27th June to 28th June – Vale Paraiso Campsite - Nazare, Portugal.

Hi everyone – Graham here, doing a sort of supplementary blog on our arrival in Portugal, as I thought it would take some of the writing load off Sue.

So, it was a 250-odd miles, five and a half hour journey (including stops for comfort and lunch) from Santiago de Compostela to Nazare in Portugal. Just for once we had an uneventful trip, if you don’t count getting lost as we got to within a few miles of the Vale Paraiso campsite. It wasn’t the sat-nav’s fault insofar as I’d programmed it to take us to the N242 (the only address we had) and once we got on to the road we happened to travel in the opposite direction to where we needed to go (S - I told him we were going the wrong way but he wouldn’t listen!). I think it’s called sod’s law or something similar. However, after a while (S - He finally listened!) it became obvious something was amiss so I turned around and after a short while we duly arrived.

The site is a lot larger than the one we left at As Cancelas in Santiago de Compostela and it feels much more open and spacious. The bloke on reception told us to pick whatever plot took our fancy and to let him know so he could give us the key to the electricity box. Those of you who know Sue well will be familiar with her habit, when visiting a restaurant, of trying out several tables before deciding on where to sit. Choosing a camping plot is no different. We had to drive around the site several times, getting out of the car occasionally for a more detailed inspection, before she eventually decided on the spot. We were all on our own opposite the swimming pool and near to the bar area, with the shower and toilet block a short walk away. On the face of it, a good choice you may think. Having gone through the usual rigmarole of unloading the car, positioning the caravan (sorry, I meant Freda) and doing all the things necessary to make life comfortable, the bar’s sound system was suddenly turned up to a level that would have competed with Concorde taking off - and the Saturday night disco got underway.

Now don’t get me wrong, I like a bit of music as much as the next person, and then some probably, but there’s a time and place for everything and as far as Sue and I were concerned it wasn’t just then or anytime soon after. However, it was a fait accompli really and so there was nothing to do but make the best of it and try to get some sleep. Sue’s solution was to stuff wads of cotton wool in her ears, which made her look quite cute and a bit like Tufty the Rabbit (S - It didn’t work and worse still I awoke in the night with an itchy ear and wondered what on earth was in there). But all to no avail. We had to bear it until midnight, after which the blare of the music was replaced for an hour or so by inebriated revellers deciding to regale the campers with their own impromptu and somewhat out of tune renditions of the latest Portuguese pop songs. But after a while a blissful peace gradually started to creep over the camp site and sleep beckoned. Or at least it did until about two o’clock, when we were rudely woken by torrential rain hammering on Freda’s roof. Geronimo and the whole Apache nation could have performed a war dance to its accompaniment. It must have been about three in the morning before the rain eased off enough to allow us to fall in to a reasonable facsimile of sleep.

But that’s camping for you. Never a dull moment!

The next morning at nine o’clock the music in the bar area was promptly switched back on at much the same level it had been during the previous night. The fact there was no-one there to listen to it other than us didn’t seem to bother the dim-witted prat who’d turned it on. Then, with a revelation that was almost biblical in its clarity, I realised why no-one else had elected to camp in this particular area. To paraphrase an old saying, “If the mountain won’t leave Muhammad, Muhammad must leave the mountain.”

The choices we had were either to move to another site altogether (Plan A) or choose another plot (Plan B). We’d passed a nearby campsite the previous day and decided to drive there and give it the once-over. It was quite nice and VERY quiet. Sue did her usual performance of minutely inspecting the whole site, noting the pros and cons of toilet and washing facilities, etc., before deciding it was TOO quiet!

Back to square one! We decided to adopt Plan B.

After driving back to Vale Paraiso and consulting with a nice girly in reception, I then had to endure a further round of inspections until Sue decided on a plot approximately a hundred yards away in the company of some other caravans and their owners who’d obviously had the experience, not to mention the good the sense, to park away from the bar area. That night (Sunday) we slept the sleep of the innocent as well as the exhausted.

