Thursday 31 January - Santa Luzia and Tavira

Where's Bertie? He's back in the parking area in Tavira, just a few spaces along from where he spent last night.
Weather: Overcast but dry and calm until about 11am, then frequent showers accompanied by increasingly strong winds. Still warm.

I counted 59 vans this morning, across the two sections of this parking area.

Just off the coast to the south of Tavira is an island (Ilha de Tavira). From what we can see, it comprises mainly salt marsh, beach and sand dunes. It's not a wide island, but it's over 10km long. In summer beach-goers can get there by ferry direct from Tavira town. In winter you have to head further out of town, down to the narrow strait that separates the island from the mainland. We had no interest in catching the ferry, even if it had been running at 0830, but we did choose the road leading down to the coast as our running route this morning. Happily, it was a far nicer and more interesting route than it looked on the map, particularly as a bike/foot path has been installed for much of its length.

View from the morning run

Our destination for today, Santa Luzia, lies less than 4km west of Tavira and we might have walked there if we had known that there was a pavement alongside the road the whole way. Not knowing that, we drove with the intention of parking up there for the night. Initial impressions of the place were favourable, but alas there wasn't room for a single motorhome more on the patch of motorhome wasteland. In other circumstances we might just have moved straight on elsewhere, but I particularly wanted to go for lunch there, so a small backtrack into town was made and Bertie was plonked in some roadside parking. It turned out, by accident not design, that we'd parked within twenty paces of my chosen restaurant.

Being too early for lunch, shoes were donned for a preprandial bimble around the town. Only Mick made it out of the door before the walk was deferred in favour of brewing coffee, as the rain started to come down. Our delaying tactic wasn't successful: the initial shower was light and brief, but the one that struck as we headed out for attempt two was very wet (that special sort of rain that's not heavy, but gets you wet very quickly) and lasted for our entire stroll - which admittedly wasn't overly long considering how wet we were getting.

We dried out over lunch, which lasted two and a half hours. First came the unsolicited bread, olives, sardine pate and a round of local cheese. Some time later came our main courses. Then came a lengthy chat with the couple at the neighbouring table - Swedes who have been living in France for the last decade. It's currently impossible to have a conversation with anyone of any other European nationality without Brexit being the initial talking point, but this coversation diverged to many topics.

The servings were generous!

My intention for the afternoon was to walk over the footbridge from Pedras d'el Rei (a few km W along the coast) to Ilha de Tavira to take a look at the 'cemetery of anchors' (where I would probably arrive and say 'yep, they're anchors!'). However, by the time we stepped back out onto the street after lunch the trees were doing this...

...and to the west the Ilha was hidden behind a veil of rain.

We could have gone and checked out the motorhome parking again, to see if a space had become available, but it seemed so unlikely as to not be worth the time and fuel. Tavira was only a 4km backtrack, and so here we are again. It seems to be even busier here today than it was yesterday, but we were early enough to get a good spot on the perimeter.

Wednesday 30 January - Tavira

Where's Bertie? He's in a very large car park (of the grit-surfaced-wasteland variety) next to the market hall at Tavira (exact location: 37.12348, -7.64188)
Weather: Overcast but dry morning, light rain this afternoon.

Our decision to move on this morning wasn't made on the basis of the lawfulness of where we were parked, but due to more practical considerations. There's a dearth of motorhome service points in this area, and there are a couple or three places we want to visit before we next reach such a facility. We therefore need to move quickly enough that we visit those places before our toilet capacity is exceeded. The reality of living in car parks!

We didn't dash away at first light. Rather, I took myself off for a run, which was followed by a shower and breakfast - then I gave Mick the options of where we could go next.

His vote to miss out the town of Tavira was reversed when I read the first paragraph of our guidebook's thoughts on the place (which can be summarised as: most interesting town in the eastern Algarve - people often stay here longer than intended). That sounded worth a look, and it's not like we had any obligation to stay if we didn't fancy it after a quick look around.

The area in which we are parked is huge. Parked neatly, you could fit hundreds motorhomes in. There are plenty, but nowhere near that number. The best thing about it, in the absence of any views, is that it's less than a ten minute walk into the centre of town.

Town is where we headed immediately after an early lunch, poking our heads into the market hall on our way (big space, mainly unused and very quiet in the middle of the day).

My sister will appreciate this photo.

The castle was our first stop, being the obvious and prominent feature above the town. It afforded us views over the rooftops:

Aimless wandering then ensued, eventually taking us over the temporary bridge, built by the army in 1989, that has seen better days, over to the north side of the river.

Just upstream from the temporary bridge is the 'Roman Bridge', which was actually built in the 17th century on the foundations of a Roman bridge

We didn't find much of interest over there, and in any case our wanderings got curtailed when it started to rain. We'd gone out without jackets, so we swiftly headed back Bertiewards. The rain has been falling gently ever since.

