Thursday 5th December

When I wake up I check the temperature and it’s -6 outside. That’s pretty cold for camping haha. The fog has mostly cleared but the landscape is still milky white.

We cross the Rhine River via a dam and an extremely high lock. There is a large barge sitting in the boiling water. Once we cross over the original river we are in Germany. We’ve only been driving 20 minutes and we’ve already stopped twice to take photos. Everything has been dipped in white. Frost creating twigs on the bare branches of the trees, crops with a hat of ice. Leaves rimmed in delicate crystals. Spider webs broken and hanging in thick white strands.

We cross mountain passes with pine trees looking like they’ve been sprayed with snow. Lots of trucks so we’re not worried about ice on the roads.

Greg wants to stay tonight at the first place we stayed at back in March (well, technically the second but we’re not counting the night at the Van rental place). He wants to retake his first photo so as to bookend our travels.

By late morning the fog has settled back in. It makes for a boring drive, a long boring drive. We stop in Ulm to courier our box of stuff home. It was 23kg so wasn’t cheap.

I also wanted to post a birthday present to my youngest nephew. So I ask for a stamp. She asks what was in it. I replied a book. She then told me in Germany you can only post documents. I would have to buy a courier box (pointing to the display) and courier it. Because of the shape I would need a shoe sized box! Bugger that, I’ll post it in Zimbabwe. His birthday isn’t until 6 January so I have plenty of time.

By evening we are on the A8, a autobahn we drove the other way 273 days ago. I’m so impressed with Greg’s driving. He is now so much more relaxed and confident, both with driving this big left hand drive box and also driving on Autobahns. We’re still getting overtaken but as we barrel along between 110 & 120kph we’re doing our fair share of passing. It’s full on dark and still foggy, there are no street lights and a continuous stream of trucks. Greg ducks and dives like a pro, occasionally muttering insults when trucks pull out to overtake other trucks.

6th December

We’re both busy beavers this morning, emptying all the drawers and cupboards in the van and giving it all a good clean. Repacking everything back into our packs is interesting. I know we’ve got less stuff than we brought over so why does it seem to have grown. Maybe the packs has shrunk while being stored under the back seats. It’s extra challenging in a cramped area so it becomes a case of shoving it all in and we’ll sort and repack later in the luxury of our hotel room.

Next step is for Greg to take the same photo as the first one he took and then take some of us both with the van. It’s been our home for nine months and Greg points out it’s the third longest place we’ve lived in together.

Then it’s our final drive back to where we started. Finally get to meet Holger, who had been away when we picked it up. We hand the keys over and pay the final costs. Then they call a taxi for us and we head into Munich.

We check in and dump our bags in the room then go out for some lunch. Just a local Turkish place, we both feeling lethargic and can’t be bothered going into town. Back to our room and the sun is starting to set. Guess it was a late lunch lol. Greg lies down on the bed and is out like a light. We’re both planning on treating this weekend as total down time since Africa will be full on.

Damn it, when we we’re checking in, we had to present a credit card, even though the room had been prepaid. During the process he apologised and said the system had crashed and it had deducted the room charge again but he had immediately done a reversal so it would be all okay. Checking the card online this evening I discover that the charge had gone through but not the reversal. Because it is actually a debit travellers card with multiple currencies and there wasn’t enough euro for both the second charge and a €100 hold (against possible room charges) it has taken the US dollars at a generous (to Mastercard) exchange rate. I now have no euro loaded to spend for the last days in Europe and have lost out with the USD. I’m hoping the reversal will come through tomorrow but thinking it will probably be the next business day, as in Monday, after we’ve left Europe. So we will then be left with Euro on the card in countries that don’t take it and have to get some cash at an ATM for this weekend.

We go out again for dinner, a local Indian restaurant this time. Very nice, maybe a little mild for my tastes but Greg is happy. As we leave the restaurant, I have a ‘oh moment’ thinking we should use their toilets before we go so as not to fill ours too quickly. I then laugh and tell Greg. We don’t have to think about that anymore, once we flush, it’s not our problem. We can have loooong showers in the morning and move around freely while the other one is in the bathroom. But really, they are only small things and we’ve both enjoyed our van life.

We have a king sized bed in our room, seems huge! And you can walk around it. The bathroom has floor space and there are mirrors, large mirrors. We can leave lights on without checking the battery, run the tap without checking the tanks.

7th December

We enjoy a sleep in, just blob and relax for a while. Eventually we do get ready and walk into town. As we get close we can hear the Glockenspiel bells starting. We decide not to rush over, it’s still at least 5 minutes walk and, 1 – we saw it 7 years ago, 2 – there are a hell of a lot of people here so we probably would miss it anyway. There is a massive Christmas market, stalls stretching from Karlsplatz to Marienplatz as well as more in Victuals Market. We’ve been seeing them getting set up in of places for the last few weeks but this is the first one we’ve really walked around fully open. It’s pretty intense. So many ornaments, Christmas tree decorations, wooden figurines. And lots and lots of food stalls. Sampled some Stollen but Vivian’s was much nicer. She brought some to a committee meeting a couple of years ago.

We went to Horbrauhaus, an original (1559) beer hall. It had a crown on it’s label because it was set up by the Royal family. This beer hall is also where Hitler started the Nazi Party from. We walk through and find a couple of seats at a table with a group of young ladies. The place is packed and the waiters are all rushed off their feet. We place our order and our beers arrive promptly. Our waiter sweeps passed the table without stopping, plonking them down with a thud. We watch him do the same to others and notice his smile when someone startles. The handles are surprisingly heavy, even without the litre of beer and I’m really impressed to watch the waiters carrying up to 8 at a time. Must have super strong wrists.

After lunch we join a walking tour. Learn lots of Munich history from its origins as a Monk settlement, German word for Monk being Monch to Hitler’s early days here, going from an unsuccessful painter to country leader. We see the corner where his first unsuccessful coup happened and where a martyr wall was built and it was compulsory to salute as you passed it. Now days it is illegal to do the Nazi salute in Germany and even tourists will be arrested if seen.

Once the tour finishes, we head back to Marienplatz with the thought of getting a drink. The square is packed. It’s wall to wall bodies. We inch our ways through and just keep going. Google tells us of a vegan restaurant 30 minutes walk away sort of in the direction of our hotel. We get there and they tells us they are fully booked. Bugger! It’s cold and we’re hungry. We go to a nearby Italian place instead.

8th December

We’ve been carting around a bottle of Champagne since the 4th of July so I guess we better drink it. Last night we picked up some croissants and treats for breakfast so we have a relaxing breakfast in bed with the champers. We’ve arranged a late check out so we have time to chill. Then spend an hour on the phone (via Viber) to our daughter. Traveling is amazing but we do miss family. And it’s so neat to hear the everyday details of her life, the weather, the local Santa parade, the work Christmas party. Haha, plenty of drinking going on there.

Finally we get out of bed, shower and pack our packs. Easier with room to move. Then we settle back down with our devices getting Europe completed on our FB pages.

Plan is; check out 2pm. Walk back into town for a late lunch, and exercise. Back to the hotel to collect the bags. Train to the airport. Check in. Do the customs VAT refund on Greg’s camera lens. Relax, probably with a drink. Red wine does help me sleep.

We walk into town and stumble into a parade. Totally amazing costumes. It’s called the Krumpus Run. Krumpus was Saint Nicholas friend The aim of the parade is to scare the watchers. We get hit with brushes. I get head locked several times and my hair rubbed even more often.

…………

Done some stats on our expenses;

Travel and accommodation, that’s van hire, diesel, ferry’s and campsites for 280 days €20735 which is €75 a day (NZ$125). Not bad when we consider the Munich hotel (which is included) is €116 (NZ$196) a night.

Other expenses, that’s food, tourist attractions, clothes, fines and other purchases totals €16800. Which is €60a day. NZ$100.

So a grand overall daily traveling cost of 176€($296). Say $150pp

Could we have done it cheaper? Yes. There was that London City fine for a start and a replacement wing mirror. We also got better at free camping as we went along. Initially we were in paid grounds every 2 to 3 nights, later we were easily going 4 nights, sometimes 5. But overall I’m happy. We did come in under budget. Good thing as I hadn’t budgeted for Africa at all.

But wait, there’s more…….

Africa

We’re so excited.

………

Saturday 30th November

We get up early, well, before sunrise anyway, and walk back up to Pont du Gard. Looks totally different this morning. Much more natural. And we can see where we are walking. We explore from all angles, still nobody else around. It’s kind of surreal, the aquamarine coloured river, the orange trees, the yellow stone of the aqueduct. It feels timeless. There is no modern structure to jar against nature and the aqueduct has softened with age, the stones weathered and rounded on the exposed faces. It’s staggering to think that this is 2000 years old.

Back to the van by 10am for a late breakfast. Afterwards we walk into the town of Remoulins and buy bread. The bakery has a wood burning oven – amazing. Then we hit the road driving through Provence down to the coast. A couple more days in warmer weather, then a week in freezing temperatures before the really hot weather of Africa. You can tell whats occupying my mind a lot these days.

Vibering with the family and lol we’ve now got tentative plans for a trip in New Zealand just after we get home. Tim and Dow arrive back two days after us. Will be so great to see all the kids and all together.

Coming down to the coast is a very steep winding road. Lots of motorbikes which is always a sign of a good driving road. I’m quite surprised how high up we were. We reach the coast but can’t see the sea at all. It’s very built up along here. We drive under Marseille through a series of long tunnels.

We’re nearly at the aire I’d picked, which is above a marina with a view of the sea but not much else, when we drive along a beach front called Six Fours les Plages, and there are a couple of campers parked. We can see that the pay and display towers are covered over so pull into a space and I check park4night. Yes, you can stay here overnight, there are even services beside the tourist centre. Not that we need them. Best part is it’s free from September to May. We’re literally 10 metres from the water. Just a promenade and a pebbly beach between us. The road is quite busy now but the app says it gets quiet at night. It will do us just fine. Greg has been saying he must go for a swim in the south of France and so he does. Tomorrow is the first day of winter and he’s determined to go for another swim tomorrow.

We go for a promenade along the promenade. There are amazing vapour trails with the setting sun giving them shadows. Both Greg and I say, at the same time, it reminds us of Dali. The whole 3d effect.

Sitting here just finishing dinner, lentil bolognaise, when there is a couple of loud booms. Fireworks! Jump up, open the side door and yes, huge fireworks being let off at the point. Beautiful reflections in the bay. Run across to the beach to watch. Greg is grabbing his camera and tripod. Lol by the time he’s set up they’ve stopped. So no photos but a great sight. Absolutely no idea why there were fireworks and they weren’t little or just from one spot but we just enjoy the moment.

1st December

Wow! It’s December! Actually doesn’t feel like it’s getting close to Christmas, no present buying, no parties, no bbq’s. It’s raining this morning and everything looks dreary.

The plan today is to go to a campground further down the coast. Do a whole lot of washing ready for Africa and returning the van. Wifi so Greg can catch up with photo posts.

Again we drive under a city rather than around or through it. Today it’s Toulon.

Our route takes us inland a bit and, in my mind at least, through the real France. Small villages with colourful shutters. We stop at one and wander through the Saturday Market, buying some veggies and bread. Have coffee with the locals. I’m loving the respect and welcome the older men get in these places. I don’t understand what is being said but the waiters and bar staff always greet, assist and serve with happiness, these older people.

Back down to the coast and the high rise apartments and beachfront bars. The sea is rough but we stop at one point so Greg can have a last swim in the Med. I watch from the warm and dry the van as he runs through the rain and into the sea. He dives in, fully submerges at least 3 times and does some strokes. Anything less, he doesn’t consider to be a swim.

We then head to the campground and pull into the barrier arm and a sign with hours – 9 to 12, 14 to 18. Bugger it’s 13.15. As we’re debating where to go and have lunch a man runs across and opens the barrier, directing us where to park. No English but I take it we pay when we leave. Another man, a German, comes over and tries to converse with us in German. He has a little English and sells us two shower tokens and one washing machine one. I ask if I can get more washing machine tokens but he says I don’t need them. Not sure if it’s a translation issue or what. Wifi code, he says ask when the boss arrives back. So we use the token and get the first wash started, eat lunch and then at 2pm go over to the office and ask for washing machine tokens. He says ‘No the washing machine is broken’. We try to explain we already have a wash going but it’s just ‘impossible, not working’. We leave it and just get the wifi codes. Then we go check on the wash. It’s finished and is perfectly clean. Put it into the dryer which seems free then I notice the washing machine is still stating the start time. I put the next wash in and push start. Off it goes. I think maybe what is broken is the machines ability to switch off after a single load. I feel quite guilty but I do do all three loads of washing. And for the price of one. Mind you, it is a small machine. If we’d gone to one of the supermarket laundry areas it would have all gone in one load. When I go back over for the third time the power has timed out, for both the washing machine and the dryer. Three loads washed but only two dried. Haha. So it’s back to the van where we rig up lines through half the van and put the heater on. Greg and I end up down to short sleeves as the heat cranks up. We’ve closed the vents at the front of the van but the air still gets through, both through the vents and down the ‘hallway’.

