist meditation' journeys such a mindset is now a rare occurrence. This morning though as I leaned against the doorway of Rap3 looking forlornly out into the pine forest it was real. Very real. I had regressed into someone I knew from a long time ago whom I thought was gone for good.

Coastal Pine forest is the norm here in the Vendee area of France. Planted by us humans in order to stabilise the sand dunes they are vast with maze like tracks and paths everywhere. The sound of the sea on the miles of super sand beaches very often being the only indication of where you are. Tanya had been gone within the forest for three hours and for most of that time I had been walking the same vast expanse of pine forest in ever increasing circles all the while calling out her name. I was exhausted in both body and mind.

I'm always nervous of losing Tanya as previous blogs have mentioned. As she has gotten older with reduced sight and hearing and an increased aversion to being on the lead the chances of it happening increase. Especially so as I am not very good at maintaining a 100% vigilant mindset. I'm too soft and easily give in to her uncanny ability 99% of the time to return to our Moho within 10/15 minutes.

This tale however; is not only a doggy tale but also a story of us as human beings. We have two minds, conscious and unconscious, with the latter unconscious element being by far the larger of the two and eminently capable of showing its capacity to superbly and sublty be in charge. It can organise and control the environment both internally and externally to extraordinary levels in order to demonstrate that capability.

This trip Tanya has had three scrapes and survived as attested to in previous blogs. I was relieved about such a situation as my life experience has confirmed over and over again the 'things come in three's' rule. I was however; going to Plum Village retreat centre, a very special place for me but not necessarily so for Tanya. Plum Village is where she has had two of her lives seriously tested in the past so I knew I needed to be vigilant and extra careful.

This year Plum Village was special and I stayed for a week's retreat with one of the reasons being the community took Tanya to their hearts. She was well loved and I was much relieved. All in all, as far as I was concerned both parts of my mind seemed to be in agreement around Tanya. I was relieved and felt I could relax a little and give attention and effort to refreshing myself and in particular my meditative sitting practice.

Meditation is merely learning to observe the mind; in particular those parts of our sub/unconscious mind able to be observed and manipulated in order we live a better life. Not an easy process as our large unconscious mind is good at its job which involves a lot of maintaining specific mindsets and carrying out tasks deemed necessary but given many years ago and not relevant today. Hence unconscious mind is not too keen on my meditation practice where, over many years, I keep handing over new instructions which involve change which is hard work. So it needed once again to show me just how powerful, skilled and in charge it was in order I go back someways to how I was. Back to familiar territory and well trodden easy paths.

So unconscious mind cleverly groomed me. As I left Plum Village relaxed, happy and with a healthy Tanya I was in a good place. 'La Rochelle' slightly roughened things as the camping spot I had selected turned out to be unsuitable with the alternative being fine until the drunks left the bar just down the road continuing their noisy but good humoured noisiness well within earshot till 2am.  5.30am saw the first arrivals of the equally noisy Sunday Market traders. We, it very quickly became apparent, were going to be blocked in if we did not leave quickly, which we did, stopping again out in the countryside to recoup.

I was tired but still in a good place as we arrived at a lovely 'Aire du Camping Car' in 'Notre Dame de-Monts' close to the beach but right in the forest where I could let Tanya out without traffic or road worries. She duly did her bit, wandering in and out of the van with never more than 5/10mins between her comings and goings. As I drifted off to sleep I had no inkling as to how skilfully unconscious mind had set me up for the trauma that was to follow in the morning.

Morning came, Tanya went out and came back. I deemed it safe enough to leave her where she was, curled up in her bed, but with the door open so she could wander in and out. I meanwhile settled into meditation. Well that was the good intention I had, but settling was not there. I'd heard Tanya go out but 'deep mind' was not letting me in, instead deep (or unconscious) mind kept calling to my attention the fact Tanya was not back. In other words; "How dare you consider bothering me again with more trouble. Here's a set up I've organised that will teach you".

Despair and Lamentation it was then, well and truly. Plus all the horrors around failure, guilt, loss of Tanya amplified through my sheer physical exhaustion. A real regression to familiar old territory.

There are two final twists to this story. The first demonstrates how mind somehow sets the final act to show superbly just what it is capable of. The second is live and ongoing and as yet to play out in its one directional fullness.

The First.
Bike was out as I, exhausted as I was, set about widening my search. Then a phone call, and this is the weird, spooky, coincidental, call it what you like bit. A phone call from an English lady in this very French area, who had found Tanya. In fact Tanya had found her by wandering in her front gate. The lady and her husband had only arrived late the previous night for a week of renovation work on their cottage just up the road from the 'Aire du camping car'.

We were duly re-united and, I think, both extremely happy to see the other. For me though it was such a wonderful thing for her to be handed back along with good communication where I was able to unload some of my despair. She empathically understood and hugged. What more could you ask. A perfectly designed ending. Clever, clever unconscious mind.

The Second.
I'm at Cherbourg Ferry Port right now having rushed up here. Tanya the very next day was just not right. The vet I visited near Redon confirmed a weak heart and asked me what I wanted to do. Not a good question to be faced with when standing with a very sick 16 year old small doggy in your arms who can now hardly stand and only manages the occasional drink with help. I'm on the early morning ferry tomorrow. I hope she lasts. We've just had a chat and she would like to get to the UK before........

A retreat + a Christening.

The small name boards in front of each meditation cushion denoted that particular Monk's or Aspirant's sitting practice spot. As I slowly walked these cushion lines I realised that the beautifully deep, silent mediation I had just experienced was, in part, a gift from the always present lingering positive community energy from these rows of cushions which, are several times a day, occupied by dedicated, mindful, compassionate and very normal human guys dressed in their brown or grey robes.

After my period of sitting meditation and as I slowly, walked between these  rows of cushions down the length of the large and very beautiful meditation hall here at 'Plum Village' SW France, I was in 'calm meditative equanimity. The hall was completely empty, silent, warm and welcoming. In fact the whole of Upper Hamlet, the Male centre, was deserted as all the weeks retreat residents plus Monks had decanted themselves to 'Lower Hamlet', the Female centre, for a day of sharing. Although Tanya is accepted here at Upper Hamlet if I had decanted as well it would have meant her being left in Rap3 for the whole day, something I was not prepared to do. Besides; I preferred to stay and take full advantage of the emptiness and silence of this wonderful location. It also gave opportunity for me to cheekily take advantage by walking to the 'business' end of the meditation hall at both beginning and end of my meditation to sound the big deeply sonorous reverberating Mindfulness Bell. It was wondrous to settle into meditative posture and still hear those reverberating sonics coursing through body and mind.