If this is the most interesting town in the eastern Algarve, then I think that's more a reflection on the other towns than on this one. It's definitely far from the most interesting place we've ever been - although not down there with the least interesting either. I won't be feeling the need to stick around for another day of explorations, though.

Tuesday 29 January - Manta Rota

Where's Bertie? He's currently sitting in a car park where he's not allowed, in Manta Rota. Exact location: 37.16579, -7.51817.
Weather: Overcast, but pleasantly warm (15 degrees at 10am; I've not looked at a thermometer since, but it's 'need a fleece' weather).

Whilst Portugal has been on our 'to visit' list for quite a while now, we did have some misgivings about coming here - particularly to the Algarve. We had heard that the place is completely overrun with motorhomes, and our experience over the few days we've been here so far bears that out.

There is said to be increasing resistance to the influx in many towns and villages (borne out by all the 'no motorhomes' signs we've seen) and I can completely understand that. It's one thing for a couple or three vans to park up somewhere for a single night then move on, but quite a different thing for dozens upon dozens of them to set up camp for months at a time. 'Camp' is the other important point here: a couple of motorhomes doing nothing more than parking is a different thing to an invasion of people getting their awnings, tables and chairs out and treating car parks like long-term campsites.

(Incidentally, there's no chance of us getting our tables and chairs out, even if at a campsite: they were an accidental omission in our packing for this trip.)

That's not to say that the invasion is all bad - this many motorhomes visiting a town or village will generate some good out-of-season income for the local businesses.

Personally, I don't want to add to the negative side of the invasion by parking in non-lawful places and thus we arrived with the intention that we would splash the cash on this trip and stay at official motorhome parking areas, even if many of them don't match our notion of an appealing night-stop. All very well in theory, except that there's nowhere near enough capacity to meet demand; moreover, when there are legions of long-termers, happy to spend the entire winter in the same place, meaning that some pay-Aires are permanently full.

All of which takes us back to this morning, when after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing at Vila Real de Santo Antonio, where we returned for me to take advantage of some good off-road tracks for a run, followed by a trip to the supermarket (which we'd already passed on our way into town, but before it was open), we headed a short distance westward, to Manta Rota.

The official motorhome parking at Manta Rosa, taken from the edge of the beach

The Aire here (capacity: 100) looked to be fit to burst, but I had a look around and established that there were three spaces, so I headed over to the office to pay our tourist tax, only to be told that those spaces did not exist. Thus, instead of paying to park at the motorhome parking per our good intentions, we are instead parked at the adjacent beachside car park, where motorhomes are banned. We're in good company: I reckon there are 40+ here at the moment, but still leaving plenty of room for cars to park.

Bertie's current resting place

This is far from ideal, as it's possible that we could be moved on at any time of day or night. However, it's also possible (as in many places) that motorhome parking is tolerated out of season, when the town is pretty well deserted and there is no pressure on the parking spaces.

(This leads us to another quandary: we could probably avoid this overcrowding issue by heading inland or further north ... but for the moment our greater desire is to see this coastline and enjoy the climate.)

Looking one way along the beach...

...and the other way. It really is huge!

Almost as soon as we arrived, Mick tested out his dodgy leg with a short jogette then, after lunch, we revisited his running route at a walk, except that this time we left the 1km-long boardwalk and took to the huuuuuuge beach. That was followed by a walk through the town which confirmed this to be very much an out-of-season resort of second homes. It's very quiet (save for lots of foreign-looking people, residing in all these white tin boxes on wheels) with at least half of the businesses looking closed up (although it could just be that we hit afternoon closing time, which can vary from 2-5 hours long).

Monday 28 January - Castro Marim

Where's Bertie? He's still at the Aire in Castro Marim.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine this morning, but increasingly cloudy and grey this afternoon.

When we got out of bed this morning, it was with the intention of moving on. Breakfast was had, then in the middle of getting everything stowed, the fancy took me that we should stay and do the walk that I mentioned yesterday. Mick was willing, so here we still are.

The walk turned out to be worthwhile, and the road sections not as bad as anticipated. The mile or so at the beginning turned out to have a cycle path running alongside for part of the distance, and wasn't busy in any case; the half-mile or so at the end was less pleasant.

A salt mountain so big as to dwarf the JCB-type digger nestled within it.

Looking over to the forts of Castro Marim, over the heads of flamingos.

After lunch we ventured out again, to see if we could find any information about the audio tour around the village. We've seen quite a few numbered audio tour points during our wanderings, but not any information giving details as to whether it's a downloadable tour, or if you have to go and hire handsets from somewhere. That quest ended when we found the Tourist Office has temporarily left the Tourist Office building, and I couldn't quite be moved to hunt out its new location, within some other civic building.