Wow, there is a full on thunderstorm happening now! First day of winter is showing off. But we’re snug as a bug in the van. Actually I’m down to a singlet because it’s almost too hot in here. At least the washing is drying.

2nd December

It’s a full day of driving today. 6 hours driving time. Yes, I know that’s not actually a lot but when the sun rises at 8am and sets at 4.30pm and you add in stops like lunch, then it is all day.

We’re driving through beautiful countryside. The sky is blue, the air is crisp. High mountains, some tipped with snow. Vast plateaus with fields of lavender. Tree filled valleys, glacier green lakes and bare stone villages. The road is narrow and winding with switchbacks up and down the hills. Greg forgets he’s driving a 6 metre long camper and we’re sitting high up, he takes to it like a rally driver. My heads is about 2 metres above the road and I’m not leaning into the corners, rather the other way as if my body weight will keep us upright.

Parc Naturel regional du Verdon is a UNESCO geopark and it’s easy to see why. Parc Naturel regional des Baronnies Provencales is equally beautiful, as is Parc National des Ecrins. Photos can’t capture the grandeur that is all around us.

Then it’s across the French Alps, low cloud, rain, very cold. The rain hitting the windscreen was almost soft. Visibility is only a few metres. We cross the pass at 1300metres and descend down, down, the temperature climbing back up a few degrees.

We’re staying in Grenoble at an aire. There are high mountains on both sides of us. It’s currently 3 degrees and is predicted to get down to 1 overnight. We’ve got another all day drive tomorrow up to Mulhouse.

Murphy’s law. We’re sitting here just finishing dinner and it starts feeling a little bit cooler. Look at the heating panel and the orange light is blinking. Oh oh, double check the fridge and the stove. Yep, the gas bottle is empty. So it’s outside into the cold with a torch to change over bottles. Actually I’m glad it happened now, not at 4am in the morning.

3rd December

I’m starting to sort and eliminate things in the van. Last night I said goodbye to the collection of stones and shells I’d picked up along our travels. This morning we farewelled the bikes. We left them in a recycle area with a sign saying ‘libre’ on them. All the linen that came with the van is washed and dried, using our own stuff for the last few days. The pantry is now bare, the few things left for the last three days all fit in a drawer. Somehow still have heaps of Indian spices left.

Today is another long driving day, 6 & a half hours actual driving time. The clouds are low over the mountains and fill the valleys so not a lot to see. We come down and drive alongside the Rhone River for a while. The water is dirty, there has been a lot of rain higher up. A newspaper I looked at yesterday had several articles about floods.

The orange markers at the side of the road are nearly as high as the van, suggesting they get some serious snow here. Occasionally we come into areas of blue sky and it’s very picturesque. Alpine style houses with steep roofs, bare trees, unmelted frost. Wisps of cloud defining the valley lines. It’s a low sun that sends tentacles of shadow over the fields and catches the grass blades with an emerald vibrancy.

One perk of driving so late, we get to see the Christmas lights in the villages we drive through. Can’t hold a candle to the spectacular light behind provided by the setting sun.

Our aire tonight is in the town of Brognard and we are parked behind a lake so the vivid evening sky is reflected in the still water. The evenings star (Venus) and a half moon are the only decoration. We don’t gaze at the beauty for too long though, it’s 2 degrees and my weather app says it’s going to get down to -5 overnight. Bloody hell! Thank god for gas heating! Still we close all the blinds, even the skylight ones, keep the warmth inside.

4th December

You know it’s cold when there is ice on the inside of the windscreen. Another new experience for us lol. I went to wipe away the condensation and about 10 centimetres at the bottom is frozen. The ‘New Zealand’ scarf has stuck.

When we start driving, everything has an air of white; the ice covered cars parked on the side of the road, the mist shrouded farms, the lines of pylons disappearing into a white distance. There are hawks (eagles? Some sort of bird of prey) sitting forlornly in bare trees or on top of fence posts. Never seen so many!

We drive an hour to Cite de l’Automobile, Musee National – collection Schlumpf. We’d been told to allow two days to explore the collection in detail so we planned for one day, haha. My intention was to do half a day and then go out to the van and sort for Africa and a box of stuff to send home and get some cleaning done. I end up spending a LOT longer and by the time I was ready to go, Greg almost was too so I wandered around with him for a bit and then we both left.

In a nutshell, this collection was started by two brothers who had an obsession for Bugatti. One brother bought one just before the war but their collecting really started after the war when people were upgrading their prewar cars to newer models. In 1962 Fritz bought nearly 50 Bugatti’s. In 1963 he acquired 18 of Ettore Bugatti’s personal cars. In the same year he bought 30 from a US collector. By 1967 they had 105 Bugatti’s plus other makes and models and it was all kept secret. They converted part of a spinning mill into a display area, where it still is today. Problems with their mills and employees lead to them fleeing to Switzerland and the workers occupying the factory and discovering the car collection. The union opened the collection to the public for a couple of years. Debt collectors were eyeing up the cars so in 1978 it was declared a French Historic Monument. That meant the collection couldn’t be broken up and the whole lot was sold to the National Automobile Museum Association.

You enter and walk down a darkened ramp with videos playing on the birth of the motorcar then you round a corner and enter a massive, massive room. It’s full of cars. They are sorted into ‘avenues’ by era. In the first avenue are seriously old automobiles from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. There is a genuine Benz velocipede, such as Bertha Benz drove.

Bertha is a great female role model. The only child of a wealthy, titled family, when it came time for her to marry she turned down the earls and lords. Instead she married Karl Benz, an engineer inspiring to create the first motorcar. Bertha’s wealth funded his work and she worked hands on with him. Then with her money running low and in need of backers and buyers for the velocipede, while Karl was sleeping she took the car and their two sons and drove 100km to visit her mother. It was an epic journey. She stopped on the way to purchase ligroin from an apothecary to fuel the car. On several occasions it broke down and she had to repair it, once with a hat pin and once with her garter. She also ended up creating brake pads on the journey. She succeeded in both the journey and the publicity.

The next three avenues getting more modern (but still Classic). On either side of this main part are special avenues. One side is racing cars, sorted by age. It’s really interesting to see the progression in design. In my eyes there were huge technological changes in the 1960’s but not a lot before or after. It’s interesting to note that the top speed of 300km is the same in a 1978 car as in a 1937 one. Driver safety had improved radically though.

The avenue on the other side is through curtains and had spotlights. You know without any knowledge of cars that these ones are special, and expensive. There are some Rolls-Royces, Maybachs, Mercedes and Bentleys but the stars of this space are the Bugatti’s. I don’t really understand the intricacies of what I’m seeing but I do appreciate the elegance. The sweeping lines, the beautiful wooden steering wheels. These cars are hand made, the attention to detail shows. There is a 1939 prototype that never went into production because of the war and it’s just gorgeous.

When we do leave, we drive half an hour to an aire that’s close to a supermarket. The fog is a thick opaque curtain around us, and there is frost in the trees and bushes. We bundle ourselves up, walk over and get a large empty carton then fill it with stuff we’re going to courier home. Clothes we won’t need in Africa and camping type stuff we’ve bought and used in the last nine months. As a result, when I open the last bottle of red wine, we have to drink it from the beer handles that came with the van. Doesn’t matter, it still tastes like wine. It’s a local, Cotes du Rhone. I think I prefer the Spanish reds we were drinking a few weeks ago. Mind you, it says to serve at 14 to 16 degrees and it’s currently -3 outside. Nah, it’s still just plonk.

Last night in France. It’s been interesting. We talk about what has made us go wow! in France. Because we’ve done bits of France at three different times, it’s hard to think of it as a whole. But there have definitely been some places that have hit us on emotional levels, both awesome and awful. We’d been warned that the French people were arrogant but that certainly hasn’t been our experience. Mind you, we don’t assume they can speak any other language than their own, so we always try to communicate in French. Probably not very well, but we get by.

Wednesday 27th November

We are staying in an aire beside the old city walls of Peralada. After breakfast we cross the road and enter through the arched gateway. It’s just wonderful. It’s a genuine old town. The only concession to tourists is a few notice boards in some of the squares, mostly about Ramon Muntaner, a Chronicle writer, who was born here. There is a museum but it’s not open. We wander around looking at the way the houses snuggle together. Brick adjacent to stone adjacent to block. Nothing square or uniform, only as straight as the builders eye. The gnarled olive trees cast dappled shadows on walls coloured with hues of autumn. Coffee in a small cafe with lots of locals.

Back to the van and we top up our fresh water and give the outside of the van a quick clean. It’s got to the stage we end up with dirty fingers every time we open the back door. We then plot our route out to Port Lligat. This is where Salvador Dali lived. We climb up numerous switchbacks and down again and finally reached a tiny tiny fishing village. Dali’s house is on the waters edge. He started of with one tiny two room attached cottage and ended up with the whole row. We don’t go in the house but look around the outside and in the shop, which is in the cottage he started off with. We had to park the van up at the top of the hill and walk down so we then drive further up and around then back down the other side of the bay and have lunch. It’s a beautiful tranquil bay. There are several islands enclosing the bay so the water is gentle. And crystal clear.

Greg wants to go out to the lighthouse that we can see. So we drive past the ‘No Autocamper’ signs and along a narrow winding road through unbelievably rugged terrain. We reach the lighthouse, and thankfully a large carpark. We are at the eastern most point of Spain, Cap de Creus. The rocks are fascinating, most look like petrified tree bark, then there are yellow blobs and stuff that looks like concrete and slate-like rocks. The plants grow out of nothing and hug the ground, curling up the sheltered sides of rocky outcrops. Greg takes lots of photos.

I eventually retreat to the warmth of the van. I find another spot to park up tonight thats closer lol. It’s still going to be over an hours drive so hopefully we make it before dark. This area we’re currently in isn’t camper friendly. Most carparks have height barriers and those that don’t have “No overnight camping” signs.

We drive winding switchback roads around the coast. It may have a white line down the middle of it but it isn’t two cars wide. We cross into France through an old border control gateway. The windows are open but there is no one sitting on the chair behind the desk. Most other borders we’ve crossed the buildings are either completely gone or boarded up. This one looks like they’ve just popped out, except for the graffiti. The site I’d picked isn’t much, Greg finds a spot further on using Google satellite but it’s worse so we move on again. Third spot is better but not fantastic. Never mind it will do. It’s full on dark now so don’t want to keep on looking. There is another camper that obviously has just pulled in too, so we’re not alone.

We’re both sad to leave Spain. We’ve loved what we’ve seen and are quite aware we have only seen a small part of it. I think there are interesting time ahead for the country though. The last few days traveling through Catalan have made us very aware of that. There have been thousands of yellow ribbons, either painted or real, calling for the release of pro independence politicians. Also signs, tags, banners calling for a referendum and/or a republic. Catalan is the first language here and I can’t see this divide simply dying away.

28th November

Looking ahead at the distance we still need to cover and the days left, we realise we’re going to have to take much bigger steps so it’s going to mean some motorways. Alas, motorway driving is boring and you can’t just pull over to look at the scenery. Oh well. It is what it is.

We were entertained this morning by the young French woman in the van in front of us jumping out her side door, pulling up her dress and wiggling her butt in her lacy knickers, presumably, at the person still in the van. She suddenly notices us and laughs, pulling her dress back down. Doesn’t deter her too much because she just steps over the low wall, pulls them back down, squats and has a pee.

We then hit the road. Down the coast a bit then inland to Millau Viaduct. It’s 3km long and is the tallest bridge in the world having a structural height of 336.4 metres (1104ft). It’s quite pretty with the sunlight catching the cables. We get off at the visitors centre and lookout point. Have a look around at both the lower lookout and the upper. There is free wifi so Greg schedules some posts then we drive on and around and under it. We going to stay the night in the valley below it.

There are two potential sites the first beside the river. Lovely photos on the app but when we arrive and started driving down the two dirt uneven ruts we have doubts. Is it going to open up? We drive a 300 metres or so and decide it’s probably not. I get out and walk ahead to see if there is somewhere to turn around because reversing back wouldn’t be fun. I find a small area that could work so we drive on and perform a multi point turn. You’d need a four wheel drive here and I still couldn’t see where you’re meant to actually park.

We carry on to the second potential place which will do. There are a couple of motorhomes here already and Greg has to move a boulder to make space for us to park but that’s okay and our view through the windscreen is of the viaduct, lights coming on as we watch.

29th November

I look ahead of the weather app to the days and nights we’re planning to be in Mulhouse, and a car museum. High of 3, low of -3. Now that’s going to be fun, not! When we collected the van we were told not to let the inside temperature get below 3 degrees as the lpg will liquify and then possibly turn to ice and block the pipes. Guess we will have to leave the heat on when we go into the museum as well as running it all night.

