Travel Diary 8

Travel Diary 8

Having a do nothing day on Sunday during which Kerrie got into her Bikinis and got a month’s supply of tanning done in a day, we spent until 1.00pm Monday following up leads for gas adaptors. All to no avail. So decided to get going for Barcelona.

Due to the late exit from Valencia, we had to stop part way at a little town called Tostada situated about 20kms from the coast at the beginning of the foothills to the range of mountains running parallel to the Coast. The geography here is very much like the Sunshine Coast. Ocean, about 20kms of flat land with creeks and streams fed by tidal influence and run off from the hinterland and then hills commencing.

All along the motorway, we could see the coastline. Looks just like the Gold Coast. Shops and Apartment buildings everywhere. In between the small numbers of locals somehow scratch out a living growing tomatoes, beans, artichokes, potatoes assorted other vegetables in sandy soil. Each plot is small and unkempt strewn with odds and sods of gardening implements such as spades, rakes, wheel barrows and broken timbers and other assorted bits and pieces. All the effort goes into soil preparation, watering and growing. None into keeping things tidy!

Unlike North West Spain, there are no major businesses in each small town to support employment. We had noticed as we drove through the towns along the Atlantic Coast, that in each town, regardless of how small, there was one major factory or industrial development per town. Ii don’t know if this was deliberate, but somehow I suspect Government intervention in the way of maybe an incentive to locate there as they were often miles from their major markets. However, with the network of autovias located so close and the myriads of trucks running all over Europe, I suspect that this is not a major issue. It certainly helps with regional employment.

The major income for these towns on the Mediterranean Coast is Tourism. We called into a city called Peniscola right on the coastline. This city was originally a fishing village but during the War of Religion, the Pope who lost the war, ran off with his retinue to this place as a form of refuge. Built a massive residence and church here on a headland overlooking the sea. The war had been caused by one group of Catholics getting too liberal for another group. Bishops were getting married and having children! Priests doing the same. And what’s more, there were two Popes laying claim to the title along with all the power, lifestyle and money that bought.

So the French group decided that enough was enough and took the Spanish influenced ones to task.  By this time were obviously going over the top and a war resulted. Although the initial war didn’t last too long by the standards of the times, one Pope said “OK … you win” and retired. Forfeiting his rights to everything except the new residence he had accumulated enough funds for. Persecution of some other groups of supporters continued on and off for a hundred years or more eventually leading to many fortified cities being built on hill tops and most of these being left in ruins. The area around Languedoc-Roussillon in France has lots of such sights. Often difficult to get to, but there is one in particular which we will be going to at Carcassonne tomorrow.

Today, Peniscola is nothing but a Tourist mecca. I literally saw nothing but Hotels, Apartments and shops. But for the age and architecture, I could have been in Mooloolaba or Surfers Paradise Gold Coast. Lovely protected beaches with the normal soccer goals in place ready for a pick game anytime. While no one was playing, we did see an example of complex sand castle building. I took a couple of photos of it as it really was a work of art.

Back out on the highway and the hinterland is hilly. Sparsely covered with short scrub and stunted trees. About half of their area is simply exposed stone and it is a grey to off white colour. So hills look 50% greenish and 50% whitish. Most unusual! In places, on some of the steeper hillsides, there are low rock built walls to catch falling stones and rocks. Maybe. To provide protection for goats from the weather? Maybe, but we didn’t see any animals. They are mostly short in length and scattered all over. No pattern at all. Some overlapping, some having gaps between them. I can’t think why this would be done. But it does set one wondering about who would order such a thing or why others did it. What was the purpose?

Around 5.00pm we had a break and a stretch and decided it was layup time. I fired up google maps and searched for a local camp site as there was nothing locally in the ACSI book. We found one of the Aires – a free site set up in a town called Tortosa about 12-15kms up a little valley. When we arrived, the site was beside a small river flowing through town and sure enough it was free. Water and dump provided. That was it. No toilets etc. But hey! We were glad to stop for the day.

We got out to stretch and saw a couple cleaning some fish. Turned out they were from England. They live 6 months a year in their apartment in Sevilla, Spain and the other 6 months touring Europe following the fishing sites. They had a large campervan complete with a trailer that had on board 2 bicycles, a motorbike, two paddling skis and other items. When all hooked up and driving away, must have been about 15 M in length. Couldn’t see room for the fishing rods and gear, so that must all go inside the van somewhere!

