Sunday 23 February - to Halifax

Sunday 23 February

It was an early alarm and early on the road. A necessity with an 0706 Chunnel crossing. Our exit from the Aire wasn't entirely smooth as it turned out that the QR code reader wasn't working. Fortunately, they have a fall-back of being able to enter your code manually, and that got us out in a timely manner. Phew!

The early morning Chunnel crossings were the only ones that weren't sold out until late night, and whilst it wasn't anywhere near as quiet as we've previously experienced at that time on a Sunday morning, it also wasn't the busiest we've seen it. 

We departed and arrived in the UK on time, before 7am.

The plan had been to nip via home to pick up the car (but not to drop off Bertie), but after surveying the stats for the journey both with and without that detour, and considering that the roads were quiet now, but would be busier later, and further considering the urgency of arriving in Halifax, we went straight there. I did, however, book myself a train ticket a few days hence to nip home (£6.50 for the leg I needed to prebook to get a good price - so no great loss if I ended up not using it; the ticket for the other leg I could buy on the day for £5.50). 

We arrived in Halifax just after noon - 3.5 days after leaving the E coast of Spain.

Monday 24 February

Both of Mick's brothers were present on Monday, so I was able to clear off for my slightly delayed long run. Given the lumpiness around Halifax (and the flatness of what I'm training for), I opted to go for a set time rather than a set distance. 'Run' is also a generous description of what I did. It went well. Not only was the weather superb...

...but I was only 7 minutes slower over the distance than my target. Considering: a) the hills; b) that I'd got a load of washing out of the machine on one of my pitstops; c) that I'd made two visits to Morrisons for platters of sushi that I'd then eaten outside the store; and d) I had to do all my own admin in between laps, I was pretty pleased with that. 

Wednesday 25 February

A day of public transport and running. 

Run - train - run - Wetherspoons for a cup of tea - run - train - run - bus - run - home - car  

It all went remarkably smoothly, I was back in Halifax at just gone 6pm, and I hadn't been rained on once. Considering the weather when we first got up, this was surprising. 

Update - 24 March:

We stayed in Halifax, providing full-time care for Ma-in-Law, until she died on 11 March, less than a month shy of her 100th birthday. She'd been quite clear for a very long time that she didn't want to spend time in hospital, didn't want to go into a home, didn't want external carers (yes, she lived independently to 99.9 years old) and didn't want to make it to 100. She achieved all of her wishes and we were glad to be in a position to facilitate the first three. 

Saturday 22 February - to Wissant

DELAYED POSTING - A QUICK NIP BACK TO 22 FEB:

Where was Bertie? He spent another night, to add to his many, at the Aire at Wissant (€11).

Weather: mainly overcast, some periods of rain, then dry but foggy towards the end. High of 10 degrees.

Having made such good progress north, I would have moved our Channel crossing forward to Saturday evening except, being the end of half term holidays in the UK, every single crossing was sold out. So, we stuck with the plan, got on the road just a few minutes after 8 heading to our usual stop at Wissant. 

 

A stop for LPG at Rouen morphed into a quick run into Lidl and a stop for LPG, and it was only as we were completed the detour necessary to get back northbound on the dual carriageway that we realised that buying diesel would have been a good call too. We'd been trying to avoid needing to divert into Boulogne, but that's exactly what we found ourselves doing, and a bigger diversion than intended when the first fuel station was found to be closed. 

 

It was still only 1330 when we arrived in Wissant, at the almost empty Aire, and I would have been straight out the door for a run, but I needed some lunch. I was then struck by a severe case of procrastination, and it was over an hour later when I finally stepped out into the murk. 

 

Not a day for views

 

The clay of the coast path was awfully slippery. Not the most fun I've ever had on this bit of coast!

 

Clearing a bit (I passed the chap ahead of me in this snap, then on the next set of wooden steps, inset into the clay, a foot shot out from under me. Somehow I managed to land on my feet. I passed another chap a little further on, and again a foot slid out from under me. I gently hit the ground, smothering myself in clay mud. I must have looked a bit of a sight as I passed lots of promenading families on the prom further on). 

