Spain - Part 3

SPAIN – Part 3
January 21, 2012

Kris, one of the Belgian folks here (who permanently lives in Spain), had a birthday which was well attended, well laughed and well boozed…to the point where he forgot how old he is. Invitees included French, Germans, Belgians, Dutch, Canadians, Irish and unknown others.

This is a gathering place more than a campground. Impromptu get-togethers, parties and other uprisings take place at any time usually in the driving space between the sites.

During one of our endless sunny warm days we headed to the beach with “Smile and the Gang”…the Gang is Frans and Willimien from Holland and Smile is their German Shepard…for an amazing afternoon picnic with the Mediterranean as a backdrop. We had gone down with Frans and Willimien’s camper. When we got back to camp, Kris, of “I’ve forgotten how old I am” fame, had bared off our van door. On the window was taped a paper that said the van was quarantined due to the Avian flu!! Now we knew how old Kris was…a kid!!

Soon after I, followed by Dawn, came down with a cold. But that didn’t stop New Year’s from coming. It’s been at least 25 years since we had gone out to celebrate that “silly New Year’s Eve stuff”. But the Spanish wine soon took over and well past midnight we all realized we were into a new year…but which month we couldn’t remember…or care. And this all happened at…yup…Kris and Vera’s place. Bad influence these two!

One of the weekly fun things to do here is to go to the Saturday morning “farmer’s” market in Cabo de Gata, some 20 km from the campground. The produce is especially colourful and super cheap, not to mention excellent. After the market those from this campground who are there meet for coffee at the same place to tell lies and plane for the next drink-fest. The blue picture is a massive wall painting.

Still getting lots of riding in though the weather has cooled off a bit into the 15C (60F) range albeit with continuing sunny skies. Dawn’s shoulder continues to improve though too slowly for her of course.

We have so enjoyed our stay here…the people, the weather, the riding roads, the peacefulness…that we’ve booked ourselves in for next winter from November 1.

We are meeting so many people here who have done the same as us…sold their house, have no real fixed address, have stuff in multiple locations, are travelling free-minded with unplanned plans…and absolutely loving the sense of freedom. That certainly describes and feeling and why we expect to continue this lifestyle until…well we just don’t know when!

San Jose, one of the sea-side towns we cycle to quite often, is very quiet this time of year but busting at the seams in the summer. The view from the high side of town over the Mediterranean is beautiful and peaceful.

One of the trees often seen here, though not originally native to the region, is the date palm…the actual producer of dates. With its hundreds of date pods it is a stunning contrast of colours.

We had originally come to the Los Escullos in the Andalusia region of southern Spain campground by chance and for about three days. We managed to leave two months later in late January 2012 after meeting hoards of great people in a first rate campground surrounded by nature and peace and quiet. The endless sunshine and fantastic cycling roads topped it all off. But it was time to head inland a bit some 200 km (120 mi) away to Granada, home of the Alhambra. We followed “Smile and the Gang” toward new adventures. The scenery to that point took us to 1500 meters (5000 ft) passing areas of heavy snows in the Sierra Nevada mountains and light snow on the fields beside the road. The beauty and the extent of the natural land erosion made for some of the most beautiful scenery we have seen anywhere.

The campground some 20km (12 mi) from Granada was at 1125 m (3700 ft) elevation which meant the days were crisp and the nights bloody cold with the temps well below freezing. The Sierra Nevada mountains nearby were covered in a thick blanket of snow and made for an amazing sight. Three of us took the local bus to Granada to visit the Alhambra reputedly one of the most beautiful sights in all of Europe. It is a large area, mostly in gardens high above the city. The buildings from the 14th century are not many but one in particular, the main palace, was beyond words the detail was so incredible. Certainly Alhambra is worth a visit but all three of us though it was overrated.