I was not completely alone however: As I slowly and peacefully walked back toward Rap3 to retrieve Tanya I was gently accosted by Carol and Min, her husband, who were on the weekly retreat and had also decided to stay and enjoy the peace. They were young city dwellers from Singapore who also owned a house further South here in France. I think, seeing as how they were tent camping for the first time in their life, they had decided, like me, to ditch the ominously early 5.30am morning start for a more relaxed and loving routine. Especially as it was cold and rainy.

You are gently encouraged, when here, to follow the daily Monastic routine but also sensitive and sensible, leeway is readily accepted toward being skillfully compassionate, loving and kind to self.  This to accommodate the very different physical, mental, and spiritual requirements of the retreatants who arrive from all over the world with, as I've said, wildly different agendas, needs and cultures.

I was staying for just a couple of days but had agreed with myself to 'feel the energy/presence' as we went along as to how long I would stay. Rob from Leicester did that a couple of years ago and is still here. So too with my good friend Manuel, a Doctor from Spain, only it was 2015 when I first met him here. His small caravan plus tent has expanded somewhat but again he is still here. What has changed is that both of them are now different people having found here at Plum Village a way out of their individual suffering. But I shall leave tomorrow, at the end of the week. Fortunately I've not had to clamber out of any particular suffering. My visit this year has been more about gratitude for 'what is' , remarkable in itself when I look back over this last year. Plus a refreshing & rejuvenating of my already established Moho wandering at will, meditative practice on rubber wheels. Guess it's done Tanya and I no great harm over the last few years and I'm a great believer in; 'If it aint broke don't fix it'.

One of the retreat participants was heavily involved in organising and training groups in the recent 'Extinction Rebellion' London actions. A fascinating and passionate young man to listen to who gave real insight into 'what actually went on' and how action such as theirs is not going to stop. As you can imagine a hectic time for him so he got on his bike and cycled all the way down here to be a 'Happy Farmer' for the week. This was a retreat running in parallel involving work on the organic farm belonging to Plum Village and which supplies most of the ingredients for the plentiful and delicious vegetarian meals served up three times a day to us all. I had offered said young man plus bike a lift back up to one of the ferry ports but after a week of calming down and becoming himself once more he has decided to 'slowly' cycle all the way back. Safe pedalling my friend.
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The calm of Plum Village is way behind us now as we go thru our morning routine in the 'Vendee' area. Shall I take another day out & visit 'La Rochelle' or speed past to Brittany, my original idea?

My calm persona was tested yesterday as after a long drive I arrived at sleepy little 'L' Eguile' where my Park4night app indicated an OK place to stop down by the muddy tidal harbour. Only to find the last 300metre, through the narrow village centre was 'route barre' (closed) due to extensive re-modelling of the roadway.

"Arrrgh!" Back up, turn around; "sod it, I'm into the village hall parking lot and hope there's no event on tonight". A peaceful night did ensue apart from Tanya  being returned to me by the lady next door, having herself put together the 'Scotland' on the back of the van and the 'Saltire' on her collar. Tanya had not 'done wrong' but had wandered across the grass toward this ladies house where she had two large and freely roaming Alsations. Very kind of her to return Tanya to me and I said so in my best French while also praising her lovely house. This just in case she was about to launch into me for being an irresponsible dog owner. My strategy worked. We parted on good terms.

And finally a Christening. Penny Sue in Ireland. No I was not there but I attach piccys.

From Espana to Fracais.

It's the birdsong I'll remember this place for. Coming from the old oak scrub forest alongside the track where I'm parked. They, our feathered friends that is, had me spellbound at dusk last night and here they are again this morning serenading me with their blend of, 'were up, we're singing, we're happy, what about you?'  Not that here is anywhere special except it is exactly where I seem to love to be, alone, off the beaten track and in beautiful countryside. Yes: this is Aragon. A sparsely populated, harsh agricultural, green hilly terrain on the southern flanks of the Pyrenees.

The city of 'Lleida', in yellow ribbon and 'Liberate, we are not Spain' adorned Catalonia, was my last stop (A big affinity with Scotland and its own struggle to be free of the Westminster oppression is very apparent throughout Catalonia. I am always met with a wave and a smile when people see the Scottish Saltire on Tanya's collar or the Scotland emblem discretely displayed on the back of Rap3.) A very pleasant evening was spent on a 'bike walk expo' through the busy city centre and up to the impressive Castile & Cathedral ruins. Tanya would never have managed the steep walks up to the very top of the castle ramparts, actually not sure I would have either. E bike made it such a pleasing expo though with superb views under a warm and balmy sunsetty sky. We arrived safely back at Rap3 only to find we had neatly parked in a secure and ok place but it just happened to be midway between a large noisy fairground and a mega big music stage where groups were practising at full volume ready for the upcoming weekend Fiesta. The Spanish do not do early nights! Sooo: onto the 'park4night' app I go and it wasn't long before we were re-parked in a very pleasant suburban recreation area approximately 7km outside of Lleida. Phew, much quieter.

As I approached the small hamlet of 'Estopinam del Castillo', clearly visible with its ruined Castillo dominating the approach Road, I happened upon the village Font complete with old type washing pools and room enough to park Rap3. Well; clearly an opportunity not to be missed. Out with buckets, brush and once I had given Tanya a good shampoo I washed Rap3.

Tanya, grumble as she does on these occasions and despite it being a cold water shampoo and rinse, raced around afterwards like a two year old before sitting majestically in the hot sunshine to dry off.

We were wild parked just off an unmetalled road where several vehicles, in fact more than would be expected of such an isolated rough track, travelled past us at various times. Google supplied the answer. E bike came out and in the hot sunshine off we set down to the 'Puente' (small bridge) across the sky blue long narrow man made lakes. My intention was to continue to the popular and well publicised cliff hugging view point but I sensed the 5k rough track ride we'd already done plus heat of the day was enough for Tanya. Adding another 5k would, I feared be too much for her. It was a circular route to the Puente and back but the return was a rougher steeper track. Again E bike using its 'walk assist' feature and carrying Tanya plus rucksack made it a pleasant, mainly walking return to Rap3 with several stops under shady trees.