We go for an explore around the village of Peyre, the village we are staying at. It is mostly Troglodyte houses, as in homes and other buildings built in caves. We’re parked on top of the bluff we walk down a switchback lane it’s not very wide and when we get into the village the main roads are only 1.5m wide. One of the corners is so tight that the cars we saw go on a few metres and reverse in front of the old church to turn around. The town itself is so pretty. The old church and several of the upper houses are built in and out of caves. The outer wall of the old church is flush with the cliff wall around it. It has intriguing stain glass windows. The lower houses are on the steep slope, their top floor or roofs in line with the lane above. There is nobody around except for two builders working on a house. Greg takes lots of photos because every direction you look is a beautiful scene – a small table outside a door with some Veggies for sale, the cave with a public toilet and hand basins, the sloping roofs with crows swooping in and out of holes in the cliffs above, faded doors and shutters, flower boxes. And as a backdrop to all this ancient stuff is the super modern viaduct sweeping across the river Tarn and the autumnal coloured trees. We eventually drag ourselves away, back to the van and hit the road.

We drive across country, through the Parc National des Cevennes. The trees are at the end of their colours, mostly browns with a few pops of yellow or orange. The river beside us is the most amazing aquamarine colour. It’s totally clear and fast flowing. The train line follows the road over arched viaducts in every valley. We stop for lunch just outside one little village and there is a small snake sunning itself on the wall. It puffs itself up and arches back as Greg takes photographs of it.

We carry on driving through gorges and over plateaus. There are rainbows but no rain thankfully. We traverse plane tree lined avenues, reminding both of us of La Sagrada. Greg has to stop, of course, to take photos. I now factor in photo op time when planning our destination and timings. Today’s travel according to google is about three hours. It will take us about five. That includes coffee and lunch stops so it’s not all down to Greg. There is also the factor that we don’t drive at the speed limit.

The first spot I’d found to stay now has height barriers so we cross the bridge and pull into a paid aire. €15 and we get power and wifi plus water and drainage. Can’t complain really. We plug in and have a drink and nibbles. The sun is just starting to set so we leg it down the end of the road to the real reason we’ve come to Remoulin – Pont de Gard. There is nobody around as we walk through the empty carpark and past the closed visitors centre and along a lit path to the aqueduct. The sky through the arches is amazing colours and the moon is peeping through an upper window. Greg sets up his camera to take some long exposures. Timing is everything as the moon moves so you can’t set too long a time. THEN the lights came on. Total OMG! We move down the bank a bit so we get the reflection in the water and watch as it performs a light show for an audience of two. Another pinch me moment.

The Pont du Gard was built by the Romans in the first century to supply water to Nimes, then called Nemanusus. It’s the highest of all Roman aqueducts and one of the best preserved, primarily because it was also a toll bridge. Money talks.

Eventually it gets too cold and we retreat to the van for a late dinner. We’ll go back early tomorrow morning to catch the sunrise. Or at least that’s the plan tonight.

Speaking of plans; I’m plotting courses, finding Aires and planning all day drives to get us to Saint Tropez tomorrow and Monaco on Sunday night. Then I stop and ask myself ‘why?’ This holiday has never been about rushing from one spot to another and the ‘must visit’ tourist destinations. So I throw the plans away. We will get to wherever we get and we will see whatever is in front of us. Saying that, Monday and Tuesday will be all day driving days as we head inland and back to Munich. Just one planned stop, the car museum in Mulhouse on Wednesday. Likely to be an all day affair. Thursday won’t be quite so long but we’ll need to get the van in order and ready to hand back on Friday morning.

Sunday 24th November

Before we leave camp, a lady asked us in an Aussie twang ‘are you guys kiwis?’ We chat, comparing travel stories. They purchased their van in the UK and are traveling indefinitely. They’ve just come south after spending 8 months up in the Scandinavian countries, mostly Norway. Got out before the snow. We then drive an amazing cliff hugging coast road to Barcelona then tunnel through the city and on to our chosen campground. It’s the most expensive campground yet, about €35 a night. But that’s the price for security. The lady this morning told us how her husbands wallet was pickpocketed in Barcelona on the train. I know I’m going to be tense the whole time.

We ate a quick lunch then walked 200 metres to the train station. A train pulled in just as we got to the ticket machine. Greg’s like – hurry. I’m like – there will be another train, I need to be certain I get the tickets correctly. English was an option which simplifies things but it still which station do we want. So we get the tickets and catch the next train to Arc de Triomf. Come up and out at street level and there it is, just like in Paris but instead of being in the middle of a manic roundabout, this one is at the start of a pedestrian area. Great!

We wander around exploring. I have some Gaudí places on google maps to check out. We find a couple but I make a wrong turn and we end up away from the general area. Never mind we’ll be back in this area tomorrow and can see the Parc and the Casa Mila then. Barcelona is a big city with wide roads and big squares. We end up in the Gothic quarter with small lanes between balconied apartments which retains that intimate feeling. We have tapas for dinner in a small plaza, a brazier beside our table keeping us warm as the sun goes down and the temperature drops dramatically. One of the dishes we ordered was crispy Aubergine and one taste as we both exclaimed OMG it was so good. It just melted in your mouth like a deep fried Camembert.

We then meandered along the dark, lamp lit lanes heading in the general direction of our train station. Barcelona feels really neat like this. Tomorrow it may feel totally different when all the shops are open and people working. We will see.

25th November

Happy birthday Tim.

As we’re eating breakfast I google the free walking tours. Discover that unlike in the other cities we’ve done them, they’re not at 10.30 and or 11.30 and run for 2 hours. Here they’re 10 and or 11 and run for 2.5 hours. It’s now a few minutes before 9 and Greg hasn’t started eating his breakfast yet. We’re not going to make a 10am one (20mins train, 15mins walk). So we’ll aim for an 11am and skip off before the end to get to our scheduled time at La Sagrada Família.

Our walking tour guide is Leon (from London) and he is seriously trippy with a dark sense of humour. He runs through 2500 years of history with some side tracks in 10 minutes. You can see in his face when a thought catches him as he’s talking fast through this overload of names and dates. It’s actually pretty cool. We get the legend – Hercules and the facts. He explains Barcelona seems to have always chosen the wrong side in history and these decisions are still effecting things now. We learn the the Gothic cathedral is just a gothic facade stuck on the front of a much older (14th century) and much simpler church. It houses the remains of Saint Eulalia, 13 year old patron saint of Barcelona. Apparently her remains are still in perfect condition, interesting as she suffered 13 tortures before being beheaded. Apparently ‘No mortal is pure enough to gaze at her remains’ and a priest who did was struck blind. Cue joke about the stalls selling white canes. We can’t go into the torture chamber today because they are erecting the Nativity Scene in there as they do every year. We see the plaza that was the execution cemetery, now used as a school playground. Joke about people in the area hearing the screams and cries of the executed victims, lunchtimes and playtime. We stop by Picasso’s fathers art school, bit more rapid history there. We visit the Jewish quarter. The Catholics allowed the Jews to remain in the city as long as they remained in this set area and as long as their synagogue was smaller than the smallest Catholic Church. The Jews weren’t stupid, at street level the building is small but underground it’s much bigger, running under the neighbouring buildings and could fit all their congregation in. I learn some Jewish history I didn’t know. They weren’t allowed to work with their hands so became negotiators, since the Moors and the Catholics wouldn’t talk to each other. They became money lenders because a Catholic cannot borrow from another Catholic. There were blamed for the Plague because they weren’t dying at the same rate (Jews liked to wash). We visit what used to be Trippy Square, for reasons evident by the name The city decided to clean it up and installed more CCTV cameras than anywhere else in the city and changed the name to George Orwell Square. 1984 anyone. At that point we have to leave as we’re now a 45 minute walk to La Sagrada and we still need to get some lunch. Real pity as we would have loved to continue his tour.

We get up to La Sagrada and the queue doesn’t look that bad but once through the first gate the queue for the security checks were horrid. We collect our audio guide and finally get to appreciate what we’ve come to look at. It’s just wow. Gaudí wasn’t bound by convention or how a building should look and it’s amazing that he got the backing to create this, or rather create the plans for this since it still isn’t finished. The first facade we face is the Nativity side. This was the only side completed before his death in 1926, hit by a tram. It faces the morning sun and tells of the birth of Christ. Then we enter the church itself, stand for moments just absorbing it all. It is clean, no statues here (or hardly any) and is made to represent trees. We have to interrupt our progress to make our scheduled time to go up the Passion Towers. Actually the best bit in the tower was the staircase back down. We then backtrack into the main church, listen to the guide, Greg takes lots of photos then we look at the outside of the Passion facade. This side faces the setting sun and tells the story of Christ’s death. At the top of some of the towers are brightly coloured bowls of fruit/vegetables. Again winter fruit for the evening side and summer fruit for the morning side. Subtle details that we don’t even realise until pointed out.

I’m left with the impression that Gaudí wasn’t really Catholic. He had put Jesus and the rest on the outside and inside is a tribute to Mother Nature. Even the highest (unfinished yet) tower, which is the tower of Christ is to be 192.5 metres high so not to be taller than the nearby mountain. The guide refers to the mountains as gods work but you have to be a total believer in Genesis to accept that. Like all artists in those days you needed a Patron and the wealthiest was the Church so you did what you had to do.

It was a very interesting place to visit and a church I actually felt contemplative in. We eventually were Gaudi’ed out and left. We still hadn’t visited the Parc or the Casa Mila but we go for a drink instead. Decide to go back to George Orwell Square and a Vegetarian restaurant we saw then and have a nice dinner instead. It’s been a long day and my brain is full.

26th November

OMG we only have 10 more nights in the van. Actually that’s a good thing I think. A change of routine is sorely needed. I’ve planned out all the rest of our dinners to try and empty the pantry. Then we go to a supermarket to buy a couple of extra ingredients and drinks to accompany our meals, plus lunch stuff.

We drive down the coast some more then turn inland. A change of scenery. There are mountains, some with snow on them in front of us. There is water in the rivers and a lot more trees. Green pines and yellows and browns of all the rest.

We arrive at Figueres, park and eat a quick late lunch. We’ve come here to visit Salvador Dali’s Teatre Museu. After the end of the Spanish Civil war Dali bought the ruins of the Municipal Theatre to create his own museum. Three reasons, in his own words ‘where, if not here in my own city, should the most extravagant and solid examples of my art remain, where else? The municipal theatre, or what was left of it, seemed to me to be very appropriate for three reasons: first, because I am an eminently theatrical painter: second, because the theatre is in front of the church where I was baptised and third, because it was precisely in the lobby of the theatre that I had my first exhibition of paintings’.

So where better to view Dali than as he intended and displayed himself. We figured we’d be there an hour or two. We were there for three and they were closing as we left. You could spend ages in front of his paintings and still not see all the details, hints and nuances. There is repeated figures and themes in lots of his work. At one point I said to Greg, how did he sleep at night? Then we entered a room with a bed and bath and other furniture that definitely were not relaxing. His mind must have been a pretty twisted place and he certainly had incredible talent to share his thoughts with us all in such a way. And in so many different mediums. At the end is an unfinished painting that he’d been working on for 5 years so I guess he paints multiple things, returning to them whenever the fancy takes him. As part of our ticket we get entry into a separate space with his Jewels. Oh wow. Never before have I lusted over a broach. I lusted over three.

It is full on dark by the time we get back to the van so we head for the closer of two potential spots for the night. Challenges, finding the unlit intersections to traverse across the countryside from one small town to another. Large tractors working the fields by headlights. Clearly a downside to the 2 to 3 hour lunch break. We finally make it and park up alongside other campers. Guess we’ll see what around us in the morning

Last night in Spain. Back to France tomorrow.

Wednesday 20th November

With my eyes closed, I listen to the rooster. It’s 5am and sunrise isn’t until nearly 8. We both should still be asleep. I stretch my legs and relax them, trying to will myself back to sleep. I can hear Greg’s relaxed breathing beside me and feel the warmth of his back. Listening, I distinguish the occasional car and truck on a distant road. It’s a change to not hear the sea. There is a low murmur I recognise as the wind. We’re sheltered here so it’s not rocking the van. I roll over and punch up my pillow. Maybe a different position will help. 6am and I switch my phone on under the covers. Check emails and notifications. Greg rolls over, I’m probably disturbing him so I put my phone away and close my eyes. Mentally start writing this. It works because next thing it’s 7.30 and Greg is getting up to use the toilet. Back in bed we snuggle together as the patch of sky above the skylight gets brighter and brighter. It feels very lazy to not get up until 8am but we’re living our lives by the sun these days so this is now our normal.

………

When we leave camp it’s 11am so we drive a kilometre into the local centre to get a coffee and have a look around. As we drive along the main road we spot a parking space right outside a cafe. Park and walk in. And step into England. Andy, the owner is from just outside of London, we end up having a good chat with him and a few of his regular customers ( also English) plus his Dutch assistant. Like others they’re amazed we’re from New Zealand and impressed with where we’ve been. Seems to be a regular story – we’ve seem more of their own country than they have. There is a barber next door and Greg needs a haircut but we’re put off by tales from one of the guys of the clip coming off halfway through a cut and leaving a long bald patch on his head.

We go for a walk through town then drive down to the local beach, El Pinet. Go for a walk along the shore then Greg goes for a swim, his 6th in Spain. Back to the van for lunch and we set course for our next destination.

Immediately outside town there are salt pans and, oh my god! Flamingos. We find a place to stop, well actually three places, so Greg can get out his long lens and take some photos.