 

I had been unsure as to whether I would go along the beach, or simply turn around and retrace my steps after 8km. I opted to continue onwards, and it was a good call, as the beach was firm. It was also relatively heaving with people out walking (probably a similar circuit to the one I was doing). I can't think that there would be many places in the UK where there would be so many people on a cliff path and a beach in such cool, dank weather. The prom was also busy, although the next beach was less so - probably because there's no onward route (I did a 1km out-and-back on it, just to make up my total distance to 16km).

 

The only other point of note for the day was our slight concern that motorhomes leaving the Aire were having trouble getting the barrier to open. As we needed to leave early in the morning, and wouldn't have time to be delayed, fingers were crossed that we wouldn't have the same problem. 

 

There were only a handful of motorhomes at Wissant. On such a busy weekend for the Chunnel (and likely the ferries too), before they imposed charges, the place would have been much busier. We concluded that if it hadn't been for the fact that I already knew a good running route at Wissant, we likely would have opted to go to the Aire at Calais ourselves - a couple of euro more expensive, but with electricity and nearer to the Eurotunnel terminal.    

 

 

 

 

Thursday & Friday 20-21 February - Castets & Bonneval

Where was Bertie? He spent the night at a Camping Car Park Aire in the village of Castets, at a cost of €13.72, including electricity and wifi.

Weather: Overcast on departure, lots of fog through the middle of Spain, eventually reaching sunshine and, surprisingly, 23 degrees towards the end of the day.

Leaving the campsite at just before 0830, I convinced Mick to use the road he'd rejected on the way in. I'd been along the length of that road on foot and thought Bertie could manage it - which he did, although he could have done without the truck coming the other way on a road barely big enough for one of us!

The morning involved cloud, sunshine then a couple of hours of fog which stayed with us (or us with it) until we stopped in Tudela for fuel (132.9/litre at a full service station) and supplies. When I say 'supplies' I mainly mean wine and alcohol-free beer, although naturally, a whole host of other things fell into the trolley too. In the interests of efficiency, Mick prepared lunch whilst I shopped.

Finally the sun came out and we could enjoy our surroundings as we drove through some magnificently mountainous areas beyond Pamplona and into the Basque country.

The intention was to simply reverse our outbound itinerary, staying at Capbreton tonight. However, the road into the town is still closed, necessitating a detour on some slow roads. So, I had a little look for another Aire nearby, and came up with one immediately adjacent to the motorway 40km further north. The journey time was the same, so it was a no-brainer.

I've long resisted joining the Camping Car Park scheme (more and more Aires in France have started coming under the Camping Car Park banner), but this was the shove needed to bite the bullet. It didn't take many minutes at the machine at the entrance to set up an account, obtain a CCP card, and pre-load it with enough funds to pay for our one-night stay.

With that all done, Bertie was all settled onto a pitch and plugged into the mains by 1645, and by 1700 I was changed into running gear and on my way out the door. Conveniently, the Aire isn't just right next to the motorway, but a Voie Verte also runs straight past it, so promising Mick I would be back within the hour, I tootled off into the forest. I didn't quite judge my turn around point right (as is often the case with me and Voie Verte type tracks, I was convinced the outward leg was all downhill, so I turned a couple of minutes early to allow for a slower return leg, only then to find it was all downhill on the way back), but I did judge right the extra little repeat I needed to add in, and I stepped back through Bertie's door at 17:59:20.

Before we drove into the fog. Must visit this striking town some time.

Not the most illustrative snap, but stunning scenery in Basque country.

Voie Verte - not a patch on the Spanish hills, but always good to have such a convenient traffic-free route available.

Friday

Where was Bertie? At a free Aire in Bonneval. We'd been there before, but Bertie hadn't.

Weather: Sunny and warm until late afternoon when it started clouding over. Rain by bedtime.

I woke up at 5am, but managed to lie quietly until the alarm went off at 7, whereupon I leapt out of bed, chopped an onion and some garlic and put the stove on. I'd just started frying some chicken when Mick finally asked what I was doing. "Cooking tea", I said.

