Asilah, Morocco

We were up with the sun this morning, keen to breakfast and be away in good time to drive back to the port at Algeciras.

We paid at the barrier for the overnight parking, and then, the barrier didn't rise. John edged forward, Marge touched the barrier and a woman passing by became enraged at Angela. Why? She wasn't driving. After a tense conversation she instructed us to drive to the marina office. The problem, the camera for the registration plate recognition was too low to pick Marge up. Fortunately, we still left in good time. The port at Algeciras was a nightmare. It seemed totally disorganized. We'd arrived in good time, but were a little concerned if we were being lined up for the correct ferry.

At the due time we boarded one of the many. The crossing should have been a hour and a half, it was three. The vessel sat for over an hour just off from the port of Tanger Med.

Then a tug boat was tied to us and the ferry berthed. Obviously an operational problem. Then, up to the vehicle scanner. Yet more delay. Passports and Marge's documents were checked twice, before we were allowed to move on to buy our vehicle insurance at a cost of 200 euros.

 Then a pretty drive along the coast to Tangier where us and Marge were flung into chaos. Traffic, people, scooters, police. John drove, Angela did her best to navigate and halt traffic from the passenger seat, so we could change lanes and move around roundabouts. At the supermarket we bought a sim card and withdraw cash. Time was getting on and we still had nearly an hours drive to tonight's stop. Plus, there were a few dodgy characters lurking and we weren't happy to leave Marge. So here we are. Our first night in Morocco, staying in the pretty coastal town of Asilah. The campsite is a little down at heal, but has a certain charm. The man who owns it is very friendly. Tired, but wanting to enjoy our first night here, we walked along the extensive promenade and into the busy town alive with local people and tourists. We braved a fruit stall, buying ten apricots, eight oranges and a huge melon all for £2.50. Today has been a long stressful day. Hopefully after a good night's rest we will begin to fully enjoy this country. Everybody is very friendly, and call out Welcome to Morocco to us. We should say. Welcome to Morocco Marge! We weren't sure we'd ever see this day.

Alcaidesa Marina, Gibraltar

Our neighbours at the campsite were a couple from England who'd given up on the country and relocated to Spain. He was a real sun lover. Yesterday morning they set off out to the beach and didn't return until early evening. John thought they might have gone to the nearby nudest beach. Angela can confirm they probably did, as when he dropped his shorts whilst changing in his van with the door open that evening, she was greeted with a bottom resembling a baboon. After two days on the campsite it was time to set off on our drive to Algerciras where we would buy a ferry ticket to Morocco.

Once again it was very warm and as Marge travelled along the coast road she began to feel the strain, but fortunately to no cost. So here we are, now at Gibraltar. Our ferry is booked for eleven thirty in the morning. We have an open ticket which means we are not commited to a return date. Cost, just over £200.

Tonight we will stay at the marina opposite the rock of Gibralter. We walked over late this afternoon, passing through border control before walking across the runway. We visited here just before COVID, and were not impressed, and vowed we wouldn't bother returning.

But all these years later, Gibraltar has improved, with a new shopping area and smart pubs. A cold lager, then a fan purchased to add to the two already in Marge we walked back.

8

Just as we reached the far side of the runway it was closed for an easyJet flight to land. The sun is going down now, the sky alight with magnificent colours of pink, orange and red. It reminds Angela of a certain Englishman's bare bum. Coincidentally, they sell a cream in the town here called 'Brazilian bum bum cream'. We kid you not!

Camping Valle Niza, Benajarafe, Costa del Sol (day 2)

When we arrived on the campsite yesterday we were one of only a handful of English people on the site. But everyone seemed friendly, and by today most of the sceptical Spanish had warmed towards us. Marge of course has been receiving non-stop attention since arriving. One thing we've missed on this trip is taking exercise. So this morning, despite the heat and no shade we walked along the beach to the restaurant. They were setting up for lunch, wood from grapevines, lit and smoking added yet more heat.

We bought coffees and found a seat in the shade. Being a Sunday the beach was busy, whatever shape or size, nobody seemed body conscious, and in some cases shorts and bikinis were put under considerable strain. We sought out a small shady spot opposite the restaurant where we sat a while watching the Hoopoes with their distinctive crown of feathers.

We remember the first time we saw one of these birds, it was in Italy in 2009, the year of our twentieth wedding anniversary. The parakeets that flit between the pine trees here seemed unhappy with the presence of the hoopoes and screeched louder than normal to voice their disapproval. This afternoon we watched a YouTube by a couple who recently took their landrover over to Morocco, and checked which foodstuffs we must make sure we don't take into the country.