We eventually drive on with only one more quick stop at a small supermarket for some drinks, our pantry surprisingly bare. One bottle of Rose, one bottle of Sangria and eight cans of beer for a grand total of €8. We’re certainly living within our budget these days.

Tonight’s home is a small stony beach down a rough gravel road. Once again the sound of the sea is our music. There are about 4 campers at the top of the cliff and we park up beside 2 in the carpark below. As the sun sets we’re joined by another 3. Plates are a mix of European countries but no Spanish for a change.

……..

For the last two weeks our Facebook news feed has been overrun with posts about the Owairaka Maunga Trees. For those who don’t know in 2014 all the volcanic cones in Auckland were given over to a Maori Trust under the treaty negotiations with public access to them being continued. The Trust has a long term replanting plan with native trees. The first post I saw on the current tree issue, being the removal of 345 exotic trees in a 4 week time period, initially shocked me. I then thought of the park over our back wall which was completely cleared and replanted and within a year we were getting lots of native birds. I also thought of a university project Chelsea did with reference to the bird flight paths over Auckland and the importance of the Maunga in that. And I thought okay I’m fine with this plan.

People argued that the trees should be removed gradually and the mature trees could shelter the young ones as they grow. Good thought. I then learned that this is stage two of a long term strategy and stage one had been the planting of over two thousand natives. I learned that the 345 trees are only 44% of the mature trees on the Maunga and most of them are Eucalyptus. I learned that Eucalyptus bleed oil into the soil to stop any other plants from growing. Again I thought yes I’m okay with this plan.

People argued spring is the wrong time, birds are nesting in the trees. Again a good point. I then learned that spring is a good time to chop down trees and plant new ones. I learned that any tree found to have a nest in it won’t be chopped. I learned they have a planned strategy of working from one corner so birds and insects etc have an escape path. I learned the extensive resource consent was signed off by both Forest and Bird and the Tree Council. So I’m still okay with this plan.

I am awed at the passion of the protesters camping out on the Maunga to stop the contractors from accessing the site. I am disappointed to see professional protesters and political groups involved. I am unnerved at the zealness of the protesters and saddened to see personal attacks on social media of anyone who disagrees with their opinions. I hope they can open their eyes to the full picture and somehow, without losing face, accept the plan and the Trust’s right to implement it.

I’m reminded of when myself and others formed a community group to save Harbutt Reserve, Oakley Creek and the waterfall. Before the advent of social media. My mother has a newspaper clipping with a photo of myself, David Sorrell and a few others at the base of the waterfall. Would I have blockaded access? Chained myself to a tree? I don’t know. I don’t think so. In that case logic won out and the land was transferred ultimately to Auckland Council and became public parkland. Years later I read a National Party report on putting the Waterview motorway overland and it quoted our local resistance as reason to tunnel that particular section.

…………..

21 November

We head off to Valencia, driving around a peninsula of harsh rugged mountains, past offshore rocks bigger than Gibraltar. We round the cape to see orange trees by the thousands. Then it’s the slow traffic crawl into a city. In this case Spain’s third largest. Park4night has located for us a large free carpark beside the police station for security. We pull in and head towards a few other campers parked up. Safety in numbers. There is a self appointed ‘guard’ and we pay him a few euros to protect our van. Later on, while eating lunch we watch ‘parking assistants’ direct cars into parallel street side parking for a few coins. We don’t see any beggars and I totally approve of this sort of entrepreneurialship. There is mana, honour and self respect in earning a wage.

We lock everything up securely and walk into town. Valencia’s point of difference is it’s Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. (city of arts and sciences). In what had been the riverbed of Turia, which was rerouted after a bad flood in 1957, and turned into a sunken park, locally born architect Santiago Calatrava designed buildings and bridges to house an opera house, a museum, and other civic services. There are all unique but compliment each other. In my eye, there is nautical references, one looking like a huge fish, one like a blue whale coming vertically out of the water with krill in its mouth. The most unusual one looks like a giant eyeball. There are shallow pools of water all around every building and it it all set in the green parkland with sculptures and pathways.

We walk around a bit then go to a local restaurant for a long leisurely lunch, then walk it off by exploring some more. On the way back to the van we detour to a barber for Greg to get a haircut. Slightly better than his last one but still well down on the first cut in Montenegro.

22 November

First thing this morning I book tickets to La Sagrada Família. I meant to do it yesterday morning but forgot. So on Monday afternoon we have scheduled times for both La Sagrada and for the Passion tower. Free camping in Barcelona is allowed but apparently break ins are extremely frequent so the safest option is a campground outside the city but on the train route.

Morning chore, Greg wants a third camera battery for Africa and somehow a couple of screws have come out of his camera (& been lost). He discovers there is a Fujifilm camera shop in Valencia. It’s too far to walk or cycle so we drive. And then drive around in circles trying to find somewhere to park. End up doing as the Spanish do and parking in the middle of the intersection opposite the shop. I stay in the van with the engine running to be safe. Sitting in the drivers seat hoping I don’t actually need to drive anywhere as I haven’t driven the van any further than a couple hundred metres. The gearbox is so touchy that I haven’t bothered getting comfortable with the left hand drive issue at all. By the time we get back to Auckland I won’t have driven for over ten months! Not sure who will be the most unrelaxed, Greg, who is now totally comfortable driving a left hand vehicle or me, sitting on the right and actually having control.

The extra camera battery is no problem but for the screws they say to go to another place a short distance away. Luckily when we get there a van pulls out of a parking space right outside. It’s purple painted lines and we don’t know if it’s residents only so again I stay in the van. Unfortunately they convey it will take 2 to 3 days to get the screws in so no good for us. Then we negotiate the traffic again to get out of town.

For lunch we stop at a beach, follow some tyre tracks up to park metres from the sea. Next thing a police van pulls over and two officers come knocking. This is the beach, they say. You cannot park on the beach. We move a hundred metres down the road. Same view but there is a line of flattish stones between us and the sea. Actually nicer too, there was a lot of weed at the first spot. Breath a sign of relief after all the stories I’d read online about Spanish police corruption, like being pulled over and having to pay cash to be allowed to go.

We carry on driving through places that look like Las Vegas, a building made to look like Easter Island, others with moulded animals and things, theme parks and waterslide parks, and row upon row of apartment blocks, then orange groves and derelict buildings or areas of weed choked roads and graffiti marked unfinished complexes. Subdivisions with infrastructure started but not finished. It’s such a contrast and really tells the story of Spain.

Our spot for the night was recommended by an English couple a few days ago. There is this huge low peninsula of rice paddy fields and wetlands so lots and lots of birds. Greg is pretty keen to get out his long lens. Unfortunately it starts raining as we arrive. Undeterred we venture out. Haha I swear the birds see him coming. They always take flight just before Greg’s ready.

23 November

This mornings dawn chorus is very loud booms, followed by the flapping of wings and the bang of guns. Greg goes out predawn with his camera. I suggest he wear his high viz jacket but of course he doesn’t. Do birds see colour? Greg comes back not overly happy. The birds are all skittish, not surprisingly, and hard to photograph.

After breakfast we were thinking of going for a walk or a bike ride around the wetlands but the wind starts absolutely howling and it’s leading black clouds in our direction. We decide we’d rather drive back to the mainland. The road coming out here are single track and sit high above the paddy fields. No room for error or gusts pushing the van around. Most of the other campers seem to be leaving too.

We drive along to Tarrangona and park. Walk into the centre. This was a huge Roman City back in the day. We look at the forum and the amphitheater, trying to stay in the sun and out of the wind. We have lunch in a square and just as we’ve finished eating a huge gust of wind blows through and glasses fly off several tables smashing onto the ground, not ours thankfully. We take it as a sign to move on.

We’re going into a campground tonight, not because we need to but because I couldn’t find anywhere else that didn’t mention break ins in the reviews. It’s only €12 with electricity and wifi so I can’t complain.

Friday 14th November

The campground wifi is heaps better in the morning so we hang around and upload photos and blogs. I find a new place to stay tonight as the first place I’d chosen is 3 hours away. Chat to a young German couple in the next van. Like us they are traveling around Europe for 9 months. They started the day before us and finish up a few days before we do. Unlike us they’ve popped home a couple of times to do cleaning and stuff. Also they bought their van new at a fair and will sell it when they finish. They go off to bike to this particular beach the camp owner told us is the best in Spain. We’re planning on checking it out too but we’ll drive when we’ve finished on the devices and visited a supermarket.

From the carpark high above the recommended beach, it looks amazing, blue sea turning turquoise at its edge. Golden sand and no buildings in sight. When we get down there though, it’s not sand but small pebbles, not easy to walk on and the beach has three shelves and steep drops. Getting in the water would be easy, getting out not so much. There is also a cold wind down here coming off the sea. Greg decides he can swim later at a different beach. We walk to the end of the beach and turn back. Walking this way we’re looking at a cement works with wharves that ships obviously fill up at. Not the prettiest of sights. We climb back up to the carpark and go out to a lookout on the headland. Once again, from up here the beach looks amazing.

We have lunch then I plot the route to the beach we’re going to stay tonight. It’s an hours drive in that direction. Greg on the other hand decides to go in the opposite direction up a small road he thinks will go to a lighthouse. It does and there is an old tower up there so a good diversion. We compliment each other’s nature. Practical against impulse. The next detour he wants to take, I definitely veto. Not keen on driving down a river bed to some totally remote beach.

We pass a deserted beach with a few campers parked up and pull over. Contemplate staying there but decide to push on to our chosen spot. When we arrive I’m not entirely happy with our decision. It’s on the edge of a resort type town so not as natural. But that is going to be our reality as we continue along the coast. We park up and walk across to the beach. Greg is having an internal debate about whether to go for a swim or not. A look at the approaching clouds swings it to going to the beachside bar for a drink instead. Couldn’t have done that at the other place. We loop back to the van for the laptop and iPad as there is free wifi. It was definitely the correct choice for drinks over swimming as it hails! The waitress and barman rush outside as stare in amazement. The waitress says to us – this is crazy! They don’t get weather like this.

I go through our African itinerary and enter all the flights into my phone diary. Challenging as I have to make sure I get the correct time zones for every flight. Realise we have one day with three shortish (between 1 & 3 hour) flights. God, I’m so nervous about missing any flight (I’ve missed 2 so far in my life and nearly a third) that I always get to airports early, so that I know this day is going to be a stressful one for me. The last connection is only 45 minutes from landing to take off. On the plus side, I’m now totally relaxed about the 16 hour non stop flight home – no changes, no connections, just get on and I’ll have time to watch 8 movies.

16th November

We’re sitting here having breakfast when suddenly there are dolphins leaping out of the water in front of us. There are a couple of small fishing boats out there so food about.

We go for a wander through the town. The sun is shining and if you stay out of the wind and the shadow it’s even warm.

Back to the van and I plot in the place I’d originally picked for last night. We meander along the coast, stopping regularly at the lookout points. I think I’ll need to find another closer spot to stay tonight. Looking at the long range forecast for Barcelona, we’ll be better off spending longer before we get there anyway.

The spot we stop at for lunch is down a very skinny gravel track. Once again we have our fingers crossed there is a place to turn around. Yes there is thankfully. There is a little beach which to access you go through one of three caves. There is a large cave at one end so after Greg has a swim we get the torches and explore. It goes quite a way and changes into a brick arched tunnel. Greg experiments with some long exposure photography and ‘light painting’ with a bike headlight. The end of the tunnel is blocked so no idea where it goes too. There are mine tailings around but this doesn’t seem like a mine.

Back to the van and I find a beach to stay at 7 minutes drive away. We arrive and there is big Camper Prohibition signs in 4 languages so we drive on a little bit and spot a camper parked on the edge of the beach at the other end of the settlement. Talking to them, they communicate that they asked in town and were told they could park there but no more than two nights. So we’ll stay here too. Google maps tell me we’ve traveled a grand distance of 24km today. And it’s taken us 4 hours.

We go for a walk. Up a dry river bed and around past horticultural shadehouses, acre after acre of nylon/polyester shade cloth. Greg’s taking photos of the setting sun against the distant mountains. A shepherd is herding his flock of goats and sheep home for the night. Some run across the road to some grass. He yells out in English’ Hurry up! And they all turn and run frantically back to him holding open a gate.

Spain is confusing. We pass construction sites, some even with cranes but it’s hard to know if they’re abandoned or not. We pass shops and businesses all closed up, is it just for lunch or the season or permanently? We pass houses and hotels and resorts all shuttered up, likewise is it just for the season or permanently? We walk up dry river beds. In the villages some are even sealed and used as roads. In the countryside they are also used as roads but not sealed. When it rains, it must seriously rain. Down here it’s an odd mix of rural and resort, sitting uncomfortably cheek to cheek.

17th November

Last night Greg tried some more Astro photography since we finally had a clear night. Unfortunately there was a lot of light pollution from all along the coast. He comes back in the van complaining about the lights and the cold. I glance out the window and exclaim! The moon has just appeared, huge, deep orange, a waning gibbous low over the mountains. Greg grabs his puffer and disappears back outside again haha.

This morning he goes out to capture sunrise. Makes a change, normally I’m first up in the mornings. The sun rises out of the sea directly in front of the van, light streaming in the windscreen.