I'm pretty sure that we have now exhausted what this village has to offer, so with some certainty I shall repeat what I said yesterday: tomorrow, we will move on!

Sunday 27 January - Castro Marim

Where's Bertie? He's at a free Aire at Castro Marim. Exact location: 37.21979, -7.44447.
Weather: Some cloud about at points during the day, and a strong northerly wind. Jumper needed when out of the sun or in the wind.

When I woke up, far too early, at 5am all was calm outside. Half an hour later Bertie started to be rocked gently by the odd gust of wind, but nothing too severe.
By the time I got back from an 8-mile run (a nice route that took me to Monte Gordo - the next town along the coast), that wind had picked up to around 25-30mph. It was almost stopping me in my tracks for the final kilometre I ran along the riverside, but fortunately for the rest of the outing I had been sheltered, or had only been hit side-on.

Arriving back at Bertie, Mick had already taken him over to the service point, saving us a queue at that time of day when everyone else is wanting to use it, which gave me leisure for a quick wash and breakfast before we needed to pay up for our 72-hour stay and leave. In a fine display of last minute planning, we then sat outside of the Aire and decided where we were going.

Last Thursday, just after we arrived in Portugal, I pointed out a large fort sitting up above a village adjacent to the road to our destination of Vila Real de Santo Antonio. My planning had let me down, as it was only later that I realised that we had also sailed straight past a free Aire there. We hadn't intended to backtrack, but on the spur of the moment this morning it became our destination, being only 5km back along the road.

Arriving here, we were extremely lucky: there was one spot vacant in the official motorhome parking area. Based on observations during the rest of the day, they don't come up very often, but dozens upon dozens of other motorhomes have driven past. Had there not been a space here, a large nearby car park is used as overflow parking, but there is a comfort in being parked in the officially designated place.

Since arriving, our new stove-top coffee percolator has been tested out on our neighbour (Mark from York) and we've been for a couple of walks. We think we've now seen everything there is to see here, which is mainly the two hilltop forts. This village itself has more than its fair share of both run-down and falling-down buildings, although we did notice that the church looks pristine. Having been so lucky as to get a parking spot, we had thought we would stay a couple of nights; but there's so little here (and the walk route I've downloaded includes a couple of kilometres of busy main road, making it a bit off-putting) that there's a fair chance that we'll move on again in the morning.

Looking at the newer fort from the older one

Animal pens? inside the old fort

Spot the Bertie!

No need for railings when there's a big drop off from a walkway at a visitor attraction...

Salt marshes as seen from the old fort

From the top of the keep of the old fort, looking over to the newer fort

Saturday 26 January - Vila Real de Santo Antonio

Where's Bertie? He's still unmoved, at the huge Aire at Vila Real.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine and warm.

Is 'We haven't been out for coffee yet?' a good reason to decide to stay in a town for an entire extra day? I'm sure there would have been coffee-selling establishments near to our next stop too, but as coffee drinking is a morning activity, and as moving on would have taken up the prime window for coffee (our ticket here expires at 10.30am), it seemed like a good reason to stay put.

We fried slightly in the sunshine as we sat on the edge of the main square, which was hosting a small market today. Indeed, we sat over a couple of coffees for long enough that the begging busker was on his second round of the bar/restaurants around the square by the time we left.

Next up, we searched the town for somewhere we might like to go for lunch. Restaurants are not thin on the ground here (random observation: they almost all have identical chairs and tables outside; does the council require them to buy from a particular purveyor of pavement dining equipment when issuing their licences?), but there is very little variation in the menus. In fact, so little variation that we kept seeing the same photo menu over and over again.

Eventually we gave up and returned to Bertie with a still-warm loaf of bread, thinking we would be dining in again today. However, about fifty paces away from Bertie, on the riverside where the fishing trawlers dock, is a shack of an eatery, so we thought we'd wander over to see what they serve. There was no menu outside, but I was willing to take pot luck.

We'd barely sat down when a basket of bread (plus butter and sardine pâté) was put before us, along with a dish of olives and a platter of salad. A while later we were invited in to choose our fish. Ah! It was one of those restaurants! We had hit gold!

The seabass we chose was served exactly as we expected: with plenty of garlic and olive oil (I'm in no danger of any vampires attacking me in the next few days!), and with a platter of salty skin-on potatoes. It wasn't a cheap lunch, but it was very much to our liking.

Pudding was had back at Bertie, as whilst buying bread this morning a couple of cakes had also found their way into our shopping bag:

They were rather good too! We did go sharesies, to make up for the disparity in size.

We did manage another little wander late this afternoon, to make up a small amount for how much we have sat around eating and drinking today.

Friday 25 January - Villa Real de Santo Antonio

Where's Bertie? He's still at the huge Aire at Villa Real.
Weather: Not a cloud seen all day, with the temperature making it up to 20 degrees this afternoon.

