Cabo de Palos. La Manga

Last night, after dinner, constellations shimmered in the darkness. The absence of street lights, provided a perfect back drop to this bright wonder.

We realised, whilst we took in the moment, that in three weeks time, we would be back in England, spending the last night of our trip in the car park at Newhaven port.

How long ago does it seem, since we were there, excited about the trip that lay before us, and that unfortunate incident with the seagull? The thoughts made us aware of life. This was it! Happening here and now. At five past ten the moon put in an appearance.

We'd almost given up on it. Bands of cloud streaked across the now oval shape, smudging and distorting its face.

After breakfast, we took a walk over the outcrop of rock that shielded the bay, there was a sign warning people to leave the turtles in peace, as they came to lay their eggs on the beach, between June and August.

Upon reaching the next bay, we could see that yet more vans had stayed overnight in this beautiful area.

Back at Marge, walk completed, we were ready for the off. On route, we passed many acres lettuce, at various stages of growing, from seedlings to produce ready for picking, soon to be en-route to markets and supermarkets, some of them probably destined for England. The fields of green baize, a welcomed splash of colour, amongst the hard, dry landscape. Just before lunch, we took Marge over the mountains. She's used to long slow climbs and switchback bends now, and takes it all in her stride. Slow and steady Marge, don't worry about the vehicles behind. We know our Marge isn't bothered, and would say, "I can go slower you know!".

Near the summit, we pulled into a large parking area to have our lunch. The views fantastic, the drop down terrifying.

Late afternoon, it was time to sort out tonight's stop. O.K. Marge, what will it be, there's one here by the naturist beach, or how about one by a cove and lighthouse? Consider carefully now.

The lighthouse it is, alongside a cove. Well chosen Marge. We are now sited, alongside French, Spanish and Portuguese vans. Marge has pole position. We reminisced that the last time we had walked up to a lighthouse was at A Coruna in Portugal, when we walked up to the Tower of Hercules, we reckon some five weeks ago now. The leaflet for the Tower of Hercules, is now the book mark in our Spanish guide book.

The view of the lagoon, the volcanic mounds and La Manga were stunning.

Angela as always, stopped to smell and photograph the flowers. Trees and flowers, are her main points of photography. Whilst descending the steps from the lighthouse a video call came in from England. Time to catch up with Angela's son Chris, his wife Kirsty and our grandson Elliot. Elliot recognised John's voice straight away. It was nice to catch up, and see how Elliot had developed since we last saw them all. He is now walking, talking, cleaning his teeth and brushing his hair. Genius!

After the call, we noticed that the sun was setting, the sky ablaze. The volcanic mountains, with a fiery red sky above, looked liked they'd just erupted. One of our best sunsets ever.

Playa la Carolina, near Aguilas

At nine twenty last night, the waning moon put in an appearance.

A blood red disc, sat on the horizon. It was an extraordinary sight.

A beautiful start this morning, warm and bright as soon as the sun woke.

After breakfast John spoke to the young German man about our onward journey. He informed him, we had a few miles of travelling through the hills, with the added excitement of hairpin bends. Always nice to know what lies ahead, Marge is not always prepared for some of the surprises sprung on her. Once again Marge's plumbing had to be addressed, as John was unable to cure the problem yesterday. The result, disconnection of some of her pipes, as she'd failed to co-operate.

Resulting for us in a new system for showering, which worked well, what will happen when the weather cools down, well we'll sort that out when the time comes. Across the way, the young English couple in a Citroen Berlingo conversion, needed to borrow a screwdriver for a small modification. They seemed amazed that we had tools with us. We wouldn't think of leaving home in Marge without them, she likes to play up once in a while.

Before lunch, John couldn't resist the lure of the Mediterranean, donning his swimming trunks, and setting off into the cold water, not so luring now. Angela stayed on dry land, she's with Marge, and like's to choose her moments when it comes to water lapping around her.

At a quarter to four this afternoon, the wind had picked up, and the waves were topped with white. We had stayed at Mojicar for two nights, and decided to move a little way north up the coast, looking out for where the other vans had stopped.

On route, we stumbled across a nudist beach. Honestly Marge, stop seeking these people out!

As we can't show you a picture like that here is a Renault 8TS :)

A little while later, we passed a completely naked, elderly male cycle tourist. Is that even allowed? We can't imagine where his saddle sores were! Right Marge, enough of your fun, find us a nice overnight stop.

After dismissing a few sites, we came across Playa la Carolina. There are lots of vans here, and we have settled Marge in a nice spot with a double aspect of both coves.

We took a walk down onto the beach, to look at the sandstone rock, some areas naturally sandblasted and reformed by the wind.

There were also caves, naturally carved by the elements. As we walked back, we stopped to looked at a very retro, German registered bus. After closer inspection, we saw that it was a Russian mini bus, built in the 1950's. We chatted briefly with the owner, not wanting to way-lay him too long, as he was cooking his evening meal.

He had owned the vehicle thirty years, it was still running on its original engine, and despite the fact he'd turned it into a camper, he was still in possession of the original seats. It did not perform well going uphill, going so slow he said, you could watch the grass grow. That's nothing. Marge can do that as well on a bad day. When the man returned home to Germany, he was going to put it up for sale, at around twenty thousand euros, expecting the buyer to be English. John loved the vehicle, and if he had the money, would have made an offer. Please, nobody offer to lend him twenty thousand euros, Marge is more than enough to handle, and she's a modern woman. If it's slow travelling you desire, she can do that, just take her up in the mountains.

This evening, the sky was a flame of fire, as the sun set behind the mountains. Beside us we can hear the sea lapping on the shore. We are awaiting tonight's moon rise. We are sure it will be spectacular.

Mojacar. (Day 2)

Last night, we could hear the cicadas. It seemed and age since we'd last heard them calling to each other. The light of the full moon cast its light right across the water to Marge. Out to sea, we could see the dim lights of the oil tankers, and hear their throaty engines as they sailed by.

In the moonlight, under the palm trees, Marge looked like she was in North Africa.

This morning John chatted to the other Englishman. He had left England in August, and would be away for nine months, something he'd done for the last five years. Lucky him.

This morning John tackled Marge's leaking plumbing, whilst Angela took a walk out. The local ferreteria (hardware store) supplied a few bits.

The river beds around were bone dry. Yesterday, we noticed in some, plastic sheeting from the greenhouses hung in tree roots which had coursed down from the mountains in the rains. So much for environmentally friendly. A lot of the growers advertise themselves as bio, (organic). We wonder if they're aware of the environmental problem they are causing down stream.

At lunchtime, we had the pleasure of a couple in their fifties going 'au naturel'. The man a little more discreet, sat in his beach chair. The woman however baring all without a care. At least she had a parasol shading her....cool box. The worrying thing was, would she flip over for an even tan, and of course she did. Then a couple appeared with their excitable collie dog, resulting in a baseball cap being dropped on the woman's nether regions!

By late afternoon, the wind had increased slightly, ruffling the sapphire blue water. A young German couple turned up with a little boy about two years old. Whilst Angela was cooking the evening meal, the father brought the little boy around to see her. The family were en route to Portugal, for how long, that they didn't know. The little boys education was obviously the sights he saw, the people he met, and the languages he needed to learn. His only English word was thank you. His father commented how nice our dinner smelt compared to theirs. Sausages always smell great, don't they?