After breakfast we wander along the beach and back along the village promenade, stopping for coffee at the only place showing any sign of life. Locals come and go greeting each other, hugging babies and patting dogs. It is very relaxing

We drive on along the coast, stopping when we spot a market. It’s mostly clothes, I buy a shirt with a label that says Made in Paris on one side and Made in Italy on the other. To one side are produce stalls and I top up on veggies.

After this town the GPS takes us inland a bit. A quiet road through steep valleys. Suddenly the coast seems miles away. The buildings here are very clearly abandoned, roofs collapsing and windows missing. Fields of dead fruit trees. We come back down on the coast and it’s high rise apartments and roundabouts before we climb back inland.

We finally get to the aire that we were going to go to 3 nights ago. It had piqued our curiosity. I assume it was a sand bar with low islands once upon a time. Now it’s a continuous row of high rise blocks and McMansions. Some built to look like fake castles with crenellated walls around every balcony and square towers on the four corners. On a 12 story apartment block it just looks so wrong and there are 6 of them!

Feels like the Gold Coast on steroids. Total change from the last few nights. It’s empty of people until we get to the aire and there are about 10 campers. We park beside one with GB plates. They’ve been 7 months tootling around Europe. They need to go home soon to get their MOT renewed. They tell us a couple of interesting places to go.

18 November

We go for a bike ride around the area. The place is a temple to dashed property developers dreams. There are incomplete subdivisions and resorts. The biggest is a canal area shaped like a three pointed star. There are no houses at all, just white mooring bollards every few metres. Last night after dark each apartment tower had only one or two lit places. I believe a lot are holiday places and it is a lot busier in July and August. But even then it must feel sad. There is a massive bumper boat and mini golf area with weeds about 1/2 a metre high and slimy green water in the bottom of the extensive pools. Summer or not, no ones playing here. The sea would only need to rise a metre and these islands would be gone for good.

To carry on driving east we have to back track down the spit. There was a bit of rain overnight and there are massive puddles on the roads which makes us aware there is no drains, no storm water system. We wonder about the sewage system, especially as one area we drive through smells a bit whiffy.

We’re driving 24km from where we stayed last night but because we have to go west off the spit then around the lagoon and back to the coast it’s a driving distance of 58km. Either way we’re not going far these days. This is our chill and relax phase before our African adventure. I’m relaxed but I’m also getting twitchy. I struggle doing nothing. Mentally I’m planning out stops for the next 2 and a half weeks. Mentally going through my wardrobe for what to take to Africa and what to send directly back home. I counted the teabags this morning, lol, and we’re one bag short to get us through the rest of the time in the van. Haha, next time we’re talking to some English campers I’ll try to go a trade – half a container of peppercorns for a teabag.

There are 4 rocky bluffs in Torrevieja. All with several campers parked up. The first, closest to the beach is chokka. We park up at the second. The third also has plenty of room but the forth, again by a beach is full. We walk back to the first beach so Greg can have a swim and we stop at a local bar for a drink as the sun gets lower in the sky. Torrevieja is a lot more populated than last nights stop. A lived in place not a holiday destination.

We’ve noticed on the Mediterranean that there isn’t a great tidal difference, if any. Greg comments on the undercut of the cliffs we are parked on and I ponder if the lack of tide means the sea is constantly hitting the same spot over and over again.

19 November

Again we wake to a view of the Mediterranean uninterrupted through our windscreen. Another sunny day but again with the cold wind blowing from the north

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We get on our bikes and cycle 30 minutes to what on google looks like a pink lake (salt pan). Yes it is pink. Can’t really photograph it though, looks better from satellite. Nearby was a place that also piqued our interest and it is definitely more interesting in person than on google maps. On a huge flat piece of land somebody dug an oval hole about 30 metres long and 10 across and maybe 2 metres deep. The dirt that came out makes it seem deeper. Then they built two long concrete foundations, supported by these is a huge slug made out of curved plywood and covered with a black rubberised fabric. Peering up from a hole at the bottom there is a steel floor, we’re looking at the underside of it. Any access into the main part is long gone but we can only assume there was or was going to be a bridge of some sort. Maybe going from a third concrete building a short distance away. Google says it is a spa. Reviews say construction was never finished and it’s been like this since 2012.

We cycle back to town. Coffee then supermarket shopping. Then we drive on to a campground. Laundry, wifi, tanks filled and emptied. Two and a half weeks left in the van so we loosely plan our onward route. A few more days of total chilling then we’ll pick the pace up a bit.

Third campground in Spain we’ve stayed at and once again run by a French couple. What gives? And again they only seem to speak French. Not that we can complain. We communicate as well in French as we do in Spanish. Love the industrial sized washing machines and dryers. Means one load not two. The wifi, or as the French say weefee isn’t bad either.

Somehow the walk down to the beach doesn’t happen. To be honest, I didn’t expect it would. We get into camp and start the chores and get on the wifi then don’t move.

I give Greg a choice for dinner- risotto or noodle stir fry. He picks the risotto because he doesn’t really like stir fry. Lol, he’s only postponing the inevitable, we’ll have it tomorrow night. There are limitations to one pot, one element only meals.

Once again the wifi slows dramatically come evening. Come on people, don’t you realise uploading photos to Greg’s Eye is much more important than you watching tv or downloading movies to watch for the next few days lol.

Sunday 10th November

We had a very late night last night. Booked tickets to go to Alhambra, next available time Monday afternoon, and they wanted all sorts of details. ID numbers for both of us, full home address, ages and more. The wifi isn’t top speed so every entry has a circle going round and round. Greg passes the laptop over to me for the credit card payment and I click finalise without double checking everything. This morning I’m concerned we haven’t received a confirmation email and double check the final booking page which was still open and oops the email address was written gb not bg. Well that explains that and hopefully when we get up there it’s to a problem. It was after midnight before we’d got to the finalise stage last night and after the disrupted night at Gibraltar, it’s easy to see how mistakes get made. We both are dying for a good nights sleep but just after we get into bed the wind starts. It howls. You can hear it coming and you brace yourself. Sometimes it hits the van, sometimes it misses. This morning I’m knackered. Greg is too.

We motivate ourselves to get moving and drive up to Granada. There is one campground and the reviews are that it’s expensive and services poor. I can’t find much else for free camping either.

The drive up there was white knuckle territory. It’s continuous viaducts, some over a kilometre long and they were unbelievably high but the nerve racking bit was the exceedingly strong wind gusts that would hit the van. And not just from one direction so poor Greg had no idea which way to brace himself. Like the SUV in front we ended up mostly straddling the two lanes so when a gust came side on, we would’d hit the barrier. There were wind socks which were spinning in circles sometimes.

We pull into the campground gateway and there is a handwritten sign saying closed in three languages. There is a man behind the gate and he waves us off, shouting something in Spanish. Bugger, we reverse out and turn right at the next roundabout. There are two campers parked on the side of the road. No signs prohibiting parking or overnighting so we park up too. Just saved €30. We now have a security routine. We chain both front doors to the steering wheel, close most of the blinds but not the windscreen, put food type stuff on the table so it looks like someone is here and close the bedroom door. Semi valuables all have unexpected hiding places, true valuables come with us, and I open the ashtray to show it’s empty. We exit when there is no one watching

We walk into the centre and check out a couple of walking tours. They’re both only at 10.30 in the morning. Go figure! So we wander around ourselves. Granada is different, it’s eight centuries as a Muslim City showing in architectural elements and overall feeling. Even the souvenir shops are different, no cork and aprons, instead harem pants and beads. We go up to Alhambra and collect our tickets since we haven’t got the email with all the details. Check out how big the parking is while we’re there. Not so trusting after Sintra that the streets or parking spaces that can fit our camper easily.

From there we walk to Mirador San Nicolas, a lookout with amazing view of Alhambra and the Sierra Nevada. Liverpool has a game tonight so Greg googles an Irish bar. Looks promising but the temperature is dropping and we are under dressed. I look at his phone for the direction of the bar and figure it’s north-West-ish and we’re parked north- east-ish so suggest we go back to the van, grab some more clothes then head to the bar. We get back to the van and then google the quickest way to the bar…. oops it was south-west of where we were and is now over an hours walk and kick off is in 20 minutes. We flag it, pour some drinks and follow on live scores instead. No guarantee the bar would even be showing the game. I do a quick google on Flamenco shows but they’ll all a long walk away. I think the universe wants us to have an early night. The weather forecast is for 2 degrees overnight so snuggled in bed will probably be the best place to be anyway.

11th November

When I realised the email address was wrong I had sent an email to the gblokes account explaining our mistake and asking if they could forward the email. Awoke to a reply this morning, with the forwarded email, from Glen and Graeme. Greg comments ‘Why the b?’ I reply ‘Maybe it’s G Blokes not G B Lokes’. We both have a bit of a lightbulb moment. Haha.

We do a quick supermarket shop, supplies were getting seriously low. We’d actually run out of teabags yesterday but being a Sunday the supermarkets were closed.

Then we drove up to Alhambra. Wow! Just wow! We spend 5 & half hours there. It’s seriously impressive. We explored Generalife first, it was the summer palace. The gardens are staggering. Cypress pines shaped like castle walls and in the ‘rooms’ are fountains and flowers. One stairway up a couple of terraces had water flowing down a channel in the handrails. The palace has spectacular views over the city below and over the inner courtyards always with water, be it a pool or a fountain or both.

Then there are more gardens. Palace walls, towers, ruins of older buildings In the middle there are a couple of palaces that are now hotels. I expect they’re probably out of our budget.

At the front, the pointy end of the hilltop is the fortress. Or rather the remains of it. The outer walls are intact and we climb to the roof of every tower but the inside low wall remains roped off.

We discover that the museum and art gallery are closed on Monday’s, along with the access to the Carlos Palace. It’s weird that 80% of the complex is open but not this bit. We can access the middle courtyard of this huge square building though and it’s a perfectly round area with two stories of arched walkways going around. I notice a couple of pillars have a darker area on the lower half then realise going around the circle that line gets lower and lower on each one. We realise it’s from the sun. It has bleached the pillars where it could and the darker line reflected the roofline on the north side.

Our last stop of the day is the Nazaries Palaces. This is queue time. We have an allocated 30 minutes on our tickets. Walk in and our jaws drop. This is different to any other palace we’ve seen. It’s clean lines but with such intricate detail. The walls are tiled on the lower parts and above are plastered panels. Carved like 3 or 4 layers deep. Look closely and it’s letters. Arabic for Allah over and over and over. Beneath the letters are leaves and flowers. There isn’t a single animal or person, it’s all nature or letters. At one time it would have all been bright colours but now it’s mostly the cream of the plaster. Muted colours still in corners or dark recesses. The ceilings, which are exceptionally high are either intricately carved wood or three dimensional plaster. There are high windows with panels over them. Letting in the breeze but nothing else. Everyone is walking round with their heads back, looking up. But even when you look down at the floor or straight ahead at the doors, it’s totally gobsmacking. This even puts the palace in Istanbul in the shade. Hopefully Greg’s photos will show what I’m failing to express in words. The workmanship is unbelievable. I’m also very impressed that it survived the Christian takeover.

We do drag ourselves away. Plan on heading back down to the coast and the warmer weather, last night it got down to 2 degrees and it’s going to be colder tonight. Downside is it’s a 2 hour drive and sunset is in 15 minutes.

We drive through some amazing valleys, like being back in Turkey with cave houses in rock pillars and hillsides. The sun is setting so no point in getting off the motorway and trying to take photos so we just ooh and arrh as we drive past. Another valley is totally flat and full of wind turbines. Guess it gets windy there. The moon rises in front of us. It’s almost full and is large, yellow from the rays of the setting sun with a light covering of cloud.

We reach the coast and join a whole lot of other campers parked by the beach at the start of Cabo de Gata-Níjar, a peninsula and National Park. It’s full on dark so we’ll explore tomorrow.

12th November

Happy Birthday Greg. One of the reasons we pushed ourselves driving last night is so we can totally relax today. Have absolutely no plan or ‘must do’ at all. We laze in bed for a while then get up and eat breakfast on the beach. Go for a walk, then decide we will drive on a bit. Check out the lighthouse, then around to San Jose and a couple of beaches off the beaten track. So it’s back to the van.

Drive out to the lighthouse and park along side some of the campers from last night. Walk around and look out over the headland. Then it’s back past where we stayed last night to the road over the headland and out to the coast and San Jose. As we drive into town there is a big carpark with some of the campers from last night so we pull in and park. There is a big sign Parking Prohibido Pernoctar. We walk down to the beach and along to the end and a restaurant. Lunchtime. We enjoy a lovely lunch with drinks and dessert, Greg has freshly caught sea bass, split down the middle and fried with a little pesto. We decide maybe we’ll just stay the night here. We’d passed a road with a camper parked on it so we move the van then Greg goes for a swim. Actually two. He gets stung by a jellyfish so gets out and we go to the other end of the beach. When we get back to the van the other camper has gone and we notice a big Camping Prohibited sign. We walk over to the other parking area and there are 6 campers parked up, clearly staying the night so we drive back and join them. Safety in numbers. The local campground is closed for the season so I’m sure we won’t get moved on. Park4night has it as daytime only but the reviews are that everyone overnights anyway and haven’t been disturbed. By nightfall there are 15 campers here, mostly Spanish plates.