And as it happens, the music had been turned down so low by then you could barely hear it within two feet of the bar. I’m wondering if Sue’s acidic remarks to the reception girly had anything to do with it.

Very probably!

Galicia

20th–26th June – Galicia
Santiago de Compostela – our campsite is on the side of a 4:1 hill (so what’s new?) that’s situated in a new urbanisation (unfortunately) but once inside the site we are oblivious to what’s around us – particularly after a glass of vino tinto (delighted to see other Eribas – Freda’s cousins) on the site. There are some seriously expensive camper vans here, huge, and we have taken some delight in seeing them struggle to park on the steep slopes and smallish pitches.

There may be better caravans but no-one has an ironing board and washing line like mine – there were some envious glances as I ironed outside (yes, camping does make you a sad person!).

Graham tells me that Spain has the highest unemployment rate in the EU (hard to believe with all the infrastructure development, new factories, etc.) – I digress. We decided having sat in the car for 7 hours yesterday that we would walk 2.5 km into Santiago. It’s always an effort when you first arrive in new places to find where you want to be. We took the wrong route and added quite a bit to our journey.

At one point we ran out of “Catedral” signs and wandered aimlessly, although we could see the splendid towers but never quite made it there. We happened upon a very professional brass band in one of the narrow colonnaded streets and spent some time with many others enjoying a free concert. Then our search for the cathedral continued - in the end I asked someone (yes, humiliating, but at least we found the piazza). Santiago del Compostelo was absolutely stunning and the piazza relatively empty. However, it was not as I’d expected. I had imagined something on a smaller and more intimate scale rather than the size of Tiananmen Square (I may be exaggerating a little!). St. James’ remains are interred within the cathedral, making Santiago the third most holy place in Christendom after Jerusalem and Rome. The Saint appeared (allegedly) alongside Ramiro 1 (King of Asturais 844 AD) in battle and helped vanquish the Moors from Northern Spain; being responsible for slaughtering 60,000 Moors.
People from Galicia pride themselves on their genetic links with Gaelic-speaking people and see themselves as Gaelic rather than Spanish. We’ve found everyone to be very helpful and friendly (bearing in mind that Graham decided to learn Spanish two days before we left the UK and hasn’t yet got very far) so, in short, his Spanish is abysmal (I’m doing the French bit). I digress again; the interior of the cathedral is very special. The altar is decorated with gold leaf, but on the day of our visit a service was in progress and we were unable to get as close as we would like. A return visit is definitely necessary. Santiago is the end of the pilgrimage route for the many pilgrims congregating in the piazza. Most were carrying the symbol of their journey - a staff (with the 2009 addition of a very heavy back-pack and serious walking boots). I suspect St. James managed very well with sandals. The pilgrim route offers accommodation every 15–20 kilometres and at each holy shrine or stop they receive a stamp in their “Pilgrim Passport” which also entitles them to a “Pilgrim menu del dia”. I suggested to Graham this could be our next holiday – he wasn’t too impressed!

Had a troubled day – Graham amended my blog and added and detracted so we had words (I mean I had words). Another irritation is Graham’s addiction to his nicotine substitute tablets which I find dotted around the place. It’s also very alarming on mountain roads when he is digging into his pocket for one. Also, once he’s awake in the morning, I have to wake up too because he gets bored with no-one to talk to! However, I’m sure I’m incredibly irritating and he does well to put up with me (I am a good cook though – that’ll keep him interested!). Had an early night and slept well without the mad Spanish woman chatting on the phone at 2.00am in the morning. (G - A woman camping in a tent opposite us woke us up the night before by having a loud telephone conversation next to our caravan. I heard Sue getting up and told her to say, Por favor senora – silencio – gracias. It ended up as a bellow of, “Silencio s’il vous plait – merci!” Oh well, it had the desired effect, as the woman mumbled, “Perdon” and scuttled back to her tent. Two mornings later at about 7.30, we were woken up again by her phone playing the Nokia ring tone very loudly. Everyone heard it except her. It rang and rang and by the time it woke her up and she’d answered it the whole campsite was awake. We now call her, “That mad deaf Spanish woman.”)