Then it was time to head west and south. We drove through endless areas as far as the eye could see covered in olive trees…tens of thousands of square kilometers! An unbelievable sight covering every field, every hill, every gorge. What Valencia oranges are to Valencia, olives are

to this region. The last 50 kms (30 mi) of gorgeous rolling hills reminded us of Tuscany in Italy. Our destination, Ronda, is a town of 37000 people and one of the oldest in Spain dating back to the 1300s. It has an old part of town with massive fortress walls and cobble stoned street. A gorge 150 m (400 ft) deep cuts through the town with one of the most amazing bridges

we’ve ever seen connecting the two parts. A walk along the edge of the northern escarpment lets in stunning rolling hill scenery complete with olive trees and pastures bright green with the young shoots of winter plantings. The very first bullfighting ring in the world is here. The first bullfight was held in 1785 in this incredibly well kept bullring and each September since 1954 one of the most famous bullfighting events in all of Spain takes place in this sandstone

edifice of Spanish culture. While we were there, a wanna-be bull (Dawn) and wanna-be bullfighter (Willemien) staged a show for which…luckily…we had to pay no entrance fee.

We have thoroughly enjoyed Spain and the weather couldn’t have been better. But a new country awaits our warped sense of humour. So from here we head to Algeciras, one of the ports on the southern coast of Spain to take the ferry across to Morocco. We should be in Morocco the day after.



Though a little late, we wish you all a very Happy New Year full of health and wisdom…and looking better than this chap coming out of 2011.

FRANCE, SPAIN - Part 2

FRANCE, SPAIN – Part 2 December 26, 2011

The campground we’re in near San Jose, Spain on the edge of the Mediterranean organizes various evenings of meals, events and games to encourage people to get together (and spend money of course). One had a packed house for the flamenco evening with Spanish singing, guitar and stomping spinning dancers. Booze flowed for many. They were kind enough to make vegetarian dishes for the two of us. On other nights, bingo…yes, bingo…is offered. And yes…Dawn goes. She even won a bright lime green ball cap with a bright red logo of the campground on it. What has she come to?

Temperatures are cooler than normal right now but still 18C and sunny, usually with winds (we’re on a cape in the Mediterranean). It gets up to 45C in summer which is why the houses are painted white to reflect the heat. Perfect for the numerous yucca plants in the area. The dry, the driest place in Europe, hot weather is one of the main reasons for all the greenhouses in the region. These greenhouses cover the largest surface area in the world for the cultivation of fruits, vegetables and flowers. Most of the workers are from North Africa.

We’ve mentioned the winds can be brisk here because we are at the tip of a peninsula. At one time many windmills just like the ones seen in Holland dot the landscape. Now most are gone or are skeletons of their former glory.

There are some ten nationalities in this campground which makes for lots of great spontaneous international conversations and, at times, lots of hand signals. Makes the place look like a mime convention. Our Dutch neighbours, Frans & Willimien, and their dog Smile, are awesome; lots of laughs with them. They are helping to educate us with differing culture…they gave us a download of hundreds of comic books of Asterix. Some day when we’re in an old-folks home they will come in handy. And there was the music exchange (about 3000 songs each way). Six of us in our row of campers (2 Dutch, 2 Belgians, 2 Canadians) got together for drinks at 5 pm in the driving lane of our row one day; we were asked to shut it down at 10 pm by a neighbour cause we were too loud…spoilsport! Maybe we should have invited them. Great cycling in the area with hilly, sometimes very steep roads up to 15% grade, little traffic and very considerate drivers. Dawn is trying to ride again but it hurts the shoulder she injured in Paris at the end of July and has no legs from lack of exercise since then. But she’s plugging away.

There’s a small town within 6 km called San Jose (pronounced “San HHHozay!!) with little shops, restaurants and a place to get English papers. Cabo de Gata is at the very southern tip of the peninsula and has a great view of the sea. A long sandy beach leads to a very steep road ending at a lighthouse…it’s on my list of roads to cycle. Lots of sea kayaking in the area; many kayakers are in the campground on weekends. We went to the sea-side town of Almeria about 45 minutes west of here to have bikes fixed (Dawn’s with problem disc brakes; Dan’s with a partially broken shifter cable). Almeria is very clean but has busy streets with bad and impatient drivers.

