Dear family and friends; hola, hola, hola from the beautiful sunny & warm you really don’t want to be stuck here Spanish Mediterranean. Now there is a lot of opinion from a lot of experts who will tell you to avoid the Spanish Med like the plague because it’s been completely taken over by the package holiday mob and is now wall to wall high rise holiday flats, English breakfast, ‘roast dinner just like mum makes’ and evening cocktails that make you throw up; and to an extent this is true, but if you take some time and trouble, and get a bit of help and advice from the Brothers (The International Fraternity of the Brotherhood of Motorhomers, known colloquially as ‘brothers’. It costs nothing to join but as you would expect there is a secret initiation ceremony which, for obvious reasons, I can’t tell you too much about; other than it involves a full moon, some bloodletting, lots of chanting and the wearing of a bear skin loin cloth....and take it from me.... dead bear doesn’t half take the shine off the crown jewels after an evening’s chanting and bloodletting!), then there is a completely unspoiled Spanish Med just waiting to be discovered. Once you get south of the ‘beyond belief ugly’ Benidorm and Alicante, the package holiday mob have run out of steam and what is left is what nature intended.....deserted beaches with just a couple of motor homes!

Benidorm high rise hell

So, after our dash down the snowy mountain from Morella we landed at Javia, a non descript seaside town between Barcelona and Valencia. Even though there were no other brothers there, it did look as though we could park on the edge of the pebbly beach, or at least there wasn’t a sign saying we couldn’t, so we did. The Spanish rozzers did a couple of drive-bys but didn’t bother us so we settled down for the night, although Fang did wake up at periodic intervals during the night because she was on rozzer watch......don’t ask me I just drive the bus! The master plan was to turn back north along the coast to visit Barcelona, however, the weather was still a bit on the chill/wet side so the next morning we decided to leave Barcelona for another trip and head south to find some warmth and comfort. 

It took us the best part of 4 hours to clear the bad weather, by that time we had skirted inland around the dreaded Benidorm and Alicante and headed for a town called Mula, just 20 miles outside Murcia and in the middle of Apricot growing country.

On route to Mula we made a detour into the mountains to visit a beautiful medieval mountain top village called Guadalest. It’s one of those places where you just walk around with your mouth open like a lunatic; I leave the photos to tell the story, although they don’t really do justice......

On the way back down the mountain we called in to visit what were supposed to be some spectacular waterfalls, but turned out to be a contrived tourist attraction with a 3 eur entrance fee....so we took a picture from the outside and left! But not before we’d forked out 5 eur for car parking .....they saw us coming down the ruddy mountain.

Mula itself has nothing of significance other than it is a normal Spanish working town with no knick knacks for tourists. Sadly it was also a town which reflected the state of the Spanish recession, nearly every shop or business premises had closed, redevelopment projects remained unfinished, we saw a crane and a lorry abandoned in the middle of a half built housing complex, even the municipal swimming baths which opened six years ago, had closed, with stagnant water still in the pool. However, we had a couple of relaxing days in the sunshine just wandering around the area, visiting the town square which came to life with families and the locals every afternoon.......and believe it or not, all the open public plazas had free Wi-Fi!

We left Mula and headed again for the coast and a small fishing village called La Azohia......what a find this place is for the likes of us. La Azohia is just west of Cartagena and just around the headland in the Gulf of Mazarron. The Gulf of Mazarron is known for its temperate climate; it very rarely drops below 18 degrees at anytime of the year. When we were there in early May, the temperature was around 25 each day with a gentle sea breeze that seemed to come in every afternoon to cool things down a bit. We spent 6 glorious days parked up near the quay watching the daily comings and goings of the fishing boats. As an added bonus the snorkelling was brilliant, like swimming in an aquarium and cycling along the beach front was brill as well.

Bringing in the Tuna

Jacques Cousteau and I were like brothers

We made many new best friends during our stay, perhaps one of the more remarkable would be Mick and his wife Mary;

Now here’s a story for you; Mick is an Irishman who had a building business in London, pretty successful it would seem as he had 8 vans and 25 lads running round Kensington. About 9 years ago Mary developed Dementia which meant Mick had to give up his business to look after her.....as Mick puts it ‘after 56 years of marriage what else was I going to do’. But being Mick, he decides that rather than them both sit at home staring at four walls he would buy a motorhome and go travelling with Mary! And that’s what they have been doing for the past 7 years, Mick gets to meet lots of people, Mary seems to be happy sitting in the van watching the world go by and they spend their winters in the sunshine. Nice story if that was the end of it.....but it’s not. Last November, in the very same fishing village, parked up in the very same place, Mick has a stroke! As luck would have it that there were a couple of English vans parked up with them, so one of the chaps took Mick off to hospital while their wives looked after Mary. Now I’m not sure how this happens, but Mick wakes up in hospital with Mary and their two daughters from London at his bedside. So, Mick makes a recovery, has nothing but praise for the treatment he received in a Spanish hospital (which cost him nothing), his son comes out from London to drive the van and they all go home happy and healthy. Then blow me down here we are in May, 5 months later, and Mick and Mary are back on the road and have returned to the self same spot! Mick is 77 and Mary is 80......there is hope for us all! 

   

The Trundlebus mixing it with the big boys

Days end

Sunset at La Ahozia

Ever been to a bingo night? Not like this Spanish version you haven’t. This was on a Saturday evening and all the locals turned out bringing their plates of food and vino colapso. There was bingo, which was taken very seriously and a dramatic hush descended over the whole village during the calling, there was music and there was dancing......lots of dancing and....oh yes.... and a bit of dressing up by the señoritas.

Little Señorita

Grown up Señorita

Some of each

Anyone can do it with a fancy dress

You don't even need a fancy dress.....just a glass of vino colapso

Big and small young and tall

Fang, who likes to make it like the locals, was up for flamenco herself

Fang practising for the night of dancing

Fang waiting for a Senor to ask her for a flamingo.....it got dark and they all went home.... 

I was standing on the quayside one day watching the fishing boat unload when one of the fishermen stepped off the boat and just handed me a bag of fresh mackerel! What a dinner we had that night......after I had gutted and cleaned and gutted the ruddy things that is!

Taking the toilet cassette.......good idea to bring the bikes!

Our bay at La Azohia

Gulf of Mazarron

Now here’s a thing.....you know our Fang, well she just loves taking pictures, especially of people......she has this way of sidling up to people and doing a sort of pointy thing with her camera and then points at them and then before they know what is happening she is arranging them into a nice group for her shot, and then she sort of bounces up and down with excitement, blows them a kiss and off she goes....leaving her victims scratching their heads in Spanish/Portuguese/French and I  have to say, in fits of laughter! So we are sitting there one afternoon and a diver comes out of the sea with his harpoon gun and an octopus that he’s caught (well shot actually!). Fang jumps up cooing like an excited school girl on her first date and runs over doing her pointing thingy with her camera.....blow me barnacles if the diver, who must have seen all this pointy thing before, turns the tables on Fang, gives her the harpoon gun & the octopus and takes the camera! So there she is in her Pringle cardigan and shorts trying to look as if she does this sort of thing all the time..... posing with an octopus nearly as big as her.......nice one Diver Dan!

Sadly we had to depart our haven which has now been renamed Magic Bay by Fang who likes to give her own name to places, things and people to help her remember.....she called me Herbert for the first 10 years.

In a planning meeting with Isabella & Francisco

Me Isabella & husband Albert from Belgium

And then it was onto our next stop which was only about 10 miles around the bay

Pleasant Bay......Fang's name not the map 

Until we meet again dear family and friends, we bid you adios from the Mediterranean sunshine.