Graham decided he was bored and wanted to see the sunset at Fisterra. Fisterra is the most westerly point in Europe, with fantastic views over the Atlantic. We left around 8-ish in the evening for a one and a half-hour journey. Spectacular scenery and we left Santiago in brilliant sunshine. As we raced to get to the lighthouse at Fisterra, clouds blackened the sky. Sod’s law! By the time we reached the lighthouse there was the faintest tinge of pink in the clouds. The coast is named Costa del Morte (the name stems from the constant buffeting the shoreline receives from the Atlantic waves) and all the shipwrecks off the coast, the latest being the oil tanker Prestige which broke in half in 2002 causing devastation to the coast and livelihoods of the local fishermen. We resolved to return the following day...

(G - While we were away in Fisterra a lovely Scottish couple, Stewart and Ruth, had arrived and parked their caravan next to our plot. We hit it off straight away and they were a mine of information regarding the whys and wherefores of caravanning, and I picked up a lot of useful tips on towing. I was also most impressed (not to mention a little envious) of their remotely controlled electric caravan wheel movers, which made manoeuvring around the plot easy – not to mention positioning their caravan precisely for hitching and unhitching. A seriously good gadget!)

Next day we left Santiago in heavy cloud but by the time we stopped at our first stunning village, Cee, the sun was out and it was a glorious day. The coastline is incredibly rugged as you would imagine but Cee, at the head of one of the many estuaries along the coast was particularly pretty; then a brief stop at Mallas, a tiny bay, silver sand with a backdrop of pines on the headlands AND EMPTY – it was ours for an hour or so. Unfortunately the sun was pretty strong and I woke the next day looking like a boiled lobster!

We stopped again at Corcubion and the local Tourisimo was helpful, telling us about the sardine festival to be held later on and yes, every bar/restaurant would be serving sardines.

We chose the only restaurant that didn’t have them on the menu!

Fisterra at dusk is spectacular but the views on a bright sunny day were even better. This time though, the headland was busy with Pilgrims and a coach party.

Traditionally this is where Pilgrims would burn their clothes after completing their journey (that would have been interesting). Modern Pilgrims are not quite so bold, leaving a hat or scarf at the foot of a cross.

Cambados, A Toxa Corcubion & Pontevedra – Cambados is exquisite. The main square, Praza de Fefinans is an idyllic little spot, lined on all sides with beautiful buildings, including a seventeenth century church. Here we tasted the famous and excellent Albarino Wines as we ate tapas in the sunshine outside a tiny restaurant/bar just off the main square. The tapas were delicious, although ordering the octopus “pulpo” was a huge mistake – YUK!

On to A Toxa - an upmarket, tiny resort on a pine covered islet and then on to Pontevedra. Why does it always happen to us? We timed our arrival so that we could enjoy what the Rough Guide describes as a “compact, charming, quintessentially old Galego town where the old quarter is always lively”. Well let me just say it was closed when we arrived and as silent as the grave! We decided we’d had enough for the day and made our way back to Santiago.
Last night it was difficult to sleep because of the noise of the rain. It poured and the pounding kept me awake for what felt like hours. Graham slept peacefully! What is it about men that they remain undisturbed by noise? This morning everything was soaked – chairs, ground sheet, BBQ – as soon as there was a break in the cloud we dried off everything, being mindful that tomorrow we will be setting off for our next destination, Nazare in Portugal, around 250 miles south of Santiago (let’s hope it will be warmer and drier!).

(G - I’ve just finished loading the car ready for the off tomorrow. I’m hoping for a less traumatic journey than the trip here. Fifth gear all the way! And NO 1 in 3 hill climbs! Fortunately the car seems none the worse for its clutch-burning experience but once bitten and all that. Hope you’re all enjoying our travels. I’ll be telling you what annoys me about Sue next time. If I’ve got the nerve...)