I asked, once again, about the gas situation and they were no help apart from introducing us to a German couple. They were nice people but had no answers for us. They in turn introduced us to a Dutch couple who had some spare adaptors which he thought might work. We checked them out and discussed gas cylinders like professionals and commented on the stupidity of having different systems in each country and no one selling connectors etc. I felt like an old pro at this! Even if I was heartily sick of it by now.

We finally agreed to meet at 9.00am and we would follow him to a Service Station and sort it out. Which we did. Follow him to a service station that is! As for sorting it out. Well, No! At this stage I thought let’s not do anything more until we get to Barcelona. So, on the bike again!

We had had a relatively early start for the day and reached the camp site after a number of goes at finding it. The address read Autovia, Gava. The GPS couldn’t find it. I tried Google maps and it found it. Go figure! I’m surprised as the Autovia, as the name implies is a major route. 100kms and two lanes each way with a divided road. But, buses pull off to the side to stop and pick up people. Entrances to various places are just driveways off this highway. You will be traveling at 100kms with traffic going faster all around you and “Oooops!” there goes the driveway! So we decided to find another entranceway, except there isn’t any. After much stuffing around, backtracking on three or four occasions, we eventually got there, booked in and rang a taxi. We were going to a large Camping store and a couple of other places nearby. Well 15kms down the road anyway! But, in a large complex full of such shops. We thought we had to strike it lucky surely!!

The taxi arrived and Jose drove nicely to our destination. Charged us E24.80 for the privilege, gave us a card with his phone number so we could get back and we headed for the entrance to a store called “Decathalon” – THE Camping Store.

Inside we found someone who could speak English and explained the problem. He was sure they could help us and then proceeded to take us to a different part of the store to find someone who couldn’t speak English but who said they couldn’t help us. He suggested try Lever Munroe or whoever just over the other side of the car park! We did and No they had no idea what we were talking about and didn’t have anything like it.

But they did have a cooker and armed with this and 5 canisters of gas we finally walked outside to order the taxi. The arrangement had been to ring him and just say “Decathalon” so he would know who it was and come and pick us up. I did that and all I got back was “Que? Que?” After a minute I knew this was not going to go anyway and said “I’ll call you back” and hung up.

Turned around and saw some people in their 20’s and walked over and said anyone speak English. Got 5 or 6 shakes of the head and one said “I speak a little!” So she got the nod! I gave her the phone and business card with the phone number and she cottoned on immediately. Rang the taxi driver and arranged things for us. We chatted for a while after wards explaining where we each came from as you do and then she wandered off to her mates where they all gabbled away in something language about us. I assume it was about us as they occasionally stopped gabbing to nod “Oh Yes!” and look at us while doing that.

Anyway, the taxi driver arrived with the same driver called Jose. But he must have got on the piss in the meantime since leaving us!  He was a different man. Much happier, turned on the stereo and wanted to select a song. I came across one and Kerrie said “Ohh I like this!”. So I left it on. He promptly scrolled a bit more as he didn’t like Kerrie’s selection and found a hit by Guns and Roses. Fast guitar work and rhythm with lots of screaming in the background. Sounded like a bad version of Bat out of Hell being played backwards at top volume at three o’clock in the morning when you’ve had no sleep. I pretended this was a good choice, it being his car and stereo and all.

When we reached the auto via, he gunned it! Flattened the pedal to the floor and we took off. I was in the front seat and I knew we were going quick. We weaved in and out of traffic without once slowing down and if there was half a break he took off again as if all those Bats out of Hell were after us. The 15kms went very quickly! Just a fraction longer than it took to play the song - about 3 and ½ minutes. I had this confirmed when Kerrie got out of the car looking like death warmed up and told me “He was going over 150kph!”

I looked at the driver and smiled and said “What is your name?” He said “Jose” and reached out to shake my hand.  I grabbed it and held on as I told him “No! Not Jose! Es Sienna!”

It took a fraction of a second for the penny to drop about what I had said and he cracked up laughing and calling out “Si! Si!”. He was in the best of moods and grinned like a 19 yr old out with his mates for the night. We parted best of friends … I think! But next trip we will take the bus!!

After a good feed and a few reds or Bourbons (can’t remember), we woke up and got ready for the day in Barcelona. I was looking forward to this as I had spent some time planning what to see and how to get around the city, considering everything is so far apart.