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!
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| 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.
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| Bringing in the Tuna |
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| 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!
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| The Trundlebus mixing it with the big boys |
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| Days end |
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| 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.
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| Little Señorita |
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| Grown up Señorita |
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| Some of each |
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| Anyone can do it with a fancy dress |
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| You don't even need a fancy dress.....just a glass of vino colapso |
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| Big and small young and tall |
Fang, who likes to make it
like the locals, was up for flamenco herself
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| Fang practising for the night of dancing |
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| 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!
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| Taking the toilet cassette.......good idea to bring the bikes! |
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| Our bay at La Azohia |
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| 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.
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| In a planning meeting with Isabella & Francisco |
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| Me Isabella & husband Albert from Belgium |
And then it was onto our
next stop which was only about 10 miles around the bay
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| Pleasant Bay......Fang's name not the map |
Until we meet again dear
family and friends, we bid you adios from the Mediterranean sunshine.