What I have noticed however: and additional to Tanya's age and condition, is that now, several hours later and in a different location, I am also totally knackered to the point of feeling sick. The sunshine, the adventure of exploring, me feeling good and healthy is all a miracle after last year's cancer. Little adventures like today though thankfully, and safely, remind me I just have not got the physical stamina I used to have. However: a good day overall and now we're parked up for the night atop a windy ridge with snow covered Pyrennian peaks in the distance. Rest for now though. We'll draw a little closer to those imposing peaks tomorrow.

And indeed I have. I could have stuck to the N230 and crossed the border into France but I diverted up and into the high Spanish Pyrenees for one more night. The weather is clear blue with not a cloud in sight. That is always an encouragement to go high for all the breathtaking views.

The road I took was directly above a little hamlet 'Senet de Barraves' leading eventually to a reservoir. I decided to be kind to Rap3 as the steep, twisty, cliff edge mountain road had been metalled (tarmac) when the dam was constructed but was now rapidly deteriorating. We stopped halfway up at a conveniant 'suntrap' corner with its own little mountain stream trickling by.

"C'mon Tanya, let's get the bike out and carry on up the track".

Which we did. Similar to our previous trip, not all the way up to the dam but within sight and well up into and above the rapidly diminishing snowline. Spectacular views plus some very strange looks from two 4x4's as they passed us. Tanya loved it as this road/track was not so rough as our last bikewalk expo plus she was snug and warm in her wooly jumper as blue sky and warm sun aside the unpredictable viscious mountain gusts were straight off the very high and deep snow covered peaks. They slice through you like a sharp knife without the necessary warm clothing. Thank you Kate for all that high Scottish mountain walking/learning. I've not forgotten.

France tomorrow. Not far from Lourdes but I don't intend visiting this time.

Nb - the little white dot on the distant roadway (look directly above the rear of Tanya's green bucket) is Rap3.
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Tanya... nearly gone!

Lenny, Win" I called out. "Tanya has collapsed, she is not looking good." Lenny and Win, my good friends from 'Moraria', turned back and we all became concerned as poor Tanya lay sprawled out on the pavement looking almost dead. Without further discussion Lenny sprinted off to fetch the car. I carried Tanya in my arms as we walked back to where Lenny could pick us up. I was worried, confused and out of sorts, and really thought this was it, Tanya was on her way to doggy heaven.

I'd been with L & W, parked roadside outside their recently purchased two bed old style fisherman's cottage. This was supposed to be my last day before moving on and we had all gone for a walk to "Moraria"' sea front where there was a lively music and food festival going on. Tanya had been no trouble and was doing her usual trick of trotting along sampling all the sniffs, until that is, she suddenly vomited & totally collapsed.

Over the previous few days in back of my mind had been a dim and lingering expectation of something due to happen as, over the previous couple of weeks, she has given me two frights which, from my experience of life tells me a third fright is due.

The first incident happened when I was feeling a 'wee bitty peely wally' (Scottish for 'just not right') and had overnighted on the edge of a residential area of several tall apartment blocks. We were separate but safe and I could let Tanya out to wander which she often does, never usually straying far out of sight. This time however; which also happened to be last thing at night, alarm bells started to ring as she had drifted out of sight and too much time had passed. My rising agitation was starting to reach panic levels as I methodically searched and called but got no little black flappy eared doggy appearing suddenly from behind a bush or waste bin which is the usual scenario. I scoured all round the tower block complex before, in desperation, entering the complex itself. Much to my relief, I found her there as a fellow doggy owner plus the local bar keeper were examining her collar to establish who the owner of this lost doggy was. This, as I've said was right smack in the middle of the apartment complex, quite a long way from Rap3 and definitely not where I expected her to be. Tanya, to add insult to my 'upsetness' was not fazed at all and was quite happy in Mr Spanish but English speaking barkeepers arms. Grrrrrr!

Incident number two was up in the mountains behind Benidorm. A beautiful area with views & small bendy mountain roads to die for. We'd parked in a small Almond Orchard and set off up the mountain side on a good track intending to walk the 1.7k to a 'Fuente' (Fountain). For some time now, on such walks, I have had to carry Tanya on the rough steep rocky bits putting her down again where ever there is easier walking. This has cured me of; 'having to reach the destination' as I have to make a careful judgement as to my fitness/stamina in respect of getting safely back to Rap3. We were on the way back and I had negotiated a particularly steep gully where I'd carried Tanya and then put her down to walk a pleasant flat section along the top of an Almond Orchard terrace. I relaxed, in my own little world, enjoying the high mountain peace, quiet and insect buzzing fragrant warmth.

Tanya often lags behind on these walks so I was not worried as I stopped to wait for her. It was a comfort stop but by the time percy was once again secure behind zipped fly madame Tanya had still not appeared and could not be seen anywhere along the path as I slowly retraced my steps while calling out her name. I was almost back at the lip to the steep gully and once again fighting rising panic before I heard the familiar tinging sound of her metal collar tag. I looked down and there she was, six feet below me on the lower terrace. I had to climb down the rough stone terrace wall to retrieve her and I presumed she must have fallen down it. Again, thankfully, she seemed quite unfazed by the incident but more to the point, also uninjured. She trotted along behind me once again but this time with me frequently noting her presence. As we reached the last part of the walk, a well used concreted track, I thanked the 'Divine mountain presence' for returning us both safely while also requesting that the inevitable third 'fright' be not disastrously overwhelming or calamitous.

So here we were, at fright number three. Win, bless her, cottoned onto the seriousness of Tanya's current situation and also realised I was somewhat in shock, compromised and in general, unable to make a decision. She immediately phoned their vet and Lenny soon had all of us there.  Mr Vet in no time at all inserted a drip into Tanya plus two injections. Bearing in mind this was a Saturday afternoon and Mr Vet was forgoing a family gathering. He really was a true animal loving Vet and a lovely guy all round. You would not get that in the UK.

We all then waited and over the next two hours Tanya slowly came to, lifted her head and finally was able to stand although her back legs were extremely wobbly.

While we all waited Mr Vet also checked out Buster, L & W's little Shitzoo. He also had a minor vomit plus he was coughing which made us all think the two conditions were related. Buster in the end was fine with cough the result of him being concerned for Tanya and injesting some of her fur as he had insisted on licking Tanya's semi lifeless body continually during the car journey to the vets.

Tanya, and its now several days on, has recovered well. It is now very apparent she is a very old lady. Walks are now not done in the heat of the day plus they are shorter, slower and often involve me carrying her some of the time. But she is still 'up for it' eating and sleeping well and liking nothing more than a quiet camping spot where she can wander around at will sampling the sniffs.

Two postscript to this story.