Western Cantabria - 12th–20th June

Friday - Immediate impression on arriving at Santillana Campsite; lovely; immaculate pitches, fabulous setting and, in the distance, the Picos de Europa mountain range. Snags – long walk to the toilet block at least 100 yards away so we allow plenty of time! Thank God Graham insisted on having a toilet in the van! The so-called supermarket is in the bar/restaurant, a couple of shelves with odd bits – no use to us at all although we can get fresh bread in the morning.

However, the gem is Santillana del Mar, which is a five minute walk away. It’s a stunning medieval town (although the size of a large village) dominated by a church overlooking a large cobbled piazza. Spotted a good tapas bar which we’ll try one night, although after a few vino tintos I’m not so sure we’ll be fit to climb the 1 in 4 hill back to the campsite.

Saturday - FOUND CARREFORS! We needed to - running out of all supplies. Our neighbours on the next pitch (a lovely Dutch couple called Herman and Anke) gave us directions. We stocked up on wine - and as an afterthought got some food too! After a disaster with the BBQ (we were sold the wrong gas bottle in the UK) our “other side” neighbour Eric suggested we try a local camp shop they’d used. The owner spoke brilliant English (had very nice blue eyes too) and all was resolved at a cost of €80 for a new gas regulator and a bottle of Camping Gaz. Herman had helped us get Freda onto our pitch so we suggested they came “to ours” for a drink that evening - after four bottles of wine we decided to have a BBQ and we rolled into bed by 1.00 am; although nothing worse than trying to put beds up in a tiny caravan after a few vinos. I have to add at this point that I had to make Graham share his “Porky Whites” (English sausages bought from home).. Herman and Anke were great company and well travelled. We hope to catch up with them at our next stop in Santiago del Compostello.

Weather has been a mixed bag; Friday, Saturday and Sunday were good at around 20 degrees BUT IT POURED SUNDAY NIGHT (we didn’t mind) BUT ALL MONDAY TOO? Normally I would be tearing my hair out but when you’re away for 3½ months you can wait for the weather to change.

Sunday - Comillas is around 18 kilometres from Santillana Del Mar – a pretty harbour tucked into a headland with a nice sandy beach. We were surprised that’s all it seemed to be. However, Eric put us right: “Did you see the old town?” “What old town we chorused”. Next day, Monday, we returned and were so glad we did. I’m running out of superlatives here, but again it was a beautiful ancient town built around several small squares (unfortunately on a steep hillside but we’re getting used to climbing and in our next life may come back as goats!). We were charmed by Gaudi’s house (although it was slightly spooky too) - “El Capricho de Gaudi” up on a hillside near the Palacio de Sobrellano, built for Antonio Lopez y Lopez, the first Marquis of Comillas, in 1881 (although looked much older). I hope you’re getting all this – it’s better than the Rough Guide! Best part of the day was an incredible menu del dia in a typical bar packed tight with Spaniards. The problem was we couldn’t understand the menu, so took pot luck. We did recognise the word “sopa” - soup, for our first course, which was served, piping hot, in a large tin bowl (with ladle) and plonked on the table with our wine – €4 for the bottle! Fabulous atmosphere: families with well behaved children, people smoking, chatting and laughing. The din was amazing, quite unlike France, where dining can take place in an almost reverential silence!

San Vicente de la Barquera was our next port of call in a pleasant spot 10 kilometres along the coast from Comillas. The approach to the town is dramatic, with the town marooned on both sides by the sea and entered via a long causeway across the Rio Escudo. Boats bobbed about in the estuary and we decided to walk up to the highest point at Castle Rey – another 1 in 4 hill! We looked at a rather ramshackle house high up on the hillside and debated for five minutes whether this could be for us – but NO.

On Tuesday we braved the weather (which was overcast but at least wasn’t raining) and went to Santander (above), taking the local narrow gauge train run by a private company called “Reve”. That was fun, but sadly Santander wasn’t. Apparently most of Santander was burnt down in 1941 and apart from one or two remaining old cobbled streets that was it. A pleasant enough harbour front used by Brittany Ferries for the UK run, but too big and without character. (Did find a fantastic Tapas Bar – glass of vino tinto (good stuff) and tapas 7€ for TWO). Nuff said!