It’s been a very chilled, relaxed day. Despite the moving of the van backwards and forwards. This part of the Spanish coast is still not commercialised and is so much nicer for it.

13th. November

Another sunny warmish morning. We walk around San Jose, buy some bread, drink some coffee, soak up some rays.

Then we drive west a bit to the Cabo de Gata National Park and some reportedly lovely untouched beaches. It’s a gravel road! Europe doesn’t do gravel roads, haha, we end up overtaking a couple of Spanish cars which we crawling along at less then 20km. In both instances they pulled over and let us past.

We get to the furthest beach, Playa de Monsul, and it feels like Whatipu. Even a bit of black sand. The waves are much smaller though. As we clamber over a rocky headland to another little bay, we keep an eye out for snakes and scorpions. Also something we don’t do back home. Greg wants to go for a swim but there is quite a few jellyfish washing up and he doesn’t want to get stung again.

We backtrack a couple of kilometres to Playa de los Genoveses. This beach is sheltered from the wind and has golden sand and no jellyfish. Greg goes for a good swim. The water is crystal clear. There are a few other people here but no one else is swimming.

Late afternoon we carry on driving along the coast. With frequent stops. This part of the Mediterranean coast is just amazing. Undeveloped with pristine coves and cute little villages. The terrain is classed as dessert and it is stony land with red dirt and low scrappy bushes between the tall hills and the blue sea.

Our spot for the night is in a tiny town called Rodalquilar. Half the place is wire fenced off ruins from when it was a gold mining town. The rest is newer white painted houses, currently with large art panels on every spare wall. We walk up a deserted lane with cactus and bougainvillea and lots of cats sunning themselves. We pass a bar with the owner in a Harley Davison tee shirt and a beard to mid chest standing outside. A couple of Germans were drinking at the tables on the opposite side of the lane. We decide we need to pause and have a drink also. It has been a really enjoyable, relaxed day and this place is just topping it off.

Google tells us there is an abandoned complex up the valley that was used in lots of movies including The good, the bad and the ugly. A lady we chat to about getting up there says there were film crews up there a couple of weeks ago. It’s an hours hike. Someone says we could drive there, someone else says only in 4 wheel drive. We decide we’d rather hike it anyway as there is the abandoned gold mine on the way and it looks like an interesting area. That’s tomorrow mostly sorted. We need to go into a campground, fill and empty tanks, do some laundry. Park4night locates just that sort of place 30 – 45 minutes drive from here so now all of tomorrow is sorted.

After our drinks we continue our stroll through the town, which is when we find the fenced off part. A lady tells us it was the gold workers township and someone wanted to buy it and restore it all but the government made it a National Park so it can’t be touched. So there are high wire fences keep everyone out and the houses are slowly crumbling back to the ground. Greg is seeing so many photo opportunities. Eventually I leave him to it and go back to cook dinner, a nice warming lentil dahl, which he really appreciates when he gets back at nightfall.

Free camping etiquette. Don’t turn up late in a massive Spanish camper and after you’ve parked in the corner, go and knock on the door of another big camper with German plates and ask them to swap places. They are in the best place because they arrived first. And they, like me, watched you arrive and look around at the available space. If they wanted to, they would have offered to move then but they didn’t, so flouncing off in a huff won’t get you anywhere but does provide some entertainment for everyone else.

14th November

It’s windy, very windy. There was a yellow warning for wind so it’s not unexpected. Before we leave ‘camp’ we walk up the road and buy some fresh rolls to make a picnic lunch for our hike. We then drive 5 minutes up the road to the ruins of the gold mine and park. The gold mine operated from 1940 till 1966. They had discovered the gold when mining lead and zinc and this plant was converted to solely produce gold. It’s totally different to old gold mining areas in New Zealand. There are 6 huge round pools. Since it’s closure it’s been used in various movies, being transformed into a science fiction orphanage or a medieval castle. Indiana Jones and the last crusade was filmed around here too.

From there we hike up and through a mountain pass to a high plateau then turn right down a long straight cactus lined road. The whole way the wind is strong in our faces, gusts pushing us backwards at times. We joke it will take us a quarter of the time to go back. Open our jackets and fly!

We arrive at the Cortijo del Fraile. A faded notice board tells us it was built by Dominican friars and confiscated in 1836 along with all religious properties and auctioned off into private ownership. It’s now part of the National Park. The notice board also lists 16 movies filmed here. It has a high wire fence around it but there is a very large hole in one corner. As we are debating going in a van turns up. There is a drivable road, just not the way we came. It’s a Dutch couple who live in Spain and are trying to visit every film location. They had tried to find this place a couple of years ago and failed so were thrilled to get here. They are surprised we walked here from Rodalquilar, they didn’t realise there was a track.

Greg then goes through the hole to take photos, followed soon after by the Dutch guy. Eventually we two ladies join them. Most of the buildings are just remnants of walls but the chapel is intact. A empty high vaulted space with a alter at one end and a balcony at the other. How the balcony is standing is a mystery as you can clearly see its construction is bamboo and plaster. Behind the chapel is a staircase going down and underneath and there is coffin sized recesses plus a square hole in the floor through which we can see brick arches. Not getting too close!

The cold wind starts getting to us so we say goodbye and head back. The wind, which we thought would assist us back actually proves quite a challenge. If we did open our jackets I think we would take off. It’s very hard to keep our feet underneath ourselves, particularly as the track is loose rock. This area is apparently the only place in Europe to be considered a desert. It is quite green now but that is because there was torrential rain two months ago causing flash floods and killing at least three people. Glad we weren’t there then.

We’re into a campground tonight, need to empty and refill the tanks. I found one on the app with the promise of good wifi.

As we drive there, we come around a corner and there is an oncoming truck overtaking three cars! Greg slams on the brakes and hauls over as far as he can, there is a barrier and a drop on our right. The trucks pushing over on the cars and they’re just about on the barrier on their side of the road. Somehow we all get through. There were three cars behind us who thankfully also reacted quickly. As we carry on, my heart starts pounding. Reaction to actually still living I guess.

The campground is owned by a French couple. Interestingly with only limited Spanish and English. The wifi is good but apparently the showers are not working lol. Never mind, we do have a shower on board, just a smaller space and tank than most campgrounds. These days it’s the wifi which is top priority. Greg is behind in his photos. I’d planned to go online and do our Tanzanian visa but unfortunately I get halfway through and it wants our current physical address and the nearest embassy for processing. That’s not going to work when our current physical address is generally a carpark and the nearest embassy changes weekly. Guess it means we will be doing the slow option of getting a visa at the airport when we land. Hopefully everyone else gets their visas online and it will just be us in the queue.

This is an amazing part of Spain and we are both loving it. Totally off the tourist route too. The camp owner tonight said (with the help of google translate) we are the first New Zealanders he’s ever met. The Dutch couple from today advise us that as we head along our way the coast is commercialised and mile after mile of hotels etc but if you go inland 20km it is untouched Spain. Small villages, vast countryside, genuine people. We’re getting pretty good at communicating without speaking English, well Greg is anyway. I get by, Greg attempts conversation.

Murphy’s law. I said the wifi was good. By 7pm, with another few campers arriving, the wifi slows right down. I suspect others are sitting in their large motorhomes with their satellite dishes up streaming tv programmes.

Wednesday 6th November

We leave camp but explore the area a bit. Firstly the wetlands, which we can’t seem to access, then the beach which we walk along to a cafe for coffee then back to our van. And lastly the town centre. Very small but we use an atm machine to refresh our cash. Then we jump on a motorway to Seville. We’re going to stay in a car storage place that is running a motorhome camp as a sideline. €15 with electricity, 24 hour guard and it’s 30 minutes walk from the city centre.

We walk into town and head first to the palace, Alcazar. Look at the queue. Look at the time, only an hour till closing as it’s winter hours. We flag it and just do our normal thing of getting lost in the lanes. Taking in what’s around us. Cities are always that much bigger so things are more spread out, less intimate.

We have a drink by the City Hall, a grand ornate building facing a large square. One end is an equally ornate bank with two massive trees cut into perfect cubes. From there we go and have dinner in a small lane by the cathedral, pizza and paella.

I’d been googling Flamenco and had located a place with no entry fee, just buy drinks. Over dinner and some more research I discovered you need to get there well before 8 to get in and the show starts at 9.30. We decide to go to a closer show with an entry fee that starts at 7.30. Justify the entry fee against the cost of 2 hours of drinks.

It’s a small room with a stage in one corner. The show starts with one man and his guitar. His fingers are amazing and the sound he is producing just mesmerising. He is then joined by another man. Their first song is just the guitar and the second man clapping. Then they are joined by a lady and she dances to the singing of the second man. It’s a very sad, serious lament. She leaves the stage and the singer sings a couple of torturous songs. Not my thing but I can appreciate the technical ability to produce such long and varied notes. The lady who sold us the tickets is just outside the door and when he finishes the first song she applauds spontaneously so I figure it was a great rendition. The dancer comes back, in a different dress, and they do a couple of happier, flirtatious numbers.

Too quickly the show comes to an end. After a moment there is long round of applause, the audience had been bewitched by the twisting and rolling of her hands.

As we walk back through the city, it seems more intimate. The darkness closing in around us. Shop lights creating small tableaux to beguile the senses.

7th November

It’s raining. The forecast says it will clear soon. Unfortunately we’re headed into the mountains so the rain doesn’t stop for us and the temperature drops too. When we stop for coffee, I change my clothes. Long pants and long sleeves again.

Coffee, coffee, coffee. Once again this is become a challenge for Greg. His latest solution is to order 3 coffees, 2 espresso and 1 coffee with milk. He then pours one of the espresso into the coffee with milk to get his desired double shot. Today’s outcome was 3 espresso, one with a cream liquor in it.

We arrive in Ronda. It is a walled hilltop town straddling a steep gorge and has two bridges of note, one from the 16th century and one from the 18th. We park up with a few other campers on a quiet road and have soup for lunch while we wait for the rain to lift.

The rain does stop and I plot a walk across both bridges, through the town, past the bullring (oldest in Spain and still used once a year) and back to the van with full knowledge we will deviate.

I do wonder about why human habitation develops in such inaccessible places. I guess I know it’s because they were defendable which is a sad reflection on human nature.

Anyhow, there have been remains found from a Neolithic age but the name itself comes from an early Celt settlement in the 6th century. They called it Arunda. Romans had a fort here and Julius Caesar titled it a city. Later it was occupied by the Visigoths and the Berbers. It features heavy in the Napoleonic wars and later in the Spanish civil war. I need to read Hemingway’s ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ because apparently chapter 10 is based on actual events that happened here. In much more peaceful times Ronda was a prime destination for those undertaking their ‘Grand Tour’

The first bridge we cross was built in 1616 and is a single arch fairly plain bridge crossing the 390ft deep chasm. We then walk up the city walls and around to the second bridge, Puente Nueva which translates as new bridge. It was built in 1793 but is the newest bridge in the town. It is pretty spectacular. There is a chamber underneath the road in the middle of the arch that now days is a museum but used to be a prison and for a time a torture chamber. Reportly people were thrown from the window. We detour around one side of the cliffs for views the cross back and hunt out a path we’d spotted that lead down the valley so we could look up at it. Admittedly not from the bottom of the valley, but almost in line with the top of waterfall coming out from under the lower arch.

I can hear music drifting over the gorge from a busker high above on a terrace. It had started as one of those ‘blah’ days. The weather was crap, neither of us had slept well as we’ve both got sore throats and not feeling 100%. The drive here was boring and the place we’re overnighting is a dirty and neglected street. Looks like a subdivision that never happened. But as I stand here looking up at this bridge and out over the olive groves below, listening to the plaintive music I have a ‘pinch me’ moment. We are living a life outside of the ordinary and in 5, 10 years time we won’t remember the ‘blah’ moments and will just feel blessed for having done what we are doing.

8th November

It’s not raining but bloody hell it’s cold. Weather app says 6 degrees with a real feel of zero. We’d put an extra layer on the bed and didn’t want to get out. And we’ve still got 4 more weeks, might avoid mountain towns. Well after Granada anyway.

Heading to Gibraltar today, which will be a bit warmer. The road down is much more exciting then the road up. Steep, dramatic mountain tops, grey rock reaching up to the blue sky. Deep, treed valleys plunging below us. White village houses catching the light across the landscape. Occasional fortress ruins on craggy hilltops.

We get down to the Mediterranean and it’s a whole different picture. Mile after mile of apartment buildings. Glimpses of the sea but the beach is totally hidden. Then the rock comes into view. It’s huge and grows as we near it. Our approach isn’t pretty, industrial buildings with rough roads. Roundabout after roundabout after roundabout.

Then it’s into the chicanes to the border. Round a bend and there is one car stopped and a guy in a hi-viz vest waving us into the next lane. He approaches the driver’s window and asks for €20 border tax. We both just stare at him. We’d just driven under an led sign stating ‘There is no border tax. Do not pay unofficial collectors’. He say ‘quick quick’ and we can hear a siren in the distance. He backs away and takes off over a barrier and through a carpark, stripping off the vest as he goes.

