Istán was great and we will make our way back through here on our return journey, I’m sure.
It’s only a few days later writing this and the fresh water from Istán is still going strong. You’d be amazed at how little water you need for things like cleaning dishes when you have a hungry dog to do a thorough pre-wash for you…
I hear a few retches through the connection. Meh… 😑
La Línea de la Concepción was our next stop after stupidity meant we travelled through all those golf resort holiday spots at what might be considered rush-hour times.
Another terrible decision was made by Tippi’s chauffeur not long after this picture. We had some lunch and thought that perhaps going to Gibraltar for the afternoon would be a good idea. Ugh 😫
Google suggests just over an hour to get that far? It’s only 13km. And this is where the bad decision came in, we went anyway. About 15 minutes to get there and it ended up about 50 additional minutes in the queue to enter the Kingdom’s Sovereign Territory.
What a fuster cluck!
So I shan’t bore you with too many details of the Gib visit. I took 6 pictures total, 3 of Tippi.
We did get two things from Gib that weren’t so bad. Cheap diesel (£1.29 Vs £2.00? In UK?) and most importantly, a £1.09 bottle opener. Yes!
Another not so nice drive through Algeciras before the stunning views of the African coastline (no pictures unfortunately, as I was driving and Tippi’s opposable thumbs haven’t grown out yet) and getting to the meeting point of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic at Tarifa. Right at the turn off for Tarifa was a great big parking area inhabited by many campers of the (wind) surfer variety and right next door to the local Lidl… Do I need more wine?
We stopped here as the spot we would have preferred to stop at says no overnight camping 🏕️ slash parking. Lidl came in handy for a few incidentals and we got down to the task of learning to cope with the incessant wind. One of the first things to remember is to not pee into the wind.
Luckily, I already knew this… promise.
So let’s go to one of the lovely spots the boys and I went to all those years ago. A lovely beach just north of Tarifa on the Atlantic coast side of things.
We’re parked only a short walk away from here. And probably on the wrong days. The weekend is very busy with people learning to kite surf, and all the various wind associated sports that Tarifa offers thanks to the inexhaustible supply of wind they have here. Which is also the reason for Tarifa having the highest suicide rate in Europe.
We got here nice and early, missing the initial rush for client parking to this… No camping, huh?
One of the reasons we left Istán was to be able to travel on a cloudy, not so hot day. Quelle surprise, the meteorological agencies didn’t quite predict it all to a satisfactory conclusion for us. It was hot, but the good thing about the wind is that it keeps the temperature bearable.
Realising we’d parked a little close to the commercial side of the lot, we decided to ignore that and have a great big pasta lunch, mmm 😋 Most of the tourist types left by the end of the day and Tippi decided she wanted to watch the sunset. Almost mucking up the timing, we got this…
Monday meant moving day. Bolonia was next on the way up the coast and there’s a very cool looking Roman Theatre 🎭 that looks worth a visit. You probably won’t be all that surprised that it’s closed on Mondays. We decided to make the most of the location and go walk up a very large dune.
T’was a long way up (and down through the forest) but worth the view.
We did see some of the Roman runes along with the dunes, too. Not impressive enough to come back another day to pay to see them though.
I don’t mean to poo-poo the impressive runes getting slowly decimated by time, but I don’t want to come back when there’s hundreds of people there, doing whatever hundreds of people are likely to do, helping time decimate runes faster.
On the way back out of the enclosed valley, we stopped for a little lunch overlooking the small town of Bolonia and its Roman runes and impressive dunes.
Onward! Barbate for a quick swim, and to visit one of the old stops from all those years ago only to find the beach had a sunken, washed up inflatable. My mind went the immigrant route. I later find out it’s way more likely a drug runner boat. This coast is notorious for it. The more you find out, the less you know…
After a lovely cooling swim, we made our way to Trafalgar. Yup, that one. The closest land to the naval battle of all those years ago and a now famous name of some or other square in £ondon. Leicester Square? Fucked if I know or care.
It wasn’t a boat washed up on this beach though. It “looked” like a 25 litre bottle of… piss? Right colour etc. but was probably the petrol for one of the drug boats that either sank or made it to the Spanish coast and was dumped. Before I knew the story behind the likely reason they were there, I was making up my own little stories that it was Walter White’s pseudoephedrine or some such. Shit!
To make matters worse, last night I could hear one, maybe two boats (couldn’t see them though) went north past me, then a little while later went back south. Was probably just fishermen, right?
Today is supposed to be a good hot day with a little cloud cover, (and it was) but perhaps the next two days are going to be the start of a heavy rainy weekend. I have stocked up the van with food and water and parked as though I’ve been parked in by another van (a local, I met the owner on my last visit here) so that not moving seems normal 😆 Istán is the place of choice to hole up while the heavily Sahara-sand-laden rain 🌧️
Damn! I just cleaned, okay… half-cleaned the van. Tippi has been bringing as much beach sand as she can possibly manage to tuck into her fur every time we visited the beach for a morning, midday or afternoon walk. Oh well, this is the nature of Spain in general. I’ll clean the van… tomorrow. Or possibly tomorrow I’ll say the same thing.