1). The Vets bill was ridiculously cheap. So much so I had to insist he charge correctly for the three Saturday afternoon hours he dedicated to saving Tanya.

2). I dedicate this story to my Sister in law and family who unfortunately were not so lucky in that they lost their beloved fourteen year old doggy on the same day. A Surreal and sad coincidence.

Fun day at La Manga.

Colladus Beach and now once again, as I love it, sun kissed and wave sound blessed. The vicious Easter Bank Holiday storms have now thankfully passed over.

Yesterday, Easter Monday, was still a dull day so a good day to join my friends and local residents Mark & Naomi for a day out at Sinnods Bar fund raising event for the local cats protection league with the La Manga locals. (Jo Taylor via fc/bk if wanting to know more). This turned out to be a very different day to my normal solo lifestyle where I am rarely involved in local community activities. Hey! But what a fun day it was. Raffles, tombola, bingo, kareoky & delicious chilli con carne en mass. Simba, Mark & Naomi's aging labrador came too and became a kareoky star by barking almost at all the right parts for 'Who let the dogs out' by 'The Baha Men. It was hilarious. I'm afraid there was no duet with Tanya. She was, as she did all day, determinedly walking the floor hoovering for left overs and getting strokes from everyone.

I won a prize too. A lovely, and I will here gender neutralize said prize, unisex silvery grey leather bag which became our 'go to' storage facility in particular for the star prize won by a delighted Naomi herself. This was a voucher inviting a full meal out for two at a high reputation Italian restaurant already a top priority on Naomi's list of planned nights out.

Classic Highlight of the day though had to be both Mark, whose birthday it was, and Naomi, unbeknown to each other, bidding against each other to successfully secure a beautifully made and decorated chocolate Easter cake. The single candle (no clues there) was, with ceremony blown out by Mark and gorgeous looking cake was soon being carved up & distributed to all. A welcome dessert course after the Chilli Con Carne even for the two sisters on their high bar stools who happened to be the esteemed Easter cake creators, makers and decorators. Excellent cake it was too.

Boy were Tanya and I tired when we finally arrived back at Rap3 tucked up in the dark safe and sound by the beach.

Easter Storm

"Will you look at that Tanya: a puddle of seawater where we normally park. We're virtually at sea level and in this storm, even though the wind has died down, I'm not sure we're gonna stay here overnight. Only wants one of those huge storm waves to breach the outer rocks and we'd be sitting in a tidal race!"

 WOW! Sure is impressive to watch though through my little rain spattered side window perched as I am, in my meditation spot where I see these huge rolling, menacing grey storm driven waves breaking and foaming their way toward me only to be split, divided and rendered impotent by the magic of rocky reef and angled sandy beach. Needless to say this is not a silent, benign or still meditation. I feel, as its Easter Sunday, this is more akin to being in touch with powerful forces that can and do rise up anytime, again and again. Magnaminous forces of immense power who reincarnate at will reminding us continually, that, particularly like the vast Oceans, I and all other, are never still, never completely or securely level, never far away from unceasing change.

Yes, this is Colladus Beach, La Manga strip, on Easter Sunday 2019; and a very different beach from the normally benign and sun-kissed one I am more familiar with. I'm at present parked a few metres further back from my normal spot on a slightly raised gravel area up against the rusting railings and crumbling wall of the 'forever been for sale' posh looking villa. The rain is sounding on the roof and the wind is gently rocking 'Rap3' around. Better though than yesterday as I drove up the strip and the vicious storm winds were nearly knocking 'Rap3' across the carriageway. We stayed further down the strip last night tucked under a conveniant wall on the kinder and sheltered Lee side of the strip. A pleasant night it was too with a lovely long walk around the area and the marina earlier and before the rain set back in.

An added colouration to the experience is knowing the UK is enjoying a beautiful warm and sunny Easter. I'm not grumbling though. In fact it is the opposite as the sole reason I've travelled all this way South is so I can command the inclement weather to be here in Spain. This in order good old UK can for once enjoy and relax in benign weather. No, no, please, don't even attempt to thank me (big BIG lol here.) I've already enjoyed beautiful sunshine as per my previous blog. This is the least I can do for you all especially as it is so needed after all the Brexit stress/angst.

"Phew! That was a big one". It reached and breached the beach rise and refilled the large puddle of my normal parking spot. Got a feeling this storm is maybe still on the rise. I shan't move yet but will move back to my sheltered spot under the wall before dark. I don't fancy being here, in the dark, as the winds and seas rise to the ultimate climaxic cacophony of a gleefully screaming mature storm.

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE.

Snorkelling plus an anniversary

"Done it, finally done it". I said stumbling back up the beach while pulling off goggles and snorkel. I flopped down next to bronzed bodied Alia who was also here on the exquisite 'Caletta' beach down its steep path from the village of 'Maro'. I love this beach with its alternative, non commercial and clothes optional feel. But today I loved the fact I'd finally managed a snorkelling swim in the still quite cool crystal clear Mediterranean water.

I had managed a very short swim yesterday at the 'Fina del mundo' beach (End of the world) which is equally remote but even more difficult to access down a very long and steep scrambly path. Poor Tanya had to be carried some of the way down and most of the way back up; not an easy task on a steep cliff hugging loose gravel slippery path in very hot sun. Her back legs are definitely starting to loose strength on steep climbs but on the level or gentle slopes she does just fine. None the less that first very short swim was the encouragement I needed for today. Alia had mentioned she was going to 'Caletta' and she is a good swimmer so I felt further emboldened to have another go but this time with snorkel. Plus, as its a longer, but less risky/difficult walk I did it the even longer way, by road using my e bike with Tanya in her green bucket. She was a lot happier and quite at ease tackling the final flight of steps once e bike was safely secured at the small parking area.

Nobody took a blind bit of notice either as this blaringly obvious 'unbronzed and scarred' body toddled across the beach and into/out of the water. Mind you there were not that many takers of the pleasure of swimming in the still, according to Spanish temperature sensing, freezing water. But no matter. I was delighted and despite my body being a lot thinner than previous the body temperature sensing worked as normal which was something I'd been nervous about. Would my body react OK to the initial cold or would it seize up possibly shocking me into a seizure or something? Well I've now proved post op body is going to do no such thing. Get the shoulders under water as quickly as possible, six or seven seconds of shock as blood is moved rapidly away from the skin and then within another ten seconds or so total acclimatisation to the water temperature. Such a good feeling. I have not pushed it though. I know I am not as fit as I was plus I am thinner and considerably lighter than I have ever been. Ten to twelve minutes was enough to enable a feeling of encroaching overall coldness but not enough to have me, and my old, thin, very white and scarred body, crawling up the beach shivering and hyperthermic which, would not be a pretty or acceptable spectacle for the mix of bronzed new age beach dwellers or the more adventurous and liberated young and old holidaymakers dotting the beach in various stages of bronzed nakedness. "Yes; I had better spare them all that horrific image". I thought to myself as I floated serenely among the rocks in the gentle swell following shoals of medium sized stripey fish.