Organisation is key on these long driving days. We set out each morning with two flasks of hot water, so we can make drinks throughout the day without having to wait for the kettle to boil, then for the stove to cool down (so we can lower its glass cover before travelling again). I also try to have some snacks to hand, and it's a bonus if tea is already prepared, or semi-prepared when we arrive at our destination. Stops during the day can then be kept to one or two micro-pauses to swap drivers, a fuel stop and half an hour for a lunch break (we managed to combine the three of those today, stopping at a SuperU in Vivonne, about a 200m detour from the motorway, for cheap fuel before availing ourselves of the car park for a lunch break, and swapping to Mick driving before we went on). It was nearly an unsuccessful stop for fuel when both of us had our preferred spending cards declined - a little concerning until the third card worked, and we subsequently realised that neither of us had enough funds in our 'foreign spending' accounts (this petrol station wanted a hold of €150 before we could fill up; most only want €100 or €120, both of which would have been fine).

The initial intention had been to end the day in Villedômer, but having driven further yesterday I figured we may as well push on further today. Marboué was our chosen destination, but when we got there Google Maps tried to instruct us to make an illegal turn, and the TomTom gave us an instruction that didn't make sense. I knew that Bonneval wasn't much further up the road, so the snap decision was made to go there instead. I remembered having stayed at Bonneval before, but I was surprised to find that it was 9 years ago.

With Bertie settled into a spot, I took myself off for a brisk march around the streets (nowt to write home about), whilst Mick went on a mission to find a patisserie. His mission was not a success. Who has ever heard of a French town without a patisserie?!

There is, of course, such an establishment. We found it the following morning as we left town.

By the time the rain started, we were all tucked up for the night.

The attractive feature of Bonneval

Monday 17th to Wednesday 19th - Cervera del Maestre

Where was Bertie? He spent 3 nights at Camping Ciudad del Ciclismo ('cycling city') just outside of the hilltop village of Cervera del Maestre, at a cost of €19 per night.

Weather: Sunny on Monday then mainly overcast but with some sun on Tuesday and Wednesday. Mid-teens.

Monday

We escaped the campsite vortex! Only 16 nights later than intended when we booked in for 7 nights.

Slightly inland from Peñíscola I'd seen that there were six or seven free Aires. On the plus side, almost all of them offer electricity (either for free, but you have to go and get a token from a local business) or for reasonable rates (again, via token). On the downside, they offer electricity. Our observations over the years have told us that free Aires with free or cheap electricity tend to attract people who stay for longer than is permitted. Given the token system, and without lots of negative reviews saying it was hard to get a spot (plus our experience inland in the Sierra Morena last year where we got a spot at every with-free-electric Aire we tried), I was optimistic. 

My optimism was misplaced! Bertie toiled up the hills to Cervera del Maestre to find all 5 places taken. I didn't have an immediate plan B and after contemplating the map I was concerned that we could spend the whole day driving Aire to Aire, not find a spot, and end the day further S than we wanted to be (having started with the northernmost of the options).

It was Mick who finally asked the obvious question: 'Is there a campsite nearby?'

It turned out there was, and less than 2km away, albeit we drove the best part of 8km when Mick declined to attempt the road involved in the short route. 

I don't think I've mentioned thus far that we have barely seen any other British vans since arriving in Spain. We may have seen one every couple or three days when out and about (amongst a sea of vans of other nationalities), but there had only been one other on the campsite and we never did see anyone home, so we've not spoken to another Brit since leaving the UK. So how funny that as we left the main road to approach the campsite (which probably only sees three or four arrivals a day), we found ourselves in a convoy of three vans, all British. 

From the campsite entrance looking across almond trees in blossom (lots of those in these parts at the moment) to the castle-topped village

Looking the other way down to the massive dry river bed (in the first snap you can see the causeway we'd driven across to reach the campsite)

From the castle 

I'm not sure you get the depth on the photo but there were six layers of hills visible.

Village street

We took a stroll up to the castle in the afternoon, where an information sign told us it had been 'purposely built to stop the unstoppable advance of the Christian troops'. I assume there has been a retrospective view applied to that information!

Tuesday

Having reached the peak weeks of training, I had a big week of running on the agenda this week, starting with 16k on Tuesday. Being in such a hilly area 'running' is a very loose description of what I did, but I had a whale of a time in the local hills. So much more runnable than the Sierra d'Irta, with lots of dirt tracks, housing a whole network of biking & walking routes. I did opt for one 1.4km section of technical single track, but being steeply uphill, I was never going to be running that bit anyway. 