By Wednesday however, things were looking up - WE WOKE UP TO SUNSHINE. So this had to be the day we travelled into the mountainous Picos de Europa, declared a national park in its entirety in 1995. It may not be the highest mountain range in Spain but is a favourite with walkers, hikers and trekkers. We travelled along the coast road to Unquira and branched off on the scenic N621 to a small town in the foothills of the Picos range, Potes. Potes is the base camp for all the climbers, and shops reflect this – oiled wool hats, gloves, walking boots, sticks, outdoor camping gear, etc. They also catered for the cows; masses of cow bells in all sizes (must have one before we go home to put outside the back door) – mind you it would be heard throughout the village - they echo everywhere. Potes is on the confluence of two rivers with the old (small) town going up into the hills. Lovely cobbled streets, tapas bars, hostels and riverside bars with the fabulous snowed-topped Picos Mountains as a backdrop. I unfailingly manage to find the best places to eat and drink – just make for the ones that are packed with Spaniards.

We ended up in Cafe Llorente, balconies dripping with geraniums and perched on the side of a small gorge looking down into the river. We sat on the balcony with dos vino Rosas watching the clouds move around the mountain peaks providing occasional glimpses of snow between the crags. Our menu del dia was incredible value and excellent. Starter – vegetable stew for Graham (delicious) and I had sausage and bean stew (out of this world), followed by ham, bacon, eggs and chips, and fish and salad respectively. We declined a dessert – so for two courses, four glasses of delicious vino Rosas, coffee and water = 23€ (yes for two!).

As we headed out to Reina (not a very exciting village) the view of the lake and mountains took our breath away. The mountain road was incredible, firstly following the course of a fast flowing river through a tight gorge (quite claustrophobic), and then slowly up to the highest peaks. It took us ages because every turn in the road brought a new delight and we had to stop to take video and photos. At the very top of the highest peaks the temperature had dropped from 33°C to 20°C (which was actually quite pleasant after the heat) – the wild flowers were spectacular – unfortunately I could only identify a few but they were stunning. I was so moved I had to do the Julie Andrews bit from Sound of Music – fortunately we were alone at the time, although Graham got me on video!

LIFE ON THE CAMPSITE – meeting loads of really nice people who are always ready to lend a hand. Came back from a jaunt a few days ago to find a Spanish chap (with no English but then we have no Spanish – Graham is supposed to be learning!) had saved our awning. It was a really windy day and it had turned inside out and was almost suffocating poor Freda. He’d tied it down for us with guy ropes... Washing up – yes, we could do this in the caravan but there is hardly room. We have to walk 100 yards or so and stand at the communal sinks – bonjour-ing and hola-ing to each new-comer. You won’t believe this, but washing up can be fun! Although we are on a hillside we are surrounded by farms in the valleys around. Unfortunately they have been muck spreading and the smell – let me see – indescribable at times! We hear the cow bells in the distance and an occasional dog barking but it‘s wonderfully quiet you can’t help but relax.
A lovely Australian couple called Terry and Kay (from Queensland) arrived on the site a couple of days before we were due to leave. They have a HUGE motor home with double wheel axles at the back and tow a small Fiat behind them. It’s their home for six months of the year while they tour round Europe. However, Terry needs regular access to the Internet via “wiffi” as he calls Wi-Fi, so decided to move into a site in a seaside village, Suances, about 8km away – but not before inviting us to their new site for a BBQ on our last night. They “cooked a chook” (chicken) on their BBQ – absolutely delicious and Kay made some equally delicious and very sophisticated salads. We’ve also learned a thing or two about washing up! They use wet wipes to clean most of the plates and cutlery so all that’s required is a quick wash with minimum water afterwards. We left around 11pm as we had an early start to Santiago del Compostela next day.