I was tired, somewhat sunburned, but pleased as Tanya and I made our way back up the steps. Such a relief as e bike made easy going of the steep rough track through the terraced Avocado and Nispora fruit orchards and finally the tarmac'd, but still steep, road back to Maro. Just a short hop then to the secluded, ocean view wild spot I was parked in and sharing with Alia and, nearly my age, new ager Bernard from Germany.

A great day that ended with Tanya and I accompanying Lena and her three large doggy's back to her cliff hugging cottage where she sliced off an 'Alo Vera' leaf for me to apply its healing balm to some rather crimson bits of my anatomy. One day I'll remember to put that stronger sun cream in my beach rucksack.
.........

"yes; it is always difficult to find just the right spot in a 'Carthosis' affected back such as yours. But here we go I think this will be an ideal spot."

 That was the last thing I remember hearing before drifting into an aneasthetic coma for over five hours as two skilled surgeons removed my cancer affected Oesophagus. Today, April 19, is my first anniversary of that momentous day. No wonder I've been feeling a bit comumbulated.

I find it quite difficult to get my head around these sort of 'life altering' events, of which cancer was just the latest of several that have deeply altered and affected my journey upon this planet. Things outwardly carry on as normal but the rucksack of 'baggage ' takes on a slightly different weight and feel with every new event. That subtle shift affects 'normal' so that it is a different normal in every way. Different actions, different thoughts, different dreams, food and different people crossing your path.

There is nobody crossing my path tonight however: A contemplative reflection upon my more than good fortune is required so I am wild parked in a remote location with blue sea and steeply rising hills filling my Moho's doorway. Waves crashing against the ancient coral limestone cliffs with high pitched birdsong form the soundscape. It is Good Friday but an unusually cool and dull one for this Murcia area of Spain so the Bank Holiday crowds of exuberant Spaniards seem to have stayed away, probably in the popular touristy bits of this beautiful wild and largely agricultural coastline.

Yes: a good place to reflect upon this last year's Surreal journey. A journey where death was firmly on the script sheet as it always is once the big C word is mentioned. A journey of twists and turns, of despair and strong love and support and one of convincing and accepting that  Moho life was over. Yet here I am, a mere 365 days on looking out from my Moho door, and hardly daring to believe that what I am seeing is real. Meanwhile Tanya snores gently on her bed after having eaten a good dinner. Guess I'm a very lucky guy.

Thank you all for all of that love and support along the way. It seems to have helped.

Turnaround & Birthday

Ah: that's good. It's starting to brighten up now. As I turn my head and look out the front windscreen the snowcapped 'Sierra Nevada' glistens in sun but nearer, through my passenger seat window I watch as a jet takes off from 'Santa Fe' Airport under squidgeons of dull grey clouds.
I'm wild parked amid the olive trees and their accompanying dumps of litter at the well known and used, by the Punk and new age group, 'Sante fe' hot springs. I was warned about the litter before I came here but it isn't as bad as I thought and is certainly no worse than I have experienced elsewhere in Spain.
What is 'underwhelming' are the hot springs themselves. The water is about 38°C and very nice too. But over use and recent rain have rendered access and entry to the three small ponds more akin to a mud bath experience. No matter; the young with tattoos, piercings and crazy hairstyles are here in their tents and converted vans/lorries with smiles, songs and weird smelling puffs of smoke drifting up from the Reed beds as you walk by. All seem perfectly OK with the place c/w mud just as it is so who am I to judge. I may just take another paddle thru the mud myself later for a dip in that deliciously warm water bubbling up from Mother earth's depths.
........
'Benalmadena Pueblo' Buddhist Stupa and accompanying 'Grotto de Virgin' (or Mother Earth) have become the turning point for my journey this year. For me, as I've mentioned before, the place has become a regular stopover and a powerful spiritual destination. I required a few days of quiet contemplation in order to decide whether to continue my journey westwards or to stop/turn around and meander slowly Eastwards and Northwards backtracking my journey so far. The answer duly came and, via a lovely beachside free camp and evening shopping spree at popular tourist destination 'Torremolinas', Tanya and I found ourselves settling in to a stunning little wild spot just East of the village of 'Maro' in the 'Nerja' area. The area is again one that is firmly on my favourites list.
It was by accident though that I came across this little hidden gem of a wild spot. I have in the past parked up in the 'Maro' village main car park. This time as I pulled in Mr Guardia Civil (police) were there thoroughly going over both the occupants of, and, their assorted converted lorries and vans. I saw them all driving away later. Needless to say I did a quick turnaround before they spotted me and headed off about one kilometre down the gorgeous N340 and hey presto, an even better, and well hidden, wildspot. Especially when you have an e bike which makes the ride to either Maro or Nerja effortless despite the steep hills.
Meeting me there was Meichele, a fellow sole moho'er on her first trip out with her large and very luxorious classic 'Silver Mint' moho. She, like me, belongs to the Facebook group MWWWM. (Mad Widows & Widowers With Moho's) A good group of like minded idiots. Meichele was looking for a spot near 'Alumenicar' where she was collecting a rescue dog as travelling companion. It did not all go quite according to plan but sure enough Dillon, a black medium sized, and very intelligent, doggy of mixed heritage arrived a few days later. Meichele, a highly capable lady, then moved on Eastward to meet up with other group members and eventually a house renovation paying job she has organised with a previous employer. Safe travels M & D.
..........
Last year my seventieth birthday was firmly cancelled due to my cancer condition. But how to celebrate my seventy first and my new found, free of cancer, health and wellbeing? Well Gaia via the good old Maro, spring fed Valley, complete with its stunning scenery, and mix of local agriculture and 'alternative' dwellers supplied the answer.
Alia lived in her van just below me and hails from Cornwall but is of Swiss origin. She was at one time the only 'fisherwoman' at a small Cornish fishing village. She now, like me, lives in her van and splits time here, in Maro with walking in the Pyrenees. She is good friends with Lena, a Danish lady who finances herself by being the Spanish speaking Copenhagen tourist guide during the hot Spanish summer. Winter though finds her and doggy's living in her cliff hugging, end of the dirt road from my wild camping spot, tiny cottage with palm trees producing real live organic bananas.
As an aside both these ladies give generously of their time supporting Lenka who lives a little further along the cliff edge, only accessible by foot, in a tiny shack in the middle of a precarious cliff clinging Bamboo Grove. Lenka has terminal cancer.
But to continue. Alia and Lena were delighted to accept my offer of a free Thai cuisine evening meal out at the local 'Burriana Beach' to celebrate my good fortune in reaching this ripe old age with compromised body and highly suspect sanity. The evening was a great success with excellent food, wonderful service, and stimulating conversation/company with two lady's who really appreciated my evening of Birthday luxury and celebration.
I got pressies too. Organic fruit and veg from Lena. Home made Almond Dates from Alia and 'Ferrero Rocher' from Meichele. Truly a Birthday to remember.