Some of the terrain just north of here is like the Badlands in North America only badder. You could film westerns here, and some have been. Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood have done movies such as The Magnificent Seven. Even parts of Cleopatra were filmed here. As a result of the productions leaving the western towns complete with saloons, train stations and jails behind, sharp entrepreneurs snapped them up and turned them into amusement parks. Some of the Spanish cowboys do shoot-em-up shows before lunch and run behind the stages to serve food to the hungry guests. Signage tells you where you are…sort of. The best is “Reserva India”…guess they forgot the last “n”. And below that is the sign for the aquarium; didn’t realize that was part of the cowboy image!

Just a few kilometers east of the cowboy amusement parks the terrain gets higher but less rugged. Thousands of acres are covered in olive groves. This leads to an area to the south with high rugged hills on a one-and-a-half lane road covering 25 kilometers (15 miles) using hundreds of wild switchbacks…perfect for a Tour de France mountain stage…with views all the way to the Mediterranean Sea. Absolutely stunning!! We lengthened the experience by having a lazy, wine-filled picnic along the way. Partway down is one of the largest solar panel installations we’ve seen. At the beginning of this magical road we came to a small village. Standing on the sidewalk were two people. As we approached in our van we waved. The old woman, confused as to what to do, slightly raised her hand, then decided against it, then raised it again before snapping it back realizing she did not know who these two strangers were!! Too dangerous, she felt.

As in most of Europe many towns have a weekly market selling all types of foods and clothing. They are always colourful, inexpensive and fun. Unique things are often found but rarely as unique as this honey labeled “Honey for Diabetics”…they are clever these Spanish bees!

Spain, being a very strong Christian country, observes Christmas religiously. Santa, better looking than ever, comes even to our campground. The Spanish are known for being very loud when talking and constantly try to talk “over each other”. Two men in the campground bathrooms got increasingly loud as they did just that and tried to talk “over the other noise”, the echo caused by the large echo-chamber of the bathroom. They couldn’t see it. HAPPY NEW YEAR to everybody!!

FRANCE, SPAIN - Part 1 - Nov. 26, 2011

FRANCE, SPAIN – November 26, 2011

We’ve been mainly running errands since we got back to Vendome including dealing with France’s wonderful bureaucracy, buying new tires for the front (drivetrain) of the van, restocking food and of course, the ever essential wine. Our wine cave is in the back of the van under the bed and in front of the bikes making it difficult for would-be thieves…an important consideration. Thirty litres is a good start. With the weather being mild and sunny for this time of year riding took high priority. Dawn tried but even though it’s been three months since her injury it caused her too much pain and was a no-go. To say the least she was very disappointed. Another couple of months maybe? I got a really bad cold and sore throat which knocked me out for a while so we delayed our departure by two days to Nov. 17. Though still feeling the effects and being very tired it was time to head out once again. The first two days saw us going south from Vendome to the border between France and Spain along the Mediterranean. The nights were cold but we had purchased a small ceramic heater which made The White Night very cosy. Fields bright green with young shoots of winter wheat dazzled the overcast days. In central France a region called La Creuze, very hilly and dotted with small farms where eeking out a subsistence living is difficult at best, fields are separated by short hedges much as in England.

Travelling can provide some of the best and funniest things. This time it was a sign with the name of a village. Not sure what it means in French but in English…

One of the most amazing structures we have ever seen is a bridge near Millau in southern France not far from the Pyrenees. The bridge crosses the Tarn River and provides a shortcut over the valley. It’s very long and very tall with its needle-like supports giving it an air of grandeur and elegance. Near here is where the famous Roquefort cheese is made. A few kilometres before and after the border one now sees many prostitutes, mainly coming from the east European countries just to survive.