WHAT A JOURNEY! 360 miles, which doesn’t sound a lot - the roads were perfect and we just stopped for a couple of quick wees and grabbed a tortilla for lunch (yes the diet has officially ended). Graham was so intrigued by the audio book playing on the car stereo that he didn’t bother to change out of sixth gear as we drove up this enormously long and tortuous mountain road. I was asleep at the time but woke to find the car doing about 25 mph in third gear and crawling painfully up and onwards. It was touch and go get to the top and we were on a motorway with no hard shoulder so Graham didn’t like to stop. Eventually we parked up on an exit road and gave the car a breather (we needed one too). Thankfully, after a few minutes, it started first time and was back to its old self. Graham thinks that the car’s engine management system closed down the turbos because he was in the wrong gear and it just needed resetting. We were miles from anywhere high in the mountains and I dread to think how we would have managed. Of course it was blisteringly hot without any shade.

We eventually reached the campsite at 5.00pm having left Santillana del Mar at 9.30am. We arrived to find the reception area redirected and Graham, in his wisdom, drove under a plastic line barrier thinking that was the way to the campsite. WE FOUND OURSELVES ON A 1:3 HILL about as wide as the path down the side of our house but with hairpin bends. The car struggled manfully but we just started to roll backwards. Really scary! Graham forced the car on and nearly burnt out the clutch – the car stank for hours until it cooled down! In the end and with the help of some nice Dutch campers we unloaded both the Jag and Freda and, with about six other campers, pushed them up the incline.

Anyway, the campsite is nice – and Graham is delighted he can play with his toys as there’s Wi-Fi. The pitches are on terraces and we chose one next to the toilets (from the ridiculous to the sublime) and near the cafe area (big mistake as they were partying until after midnight). However, I’m too terrified to suggest we move the van after yesterday’s experiences. I said to Graham that when we leave and drive down these incredibly steep terraces Freda will probably overtake us!Anyway, that’s that for now.

Watch this space in a week or so for the next thrilling instalment!?