We join the queue of cars, vans and scooters lined up for customs. Hand our passports over. He flicks through every page, then again, then again. Another officers starts the same on Greg’s. They call to a third officer, then a forth. I’m assuming this is because of the lack of stamp when we came back from the UK so open up the Eurotunnel ticket on my phone. Yes, it is the problem. He says we have to get a stamp. They mutter between themselves about the French. I ask where do we get a stamp? Some more muttering and they say they will let us go but we need to get a stamp. Lightbulb moment. I ask – will we get a stamp when we come back off the island. Answer- yes. Fantastic! Move onto the English Customs. He’s like, what was the issue back there? glancing at our passports. New Zealand, no problem, free to go, no stamps needed. When we tell him what the issue was, he rolls his eyes. ‘Bureaucracy! We’ve been at peace for 120 years.’ Or something like that.

We drive across the international Airport runway! There are people walking across. Apparently when a plane is landing or taking off the border is closed as this is the only road/footpath. Definitely a first for us. We drive through the town centre. Traffic is slow. Parking is non existent so we don’t stop until we’ve reached Europa Point. Park4night has it as a free carpark. To get there we go through two skinny, low tunnels and then a longer one. Look more like caves then man made tunnels, rough rock walls and ceiling. The ground uneven and the longer one has a row of random sized stones marking the footpath Technically it’s illegal to camp overnight in Gibraltar. Stealth vans obviously do it but we’re hardly stealth. My research and planning is we can park here, 30 minute walk will take us to the Jewish cemetery and a gate into the National Park. And from there we can climb the Mediterranean Steps to the top of the rock. More us than the expensive and easy cable car!

It’s a bit of a hike up the roads to the gate where we buy a ‘walkers ticket’ for £5 each. She tells us she has run out of the new maps so gives us an old one in French. Like other maps we’ve used it’s stylised but there isn’t a lot of places to get lost so it’s fine. The Mediterranean Steps starts off with an levelish path around the headland but looking at the looming rock on our left we know it’s not going to be easy all the way and yes, when we round the tip the steps start. They are interspaced with some switchbacks but we do gain quite some altitude in a short distance. We come up at the highest point, O’Hara’s Battery. There is a massive gun and information about it. We walk around the gun then through the engine room and the map room.

Next on the map is the newly opened ‘Sky walk’. Thick glass floor panels around a lookout viewing area. The middle panel is coned off with massive cracks in the glass. Lol. We walk what we can and look down on Nuns Well. What used to be a clean slope is now being returned to its native state. For many years however, this slope was used to collect the rainwater for the people living here.

We then reach the cable car top station and decide to have coffee in the cafe. I think I’m being smart as I have coins left from the UK but when the bill arrives there is a service charge. Bugger! So now I have Gibraltar pound coins and UK coins. Incidentally everything has 2 prices on it. One £ and one €. The € price is quite a bit more then the £, more than the current exchange rate.

As we leave there is a souvenir shop and I decide quickly to spend the coin on a vegan protein bar. As we are walking down the stairs I put it in an outside pocket of my daypack without even thinking. At the bottom of the stairs there are two macaque apes. One looks up and makes a beeline for me. I think ‘Shit, it’s going for my pack and turn away. It leaps up on me – my hip and shoulder – and as I’m still turning, moves to my pack. I’m putting up my hand to push it off, aware that we’d passed a guy earlier with scratches on his arms and neck, but it’s already jumped off me. It then sits down in front of me and expertly opens the protein bar and takes a bite. Greg wants it to happen again so he can get photos lol. I’m a bit pissed off mostly at the tour guides who deliberately feed them for photo opportunities with their paying customers. These animals have been educated that humans have easy food. I’m also pissed off at myself, I knew to keep the snacks I’d brought up with me secure but the whole coin thing distracted me and I made a mistake. The legend is that these Barbary Ales, Macaque monkeys, primates got here through a secret tunnel from Morocco but the reality is they were probably bought over on ships and likely as food. They did however thrive here because for them there is a lot of food. For humans there isn’t much at all. By WW2 their numbers were down to 7 so Winston Churchill arranged for more to be imported. Current number are about 300.

We descend via the steps on the Charles V wall. Lots of signs here warning that the Macaques will be aggressive if cornered. Then it is over a new suspension bridge and back to the Jewish gate. By the time we get back to our van we’ve walked over 12km and climbed 152 floors, that’s iPhone for you. Apparently a floor is 10 metres. Whatever! We climbed a long way up. And down again.

The sun is setting as we drive around the east side and off the rock. Through another rough hewn tunnel. This one two way and long, undulating it’s way down and around. We are aware we walked the edge of the rock above us.

Stop at customs and ask for a stamp in our passport. She refuses, saying no we don’t need one. Eventually we give up and carry on. Can’t say we didn’t try. Our spot for the night is only metres over the border. Beside a pétanque ground, still with the rock looming over us.

It’s Friday night. In four weeks we will be out of the van and in a hotel. Wow! Less than a month left and when we started our time seemed endless. Mind you, when I look back it seems ages ago and so recent all at the same time. We were chatting to a Welsh guy at the lighthouse, having passed him going the other way on the Mediterranean steps, talking about beaches and swimming. He suddenly pulls his head back and says Wow! You have been to lots of places! It makes me think, yes we have. We probably don’t fully appreciate yet what we have done and where we have been. We’re still looking forward. Looking back will be what we do later, much later.

9th November

Shortly after midnight I woke with a start. Was that a knock? Yes, there is another one. It’s not loud, not sure if it’s our van or the vans on either side of us. Quietly sit up and peer out the top of the blind. Suddenly the van shakes and there is a man standing my the drivers door. He says something I didn’t catch. I wake Greg and we throw 9n some clothes then creep around the van peering out all the blind gaps trying to see where he’s gone. Can’t see anything and it’s quiet so we get back into bed. A few minutes later the van on our right starts up and leaves. Clearly spooked. Logic tells us it’s just another scammer trying to get money. Anyone official would have been louder and have a torch and identification. Logic also suggests they won’t break in or do anything illegal but it still doesn’t help me trying to sleep. My ears are straining and I jump at any noise. The cars coming and going do eventually stop and I drift off to sleep.

I still wake at my normal time before 6 regardless. After I’ve put the water on, Greg get up and goes down to the beach to take photos of the sunrise. I just watch from the warmth of the van. A young German guy surfaces from the van on our left. I chat briefly to him about the nights visitor. He had just ignored him too though he’d clearly heard the guy say ‘Police’. He drives off and Greg comes back suggesting we drive down to the actual beachfront for breakfast, which we do. Cornbread toast with pumpkin jam. Yum.

In Spain and Portugal, like Italy, we are disgusted at all the rubbish. Plastic bottles and wet wipes everywhere. Cans and paper littering the countryside. But here, in Spain and in Portugal, what is worse is the piles of human shit. Wet wipes poked in on the top. It’s not in the bushes even, but on the footpaths, the boardwalks, the lookout points, the side of the road. I’m staggered that someone could actually squat and shit in such open places. Never mind the ‘Pick up after your dog’ message, pick up after yourselves!

We drive along the coast to Malaga, sometimes on a motorway, sometimes on local roads through resort towns. The day is warming up nicely. At the moment we’re experiencing cold nights and days in the high teens. Today is meant to get up to 20 but not for long.

We park up by a huge cruise ship and then walk around the harbour, lovely promenade with lots of modern bars and restaurants. Through the park, palm trees and bird of paradise, and into the city. We look at the cathedral, looks like there are Roman ruins on top of the tower. We climb up to the castle walls and look out over the city. We peer over the Roman ruins, an amphitheater this time. We pass by the museum, closed and meander the pedestrian lanes, wider than in other places. Maybe the warmer climate means they don’t need to huddle together in the same way. We relax in a square and listen to a jazz quartet jamming. We enjoy an ice cream, Malaga in Malaga. Totally relaxed we make our way back to the van. I’d picked a campground 30 minutes drive away but when we get there they are full. The lady is lovely. It’s a sunny weekend and it seems to have pulled out all the Spanish campers. She very nicely phones around and finds us a place to stay. Unfortunately it’s another hours drive away but motorway all the way and we arrive as the sun is setting.

Opportunely I receive an email with our African vouchers so in camp I can download them to the iPad. Exciting! I need to get my head around all the finer details, currency, visas etc so we’ve covered everything we need to do before we fly over.

Saturday 2nd November

Was woken a few times through the night. I’m staggered that people wash their cars at 1am in the morning and family groups turn up at midnight, with kids in tow, to do their laundry. We get going before 9am and back track towards Lisbon so we could drive over the Vasco da Gama Bridge. It’s the second longest bridge in Europe (Crimean Bridge in Russia is tops) and is 12.3km long. Tourist info says 17km long, think that is including the access roads, but either way it’s a very long bridge crossing a very wide river. It’s a toll road heading in the opposite direction from the way we crossed. Bonus. It’s pretty cool, you can’t see the end at all when you start. Greg’s wishing he could clone himself so he can be driving it but also be photographing it. He can’t even rely on me taking photos as his camera is in the cupboard. I snap a few pics on my phone but it’s not the same.

We’re driving along and Greg says ‘Look! That tree’s been ringbarked’ I’d noticed it too and went ‘OMG, it will be a cork tree!’ Next thing there are hundreds and hundreds of cork trees. Unlike the first one we saw, most are behind high barbed wire fences. Better security than any crop we’ve seen. We pull over so Greg can take some photos but it gets us both wondering about how they farm cork. I’ve been impressed that they also have a second string to their bow. Cork in wine bottles is declining but we’ve seen so many other products make from cork. It’s being marketed as vegan and ‘green’ and seems to be great as a leather substitute.

We carry on to Évora and another town-provided-aire with free water and drainage. An English couple were just about to leave but seeing our NZ signs come over to talk rugby. They can’t gloat though as England just lost to South Africa in the final. It’s ironic, we beat South Africa, South Africa beat England and England beat us. No one can really claim to be the best.

Évora is another walled town, a bit like Obidos just flatter and bigger. The buildings are the white walls like Obidos but the highlight colour is mostly yellow this time. Instead of a Roman aquaduct it has a Roman temple. I smile at the juxtaposition of the Catholic Church to one side. A temple to many gods flanked by a temple to one god. We shelter in a doorway as a rain squall passes then wander around the temple and around the neighbouring palace before meandering down any lane that looks interesting.

When we get back to New Zealand it’s going to be weird to see houses mainly built in wood as we’ve become very accustomed to everything being stone or brick and generally plastered.

A black cloud is threatening more rain so we go into a bar (with wifi) and wait it out, with a drink and some olives. I didn’t used to like olives but now….. yum! The wifi isn’t overly fast but Greg manages to schedule a couple of posts. I’ve got my last blog mostly ready to go, just need a couple more photos from Greg from yesterday and they are still on the camera and unedited.

3rd November

We drive south west to the coast. Our route taking us along narrow, poorly maintained roads. Lots more cork trees. I have learned Portugal produces over 50% of the world’s cork. When you plant a tree you need to wait about 25 years for the first harvest and that harvest is called virgin cork and isn’t good enough for wine bottles. It gets used for other products. You can harvest once every 9 to 13 years but the tree is generally 43 years old before you start getting good quality cork. A tree will generally produce top quality cork for 50 years, so 9 or so harvests then the quality drops, and so too the prices obtained. The tree will continue producing cork for the rest of its life and they live for 270 to 300 years. That’s definitely long term work, multigenerational. The cork is hand harvested by experts. You can’t cut too deep or you’ll kill the tree. These experts are called tiradors and get paid between €80 and €120 a day. It’s is also illegal to chop down a cork tree without a permit from the government. The number is the year it’s been harvested so a 9 is 2019. We see trees with 2 numbers, like a 4 and a 9, but not a lot.

We stop for coffee in Alcácer do Sal. Free wifi so we can do some posting. Then we carry on to a spot for the night in the Parque Natural do Sudoeste Alentejano e Costa. We actually have to drive on a gravel road! We arrive at 2 huge carparks and there is nobody around. Paths go down to about 3 beaches. The clouds even lifted and it’s blue sky. Very nice.

We walk as far as we can North on the beach then back and as far as we can south. Takes a couple of hours but we’re not rushing. Horrified at the amount of plastic on the high tide line.

Get back and we’ve been joined by a couple of other campers. Chat to a young Scottish couple in a VW kombi. They are 9 weeks into a year long travel plan. They have a daily budget of £20! That’s very tight especially as they have two dogs as well. She is teaching English online to Chinese children so they have a bit of income.

4th November

We drive as far south as we can go. Sagres is the most south western point of Europe. The countryside is like driving through Australia – red dirt, eucalyptus trees, no undergrowth and that scrappy barren look. The feeling is added too by Rip Curl shops and surf schools. Plus all the flies! I keep expecting to see kangaroos.