People & Bridges.

It's the people you meet who make up a big part of this motorhoming life. For me there is genuine value in meeting a diverse range of fellow travellers, sharing stories and then moving on. Sometimes a contact is kept but for most a cheery wave with "I'll see you sometime then", suffices.

This evening it was 'Scotty' a keen cyclist & Kite surfer and former mechanic who has kept his well used/loved 25yr old modified Swift Kontiki moho ticking along nicely.

Earlier I bumped into Polish born UK citizen plus wife in their superbly converted 7.5ton Daf truck complete with hydraulic fold down tailgate/veranda, accessed no less, by double glazed sliding door. Very swish. He had done all the work himself and was now heading back to the UK to earn some more money as an HGV driver. They are parked just across from me, hidden as I am among bamboo groves on a rare bit of un-developed beach just west of 'Almerimar'.

This, apart from the tourist developed coastal strip, is plastic land; where a large proportion of your fresh veggies come from. Mile upon square mile of plastic greenhouses/growing sheds full of every green, red, orange & purple vegetable you can think of. It is plastic plastic everywhere. And this is what it is all grown in. The plastic wrapping you buy it in is just the tail end of your veggies birth to death relationship with plastic. As I top a rise and see the extent of the glistening plastic ocean in every direction my mind boggles and has difficulty processing the image. The sensation is I'm driving my moho in the middle of a vast undulating ocean but here I actually am, on a narrow gorge like road flanked either side by tall colourlessly beige plastic growing sheds which incidentally, are full of workers, mostly African, who also haphazardly walk or cycle along the road in and out of the various smaller narrower roads equally straight, equally long and equally flanked by huge plastic growing sheds. Then you meet a large lorry! I draw so close in to the side my wing mirror is pushed hard up against the flexible plastic side of a growing shed. Lorry thunders by, hardly slowing, with only millimetres clearance. Phew!

I've travelled through these 'plastic plains' twice now purely for the gobsmackingly other world experience. Suffice to say I encountered no other moho'er until I emerged onto the manicured touristy coastal strip. The sad bit is, well; lets just say that as well as the usual plastic litter detritus surrounding my little spot here among the bamboo groves there is also a large fly tip load of old/used growing shed plastic netting and sheeting. Dumped, illegally and 25metres from waves breaking upon the beach. If you go inland a bit its even worse, its unavoidable and everywhere. Steve has a sad face.

Recently I was at 'Colladus beach'. A favourite place of mine right at the tip of the narrow, 19k 'La Manga' strip. This year a difference though. I was there with company. My good friends Win & Lenny in their Rapido Moho. The weather was superb, so was Wins cooking, such a treat. I think 'Colladus beach' is now firmly on their favourite list too. A really relaxing few days. While there I also caught up with my Irish friends Mark & Naomi who were telling me of their relief at, fingers crossed & touch wood, finally being able within the next couple of weeks to move into their swanky new (and very very big) house/Riverside villa, c/w boat.

Earlier, and while travelling with Win & Lenny we met Manny, a determined 29yr old female German student who was travelling solo in her hastily converted X theatre production make up van. I think there was a mixture of relationship end and recent loss of well loved grandmother behind her brave adventure. As she proudly showed us her self modified van she poignantly explained how she had adapted and incorporated various pieces of her grandmothers furniture. We concluded she was also a little low on funds and food as our invite for her to join us for a meal was very quickly and eagerly accepted. She ate an awful lot that evening did Manny.

For Tanya it is the same, meeting other dogs I mean, which we are always doing. It was quite special while travelling with Win & Lenny and their Shitzu, Buster, to see the pair of them following each other in and out of our two vans with, I have to add, Tanya at times doing her usual and taking over Busters travelling bed.

Well. Congratulations Steve: you got that curried chicken and veg Paella spot on. And what about that big square of Mercradona's (Spanish s/mkt) special choc chip cake with cream on top.

"Am I eating OK?" Richard asked when I phoned him earlier.

Let's put it this way. I've got a job to move just now what with the Paella and cake but I'm going to have to shortly as there is a pile of washing up to do. Incidentally; I hav'nt weighed myself since I left Salisbury but I think not much has changed as the new trousers and new belt holes are still quite happily accommodating my new post cancer body shape.

Two retired brothers (Twins I think) plus their Jaguar and caravan parked up behind me tonight. Nice guys who've been travelling all over Europe for many years both in Moho's and now caravans. Unusual though to get a caravan wild camping. Tuggers, as they are called, normally inhabit campsites only. It's nice though to have their company, even though we all very much keep ourselves to ourselves, here at this lovely spot just off the fantastic N340 coastal road to Malaga.

Where we are parked is one of the loops of old N340 that have been left when they re-did the road. There are lots of them, many giving lovely scenic wild camping spots. Especially now the A7 'Route Mediterranian' takes most of the traffic. On this mornings doggy walk we stood on one of the the original narrow bridges across a deep gorge. As I looked up there was the next generation of road and bridge, slightly wider but more modern in that it could accommodate two narrow lanes of traffic. Then to my right and a little further down the gorge was steeply curving bridge number 3 on its concrete stilts and consisting of two wide traffic lanes. That's todays N340.

But towering above all and rumbling away as traffic rolls across it is Bridge number 4. The concrete stilts are enormous and take traffic straight from one mountainside tunnel to another. No following the contours for the ultra modern dual carriageway A7 'Route Mediterranian' it is just tunnel, viaduct, tunnel, viaduct all the way.  I prefer the slower, stunningly scenic cliff hugging, N340 but having also travelled on the A7 I give it five stars too as an engineering wonder with also, when not in a tunnel, fantastic views. Four generations of road three of which are still in regular use. That's the EU.