As I ran south along the river this morning, I noticed six men, all staring up at a large tree. Higher up the trunk was a rope, which was connected to the towing-ball on a small pick-up type truck.

I ran on, firstly over cobbles, then onto a dirt track through woodland, then onto a tarmac cycleway. When the tarmac abruptly ended at a beach, I shunned filling my shoes with sand, instead swinging around to find my way back to the cobbles, thence back along the river.

Five of the six men were now pushing against the trunk of the tree (this was no sappling - it was a very substantial specimen) with the sixth weilding a chainsaw. I quickly diverted from the footpath, onto the grass to give the work a wide berth. A good job I did, as just as I passed, down it came, not in the direction of the rope joining the trunk to the pick-up truck, and fortunately not in the direction of the five men pushing against it, but in the direction of the pavement. There were no cones, no 'do not cross' tape, no warning signs and not a single bit of personal protective equipment being worn by the workmen. Along with France and Spain, I think safety at work standards may be a little more relaxed in Portugal than in the UK...

Today being the fourteenth day of our trip, it was early to be seeking out a laundrette, but as there was one just a minute's walk along the road, and as I was feeling too lazy to handwash my running gear (I probably shouldn't confess that I've been wearing it for two weeks without washing it; it was ready to run off by itself) we made use of it. Sitting there waiting for the machines to do their thing, we concluded that as well as having two large riverside areas full of motorhomes (mainly French, with a good smattering of Dutch, with Germans, Swedes and Brits being a small minority) the enterprising owners of this Aire decided that motorhomers need laundry facilities, and thus have established the laundrette across the road. Alongside the washers and dryers, there's a vending machine selling various toilet fluids, spare toilet cassette caps and other useful motorhomey things.

The only other activity today has been a walk into and around the town (an impulse purchase of a coffee pot and an intentional purchase of a new corkscrew whilst we were there). The most notable thing about that outing was the contrast between those of us (presumably all tourists from much further north) wearing shorts, t-shirts and sandals, and those (presumably locals, for whom it is still winter) wearing big coats.

Thursday 24 January - Villa Real de Santo Antonio, Portugal

Where's Bertie? He's just across the river from Spain, at an Aire at Villa Real. It costs €4.50 per 24 hours to stay here (plus 50c tourist tax per person), including water, waste and wifi. Electricity is available for an extra fee. Exact location: 37.19992, -7.41506.
Weather: Mainly sunny and warm, but with some clouds drifting about during the afternoon.

As I mentioned yesterday, the Aire at Gibraleón had generally good reviews. All of the negative comments (at least, those in a language I could make out) were either because there was a problem with the service point when they stayed, or because of the noise of a band rehearsing late into the night at the adjacent auditorium. When I spotted that two of the reviews said that the band noise had been on a Thursday night, I crossed my fingers that on a Wednesday all would be quiet. It wasn't.

However, the noise was not quite what I had envisaged. When I read the word 'band' in those reviews, the picture I got in my mind was not a marching band. I can report that listening to a marching band practice the same tune over and over again for a couple of hours can get a bit tedious, not to mention that their big booming drums really are quite intrusive. However, they only went on until about half past nine, so we had no cause for complaint as the rest of the night was as quiet as you could wish for.

A very pleasant out-and-back run started my morning, and it was still relatively early when we rolled out of the Aire and headed westwards.

It was only about 30 minutes into the drive that we saw the bridge ahead of us that marked the border between Spain and Portugal. There we nipped back an hour in time, back onto UK time, and I felt a touch of excitement. Save for a few hours, I've never visited mainland Portugal, so everything from here on will be new.

Our first task on entering the country was to make sure we left the motorway at the 'foreign vehicles must go this way' point, to register Bertie and our credit card for the automated Portugese toll roads. The signs were clear and the machine at the toll plaza was perfectly straighforward to use, however, registration only lasts for 30 days and we currently have no idea what we have to do if we wish to use those motorways after that time period has elapsed. As far as I can make out, the registration machines are only located at four motorway entry points into the country. That's an issue to worry about in a month's time, though. Who knows where we'll be by then. It may not be an issue.

For today, we left the toll road immediately after registering for its use, and drove just 5km to the town of Villa Real de Santo Antonio, where we settled Bertie into a huge Aire overlooking the river, across the other side of which is Spain.

Then we set about bimbling, exploring, sitting and relaxing, all the time enjoying the warmth. T-shirts were adequate upper wear today, and I don't think I would have shivered if I'd donned shorts either.

Just testing something...

Just testing to see if I can post photos via email...

...then edit the post in Bloggeroid...

...to add words between the photos.

Even if this works it's not going to be a very satisfactory workaround...but let's see if it even works.