First stop is the Sagres Fortess. The landscape has changed again. No trees at all. A few hardy shrubs. Rock and bare earth. The fortress is a massive wall between the town and the peninsula. Much of the original fortress from the 16th century was destroyed by an earthquake in 1755. So what I expected to be a visit to a fortress was actually a visit to the promontory beyond the wall. Huge cliffs with the sea thundering against the base. There are men fishing off the cliffs, they must have very long lines.

Next stop is the Cape of St Vincent. There is a lighthouse, reportedly the brightest in Europe. Looking out from both these points we are staring down the western coast of Africa. This area was the home and setting off point of Infante Dom Henry the Navigator. It was he who started Portugal’s Age of Discoveries, finding ‘new’ countries to colonise.

All along the road between the two headlines there are tracks off the road and campers parked up. We’ve missed out on some of the best spots so end up parking up a little closer to the road than I’d liked but the traffic will likely die when the sun goes down and because we’re a bit higher up we have amazing views of both the fortress which will be lit up at night and the lighthouse.

5th November

We drive along the coast but it’s out of sight. We stop at Praia da Marinha. One of the ‘top 100 beaches in the world’. We park and walk passed the vendors selling ice blocks and beer, step over the piles of rubbish and down the stairs to the beach. There is a massive restaurant on the sand but when you look passed it the beach is quite pretty. It’s steep orange cliffs, yellow sand and turquoise green sea breaking straight on the beach and blue sky above. There are stacks undercut at their bases just offshore and looking along you can see some arches. It’s not swimmable really and no one else is trying. We walk to the end and back which doesn’t take long as it’s not a particularly big beach. There are tour boats cruising up and down the coast which could be a better way to see it all. We’re both underwhelmed, Cathedral Cove on the Coromandel is waaaay better.

Our last stop before leaving Portugal is a LPG place. They will refill bottles here and a forum recommended a place outside Faro which has all European adapters. Unfortunately when we arrive they close from 1 to 3, a 2 hour lunch break of course, one hour for us to wait so we have our lunch outside. Definitely not the most scenic spot we’ve dined at. But needs must and this fill will get us through the rest of our travels. He comes out and waves us over at 2.45. Must have felt sorry for us. A few minutes later and we’re fully stocked on LPG. Hooray!

Another hour and we cross the Guadiana River and we’re back in Spain. Proper Campground tonight on the edge of wetlands with Flamingos. Not sure it’s the right season to see them through. Once again it’s an international community. Don’t know whether to say Hola, Hello or Bon jour. Generally English works.

Tuesday 29th October

It’s a very international group staying here. In the morning we chat to a Welshman, mainly about Rugby and a German plus a brief greeting with the French behind us. Looking at the license plates there are also Dutch, Spanish and Swedish. A small van turns up tooting away and people all hurry out of their vans. It a bread vendor. Fantastic, it was on our list for today.

We meander down the coast. The road is empty as is the two lane cycle path alongside. We ‘re driving through tussocky sand dunes with either eucalyptus or pine. The pine is black on the trunks and no needles. Looks like it’s been burnt but they’re all intact and the scrub underneath is green. It’s odd. Occasionally we pass someone working on the trees, either a solitary man with a chainsaw and ute or a team with milling machinery. They chop the logs into 2 metre lengths over here and stack them across the trucks not long logs lengthwise like back home. There are a few settlements in ruins, roofs gone and windows boarded.

We get onto the actual coast and the road and cycle way is joined by wooden boardwalks. In the bays are resorts, mostly shuttered up.

We stop for coffee in a cliff top village square above Nazare. There are shops and stalls around the edge selling homemade ponchos, cork bags, aprons and foods. Paraponters circle on the thermals overhead. The sun is shining, warm on my skin and there is a couple of old men busking, playing haunting traditional music. It’s so relaxing.

We eventually carry on to Sao Martinho do Porto, a perfect crescent shaped bay. We go for a walk along the sand and Greg goes for a swim. That’s Portugal ticked off his list. Then we have lunch looking straight out between the two headlands, the dense, moist corn bread bought this morning.

Final destination for the day is the walled hilltop town of Obidos. We park in an aire beside an old aquaduct then 5 minutes walk takes us to the gate.

Obidos is an enchanting town, uneven, narrow cobbled lanes between white painted houses with colourful trims. Bougainvillea in flower adds more colour, the dropped petals stark on the ground beneath our feet. There are a couple of tour groups and I suspect in summer this place is overrun but today it’s busy but pleasant. There are a lot of churches, all slightly different. We wander the lanes and then the walls. Or at least the small part you can access. The views over the walls are amazing. A long valley with different crops to give textural contrasts. There is a great castle that is now an upmarket hotel. A good way to preserve history and it adds drama to the skyline. We try some local street food and pause at a lane side table with a drink to soak up the atmosphere. The entire day has been a ‘relax and absorb the ambience’ kind of day.

30th October

We drive out to the coast to two mainland connected islands. The first, called Baleal, is connected by a cobblestoned track over sand. We walk over and around the island. The rock formations are fascinating, huge slabs tilted on abrupt angles.

The second is called Peniche. It is connected by a couple of bridges and a well built up causeway. We drive over and around the loop road. The rock formations here are slightly different, despite only being 5kms away. Here they’re upright and have worn into tall stacks. This coast is clearly Surfer Zone. There are numerous beaches at differing angles. There are sooooo many small vans converted to campers with roof racks for the boards.

We drive down the rough coastal road. Passing through pockets of prosperity and parcels of poverty. Through tiny settlements where old men watch us pass like we are off another planet.

We’re heading to Sintra. The rain starts and as we come up a hill, lights start flashing on the dash and the power drops away. We pull over and the engine light comes on. Bugger. We turn the ignition off and back on again. The light stays on. Google translate says, go to a Citroen service centre immediately. Shit. We start driving again and Greg comments it’s not driving right. I find a service centre 20 minutes away online but as we round a corner there is a big Citroen sign so we pull in. Greg goes in to try and communicate our needs. I try phoning our contact for the van. No reply and when I email him I get an automatic reply, he’s on holiday. Greg comes back and they take the van in straight away and run a diagnostic test. The light has gone off lol but it shows on the computer as 3 faults. He thinks it may have just been water short circuiting the electronics. God, I hope so. He resets it all, clearing the faults and we pay €20.

So now we’re later than planned and it’s low cloud and rain. Not the best for viewing mountain top palaces and grand houses so we flag going to Sintra and go straight to the campground we’d picked for tonight. We’ll go to Sintra tomorrow morning instead.

31sr October

We wake to fog and drizzle, hopefully it will lift. We drive back to Sintra. We did some research overnight on places to see, as there is a lot on offer.

Lord Byron described this area as a glorious Eden. This hilltop area was once the summer retreat for the Portuguese kings, now it’s a tourist magnet to view palaces, and manors, all set in fantastic gardens and parks.

Park4night located a parking area suitable for campers, and not too expensive. It’s a few minutes walk up to the town centre and about 10 minutes further on to the Quinta de Regaleira Palace, the first place we’ve elected to visit.

This isn’t the oldest Palace or the grandest but it is arguably the most fanciful gardens. There is this ornate well with a spiral staircase going down, archways intricately carved on every step. When we get down the bottom, and it is a long way down, there is a tunnel leading off underground with led rope lighting along the base of one wall. We walk along it and it branches three ways. The main path you can see a waterfall falling over the entrance, lots of people standing there taking photos. We take the first branch and in a little while find ourselves at the bottom of another well. This one has been created to look natural. Again it has a spiral staircase winding around the central cavity but the ‘windows’ are like jagged crevices. We climb up and in front of us shrouded in mist is a tower. Actually three towers, spiral staircases connecting different levels and in the lower central room another tunnel.

The whole place is mind boggling and you could so easily get lost. There are grottos, and caves and bridges and towers all with staircases or tunnels leading you off on an adventure. The map you’re given only shows the above ground paths and even those are stylised. We eventually find ourselves under the waterfall we’d spotted before and there are tunnels leading around and out over stepping stones across the waterfall pool. No handrails and it is a traffic jam as everyone stops on the middle stone to get someone to take their photo from either inside the tunnels or from a bridge overhead.

There is an underground labyrinth that you need a torch, or your cellphone light on. We certainly didn’t explore all of it but we were glad to see daylight and make our way back into the foggy open.

Another tower, another staircase, another tunnel and we find ourselves coming out of the third branch of the first tunnel we’d gone down.

The fog doesn’t lift at all but it does add to the drama of the place. Greg is taking heaps and heaps of photos. He is frustrated by all the people around, especially when the walk straight in front of him while he’s trying to take a photo.

After the mysteries of the gardens the palace seemed quite tame. Mind you, we reached it at the same time as a large tour group. It has incredible ornate ceilings, mosaic tiles floors and elaborate walls furnishings. It’s just missing the whimsical nature of the gardens.

Somehow, we’ve spent 4 hours here so we go back to the van and top up the ‘pay and display’. Then we go have lunch in the town, on a terrace with amazing views…. today the view is only of fog lol. We try a local delicacy called Sky bacon. No idea what’s up with the name but it is a sweet tart with nuts traditionally made by the nuns using the leftover egg yolks after the egg whites were used in the wine filtering.

Greg found some images online that he wants to see and the next one on the list is a small castle in a lake. He showed the waitress the photo and she had no idea where it was. It totally flummoxed her. Greg eventually tracks it down using google satellite and it is in the grounds of the hilltop palace called Pena Palace. This is the big one, the highest and the most expensive. The road driving up was challenging but the parking was free. We pay to enter the grounds but not the palace, saving ourselves €50. The fog hasn’t lifted at all and it is now raining. Greg has bought an umbrella for the camera. We must look odd, both of us in raincoats but me holding the umbrella high in the air over the camera only. It turned out the castle in the lake isn’t quite what it appeared in the photo Greg saw online but the park and lakes are photogenic anyway. We climb up to the Palace and do the ‘Wall walk’. On a fine day the views must be absolutely spectacular. Today looking out it’s just grey and looking down, it’s very very high. I just can’t even begin to describe the palace. It looks like it’s from another country, maybe Turkey with its domes and turrets. Greg’s photos will have to suffice. I’m just awestruck by it all. With money and imagination you can create total beauty.

Somehow it’s now after 5 and the sunsets at 5.30. We head back down to the van, decide to skip the Moor Palace completely, and I find a place for the night. It’s 30 minutes drive and close to Lisbon. As we start driving we quickly realise that the urban sprawl of Lisbon has reached the edge of Sintra. It’s all motorways and malls and suburbia. I’m really nervous about the spot we’re heading to. It was only posted a month ago and has had no reviews. So I breathe a big sign of relief when we get here and it’s a carpark surrounded by trees and there is already another camper parked up. Well it’s not a camper but a British registered Land Rover with a roof tent. It’s full on dark now so don’t really know where we are but it’s fairly quiet and we will sleep fine. It’s Halloween but I don’t expect any ghosts or ghouls will knock on our door.

1st November

We drive 20 minutes and park close to the centre of Lisbon. The city is gritty, rundown, dirty and graffitied. The tourist area of Alfamo is drab, the buildings dirty whites and creams, plaster falling off. The balconies rusty and even the hanging laundry is boring. None of the flamboyance of Porto. We walk all around looking for the spark. There are moments of ‘wow, look at that’. The trams are pretty cool, unfortunately most have advertisements over them. It’s hard to take a Classic photo with drink Coca-cola all over it. Greg does manage though.

We looked at the Santa Justa Elevador, an ornate lift taking passengers from the lower streets of Baixa up to the Largo do Carmo district. We don’t bother joining the loooong queue to pay too much money to be squeezed into an ornate lift with other hot sweaty people. We just admire it from the bottom, while enjoying the group busking, then walk around the block to the upper entrance. There we pay €3 to go up on the roof and admire 360 degree views over the city and river.

We check out a few different churches. Greg comments that Portugal certainly has the most elaborate Cathedrals. One we go in to is like a street with windows and upstairs balconies either side of the nave. It’s All Saints Day so there are services going on in a couple.

We wander down to the river and have lunch under an umbrella watching the world go by. We both have Paella, Greg, seafood and me, vegetables. Two lunches out in a row! We are being extravagant.

After lunch we get some exercise by walking up to the castle. Once again a very long queue waiting to spend a lot of money to go in. We skip it and wander around the lanes outside.

We come round a bend and there are 4 guys busking on 2 second story balconies. A bucket on the end of a rope hanging down for donations. The building is graffitied and tagged with radical sayings. It epitomises Lisbon for me. Joyful, soulful, moment of magic rising above the grit and reality of everyday life. Opposite there is a hotel, rooms for up to €3000 a night backing onto crumbling ruins, covered in graffiti. Both powerful statements of Lisbon’s economy.

I look at Lisbon with new eyes as we walk back to the van. It is still gritty and run down but there is beauty in that too. And as far a capital cities go, it’s pretty good.

Our site for the night is 30 minutes drive north to the outskirts of the city. Definitely a first for us, it’s a supermarket that has motorhome services and a laundry in the carpark. I was thinking it would be in a quiet corner, but no, it’s right as you enter. There is also a petrol station (automated) and a self service car wash. I really hope it quietens down later. Once the supermarket closes, we’ll move to a different part of the carpark I think. For now we park beside the laundry area so we can do our washing.