Travels in the Van 2023: Week 7

 

Saturday 25th February 

La Granja de Carmella

Saturday night communal supper was sublime – home cooking at its best. Sweet-and-sour pork soup with lemons to squeeze, pork loin braised in beer, roasted carrots & green peppers and Patatas Bravas, with figs caramelised figs and yoghurt for dessert, as well as heaps of chorizo, cheese and other Tapas. All washed down with the house Vino Tinto. The company was entertaining too.  Two older Dutch couples, and two younger, both with little children, one Belgian and the other Dutch. Hortensia was such an affable hostess, she had her teenage kids helping in the open plan kitchen and Jacques her husband wandering in and out. Such a lovely way to spend an evening. We swapped campsite recommendations and life stories and manage the Brexit question, which I knew would be inevitable, very well, with a much more nuanced discussion than would be possible at home. The whole experience at this place felt like basking in warmth and friendliness. Many of the other travellers, including the handful from supper moved on, as we did, relaxed and refreshed, the next day.

Sunday 26th February

Guadalest & Calp

Another mountain ride turns out to be a bit of a trial. The pretty mountain town of El Castell de Guadalest is busy with tourists on on a Sunday. The little campsite ‘Refuge de Guadalest' is tucked under the rock face with spectacular views of the valley. This is where we intend to stay the night after the ride. There’s a notice on the door from the owner saying “Sorry -gone climbing, see you later” so we park up and set out for the ride up the gorge for 10m and then back. It's so windy and cold that when we get back and look at the weather forecast (-3 predicted for the night) We apologise to the owner who has returned and run away from it to Calp or Calpe just along the coast from Benidorm, where it promises to be warmer. We’re back to 4 layers and 3 blankets at night. We are grateful to find a space in one of the chain of campsites that his home for six months of the year to an array of German pensioners with huge vans as big as coaches. I can see where the Costa Brava has become a tourist industry hotspot, although beach and bar holidays are not my cup of tea. It's not just the Sun (300 days a year is promised) but this little fishing port, now with tower blocks of apartments (some quite nicely designed) and tiered estates of holiday villas, is still beautiful. It's a bit of a cycling hotspot too. 

We are grateful to find a space in one of the chain of campsites that his home for six months of the year to an array of German pensioners with huge vans as big as coaches. I can see where the Costa Brava has become a tourist industry hotspot, although beach and bar holidays are not my cup of tea. It's not just the Sun (300 days a year is promised) but this little fishing port, now with tower blocks of apartments (some quite nicely designed) and tiered estates of holiday villas, is still beautiful. It's a bit of a cycling hotspot too. 

Monday 27th February

We spend Monday planning the next two weeks and restocking food. There's an Aldi and Lidl next door and the best stocked hardware store I've ever seen. It’s cold and windy here too! On the bright side there's quite a sheltered spot to do yoga and the sun is very warm out of the wind. By evening the wind has died down enough to have a ride to explore the old town and enjoy a ride along the near deserted beachfront. The twinkling nightlights of the houses illuminating the hillside. 

I've been keeping up with dark angels Tuesday's evening writing sessions and the prompt of a poem by Rita Dove - ‘exit’ led to this;

This nondescript campsite 

modern facilities, featureless 

with white chipping and astroturf 

on the Costa Brava i

is home for six months of the year 

to mostly Dutch and German pensioners 

in caravans as big as coaches 

Today one by one they started to pack up and leave 

Tomorrow they all have to go 

The site is closing for good

probably to be filled with a high-rise block of holiday apartments 

in this well ordered resort with still stunning views. 

We were just passing through 

so it's nothing to us 

and yet this exodus brings a fleeting moment of sadness.

Tuesday 28th February

We see just how popular a cycling destination Calp is on a glorious circular ride along the coast when the wind dies down on Tuesday. I’d met a woman, Sarah from Wakefield the previous day in the bike shop & cafe getting my rubbing disk-brakes fixed. As usual I’d tried to fix it myself with a you-tube video and failed. She’d abandoned a ride on Monday because her guide was ill, two blokes she’s gone out with were too slow and the high winds were dangerous. She was thawing out in the bike cafe. I offered that she could come out with us in the afternoon (we called it off) and we exchanged what’s app numbers. She said that there were loads of professional teams out here training. It’s also a cycling holiday destination for keen amateurs. As we head out we get absorbed by a peloton of polish riders and keep up with them long enough for a chat before they peel off for a higher, longer ride than us. Ours is long and high enough for us and for the effort we’re rewarded with views up and down the coast. Back at the cafe as we were leaving Sarah came back with some clearly very quick riders, they’d been out for 5 hours. We had a nice chat, and as we walked away I had an inkling she was professional standard. After blushing at my invitation to her the day before - we’re on gravel bikes after all! I recovered myself and don’t regret being friendly even if I was naive! Later I went for a walk around the salt water lake full of flamingos behind the campsite as the sun went down and saw the polish riders returning from their day’s outing. So glad I’ve got an e-bike and that I’m out there at all!