Wednesday 23 January - Gibraleón

Where's Bertie? He's at a fenced-in Aire on the edge of a large car park in the town of Gibraleón (exact location: 37.37196, -6.96259).
Weather: Drizzly until we drove out from under the weather front, then sunny and increasingly warm (topping out at 18 degrees), but windy.

The strong north-westerly wind was a bonus again for the first part of today's journey, as we continued to head south. Then we turned west and the excellent fuel economy we've achieved over the last couple of days (helped by also losing a few thousand feet in altitude) started to be erroded.

It was a comparatively short journey today too, as a late change of plan meant that we didn't drive straight to Portugal. I'd spotted that there is an Aire in Gibraleón, with generally good reviews, and as we didn't visit this extreme bottom left corner of Spain on our previous trip to the south of the country (we turned north just west of Jerez on that occasion) we thought we may as well have a night's stop here, as it was barely a detour from our route.

We rolled into the Aire at just a couple of minutes past noon, with Bertie's cupboards and fridge stuffed to bursting, having stopped for an extensive grocery shop on the way (partly a case of shopping when hungry; partly a case of having spent days ignoring our dwindling supplies). By happy coincidence, one of this week's 'Special Buys' at Lidl in Spain is a beard trimmer - handy for Mick who discovered a short way into the trip that whilst we had the charging cable with us, he had left the actual trimmer in the bathroom cabinet at home.

Our foray into town this afternoon was an overdressed affair - after so much cold weather lately, our minds couldn't quite believe that it could possibly be as warm out as it was. Whilst locals were still dressed up in warm coats, we ended up with hats and gloves in pockets, and jackets in hands, as we wandered first around the narrow, cobbled streets of the town, then out on a good path along the river. That river is currently a small trickle, running in a deep channel that can clearly cope with much greater volumes when torrential rains fall - it's further evidence, along with the palm trees and cacti, that we have reached the 'winter sun' bit of the country.

Tuesday 22 January - Monesterio

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire within the car park for a sports ground on the edge of the town of Monesterio (exact location: 38.09380, -6.27721).
Weather: Variously sunny or overcast, but dry. Windy this evening (and maybe all day - it's a northerly, so if it was windy then it explains the good MPG we achieved today).

Today's main observation was that it's a *really* long drive from Belgium to the south coast of Spain. I feel like we've been in transit for weeks, although there is now light at the end of the tunnel as, after another big driving day today, we should arrive there tomorrow.

Another observation was that there's a whole lot of nothing within sight of the motorways we drove for around 550km today. Towns were few and large towns even fewer. Even farm buildings were scarce. That perhaps explains today's third observation: that the motorway that runs north/south through this region is far from busy.

At one point we pulled onto the hard shoulder, when Bertie's fuel filler flap came adrift from its mooring and started flapping around. Mick exited through Bertie's nearside door, walked round to the offside, securely fastened the flap, walked back around, climbed back in, fastened himself into his seat, left the hard shoulder and regained cruising speed, all without a single other vehicle passing us.

We finally reached Monesterio just before 1630 and didn't tarry long once Bertie was settled into a parking slot before heading off to look around the town.

We didn't find anything of great interest, although the church does look like it has been thrown together from whatever came to hand first from a large heap of mixed materials.

The other thing we didn't find was the Tourist Office, and we did search hard for it. There is electricity provided at this Aire, but a notice on the front of the distribution box requests that you visit the Tourist Office if you want to use it. A bit of electricity, just to charge our window vac (used to clear condensation from the windscreen in the morning), would have been useful, but as we have found to be common, Spanish towns do tend to hide their tourist offices away. There are directional signs in the town, they are entirely unhelpful. I'm not sure whether you can make out the detail in the photo below, but the signpost nearest to me says that when heading UP the road, the TIO is on the right, whereas the signpost visible across the road says that when heading DOWN the road, it is straight ahead.

Monday 21 January - Palencia

Where's Bertie? He's still in the exact same spot, at the Aire at Palencia.
Weather: Glorious morning, gradually clouding over later, but very cold and with a short snow flurry first thing.

The fancy that took us today was to go out for a big Menu del Dia lunch, so a decision was made to stay here another night.

That meant that when we woke up to a freezing morning, I was at leisure to have breakfast and wait a couple of hours before donning Lycra and heading out into Parque Isla Dos Agua - the parkland adjacent to the parking area. Around the edge of that park runs a 'Circuito Urbano de Running' (yep, good Spanish word is 'running'!), as described by an information board that puts the track at 1km in distance. I ran around it 11 times, which sounds a bit dull but actually wasn't, although I did change direction six laps in, just to spice things up...

There was a hard frost and the lake was semi-frozen, but the track is grit so, save for one bridge crossing, it was all grippy and the effort soon had me at a comfortable temperature.

