Tapp's Travels

Sorry about the abrupt end of the Australian saga.  A few things happened and time was lost.  However, I made a threat to reveal our interactions with the local constabulary.   So, just to cover those before getting on the ferry for Spain…

Firstly, after one Sunday lunch up in the hills behind the Sunshine Coast, we were driving home minding our own business.  A lot of cars coming the other way were flashing their lights.  That normally pressages an obstruction or incident round the next bend.  So we slowed to well within the speed limit in case it was a speed trap.  It wasn’t.   But it was an RBT.  Much more common in Oz than Blighty.  A layby full of police pulling drivers over at random – that’s the R part of RBT.  The breath tests were the B&T!  In 55 years driving, I have never been breathalysed.  I have to say that doing one in the certain knowledge that the most recent intake  of alcohol was over two days previously, probably feels a whole lot different from being hit leaving a boozy session in a pub!  Even so, it was a relief when my policeman showed me the screen saying ZERO!  And I never got a photo of the result!

Our other incident involved getting caught up in a drugs bust in the sleepy Pelican Waters Tavern, in Caloundra.  About 20 plain clothes cops infiltrated the customers and suddenly whipped out police caps and surrounded a group of locals.  The place was stormed by armed and fully uniformed cops and it was all over in less than a minute.  Very exciting.  Except we actually arrived a few minutes late for the party, just as the police were winding down the operation.  Still, we’ve never been NEARLY involved in a major police operation before, so I thought it was worth recording.

After that, Christmas came and went.  A lot of work got done on Robin’s drainage.  Lawns were cut every four days or so.  The chickens were fed every day.  And I managed to get a very sore leg.  Bursitis was diagnosed – and treated – and we managed to fly home without pain.

The “leg thing” gradually turned into a whole body thing which had me confined to bed for a few days, virtually unable to move!  The first re-diagnosis suggested tendinitis.  The second re-diagnosis indicated polymyalgia rheumatica.  A condition I would definitely recommend avoiding.  Anyway, to cut a long and boring story short…  Consultations were held with six GPs from our medical practice – once each, plus a couple of nurses, a couple of pharmacists and a specialist rheumatologist in Torbay hospital.  A chest X-ray was set up, cancelled and then reinstated.  (I told you it was boring!)  Steroids were prescibed and, over the course of the next eight weeks, got the symptoms under control, just in time for our Spanish/French tour with the caravan.

So, a quick trial run to get the caravan serviced and to prove I could manage the caravan.  A quick trip (without the van) to Dorset to see Jeremy and family – and we were off.

Plymouth to Santander – the easy way to “drive” to Santander – just 65 miles driving and we were at our first destination.

But, coming back to the boat, we had a great cabin which came with a bowl of fruit, a box of macarons and a balcony!

We went for dinner in Pont-Aven’s posh restaurant.  The couple who arrived on the next table seemed very familiar.  Glenda soon had them identified as a couple, John and Shelagh, who we had met on our cruise up the River Irrawaddy in Myanmar six years ago.

Would you believe it?!  It turned out they were in the cabin next to ours.  Small world!

Sometimes you hit lucky with ferry loading.  This was one of those times.  We were parked right at the pointy end of the ship, just behind one truck  a campervan and a couple of cars.  We could see the front doors opening.

But, as Glenda pointed out,  I had parked a tad close to the wall!  Certainly too close to be able to get in the van!  Luckily we had pre-packed!

lI’ll just go straight when we leave.  We’ll be fine.  No worries!  In the event we were about sixth off the boat – and the lead caravan.  Having left the EU, we were subject to “Rest-of-the-World” status and rules.  So, no milk or milk products, no meat of any sort and a complicated 90 day in 180 day visa-free stay.  Well, we sailed through customs with our fridge empty of milk, cheese, yoghurts and sausages.  No inspection.  No questions.  No problem.  The Spanish supermarkets sell all those things, although we might give their sausages a miss.  What we did bring (quite legally) was a 2 kg tray of strawberries.

Grown in Spain.  Exported to the UK.  Bought in Tesco and re-imported to Spain!

As for the 90/180 day thing, our Norwegian nights had dropped out of the calculation and, should we happen to book three weeks on the lesser known Greek islands in September, we will still have four days in hand.  That’s lucky because Glenda has done just that!

Anyway, as I said, after just 65 miles driving (and 23 hours on a ferry) we arrived at our first campsite near Comillas.

Our first few days were spent walking on the wonderful beaches of Comillas, Ombreya and San Vincente.  At low tide you can walk miles on wide expanses of almost deserted, hard-packed sand.  In the case of San Vincente, it’s over four miles return.

However, our caravanning trips wouldn’t be complete without a disaster or two – and this one would prove no exception!  To be continued!