Wednesday 1st March

Parcent & Campell

We aren’t the last out of the abandoned campsite, but get an early start to have a go at another popular climb Coll de Rates. We know it’s going to be cold and do everything, almost, to dress appropriately. It’s fantastic, on a warmer day it would be perfect. The gradients are signposted, my Garmin bike computer gives me good info on when the top of the hill or a decent is coming. Despite good planing my feet and fingers are like blocks of ice at the end. What I can’t fathom is that there are cyclists out in shorts with no gloves and single layers on. My error was not to bring thicker gloves on the trip and not to wear the neoprene shoe covers that are tucked away in the van.

It’s always nice to see other riders out, some wave some don’t - I always nod and smile. There are more women out too, we usually acknowledge each other. 

Something strange happens this day. We’ve stopped about half way to eat the ham, cheese, tomato and mayo sandwiches, made by Richard, that have become customary on this trip. No more snack bars and gels for us - although toffees and wine gums are carried. There’s a shout up the road and we expect to see a cyclist or two coming down towards us, they don’t appear. It was a cheery shout not a help me shout, so we’re momentarily puzzled. Then a man, big, tall and broad, all in black, black jeans and a thin black shirt (in this weather!) comes striding towards us. We are in the middle of nowhere and he looks like a contract killer. He keeps looking into the trees, but he doesn’t call for a dog. We’re gaping at him as he gets closer and I say hello. He replies in dutch. Then in English says ‘I’m looking to take a photograph of the view” so we point him a bit further down the road round the bend with relief.

After thawing out back in the van as it starts raining and drinking chicken soup, we head for a mountain campsite again. Perfect hot showers here, a very friendly official campsite cat and views over the valley below to the see (when the rain stops). I see my second welsh camper van of the trip, a couple from North Wales and their daughter who’s in University in Cardiff who’s visiting.

Thursday 2nd March

Orba

After all the mountain exertion and the cold, todays ride is a gentle valley bimble through orange groves (all the rides are recorded on Strava) a recovery ride you could say. We stop in a funny little bar/cafe that Richard had found of google maps ‘Nice British pub with good food’ looking for somewhere to watch the football (Weds being football night). Disappointingly for him they closed at 8pm so he watched/listened in the van, but we owe it a visit today. it has very good reviews but we’d smiled at one of the comments left online in dutch complaining about it being a British bar in a Spanish town. I think it was the full English that lured Richard, and as we sat and drank the tea and eat a second breakfast after the ride, said hello to the two women with dogs sitting by the bar and watched the elderly ex pats come in with daytime tv on, we could have been  in a down to earth caff anywhere in England. There were pots of ‘Jill’s home made jams’ for sale and some English language greetings cards being restocked. I couldn’t help wonder how many of the clientele were elderly fugitives from the long arm of His Majesty’s criminal justice service.

Friday 3rd of March

Gandia

We’ve hit upon a routine this week, arrive after a ride at a new campsite, eat, sleep, ride, repeat. This time it’s Gandia on a leafy campsite in the flatlands inland from the Mediterranean which is a grid of small holdings like a giant well ordered allotment, irrigated by watercourses. The ride of the day takes us high onto a peak La Monduver, which doesn’t phase me as I know have faith in my e-capacity. If the gradients are steep up though, and right up to the masts they’re too hard to ride, they’re also steep down which is trying on my brake grip. My technique is to stop on the flat part of a hairpin bend when it all gets too much and bend my thumbs, fingers and wrists, and then carry on. Luckily the longer decent is a glorious sunny sweep of 5% and the ride. 

On uphill climbs I’ll listen to an audiobook or a podcast. On this ride I finish the book I’ve been listening to. When travelling I like to listen to fiction set in the place we’re in, either a classic or contemporary crime or historical fiction. In Lisbon I listened to a sci-fi crime story. More recently, after the recommendation came in from a couple of sources. It’s 'The Return' by Victoria Hislop set in Granada. Never read her before. I was aware of Laurie lee, George Orwell and had even read ‘For Whom the bell Tolls’ and ‘The shadow of the wind’. But it hadn’t sunk in. It made me realise how little I knew about the Spanish Civil War and more puzzling how little mention or official trace of this quite recent history is evident. It wasn’t mentioned once in the walking tour. I suppose the traumatic fall out from it socially and politically may be too deep. The book is informative and descriptive especially about the culture before the civil war, and I think even handed on difficult subjects, like bullfighting and family divisions on politics. It focuses on flamenco at the heart of the human story and as I descend from La Monduver, I listen to a flamenco playlist on Spotify.

Saturday 4th March 

Playamonte

As I write this we’re in Playamonte, outside Navarres, one of the La Canal villages in Valencia, on a new, quiet campsite on a flat open olive terrace, not the prettiest, but the hottest showers by far. We did another medium effort 30 miler in the sunshine, and are looking forward to Paella in a local restaurant, after a week of van cuisine, tonight.