Mick walked whilst I ran, then he conducted a thorough test of Bertie's alarm sensors. Always good to check they still work every now and then, even if the test was accidental.

A couple of hours later, at gone 1pm, we headed out into town to find somewhere for lunch. That proved to be surprisingly difficult, not because we were being picky, but because, in the absence of outdoor seating, we were failing to spot the restaurants.

Eventually somewhere suitable was found and lunch got off to a start ... an odd start. I'd opted for the soup and when it arrived the dish comprised a freshly fried egg, covered in a cold, congealed pea and ham sort of soup. It was tasty enough, but the texture and temperature was just wrong and, of course, my almost-non-existent Spanish wasn't up to the job of asking if it was supposed to be that way. During the rest of our lunch, another seven people ordered the soup and, of those, four sent it back to be heated up. The others ate it cold, including one who was asked if he wanted it heating, but declined. That left me none the wiser as to whether it was supposed to be hot or not.

Apart from the soup, everything else was good - including dessert, which was a pot-luck affair. The waiter listed the options, we understood nothing, and thus asked him to choose on our behalf. Mick ended up with a trifle and I had something I couldn't identify but that suited me nicely.

Then we waddled back to Bertie where indoor activities have taken up the rest of the day, including a decision as to the direction in which we are going to head tomorrow. South, is the answer.

Sunday 20 January - Palencia

Where's Bertie? He's in an Aire which forms part of a car park in the town of Palencia (exact location: 42.00417, -4.53503).
Weather: Rainy start, then showers with sunny intervals, then as we travelled south, increasingly sunny.

I spent almost the entirety of last night busy sleeping, but still got the impression that it had rained most of the time. Whether that's accurate, or whether it's just that it was raining as we retired, when I woke briefly during the night, and when I finally woke this morning, I don't know. In view of the inclemency, we didn't feel inclined to sightsee around Vitoria-Gasteiz, even though the guidebook made it sound worthwhile. I'm sure we'll pass another time, and we'll hope for better weather then*.

Almost everything was packed away ready for us to leave when I decided that I needed a brief jogette before we went. At that point we were looking at another 5- or 6-hour day of driving, to get us just over the border into Portugal, which is an awful lot of sitting down. By good fortune, I had a mainly dry outing as I explored the immediate neighbourhood, only catching the leading edge of the next shower just as I returned to Bertie. A minute later it was lashing down again.

The free motorway took us so far towards Burgos and both SatNavs told us to leave it just as it became a toll road. We duly did so and continued a few kilometres before it occurred to me that this was one of the toll roads that has been de-tolled. That de-tolling was the very reason for the whole saga of trying to update the TomTom SatNav, just before we left home and it seems that my days lost in trying to update the cursed device were nugatory: it still doesn't know that these roads are now free.

Redirecting us back to the AP1, we found the reports we had read online to be true: the toll booths are still in situ, but the gates are open and signs are displayed saying that the road is now free. That sped us (if you can reasonably refer to 50mph thus) along ... but not to Portugal as planned.

During my map gazing, I'd been having second thoughts about the plan hatched last night, to enter Portugal at Vilar Formoso (about half way down its length) and then either tootle south, or head over to somewhere around Lisbon and tootle down the coast. Would we be better driving through Spain to the south coast, then entering Portugal to tootle our way along the coast, westwards then northwards? Given our track record of taking way longer than expected to make progress in any direction (too many places to stop and explore; too many things to see!), would we be better to start in the warmest part of the country, rather than risk not making it that far?

I'm not sure we reached a firm conclusion, but those questions did cause us to cut short today's journey before reaching Salamanca, where sits the critical junction of roads. Moreover, by this time it was past lunchtime, the sun was shining, and we have spent eight entire days either sitting in garages or driving - it was time for a short day, a leisurely lunch and an afternoon of relaxing or bimbling around, as the fancy took us.

We have been to Palencia before. I have more of a recollection of the place than Mick, but even though I remembered the parkland next to which we are parked, and the river that sits between us and town (a five minute walk away), I struggled to recognise anything in the town centre. Admittedly, our previous visit was a flying one, so I'm not going to worry too much about my memory.

<sup>(*We say the same about Chartres, in France, every time we drive past. One day I'm sure we'll get the combination of good weather and not being in a rush to get somewhere, but it hasn't happened yet.

Other Miscellaneous notes:
1) We saw lots of snow ploughs, with drivers, sitting in strategic positions along the road to the north of Burgos, which seemed incongruous under the blue skies. Later the overhead variable message signs confirmed that snow is expected. The section of road in question does run at altitude.
2) Bertie was treated to some good quality diesel today. It wasn't entirely intentional on this occasion, although fuel prices in Spain do sometimes entice us to buy other than the cheap stuff. The cheapest ordinary diesel we saw advertised today was €1.11/litre (we deviated from our route for that price, only to find the petrol station closed because it's Sunday). Along the motorway it varied from €1.18 to €1.28, with most being around the €1.24 mark. )</sup>

Saturday 19 January - Vitoria Gasteiz, Spain

Where's Bertie? He's at a large Aire within a huge car park in Vitoria Gasteiz. It's free to stay here with a free service point too. (Exact location: 42.86680, -2.68558)
Weather: Rainy start, then variously sunny, overcast and more rain.