10th – 12th June 2009 – On Our Way

Well, how can I describe the last week or two – manic doesn’t do it justice! I retired on June 5th, Wednesday & Thursday of that week I couldn’t honestly say I worked. Chris and Linda had organised two super retirement lunches. Wednesday all my friends and colleagues arrived at Reed’s School for a superb buffet lunch – Thursday my “official” retirement day was celebrated at the RAC Club in Pall Mall. Fab food and company! Friday, I worked all day making a buffet for 30 friends for Derby Day. The house is small and I’d hoped we could spread into the garden – but no, it rained and was cold all day. However, we did our best. Watched the races on TV and Ian organised the sweepstakes. It seems that Vanessa and Brian did best and won around £30. Sunday, sensibly, should have seen us tidying the garden and starting to load Freda (our caravan). Instead we took the opportunity to have a BBQ at Ian’s.
Monday morning on the 8th, panic and disaster set in. Firstly, I messed up my internet banking...... and no they couldn’t let me have a new pass number before we travelled on Wednesday. Had to dash to Lord Wandsworth College to sign my CRB clearance (3 hours) as part of my Governorship. As Graham was reversing the Rover into the drive the edging on the crazy paving collapsed and we could see claims for many thousands of pounds for those pedestrians tripping over the debris. Luckily Chris, who lives up the road, agreed to repair it for us while we’re away. What a lovely neighbour! Oh yes, I didn’t tell Graham this one - was so absorbed over the crazy paving I left the water running in the sink. Luckily I came into the kitchen JUST as it was about to tumble like Niagara Falls onto the kitchen floor...
At last it was Wednesday and we were on our way to the ferry terminal at Portsmouth. I always like to be unfashionably early for everything and would have arrived five hours early, but I let Graham have his way and we allowed just a couple of hours to get to Portsmouth. All was fine until we reached the terminal. The boat was supposed to sail at 9.15pm and we were told that loading had started early. We waited for TWO hours to get onto the boat! However, we were luckier than some, who’d arrived at the terminal at 4.00pm and still had not loaded. The following day could only be better.
It was!
Twenty hours into our journey to Bilbao we were sailing through a calm Bay of Biscay on the good ship “Pride of Bilbao”. I’m not so sure Bilbao would be proud of this rather old ferry... our cabin is “compact” but we do have en suite toilet and shower. The boat is huge - 177 metres long and the height of an 11-storey building. Lots to do on board if you like bingo, cinema, slot and games machines. However, the sun was out and sunbathing with a glass of wine, a good book and enforced relaxation can’t be bad.
Dined in Langans restaurant on board ship – fabulous meal and company – and met some extraordinary folk including two guys trailing gliders to the Pyrenees. Also chatted to two chaps (identical twins) who were seventy-four and looked like Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, as they were also dressed identically! However, they were well travelled and gave us some good tips about where to go in Portugal – the Portuguese are dreadful drivers apparently – that’s something to look forward to on the next leg of our journey! On the last night of the voyage we saw a good comedian doing cabaret in the ship’s theatre. I thought he was funny, but Graham said he must have got his jokes from the Internet, as he’d read them all before.
Arrived in Bilbao at 7am on Friday - with a polite wake-up call from the Chief Purser at 5.30! The motorway from Bilbao to Santillana del Mar was excellent and, surprisingly, was not a toll road. The campsite is absolutely lovely – beautifully sculptured lawns, hedges and trees delineating the pitches. WE ARE VERY COMFORTABLE – although the awning presented us (again) with problems. EVENTUALLY awning up and comfy chairs out. Better still, Graham got Freda’s toilet going (after much scrutiny of the instructions) and chemicals were splashing about all over the place. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that it’s for number ones only! NO number twos – or I’ll be emptying it myself.
Several mishaps with packing – forgot my styling brush (how will I manage), Graham’s hat and other stuff. Despite my strict instructions to the contrary, Graham sneaked our small hand-held vacuum cleaner into the car by hiding it under all the other stuff. Still, it was just as well really, as I also forgot the dustpan and brush I meant to bring, as well as a broom. Worse still, the BBQ, which is almost as large as Freda, has a different connection to the gas bottle that we lugged all the way here. HAPPY DAYS! However, there’s a camping shop up the road which hopefully will be able to sort us out with an adaptor. Nevertheless, with a gin and tonic in hand life feels pretty good in temperatures of around 25°C. Oh yes, and the swimming pool looks fantastic, although I have a horrible feeling it’s not heated.
Santillana del Mar is the most beautiful town; a real gem and only a ten minute walk from the site – exploring tomorrow!

Here’s our itinerary!

From Bilbao Port (the numbers on the left correspond to the numbers on the map):
1 Arrive Santillana on 12th June at Santillana del Mar Campsite
2 Arrive Santiago del Compostela on 20th June at Camping As Cancelas
3 Arrive Nazare on 27th June at Vale Paraiso Campsite
4 Arive Isla Menor on 7th July at Camping Villsom
5 Arrive Marbella on 11th July at Camping Marbella Playa
6 Arrive Santa Elena on 25th July at Despenaperros Campsite
7 Arrive Toldedo on 29th July at Camping El Greco
8 Arrive Neuvalos on 2nd Aug at Lago Park Campsite
9 Arrive Vilanova on 6th Aug at Vilanova Park
10 Arrive Argeles on 11th Aug at Dauphin Campsite
11 Arrive Ruoms on 17th Aug at Ranc Davaine Campsite
12 Arrive Souillac on 25th Aug at Le Soleil Plage Campsite
13 Arrive Bordeaux on 1st Sept at La Cigale Campsite
14 Arrive Nantes on 5th Sept at Le Bois Joli Campsite
15 Arrive Benodet on 9th Sept at Camping De Kergo
16 Arrive Courtils on 15th Sept at Camping Saint-Michel
17 Arrive Caen Port on 19th Sept

We arrive back in blighty during the evening of 19th September.