Mojacar

This morning, the vans all moved to the parking area on the seafront alongside the small fishing boats. Buckets, mops and sponges were set to work to wash away the coating of salt and sand from yesterdays wind. Marge now looks much more presentable.

At the beach shower, the washing of clothes was taking place. Some of our European neighbours gave off an odour that suggested a little body washing wouldn't go amiss. There's no excuse for body odour, when you have a shower in your van. Please use it! The French lady in the van next to us, spent two hours cleaning the inside and outside of her van. Perhaps she could give her fellow countryman a top and tail.

By the time we'd showered, washed Marge and our clothes it was virtually lunchtime. We took a walk out along the beach through the fisherman's area.

We were impressed by the use of old doors to create fisherman's huts. Recycling at its best!

Mid afternoon we set off. First to find a service area where we could off load all Marge's waste, the toilet especially, as it was at overflowing point, something you don't want happening!

Our drive to our overnight stop took us through the Cabo de Gata-Nijar national park. Fantastic views for John, as the road wound its way through the mountains. Not so for Angela. The sight of a bus on the wrong side of the white line on a hairpin bend, is not one you want to experience very often. Thank god the toilet was empty! Marge of course took it all in her stride.

We stopped at a viewpoint car park to photograph the road we'd just come up, and back along the coast. It was all very beautiful, and not as scary as the photographs look.

Arriving at tonight's chosen overnight spot, Angela was not happy about staying, so we moved on to see where other vans sere parked.

We are now right by the beach at Mojacar. There is an English van and two Spanish vans here with us, despite a notice saying no vehicles over five metres long. We have seen the Guardia Civil, (police), drive by twice and they don't seem bothered. We think at this time of year, there are so few people about, that they turn a blind eye to the vans. Before dinner, we walked out to see what was happening locally. Right across the road from us, we discovered a ferreteria, (hardware shop). Our camping gas cylinder ran out this morning, so we need to replace our spare one. The shop couldn't been more conveniently situated. Also, John would like to sort out Marge's leaky plumbing. So tomorrow we will return to the shop and buy gas, and hopefully items to cure Marge.

Whilst we were eating our dinner this evening, Angela noticed a bright orange light on the horizon. To our surprise the moon was rising. Quite quickly it rose into the sky, losing its blood red colour and turning to the bright silvery moon you'd expect. At this moment, it is shining down on us, keeping a watchful eye. We can't describe how stunning it is.

Cabo de Gata

Yesterday evening, once again it was nice to be able to listen to the lull of the waves. Throughout the night, we were aware of the full moon, casting its light all around us.

At six o' clock this morning, we were both woken by the sound of rain, John quickly shut the open sun roof.

But it came to nothing, and by breakfast time the sky began to clear, and shafts of sunlight broke through the clouds.

Within an hour it was weather as normal, blue skies and sunshine. Before we left, there was a printing job to arrange and pay for. That's the joy of the internet, you can work from anywhere, as long as you have a connection.

We set off just after eleven, to drive just over a hundred miles to Almeria. The road good and fast, running between the coast and the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. As far as the eye could see, were greenhouses.

Their white sheet plastic roofs, looking like snow drifts in the folds of the lower slopes. From the higher levels, the large plastic areas looked like a Star Wars, futuristic town. As the road dropped down to the towns, you could see how poor the area was, for those living around the expanse of the fruit and vegetable industry. No doubt Mr Big who owned the greenhouses, had a very nice place, down on the coast.

Just before two o' clock, Marge was securely parked at Almeria port, with five French vans. Ooh la la, Marge would have said. The wind was blowing a gale, along the road to Almeria, the matrix signs above the road were warning of strong crosswinds. We think, we knew that, and agreed with Marge, the wind is always better behind you!

Our stop here was to see the cathedral, gypsy caves and Alcazaba. As we walked to the old town, we noticed the roads were lined by date palms, their bunches of heavily laden fruit straining above. On the ground, hundreds of dates had already fallen, crushed underfoot. What a waste. The Alcazaba, which dates from 995 AD, is the largest fortress built by the Moors in Spain. The building was closed, due to illuminating lighting being installed, but we walked around the outside and took a good look.

The structure seemed very neglected, and unstable under the main building. Everywhere there was rubbish. Normally, we have found Spain to be quite a clean country, but not here.

From the top we could see across the rooftops of the poorer end of town, and also the old cave dwellings of fishermen and gypsies at La Chanca. Some are still inhabited today.

Leaving Almeria, late afternoon, we went a little out of our way to stop at a supermarket. When we arrived, the height barrier for the car park was 2.5 metres, no good for Marge. The road to the parking had been one way. Marge is used to cars sounding their horns at her, and didn't mind the man waving his arms, as for the cars coming straight at her, the drivers looked a little worried. Yes, the road was now two way. We have now driven 4,000 miles, with this incident only occurring once. No harm done, except perhaps to some Spanish nerves, for Marge, well she's been in much tighter spots.

Tonight we should be parked right on the seafront at Cabo de Gata. But he wind has not relented all day, now blowing at around forty miles per hour, gusting to sixty, although it feels more.

Never the less, it is still very warm. Naturally, not being deterred by the wind, we walked out around seven thirty. The sea was boiling, it was hard to imagine this was the Mediterranean, more like the character of the Atlantic, which we have missed.

The sunset seemed earlier this evening, distorted by the salty spray that was cast through the air. What a difference a day makes.