There was not a hint of light in the sky as we left Cavignac this morning, but we managed to negotiate our way along dark little lanes and manoeuvre Bertie into the small car park that sits nearest to the start point of the parkrun at Les Dougnes - an area of open recreation land, about 30km north of Bordeaux.

On New Year's Day this parkrun only attracted one runner. Last week there were five. Today it was positively buzzing. I didn't count (and the results haven't been published - parkrun in France is a very lax affair), but there may have been a dozen of us. Most were local, and we almost counted as local compared to the other two tourists, from Canberra, Australia.

Parkrun is not a race, but even so, it was pleasing that I came first female and third overall. I'll overlook the fact that the result was only because of a lack of fast runners today, not because I am particularly speedy (25:41 was my time; given the course and conditions, I was happy with that).

Alas, Mick had to stop just over a mile in. His calf yet again, although he managed to stop before it 'went' this time, so hopefully it won't be too long before he can run again.

Wiping the excess mud off ourselves (spread impressively far up my legs!), showering and breakfasting took longer than expected, so it was somewhere approaching 11am by the time we got on the road.

For me the first part of the journey was spent trying to ascertain the most sensible route, as there's not an obvious trunk route that runs alongside the toll motorway from the S of Bordeaux down to the Spanish border. Eventually I had the brainwave of looking at this very blog to see what we had done in 2016, and found that we had taken the toll road, at a cost of under €23. To save at least 2 hours of tedious roads (negotiating roundabouts, junctions and constantly changing speed limits and possibly running into Yellow Vest protests (which are still going on - we've encountered a few this week, although none blocking traffic flow)), that seemed like a reasonable price to pay. Inflation over the course of 3 years increased today's price to €25.41, paid over the course of 6 toll booths*.

With our journey time to San Sebastien being down from four-hours-something to just two, it gave us the opportunity to travel further today - hence we have ended the day in Vitoria-Gasteiz. It's a place I'd like to visit properly and it would seem sensible to do so whilst we are parked up here. The argument against spending two nights here, to sight-see tomorrow, is that tomorrow is Sunday, which is a very suitable day for travelling a long distance without the impediment of lorries. Plus it's raining and forecast to continue to do so, which weather also suggests driving to be the better choice of activity - particularly if it takes us somewhere less rainy!


^^(*Four toll booths in France between Capbreton and the Spanish border. Two in Spain between the border and the turn for the A1. I'm pretty sure we could have avoided at least one set of tolls on the A10 in France by leaving the motorway at the junction before and rejoining at the junction after the toll plaza. It's something we did on our return journey in 2016, per our SatNav's directions. Today we opted not to try it for fear of meeting Yellow Vest disruption on the road in between the junctions.)

Friday 18 January - Cavignac

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire in the small town (/village?) of Cavignac, to the north of Bordeaux. It's free to stay here, but there are no services. (Exact location: 45.10030, -0.39213)
Weather: Mainly sunny. -3 degrees as we set off this morning, +7 on arrival.

That may seem like an odd photo with which to start today's blog post. It was taken at bedtime last night, when I realised that my gum shield (essentially a small, transparent plastic device) was missing and that, having carelessly left it loose on my bedside table (which is above head height), it had possibly fallen down a heating vent behind one of the lounge chairs. The photo happily confirmed that it hadn't, without me having to start unscrewing panels to check. It was eventually located on the floor some distance from its starting point. Phew!

When I'd briefly ventured outside, just before this drama, it was apparent that it was going to be a cold night. The coldness can also be judged by what time the heating first kicks in, and last night it was early - at just 1am (I may have mentioned before: the heating in Bertie is really quiet once it's running, but for about half a second as it fires up it sounds like there's a jet engine igniting).

It was certainly crisp - and slippery underfoot - as I ventured out for a quick walk at first light. That walk took me past the Boulangerie, and it would have been rude not to nip in for a couple of croissants, as the town had been so kind as to give us free motorhome parking.

Sunrise over the frosty fields

The old washhouse, which was decomissioned in the late 1960s. You may also spot Bertie and a couple of chums.

Much driving, with stops for elevenses, lunch and a change of driver, occurred between 0930 and 1515. It was just after that final driver-change stop (from me to Mick) that I started investigating the somewhat odd direction being given to us by the Garmin SatNav. Much head-scratching ensued until I finally realised that we'd crossed over the Greenwich Meridian today, but that I'd programmed both SatNavs with an easterly longitude coordinate, when it should have been a westerly. Thank goodness we didn't just blindly follow the devices or we would have had quite a surprise at the end of the day! Happily the correction cut 40 minutes off our expected journey time.