Into the hills 

Lots of routes

A trig point, and with a path to it!

View on the way back down

Getting back to Bertie I opined that I could happily spend a few weeks in this area, exploring lots of local paths. 

As for the campsite, it makes the one in Peñíscola look like outstanding value (€13 there vs €19 here). The facilities in Peñíscola were always clean, tidy and well maintained (with a constantly tinkering Maintenance chap) - and there were two facilities blocks, so nobody had to walk more than a minute to the nearest. In Cervera the toilets/showers, which are slightly grubby and wanting of maintenance, are in the restaurant building, which is about 250m from the camping area. Not the end of the world, but you certainly don't want to get there and find you've forgotten your towel! The plus sides of Cervera are water taps on each pitch, WiFi that works all day long (probably because at the moment occupancy is really low, with only around 20 or so vans each night), and hot water at the washing up sinks (at the last place everyone just went into the toilets to fill up their washing up bowls).

We had initially booked in for 2 nights, but before I embarked on cooking tea this evening, I strolled up to Reception to extend our stay for another 2 nights, telling them that in reality we would probably stay through the weekend. 

 

As for tea, it was chicken and chorizo tonight - a Spanish inspired dish with plentiful garlic and served with crispy cubes of fried potato. Finishing my plateful, I observed that it just wasn't as tasty as it usually is, but I had no idea why not. The moment Mick said "I know why", it struck me too. I'd forgotten the chorizo bit of the chicken & chorizo! (I've also been known to serve Chick Pea Stewy Thing without any chick peas, so I have form in missing out the headline ingredient). 

 

Wednesday

As I ran down the hill yesterday, amounting to around 400m of almost continuous descent, I knew it was probably ill-advised. It's been a while since I ran such a continuous and steep downhill. I woke this morning with sore quads, glutes and hamstrings. Fortunately for my current purposes a fast march is as useful to me as a run, and I only had 5km to cover today so a late afternoon 5k march it was to be. 

First though, I was going to loosen up my body by taking Mick for breakfast at Mati's - one of three eateries in the village and the one with the best reviews. 

We could hear the hubbub as we approached and inside was full. There was, however an outside table, so we went in to place an order, whereupon a table immediately became free inside. 

Elevenses, with obligatory table of old geezers beyond. Unusually, there was also a table of women in this place. 

We timed our visit well - just as everyone else was finishing up their sandwiches/toast/glasses of spirits, so we got the atmosphere of the rush, followed by the peace after everyone else left.

I never did get my afternoon walk. I got tied up doing some work, then our plans underwent a swift change. 

Mick's mum was taken poorly last week and on Wednesday afternoon we decided it was time to head home. I did offer to chuck Mick on a plane then drive Bertie back myself, but the decision was to drive, so an itinerary was planned, our Chunnel booking moved*, and our bill at the campsite paid so we could make an early exit on the morrow.

(*insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but we are now crossing the Channel on the Sunday at the end of half term which is eyewateringly expensive when booking at this proximity at almost £400 (vs £145 if we'd had the leisure to wait until Monday). We will count our blessings at securing a crossing as most of the day was sold out.)

Peniscola - Monday 10th to Sunday 16th

Monday 10th

Neither of us was running; neither of us was working – we had a whole day free to do stuff together!

“Let’s go to the castle” Mick said. Once my first reaction (“It’s Monday, so it won’t be open.”) was disproved, off we went down the hill.

It’s hungry and thirsty work walking to a castle that’s 3km away. We had to stop for coffee and toast on the way. Then we came upon the weekly market, so we took a wander around that (unsuccessful in terms of finding the item I was after). By the time we’d done that we’d decided it was a bit too cool to enjoy a walk around a castle, and even though the forecast said it was only going to be overcast, not wet, it was looking ominously like rain. So, we fell into another bar for more coffee/tea. By then it was lunchtime, and a ten minute walk took us to our favoured eatery.

A single course plus drinks came in at only €10 less than three courses, including drinks and bread, followed by coffee.

