Travels in the Van 2023: Week 5
The campsites have been busier than usual apparently, perhaps because of the rumoured clamp down on unofficial sites near Faro Airport. We set off early almost before the supermarkets open and after review a review of our budget we're getting to know supermarket prices - Lidl still wins. I've started grading the campsites. The difference between wild camping and a campsite is twofold, toilets and electricity. First on the list is hot showers, then there's the ambience and friendliness of other people, trees are quite important too and of course electric hook up so I can charge my bike after a day of cycling. Olhão does well on showers in fact it scores well all round. As soon as I arrive at a new campsite, I scan around looking at number plates. This is a big camp and there are Norwegians Swedes, Swiss, French, Italian, Dutch, Finns, Germans, Irish,Spaniards and Belgians, and as usual a couple of Brits. The next thing that we do is to hop on our bikes and ride around the nearest town to soak up the atmosphere. By now we have a routine for days when we're not moving on, so going for a bike ride and days when we are. The weather is warming up, especially at night - we're done down to one extra blanket and I've even taken my jumper off.
A bit more about Van Life. It really is quite a small space but remarkably, not claustrophobic. The big thing is to be able to pop the roof for headspace inside and with the seats turned round it's a very comfortable living space. We sleep in the pulldown mattress in the roof which is very comfortable. It's a bit like sleeping in a treehouse. I've been starting each day with an eight minute exercise regime and 10 minutes of yoga I think it's keeping me sane and stopping me seizing up. Getting ready for a bike ride involves opening the boot, fishing out the right gear and taking it in turns to get dressed in the van. There’s always a bit of competition as to who’ll keep the other waiting. Whoever’s ready first has usually forgotten something.
With the news from home, it’s good to do a life affirming ride. Steep up and gentle down, very little traffic and stunning views. We cycle past oranges and lemons, the hedgerows are sweet almond and pomegranate. We’re flirting with the border between Portugal & Spain, not quite ready to leave but time is ticking on. A early start means an early finish - Richard finds somewhere to watch the football in a lovely town called Tavira on the river, and I catch up with this. We celebrate with a curry - not very Portuguese but very good. We’re headed to a one night stop spot, when we get there we just fit in (above). Tomorrow we’ll have been away a month.
Driving a couple of hours is an opportunity not only to notice the subtle changes in the landscape and the colour of the earth but also to play some games with a Spotify playlist. Sometimes it's looking at the lyrics of a song you can't quite believe you've heard, like Neil Diamond's Cracklin Rosie. We've stumbled across a Country playlist and stick with it for awhile. It all started with a misheard line and then, judged by modern sensibilities seems a little well...sexist. Which led to discovering the actual lyrics and meaning. Those who are aficionados of Neil Diamond will already know, those curious just listen and discover the real truth for yourselves. We next try to guess who is singing which parts of the Traveling Wilburys 'end of the line' - the super group consisted of Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, George Harrison and Bob Dylan. We both have to guess and then look it up - hours of fun. I've had an earworm in my head since Santander I'm scaring the Spanish public by whistling 'Solsbury Hill' as I'm cycling along. The lyrics for that needed checking out too.
The campsite outside Seville is in a boat yard was also very busy and we found a corner there too. I've seen a few lone women travellers now in vans which is interesting and we spend two nights here having fun negotiating the very good bike lanes in and out of the city. I have my first glass of Pedro Ximenez in a bar in old Seville. It's Tuesday, and it's good to tune in to the 'Dark Angels" gathering for an hour of writing prompts in the evening. I've loved being able to join in on the move, it's been a marker in the week.
Weds & Thursday 14th & 15th February: Jerez & Cadiz
The campsites that are available are often a short distance from the city and so it is as we head for Cadiz. Jerez is nearby and we have a rather disheartening bike ride on rough tracks parallel with the motorway in and out but at least we get to see behind the scenes of agricultural land and probably the parts of a city that the tourist board wouldn't want you to see.
Cadiz is a revelation. Alongside its historical significance it also says that particular ambience that island fortress or walled towns have. Perhaps it's the narrow streets and the car restrictions in place which mean more people, traders moving goods by hand, a hustle and bustle that's very human. It's also another city that is bike friendly After all the city cycling and the slog to Jarris and back, we are heading to the hills again, to somewhere we've been before in the Park Natural de Grazalema . Back in 2014, on New Year's Day, we cycled up into the clouds to the highest municipalities in the province, which also has the highest rainfall as we found out. We were invited to dry out in front of a roaring fire in the dining room of the only hotel open that day. We're going back to pay homage. and to get another look at the place. We were too hyperthermic to appreciate it last time.
P.S. It was a glorious ride with home-made sandwiches and Eagles (Imperial Spanish Eagles to be precise) jaw-dropping scenery and again, pretty much empty roads - recommend to all.
After all the city cycling and the slog to Jerez and back, we are heading to the hills again, to somewhere we've been before in the Park Natural de la Sierra de Grazalema . Back in 2014, on New Year's Day, we cycled up into the clouds to the highest municipalities in the province, which also has the highest rainfall as we found out. We were invited to dry out in front of a roaring fire in the dining room of the only hotel open that day. We're going back to pay homage. and to get another look at the place. We were too hyperthermic to appreciate it last time.
P.S. It was a glorious ride with home-made sandwiches and Eagles (Imperial Spanish Eagles to be precise) jaw-dropping scenery and again, pretty much empty roads - recommend to all.
The next campsite is really a parking lot with a toilet and a shower, run by some very charming young men who couldn't be more helpful. They squeeze us in amongst the huge vans and we are grateful to be close to Cordoba and we even get a special key to the shower. Just as everyone settles down for the night, and campsites are generally speaking very quiet places - everyone stays in their vans especially at this time of year and there is hardly any noise after about 8 o'clock. What's surprising is that suddenly, at 11pm, there's music from a radio blaring from what seems to be one of the vans. Slowly a delegation of campers gathers, mostly German on this site, and the owners are there too. The story unfolds, some disgruntled neighbours annoyed at not being able to use what was waste ground to park their cars and treat as their own, are very unhappy about the campsite enterprise, and so have had a campaign of blaring music out of a window late at night to disturb the business. A diplomatic intervention is attempted which doesn't seem to work but eventually the music is turned off, the police are not particularly interested. They do however turn up the next day and certainly the second night is full is peaceful.
Cordoba is delightful, almost my favourite city so far, and as we drive to Granada after a bike tour, we listen to an episode of 'The rest is history' outlining its rise and fall.
Next week Granada.
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