In Spain as well as France there is the habit for local governments, campgrounds and homeowners of cutting back the limbs of trees to the point which almost leaves only a tall stump. The limbs and leaves regrow the following year only to be chopped again the next fall. This is supposedly done to prevent limbs from falling on people. The campground in Spain looked like an eerie planet from a Star Trek episode. But to be sure no limbs fell on us!! This place was just south of Tarragona on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. The next day near Valencia, massive rainstorms roared through dumping more water than the hard land could absorb. The result was standing water in the massive Valencia orange orchards and other fields sometimes up to 30 cm (1 ft) deep! Devastating flash floods took everything in their way…trees, stones, dirt, bushes…and the lives of five people. Streets in some towns as well as exits off roads were impassable. Later that day we were hit by part of the same storm system. Mid-afternoon was as dark as midnight with high winds lashing such volumes of rain that most drivers simply pulled over and stopped unable to see. Those that moved slowed to 15kmp (10 mph)! Spain has and continues to see harsh economic times with the current official unemployment rate at 23%, probably 30% unofficially. Construction projects everywhere, at various stages of completion have come to a total stop with no one on the sites and no equipment in sight either. One of the largest we saw was a four-laning road project running some 200 km. Even where construction appeared finished, what you see is a thousand kilometres of uncontrolled sea-side development with ten story shuttered buildings wait the return of someone, anyone, who of course will not. You can’t even find a cat here. This is Spain’s housing crisis which helped collapse the economy. It is one thing to read about this but quite another to see it. Central Spain near Madrid is the same. All these buildings will probably never be lived in.

Further down the coast, smaller towns and villages are more the norm with many being all white as if a used paint salesman had come through with a hell of a two-for-one deal. The town in this picture is Mojacar. The Mediterranean is just the other side of the ridge. Another 100 km (60 miles) south and a bit inland is Nijar known for its pottery…and a great place to wedge a van…or at least almost. In town we headed out of a small plaza down a small curving street which turned into a blocked lane. Tall walls on both sides. No way out. Except to back out, up and around. The rear-view mirrors had to be pulled in. Much to-and-froing had to be performed. Add a pinch of swearing, a handful of patience and a dab of wall-scraping and we were free! Not fun but interesting.

With our new-found freedom we headed for the coast and a campground. On the way we drove through what seemed an endless distance of plastic greenhouses. Thousands of long plastic, white sausages growing fruits and vegetables for the rest of Europe. In the distance they all look like shimmering waves. Most of the workers here are from other countries, illegal immigrants, living in difficult conditions.

The campground near Los Escullos is a stones-throw from the sea with great amenities, is extremely quiet with lots of trees. The quietness comes from it being inside a national park of treeless extinct volcanoes. There are lots of Germans, Dutch and Brits who have been coming here year after year for six months to get away from the cold dampness of northern Europe in the winter. It turns out this area is the warmest and driest along Spain’s southern coast. There are many small villages good for day visits in the area. Almeria, a major city where people go for the main shopping, is about an hour away. We had planned to stay here for a week. With great riding the in area, close to the water, towns to visit and the amazing peace and quiet, we booked in until the first week in January! During our previous travels with Daniel and Jojo, we showed them how to play “Paper, Scissors, Stones”. Sometimes ya just gotta be silly, gotta be a kid, gotta be simple, gotta be real. Try it sometime…you’ll smile.

FRANCE, ITALY, SLOVENIA, CROATIA, BOSNIA & HERZEGOVINA, MONTENEGRO, ALBANIA, ITALY, FRANCE – Part 3
November 5, 2011


And then came Albania, a country closed for decades. Its people, its infrastructures, its countryside all show the resulting effects. It’s a Third World Country. The dirt road in the picture is one we took from the border for about 50 km before coming to reasonable asphalt. We had gone through a night of very heavy rains. Cemeteries in shambles, buildings either unfinished or in tatters yet a gas station every kilometer (with no cars at the pumps) and a carwash every two kilometers (with no one there either). First night we parked in a gas station. Rather ironic that a building in Durres on the coast calls itself “Wall Street” especially after what happened there in the last few years. Durres was where we would take the ferry to southern Italy. Should we have been concerned by the ticket kiosks? On the ferry at 11 pm. We booked a cabin for four to get some sleep. For me, not exactly feeling comfortable in the open ocean, it would help. Maybe. Well…it didn’t! From coast to coast we were in a violent storm with thunder and lightning and howling winds! All the way to Italy…9½ hours!

