Tapp's Travels

Somehow, I had managed to hurt my back and for a day or two I could be seen walking in a very not-upright position.  Positively bent, even.  So driving and long distance hikes were limited.  But we did manage to get out to the local reservoir near where we had encountered our mongoose.  I need the practice before our 360 mile trip to Santander!

This time, the animal interest was limited to amorous carp spawning in shallow water at the very edge of the lake.  Glenda thought they were upwards of 60 cm in length.  My estimate was rather less, but there were lots of them (maybe 40 or 50) splashing about in the shallows.  Ironically, on the far bank there was an angler actively not catching a sausage!

The next day we re-visited the lakeside walk along the Embalse de Plasencia.  This time from the northerly, extremely well camouflaged end of the path.  Passing the ruins of a huge square building, we speculated on it’s original purpose.  Had it been a fortress, a prison, a monastery or an early McCarthy Stone retirement home?  I’m sure we have had this discussion before.  I must check my earlier blog from 2019 when last we visited the area!

After a four mile walk, we decided that we were hungry.  The Restaurante Las Habazas, about five minutes walk from our campsite closes for new orders at 3.45 pm.  We were 20 km away!  We arrived at 3.41.  Would they serve us?  Would there be a reluctance?  Yes and no respectively!  “Come in, sit down, delighted to see you for our €11.50 lunch.  Do you want wine or water?”  “Come on, get real!  Vino tinto for me and vino rosada secco for Glenda.”

By the time we were finished, we were alone of course.  But the meal was very good!

On the subject of restaurants…  we have now been in Spain for seven weeks.  We have eaten in dozens of restaurants and café-bars.  EVERY single menu we have seen has featured pork in one form or another – often three or four forms (including “secret” and “lizard”)!  But in seven weeks, we have seen no single Spanish pig.  Lots of cows, sheep, chickens and goats but no pigs. Rumour has it that all pork is imported from The Netherlands.  A bit like all the cod (which also features almost universally in Spain as bacalau) coming from Norway.

On a completely different topic, Spain has mastered the art of attempted speed control on the roads.   I say attempted because speed is only temporarily kept within legal limits.  First there is the dreaded speed bump.  The worst ones will actually launch you into the stratosphere if taken at the posted speed limit.  And it takes a lot of energy to get a car and caravan off the ground!  These are often placed at strategic points like the entrance to roundabouts – usually in conjunction with pedestrian crossings.  So, full attention is on not killing people on foot and keeping the car’s undercarriage intact.  Never mind the car approaching on the roundabout which is probably indicating right but fully intent on keeping left.  Not very safe.

Local youngsters appear to have worked out the optimum speed at which to hit the leading edge of the speed bumps so that they land on the trailing down slopes.  The southern bypass of Placencia and the road towards Córdoba were particularly fine examples of the speed bump strategy.  There are even large notices beside the road at Plasencia advertising cheap suspension repairs!

Spain has also caught the Portuguese habit of the speed-controlled traffic lights.  These turn red as you approach while your speed is calculated.  They then turn amber if you are being good.  Usually at the very last second, by which time you have hit the brakes in case they don’t change!  Psychological traffic warfare!

Continuous strings of roundabouts are also used as a deterrent to forward motion.  Cáceres was a great example of this.  Our trips to the caravan repair place involved 48 such impediments.  I know – we drove that route six times!

Finally, if all else fails (as it usually does!) they have helicopters patrolling the auto-routes with speed cameras.  On some routes they probably only see two cars for each kilometre of road inspected.

So now it’s time to turn our thinking about heading north into practice.  Looking at the weather up north we decided to delay or departure till the Saturday morning.  This proved a very bad mistake.

On the Friday evening our peaceful corner of the campsite was invaded by a hundred Spanish weekend campers.  Caravans started arriving at 9pm.  By 10.30 we were surrounded by four tents, three caravans and ten cars.  The socialising continued until 3 am when mercifully there was a short shower of rain.  That shut ’em up!

At 7 am it was tempting to slam a few doors and rattle the stuff as we finished packing to leave at 8am.  But where to?  Salamanca is nowhere near close enough to the ferry.  Tordesillas and  Valladolid have unhappy memories!  The reviews of the site at Burgos are not too exciting and the site I had suggested was an unknown and expensive option…

We’ll just have to wing it!

We arranged to meet Pia and Grant at Salamanca for a walk (to see the Cetti’s warblers on the river bank)…

(Not my picture, obviously!)  … and lunch.  We admired their BBQ (in it’s box) – identical to ours which is neatly stored in it’s own box at Galmpton for everyone’s convenience!  We also admired their store of dates…

… a nine kilo box of them!  We had lunch in the campsite restaurant and headed north after a three hour break.  Still no idea of our destination, but there are limited options as there are very few sites on our route.  By the time we were passing Palencia, near where we were attacked on the outward journey, we still had no clear plan.  After that, we really had no option but to go all the way to the north coast.  So we did!  560 kms.  Too far for a day after only four hours sleep!

Arriving at Camping El Heluegro,  we were alarmed at the huge number of Spanish caravans.  However we were directed to the section reserved (largely) for “tourists” who don’t enjoy all night parties.

And very peaceful that end of the site turned out to be!  It also had neatly mowed green stuff on the ground and no mud.  Two more bonuses!  It makes you wonder why we hauled ourselves all the way from the NE corner of the country to to the SW corner!

The view of the Picos mountains from the road to Comillas was spectacular (although better seen from a distance than driving through them in heavy snowfall – ask Grant and Pia!).

And on the beach, we asked a local to take a photo of us – but he took a selfie…

… before taking us!

We nearly had Sunday lunch at the Hotel Josein, overlooking the beach. However  they were more or less full – no window seats – and the food being served looked pretty ordinary.  A lovely beach and clifftop walk was followed by a drive through Comillas to remind ourselves where the Gaudi house, El Capricho, is located.  Then back for lunch at the site restaurant.  A really good choice involving steaks and a bottle of wine.

Later that afternoon  Glenda discovered she had lost a shoe.  It must have fallen out of the car when she changed into her walking shoes in Comillas five hours earlier!  I got blamed for this because I’d insisted she changed on the pavement side of the car.  Despite a bit of alcoholic haze, we managed to drive back to Comillas, where we found the offending article in the middle of what had been our parking space!

So that was Spain really!  Our first outdoor breakfast of the trip on the last morning!  The hotest day of the trip reaching 29°C!  A quick stop at Mercadona to top up on wine supplies and off to Santander about 50 km away.  Arriving in plenty of time for the ferry, we gradually worked our way to the back of the queue until we were the last to board!  Why does that almost always happen to us?

At least we get to be near the front of the queue for offloading in Plymouth!

Fabulous cabin with proper beds, a lounge and private balcony…

It has been a “challenging” trip.  Virtually everything that could have gone wrong with the caravan, has gone wrong!  We’ve visited five major cities, stayed on ten different sites we’ve smelled the orange blossom in Seville and seen the cherries in full flower in the Jerte Valley.  It’s rained a lot and been generally cold.  We have carried half a ton of Sahara dust back to Galmpton on the roof of the caravan, but we did get to meet brother John and his wife, Kirsty. We’ve travelled a total of 3065 miles (4904 km) of which 1743 miles (2788 km) were towing.  We managed to avoid all but 85 cents worth of toll roads.

Would we do it again?  That’s a leading question!