By early evening a lot of the vans and caravans had departed from the site, and it is noticeably quieter. Last night we stayed up until midnight, spending too long talking to our neighbours. So tonight we must ensure we retire to bed a little earlier as tomorrow we will be on the move again. Marge should now be fully rested and is hopefully raring to set off again. Hopefully by tomorrow evening we will be at Gibraltar.

Camping Valle Niza, Benajarafe, Costa del Sol

It's supposed to be all about the journey not the destination.Sadly Angela doesn't agree. We have now been away two weeks and apart from our two night stay at La Flotte on the Ile de Re during our first week away, we just seem to be driving in hot uncomfortable conditions. Last night was once again been warm and uncomfortable. Despite being on the edge of Granada it was lovely and quiet, but Angela couldn't sleep, she felt sick and the cramp in her legs and ankles was unbearable. Each day we are drinking copious amounts of fluid to stay hydrated. So John decided we'd head to the coast and stay on a campsite for a couple of nights. Of course we didn't factor in that it was a glorious weekend and that the Spanish might want to do the same. As Marge tore up the miles breezing along through the Sierra Nevada national park, the views of the mountains, dams, viaducts and bridges were a welcome interest.

Towards the coast the road veered downward, Marge loved it, at last no more struggling up hills getting a little heated, and her warning lights have disappeared after the dust was finally blown from the ABS sensors in her wheels. The campsite seemed O.K. but the three spaces we were offered a choice of at the cheaper price of twenty five euros were sub standard. One by the washing up area, another by a caged parrot who had much to say, albeit in Spanish. And yes, said parrot, we know swearing in whatever language. So we drove on failing to find anywhere, becoming more and disheartened.

Pulling over to the side of the road Angela noticed we were parked outside a campsite opposite a beach. She went in, made enquiries and all was well. We were able to choose our pitch and all for £21.00!

We will probably stay here again tomorrow night as well. The site is busy with Spanish, but the lady at reception told Angela most of them will leave tomorrow. We are now less than twenty miles from Malaga, and just over a hundred from Algecires where we will board a ferry to Morocco. So tomorrow apart from a welcome walk on the beach plans need to be finalised for Morocco.

Grenada, Andalusia

At nine o'clock clock yesterday evening a number of musicians appeared in the street adjacent to the site. After some tuning up, they began playing, mostly trumpets and drums, whilst they slow marched. The music was sombre and a little haunting.

The group walked around the block and the repetitive sound continued for an hour and a half. The tone of the music made us think they were practising for a funeral. Today has been one of those days. Everything went pear shaped from the off. The fuel station wasn't open as they were having a delivery, and the nearby Lidl didn't open at nine because the staff could unlock the front door. Eventually, both fuel station and supermarket opened, so John dealt with Marge and Angela sorted the shopping. Now running a little behind our navigation decided to send us around the houses, which turned out to be a good thing as in all the panic of trying to get sorted out John realised he hadn't replaced Marge's fuel filler cap. So we returned to the garage and of course it wasn't there. Why would someone take a locking fuel cap when they didn't have the keys for it? Fortunately Valdepenas was a fair sized town and with the help of a man at a hire car agency who telephoned a nearby vehicle parts supplier we were able to source another locking cap. Then we were on our way, albeit a little later, hoping the drive would be as easy as yesterday. Well we got that one wrong. It started well, nice flat straight roads passing hectares and hectares of olive groves that covered the valleys and the mountains.

How on earth they would harvest them we couldn't comprehend. Of course roads that cut around mountains also go through and over, suddenly the day warming we and Marge found ourselves slogging up some challenging inclines. 

Marge battled on and we made it to Granada. Never doubted you Marge.

Despite the sunshine and the heat, up on the ridges of the Sierra Nevada sat the last of the winter snow which seemed a little surreal. Later than we expected because we arrived at Granada just as the Spanish were going home for siesta, we pulled into the aire. We stayed here last year with Margery, our VW California and rated it highly, as it is secure and has clean toilets and showers, all for just over fifteen pounds. It is also close to the bus stop where you can take a bus to the Alhambra, but because we visited last year we used the time this afternoon to catch up on some washing. Angela wants you to be impressed that she hand washed, using her bucket and a sink, some of our clothing and our bedding, dried it, and had it all put away within three hours.

We are now fairly close to the Mediterranean coast. Malaga is a couple of hours away, so that's the direction we'll be heading. Hopefully it will feel cooler for us and Marge. Since we took her to the badlands she now displays two lights on her dashboard, abs and traction control. That'll probably be dirt on the sensor. Hopefully it will clear itself soon.