We drove up the shoreline of Italy in a mix of sun and cloud and with continuing wild winds. The building in the picture is one we’re considering renovating for a more permanent base. Much of the eastern coast of Italy is flat and populated but there is a small rounded nub which juts into the Adriatic Sea that is rugged and beautiful. Stopping for lunch was as eventful here as it was everywhere else.

Half way up the coast we turned west toward Assisi a town famous for its old buildings but especially for being the home of St. Francis of Assisi who was considered to be the patron saint of animals. An amazing town.


Some people look reasonable in the morning while doing breakfast dishes while others…well…don’t. In his 17 years doing the Paris-Dakar, Daniel learned how to look good! He does love himself though especially when he sees his twin in a cheap machine-dispensed coffee place.

Dawn and I had been to Tuscany twice before, once during one of our cycling trips and again to help an Australian friend celebrate an important and sobering birthday. Daniel and Jojo, however, had never been so we showed them around. First was Siena with its tall tower, shell-shaped square and incredible church the inside of which is even more impressive than the detail of the outside face. It was here during a bike trip in 2004 that we found a little restaurant and where Dawn fell in love with the joint’s calzone, the rolled-up pizza. It was so good she refused then to share with me and vowed never to have another (calzone that is) until she could come back. She stuck to her word and had one this trip which she claimed was just as good. I wouldn’t know since she refused to share with me…again!

Next stop…San Gimignano, a medieval village which had at one time 92 large towers; 7 remain. The towers were not built for defence of the town. They were built by rich individuals simply to outdo and out-ego the other rich individuals…kinda like the current Wall Street but with cheap labour. The surrounding area is incredibly beautiful will rolling hills covered in vineyards producing some of the world famous Chianti (by the way…to be the official Chianti Classico it must have the black rooster on the paper stuck to the neck of the bottle).

Then it was on to Florence where the combination of history, art, architecture, Italian cooking, outdoor markets and crazy traffic blend into a mix not to be missed and not seen anywhere in the world. The home of Michelangelo’s famous statue, David. Again this was our second time here. The real one is in a museum that takes forever to get in while the one in this picture is in a park above Florence with a magical view of the city. The cathedral here has one of the most beautiful exteriors, similar to the one in Siena but much larger. It simply cannot be taken in a picture. Here again we took Daniel and Jojo to a local restaurant called an osteria, because of its simplicity, a place Dawn and I had eaten in many times in 2004 during one of our bike trips in Europe.

After two days of intense site-seeing, it was time to move on. We headed toward the north-western part of Italy just below Genoa, a large industrial city. On the way we did a slight detour so Daniel and Jojo could see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A second time for us and still appearing underwhelming as it did the first time.

The same day we continued on to our original destination, Cinque Terre. We found a campground, still very busy for this time of year just because this place is so famous. Cinque Terre is a strip along the Mediterranean coast of north-western Italy where five small very colourful villages sit precariously on cliffs. Originally fishing villages they are now more famous for the insanely steep vineyards behind them and for their sheer beauty. Access is by train, boat or on foot. During our three days here we used them all…sometimes more often than we wanted to because we would take a train that did NOT stop at the village we wanted to go to! As in most trains in Europe a ticket must be machine stamped prior to boarding. We did that…twice…but nothing seemed to print. We boarded anyway. A conductor in a chippy (not chipper) mood decided he was going to take a strip off us in public to show how important he was. He also demanded a 5 euro (about $7.50) penalty per person. That convinced my finger to get into his face which convinced him to shout louder which convinced me to…well…you get the picture. Once I demanded to see the police at the next stop, he suddenly went away. Daniel was standing in the aisle so I fuelled things further by taking a picture of him and the now wild-man conductor (that would be the fuzzy man to the left of Daniel…note Daniel’s smirk) coming for me demanding that I remove the picture from the camera as it was illegal to take pictures on trains in Italy. Really? This time he threatened the police to which I agreed. He again went away grumbling. A young Italian couple near me got my attention to say, “On behalf of all of Italy, we apologize for his behaviour.” Thanks but just the northern half would suffice.