Dali emotion & Piggies.

I don't do much emotion these days. Especially after my cancer op and subsequent loss of my Vagas nerve. I cannot find, and have not thoroughly or extensively searched for, any evidence or research into 'Vegas nerve/emotional affect' but I do know it has affected in some way the delicate balance of head plus gut emotions that made up the totality of what I previously experienced as a full 'emotional response'.
So what happened tonight as Tanya and I took our evening stroll surprised me somewhat.
I'm in 'Port Lligat' just above 'Cadaques'. The moon was high and bright and bestowing one of its magical vistas over the bay which happens to be the same bay as depicted by Salvador Dali in his famous tantalisingly seductive painting of his wife looking out of the keyhole shaped window of his house. I was on the quiet lane directly above that house and its famous window, now a Salvador Dali museum and popular tourist attraction. Yes the vista was stunning but the tears welling up were directly connected to Kate, my deceased wife, and the very special time we spent here many years ago when love was on fire and neuronal pathways were created and laid down in their thousands.
The area and town of 'Cadaques' is sensuously and stunningly beautiful which is why I regularly make the trip here. The place seduces me everytime. Tonight though was different, powerful, and emotionally intoxicating. I was caught unaware but pleasurably affected with accompanying tinge of sadness giving bite to the overall emotional mix. Meditatively I was motivated to then walk for another hour as slowly, the fact I had received a treasured gift, sank in and connected. Tanya seemed to sense the moment too as she energetically accompanied me bathed as we were in the powerful moonlight.
In fact I was surprised at her 15 year old doggy energy as over the last two days, of gorgeous weather we have partaken of two long E bike on and off road expoditions around the area and out to 'Cap d Creus' and the lighthouse. These 'expoditions' by their very nature, also involve a lot of doggy walking.
We found a beautiful and totally wild cove out of the cool breeze but in full sun. Off came the clothes for first sunbathe of the year. I will add here that such an occurrence will this year be limited to such isolated spots. My rake thin 70 yrs old new body shape adorned still with prominent operation scars is not a site for public display. But the sunshine and crystal clear blue Med water is once again pressing my snorkeling buttons. I think a visit to Decathlon is a good plan with  wet suit purchase possibly being the way to 'fatten me up' plus hide my all too obvious NHS signature scars.
Tanya, while at our secluded cove, disgraced herself. I was quietly meditating & just enjoying the warm sun & occasional cool breezes touching my body when it went quiet. Very 'Tanya's not around quiet' . Called her. Nothing. Clothes on and retraced our steps back to track and E bike. Nothing. Walked back down and listened. Nothing. Climbed out on a rocky promontory from where I had a good view of the cove area.
"Aha, I see you."
Clamber back down, scramble round the tide line, getting wet feet in the process, and dragged her off the carcass of a well rotted, with accompanying aroma, seal. She got her mouth and beard well washed out with salt water for that little escapade.
However; I don't think the abrupt ending of her 'rotten seal' bliss was quite as traumatic as the run in she had with the three resident wild piggys back where we were wild camped in a large flat public area at the top of 'Port Lligatt' village. She was quietly pootling around outside when she came face to face with 'the piggy gang'. Piggies United Ltd quickly determined Tanya was not one of them and gave chase. But Tanya was also quick off the mark, did a screeching turn around and while still accelerating entered Rap3 through her open door with one mighty leap coming to a crumpled and crashing halt against the bottom of the fridge. No matter. A quick shake and flap of her ears and from her new and safe haven position she glared at piggy threesome who, undaunted, hung around just outside until boredom set in and off they wandered in search of more fun. Tanya was a tad more wary after that incident. She still wandered freely in and out of Rap3 but quickly retreated to her safe haven at any sighting or smelling of 'the piggy gang'.
Tanya and I plus new friend Lou from Hebden Bridge sadly said bye bye to the piggies this morning as we moved off on our separate journeys. Thank you once again 'Cadaques'. To me you are a very special place. I will be back.

Emergency Evacuation

"Uho!" thinks me. This is a very pleasant stroll with my nephews wife and toddler Maeve, and it was also a very pleasant meal we had all shared with her husband during his French two hour lunch break.

"But: right now, like instant, I am going to have to head back to the restaurant, kinda super sharpish, and use their facilities".

This, thankfully was accomplished without an embarrassing incident, but unfortunately heralded the onset of a full ten days of intermittent serious emergency Evacuations before eventually normality returned. I say it was the crab soup 'wot done for me' , but who knows. No one else was affected so I suspect, especially as it took so long to correct itself, it was a combination of the said 'crab soup' plus my 'different' post Oesophagael cancer innards. These 'different innards' are proving to be somewhat erratic and not as robust as my previous set up; a perfectly standard 1948  Lichfield maternity hospital model. They just don't make things like they used to any more!
..........
The 10 days of 'jippy tum' were not all doom and gloom as I did manage three days away near 'Giens' on the 'Hyeres' peninsula where warm sunshine made for a very pleasant stay. I'd originally gone to 'St-Mandrier-sur-mer' where there was a small Moho Aire. Parking/camping overnight around this 'Cote-de-Azur' area is very difficult & nigh on impossible during the holiday season. At 'St-Mandrier' I squeezed into the last remaining space & settled in for the night only to be disturbed by a knock on the door from fellow Moho'er Chris & his two gentle and well mannered lady Lurchers Bella & Bethan. A lovely evening was had swopping different tales of each of our experiences both of us being that rare combination of retired single male travelling mainly fultime with canine companionship.
Chris was also more familiar with the area and well versed in the dark art of finding wild or free spots to park up in this Moho unfriendly area. Turns out he runs the database of wild/free moho parking spots for the well known, and well used, www.wildcamping.co.uk of which I have been a fully paid up member for several years.
Hence our decision to move round to 'Giens' the next day & a perfectly acceptable layby next to the 'Salins' complete with their resident pink Flamingos. I, and Tanya, thoroughly enjoyed our three days of sharing time and doggy walks with Chris and his gorgeous canine ladies.
My 'intimacy' with the little white room in the back corner of Rap3 was by this time becoming manageable although I was starting to register an unease at continually having to tighten my belt on my recently purchased smaller waistline trousers. I didn't dare weigh myself and stayed firmly in a kind of denial trust that when ready, my body would re-appetise and regain the lost weight.
I headed back, after our time together, to 'Puyricard' and my tight spot next to my Nephew & family's house. There I stayed and enjoyed even more family as my younger sister and hubby joined us for a few days of 'Grandchild Maeve' time.
I'm also happy to report the 're-appetising and regaining of weight' is now underway but the depletion of wallet is now of concern as I just cannot keep out of the local Boulangerie/Patisserie. Those 'Tartes-de-Pomme' are going to do a crab soup on me in a minute if I do not re-establish some semblance of willpower over my unruly gluttonous pastry greed.
Plus, I've also fallen in love with over fired Baguettes.
Woe is me.... there is only one way out.... Get over that border and into Spain. Well I'm on my way. SW of 'Montpellier' tonight & possibly Spain tomorrow. No, I'll have one more day in France because if I remember correctly there is that Artisan Boulangerie in 'Port Vendres' and they do the most delic...........!