Tuesday

Having now sampled so many of the paths through the Sierra d'Irta, I’d convinced myself that the first route I did, a couple of weeks ago, wasn’t as overgrown and scratchy on the legs as I remembered, so was worthy of repetition. I also decided it was more runnable than I remembered. Turns out I was wrong on both counts. My legs were smarting by the time I got back to Bertie!

With the weather having returned to sunshine, I noted that my legs are getting their usual ‘shorts and ankle socks’ tan. Such a good look…

Wednesday

There was a birthday to be celebrated and we’d thought we’d do a repeat of Monday, but this time (in the absence of the market) we would be successful in our mission to see the castle, in between morning coffee and a big lunch.

We woke up to rain. When rain is very much the exception, we felt no inclination to walk around in it.

So, we pottered until lunchtime, before walking down to town for lunch.

Failed to take a photo of the starter, failed to ask for birthday candles in the pudding, so here’s the main course.

By then the day was brightening up and it turned out to be much warmer (and more humid) than I’d expected. So sunny was it over lunch that we probably would have gone to the castle this afternoon, had we not been so stuffed full of food.

Thursday

I managed to find a couple of nearby paths in the Sierra d’Irta hills, on the N side of the range, that I’d not yet trodden, so I went off to tread them. Absolutely lovely it was – nice paths (not too scratchy, except through a few sections of stunted holly bushes) under a clear sky.

Gorgeous! You can see my onwards path over the next lump.

The only fly in the ointment was the realisation that I had in fact been on the path involved in the return leg of the loop, and it was the steep/slow/plates of ball bearings path that I used last weekend. Realising that before I made the turn allowed a quick replan on the hoof – the longer distance of my revised route was certainly much quicker than the steep/slow/ball-bearings path would have been.

Friday

Valentines day, and being the romantic couple we are, we decided to celebrate by going out for coffee, tostada & a crossword … exactly as we do most weeks of the year. This time we beelined for the same bar as we’d found on Monday – it’s our usual sort of a tostada location, being full of old men and workmen (we must have spent 2.5 hours in there this week and the only other women present have been the serving staff).

Our elevenses, but also a surreptitious snap (actually taken on Monday) of old geezers, having spirits with their breakfasts and putting the world to rights

A small indication of how busy it was on Friday

The bar was full to the gunwales when we arrived. By the time we left they were sweeping up around us – by then the only customers - in the lull between breakfasts and lunch, which we took as our cue to leave.

Saturday

We’ve had more than our fair share of cloud this week, and today was another overcast one, although reasonably warm.

Leaving the campsite together at around 9am, I soon left Mick behind as he set out for a 5k run and I set out for a differently-paced 20k. Out of Peniscola, into Benicarlo and out the other side before I ran out of coastal pavement and turned back.

Murky weather with poor air quality

As I sit and type this on Saturday afternoon, it’s raining. I might have to put in a complaint about this weather!

Current plan: we are leaving the campsite tomorrow. We’ve had that plan quite a few times before. Let’s see if we can extract ourselves from the vortex this time!

Sunday

As I failed to post this in a timely manner, I may as well retrospectively add a note about Sunday. Goodness, once you get sucked into the vortex of a campsite in Peniscola, the pull is strong! That is to say, that once again we failed to leave as planned.

I had a need to use the campsite wifi to do a particular task before it ground to a halt (which generally happened at around 8am, as too many other people came online), so we got up at 0630. I used the wifi for as long as possible, then continued offline until lunchtime. With more computer work to do in the afternoon, it didn’t make sense to leave, but we resolved that we absolutely, definitely, without any doubt, were going to leave on Monday...

Saturday 8 February - Still Peñíscola

Where's Bertie? Is it surprising or entirely predictable that he's still not moved?

Weather: There's been a bit of cloud around over the sea the last couple of days, but it's soon cleared up to give gloriously sunny days. 16 degrees today.

The sight that greeted me when I arose this morning. This is what happens when, in a warm climate, you forget to put your (sourdough) bread dough, that has been proving all day, in the fridge overnight.

Against expectations, we still ended up with a good loaf.

We had good intentions to move on yesterday morning. As I'd done quite a few times before, I started the day by considering where we may go next, but I came upon the perennial problem: I want to go slightly inland, into the hills, but I also want the good weather and warmth of the coast.