Okay…maybe it was time to change countries. So France it was. The Cote d’Azur, playground to the rich and famous, yachts bigger than most towns, tax evasion, center of the world for the perfume business, a coastline to drool over, sunny warm weather…and a crush of people and cars to wreck it all. While here we visited one of Daniel’s brothers and his wife living near Marseille. Meeting them almost started badly. Daniel and I decided to play a joke on them (the two at the far end of the table). With Dawn, Daniel and Jojo hidden in our van, I drove into their yard and knocked on the door.
“Do you have a relative in Canada?” I asked.
“Maybe.” Was the curt answer. He looked at the plates on the van and asked if I was from the center of France given away by the number 41 on the plate. It’s a rental, I responded.
“Well, that person said I could come here to eat any time I wanted to.” I added.
“REALLY!!” Unhappiness was kicking in. (‘Had he met the Italian train conductor by any chance’ was rattling around in my head.)
“And another thing, you have a brother near Vendome who owes me money.” was my punch line.
“NO BROTHER OF MINE NEAR VENDOME WOULD OWE ANYBODY ANY MONEY. HE PAYS HIS DEBTS.”
Now the anger was showing, his breathing was becoming laboured and a fist was forming. Time to bail.
“No, no! Don’t worry. Daniel is in the van!”
Garbled anger-filled words were flying at this stage while I began to pound on the windshield to get everybody out…somebody…anybody…to save me.
Daniel came out laughing so hard he could barely stand with handshakes all around following none-to-soon. Daniel’s brother and his wife later said they thought I was a gypsy out on a scam.

We spent three days in the area, mostly with these two very nice people who had by now forgiven me. Apart from sight-seeing this beautiful and historical area, we spent a day at an annual festival celebrating things of 1720, a particularly important year in the history of the town, La Ciotat.
For about a kilometer along the shore displays of arts, cooking and the way of life of that year were represented. Many of the locals dressed up in costumes of the era. Music, symbolic “villages”, animals all representing that time made you feel that you were there…well, except for the Mercedes on the street next to us. It was loud, windy, dusty and fun.

It was then on to the auto route. The French must have the most expensive toll roads in the world. For about 500 km (300 miles) we paid over $100!! Lesson learned. Another lesson was to come. On the highway we filled up the van. Within a kilometer we were losing power and came to a stop.
I let Daniel know by CB he shouldn’t get to far ahead as we had a problem. We quickly figured it out. I had put gasoline in a vehicle with a diesel engine. That was not gonna work! Called our car insurance assistance number. Within thirty minutes we were loaded up and on our way to a garage. Problem was it was Sunday. Closed. The tow-truck operator, a mechanic himself, offered for a cash price to get it done. Deal!!. The gasoline was emptied, filters cleaned and diesel introduced. Vrooom! The White Night sure liked that a lot more. We continued on.

The next day we arrived in Toulouse, home to the airplane company Airbus. We were there to visit the A380 assembly line. The world’s largest passenger plane was well worth a visit.

Our last night out we wild-camped near an old castle. It was purchased by an individual who is in the process of renovating it. He started in 1958…and he has a very long way to go…hope he has kids.

Then back to our little apartment near Vendome.


Total for the France, Switzerland, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Montenegro, Albania, Italy, France (PHEW!!) trip?? 58 days, 8069 km (4841 miles), 176 bottles of booze. And did we have a good time you ask? For us it was one of the best trips ever. Ya just can’t beat good weather, good food, good scenery and good friends in one sweet package.