2019. Here we go again.

Ugh! I thought as I dragged Tanya from her warm bed & headed out to 'Saltdean' playing field for a very early morning dark cold and wet walk. The early rise and doggy toilet walk was a necessity as the Newhaven to Dieppe ferry would see Tanya back in her warm bed for a few more hours.

"Aww. Your Tanya is a really old doggy isn't she". Said the ferry check in lady as she scanned both our passports.

Bump, bump, bump as we entered the large yellow DFDS ferry up the severely corrugated metal ramps. At least there was no cramming us in like sardines on this trip. The car / motorhome deck was not even a quarter full. I'm sat in the restaurant at present and although it isn't quite the 'Marie Celeste' it is certainly the emptiest ferry I've been on.
About an hour to go till we fetch Dieppe and the sky is brightening with no rain. Looks like we may have a pleasant drive ahead to start off our slow meander South.

'Routot' a small Normandie village, of no special significance, is where I've settled for the night. On a level car park outside what, at one time, was the Mairi and opposite the large Norman Church with its hourly bells. You get used to 'the bells' here in France. I escape them more on my return trip when country/wood areas are drier and more suitable for true 'wild' camping. For now though, I'll forgo the cold wet & muddy fields and tracks for some level tarmac albeit it comes with bells. At least I know the correct time.
.........
'Chateuroux' tonight after a pleasant days driving across  expansive agricultural plains. I am always awed by the sheer size of France and its vast interior criss crossed as it is with silky smooth and Roman straight roads. There is a nerd in me who loves nothing more than cruising sedately along these gorgeous roads while surveying the terrain from a comfy, warm and 'high up' seat.
This year there is an added bonus in the form of the 80k speed limit on all 'non dual carriageway' roads recently introduced by the Macron government. 80k (50mph)is a very pleasant speed to wander the 'D' roads of rural France. This year everyone else is doing the same speed and apart from the odd 'sod this new Macron law' renegade it seems most drivers are towing the line and sticking to the speed limit. All in all it gives a very pleasant relaxed driving experience.
The only Downside is that many villages & hamlets have also reduced their speed limits from 50k (30mph) to 30k (20mph) which, in many cases, is emphasised by hefty speed humps. If the 'Gillet Jaune' protestors do not get government to change the speed limits back to what they were it will be interesting to watch the statistics on RTA deaths to see if indeed it reduces them. Personally I would like to see the same limits introduced in the UK. Not only in respect of reducing accidents but also as an environmental enhancer. Simply put, less speed means less fuel used.

What is not quite so pleasant is the bitter cold. Our early morning walk around 'Bonneval' this morning noted that several parts of the historic moat surrounding the town had a thin crust of ice on. Brrrr! Good job my van is warm & cosy.
Ken and Joyce enjoyed some of that cosyness last night. The leisure battery in their Moho was flat so I invited them round to watch 'Les Miserable' on my TV. Yes. My TV. I actually got it working as we were still just within range for my satellite dish to pick up UK TV. We all had a very pleasant and very late evening. I'm going to miss the last episode though as I will definitely be too far South by next Sunday.
Right I'm off for a shower. A nice hot campsite shower in a heated shower block. I'm in a campsite as I missed the free Aire and couldn't be bothered to go back to find it. So I parted with €16.00 in exchange for electric hook up (saves gas) & of course the previously mentioned hot shower. Plus Chatearoux seems a very nice place & Tanya thoroughly approved of the lakeside walk with all its accompanying doggy sniffs. She may be getting old, and going blind, and just now got a bit of a limp, but she still loves her sniffy walks.

Brrrr.... it's still damm cold out there!

Nb. No piccy's as am having probs publishing/uploading.

Pages of the sea + chips.

Beverly,, Yorkshire and here it was happening to me again.

"Tanya: what on earth have I done this time eh?" I said while Flashing blue lights and screaming sirens followed us as we wended our way to a quiet little parking spot where the 'River Hull' meets the 'Beverly Beck' canal. In total five large shiny red fire engines squeezed into the same small space as ourselves. Brown hi viz clad firemen assured me I was not in the way as they ran past and out toward the river meadows to investigate reports of 'a horse in the canal'. Reportedly nothing was found and, as one young fireman put it:

"probably swam further down, found a sand bank and is now back wi is mates munchin grass."

Peace resumed and a quiet night was had before an exploratory trip into town the next day to view the famous 13th century Minster. 'No dogs allowed'. Well that cut that adventure down to size. The town centre proved friendly though and lightened my wallet some as we headed back to Rap3 carrying new jacket, trews and top.

I was slowly working my way south from Scotland and finally, after several failed attempts in previous years, tackling the English East Coast. Redcar, Staithes, Whitby, Fylingdale and Scarborough. All delightful and 'must visit again' destinations. I had to rest up in Redcar's large seafront car park for a few nights as I coped with a cold/flu type virus which this time specialised in efficient mass production of nasal effluent! Never mind, the excellent award winning chippy over the road gave me the comfort food blanket I needed for ultimate survival. I was also able to attend the 100year 1st World war anniversary 'Pages of the sea' event on Redcar's beautiful beach.
Walking among the hundreds of sand silhouette 'unknown' soldiers was particularly poignant plus, when I raised my eyes there in the distance was the stark and sharp outline of the huge, now dead, still & deathly, former British Steel Works.

"We all used to work there, my whole family and me." said the lady next to me as we both carefully agitated the smooth tidal sand to create our own personal 'unknown soldier'. The tide returned and restored smooth order to the memory honoured beach later in the day.

In contrast the stark darkening silhouetted steel works stayed. Such memories as it evoked still fresh, painful and not yet ready to be poppy'd over or 'tidal smoothed'.

A moving day articulated with accurate, precise and moving poetic excellence by Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy with her 'Pages of the sea'.

If you've not read it, please do.