A particular consideration this time was that I was down for a long run this morning, so wherever we went, it needed to be a location where I would have a decent, relatively flat route. One option was somewhere near Valencia, so I could jump on the Via Verde. Another option was half an hour north, where there's another Via Verde - but I'm hesitating to go north for fear of losing a degree or two of temperature.

My final, considered opinion was that we could stay here and I could run laps from the campsite.

That wouldn't just put our departure back by one day, but by two, as with Mick working Sunday, it makes sense to stay so he can use the big screen and have unlimited power.

Then came the slight curve ball: Mick saw that a couple of pitches had come up in the middle of the main section of the campsite and we decided that if we could move onto one of them, then we would stay another couple of weeks (thus getting the 'one month stay' special rate).

We haven't moved. Why? Because even though all the pitches cost exactly the same, apparently Bertie can't have one of those pitches because he's too small. Hmmm. So, we've been on a concrete car park for two weeks, paying the same as everyone on proper pitches, but he now can't have a proper pitch because someone in a bigger motorhome may come along (even in our area, 8m vans comfortably fit). We walked back through later and there were small vans on those pitches - the only difference between them and us being that they are new arrivals. (I'm making it sound like I'm disgruntled about being in the concrete car park area whereas actually there are some benefits to being here, like catching the morning sun and not treading grit into Bertie. The only real downsides of being where we are is the slope that even the ramps can't quite iron out, and occasionally annoying neighbours, although none of them has stayed long.)

So, we are still here and don't currently know whether we'll be staying until Monday or for another two weeks.

I can think of worse places to be at this time of year!

Back to this morning, I went and ran three laps of 11-12k each, in glorious sunshine, but my goodness, it was windy. I got blown sideways at times on the prom, and was stopped in my tracks coming back up the hill, but even in the wind I was plenty warm enough in shorts and t-shirt. Locals were, of course, wrapped up warm, and lots of locals there were. It being Saturday, the prom was positively bustling, making me curious as to what it's like here in summer when the hotels, flats and holiday homes are full - most are sitting empty at this time of year. 

Thursday 6 February - Campsite Occurrences

Weather: Still wall-to-wall sunshine with mid-teens highs.

With the intention to leave the campsite tomorrow, I thought I'd take the opportunity to do a final load of laundry before we left.

As is the norm, once I'd put my load on, I left my bag on top of the machine for use when it had ended. I duly returned 33 minutes* later to find that someone had nicked off with my carrier bag! Why would you do that? The value is inconsequential (I replaced it this afternoon for 65c), which perhaps makes it even more annoying. I am, of course, now watching out for someone walking around the site with a heavy-duty Morrison's bag! (*As an aside, why do washing machines lie as to time remaining? It told me 33 minutes when I left and I set an alarm on my phone accordingly; when I returned it still had 7 minutes to go.)

Given how seldom we have historically stayed on campsites outside of the UK, this is not making for a good track record. In Silves, in Portugal, someone nicked my sports bra off the communal washing line.

With laundry hung out to dry, off I went to take a look at the coast to the S of Peniscola. As soon as I turned right at the bottom of the road, rather than left along the prom, I was out of the resort and the coast was rugged. However, there was also no pavement alongside the wiggly, undulating road, and whilst it wasn't overly trafficked, there were enough cars to make me think it wasn't the best choice for a running route.

Today's other campsite peeve came late this afternoon, when someone came and took the final pitch available today, right next to us. It seems they were confounded by the pitch markings and thought they needed to squeeze between the red and blue lines on the ground - failing to notice the really big hint of the pitch number being marked adjacent to each of the red lines, tellling them that they can ignore the blue line. That means that their door almost reaches to Bertie's flank when it is open. They've just nipped out and it would be quite amusing if we were to move over whilst they were gone, right to the edge of our pitch (most people position themselves thus; not sure why we didn't), which would mean they wouldn't be able to open their door. Of course, I'm neither petty nor cruel enough to do that (as much as it would amuse me).

So, tomorrow morning we are due to be away from here. To where, though, that's the question?

A procession of processionary caterpillars. Seen loads of nests in various places, but don't think I've seen any in motion before.