We both remembered the Aire where we're staying tonight (graveyard one side of us, grapevines on another), but somehow its slopiness had evaded our memories. The flattest corner was already taken, so we popped Bertie in the next best spot and nipped out for a walk. On our return we found the flattest spot now vacant, and Bertie was soon settled into his new abode. What a blow that must have been for the original occupant, when they returned from (presumably) the shops five minutes later. They retaliated by parking *right* next to us in what is a fairly large car park containing only 3 vans.

(Notes mainly for my own future reference: We took the A10 around Tours today from J19 to J24.1 (having always had navigational issues around Tours, it seemed like the easiest and quickest option). It cost €3.50, was 9km shorter, was more fuel efficient and saved a good chunk of time. Definitely worth the money. We also took the A10 from J29 to J30 around Poitiers. That cost €2.10 and quite probably wasn't worthwhile. It might have been worth nipping onto the A10 from J26 to J27 around Chatellerault, but we should try the road to the E first, as today we took the road to the W.)

Thursday 17 January - Villedômer

Where's Bertie? He's in an Aire at Villedômer. It's free to stay here. (Exact location: 47.54487, 0.88725).

One of the attractions of spending last night at Neufchâtel was that the Aire sits opposite a disused railway line recreation route, and I was very much in need of a run after three days of sitting down. Waking to the sound of rain drumming, and feeling the wind rocking us, wasn't ideal, but I wasn't going to go for another day without some proper exercise, and running was clearly the most time efficient way of achieving that. Mick also knew that was true, but weighing up the comfort of the duvet with the cold and wet outside, he opted to stay put.

The outward leg of my route was particularly unpleasant, as rain lashed me in the face, soon freezing my thighs and cooling my feet. The return was better, as by then it was daylight, I'd largely warmed up, the rain had stopped and the wind was behind me.

It was 11am, after a stop at a supermarket, by the time our day of driving started. The most interesting thing about it was the insistence of the TomTom SatNav that we *really* needed to take an overly long route. We went with the opinion of the Garmin, which whilst lacking in user friendliness and functionality, has thus far chosen better routes.

As Mick retook the wheel for the final driving stint of the day, I set about choosing somewhere to stay the night, and struggled for a while not due to a lack of options, but because everywhere I was selecting was either too far or not far enough. After having decided to just drive until 1630, then look what was nearby, I had the brainwave of looking to see where we had stayed last time we had made this journey south, given that tomorrow night's destination is the same as it was on that trip too. That's how we came to be at Villedômer. It made today shorter than we had intended, and tomorrow longer, but we know that we've done that journey in a day before and neither of us has any memory of cursing the length of it at the time.

Once again, there's little to report since arriving here. There's a goose who is diligently guarding the other side of the parking area, providing us with some entertainment in the process, and we've both been out for a leg-stretch. I called it a day after one lap of the town, as it had started to rain and I didn't feel the need to get wet for a second time today. Mick duly continued until his Fitbit was happy with his efforts.

Wednesday 16 January - Neufchâtel-en-Bray

Where's Bertie? He's at the Aire at Neufchâtel-en-Bray where he spent a few nights in November last year. It's still €12 to stay here, including lots of facilities.
Weather: I will start including statements as to the weather when it becomes relevant (i.e. when we're not spending our days sitting in garages or driving long distances).

The Fiat dealer just outside of Kortrijk was just as efficient this year as last. At smack on our appointment time of 0830, Bertie was taken into the workshop, and an hour later he had been fettled and we had paid and were on our way...

... but not without a backtrack to the Hymer Dealer to resolve a couple of issues. Always wise to stay in the vicinity the night after they've done any work, we've found, as on three of our six visits we've had to return the following day, once we've discovered that they've done something wrong (on this occasion the passenger seat would no longer slide backwards, because too long a bolt had been used when putting the swivel mechanism back together; it took me quite a while contorting myself on the floor to work out what the problem was).

It was lunchtime by the time we got away, so we paused to eat before finally pointing Bertie's nose generally south. During the journey I looked at options for where we might spend the night and not only was Neufchatel the right sort of distance away, but, having spent several days here only a couple of months ago, we knew we could run some errands, as well as avail ourselves of another night of electricity and wifi.

There's nowt to report since arriving, except that our risk of dying in our bed has reduced with the acquisition of a new battery for the smoke alarm (which only died at about 2am today - we've not really been living dangerously).

Tuesday 15 January - Izegem

Where's Bertie? He's back outside of the motorhome dealership tonight.

When we agreed to stay inside of the workshop last night we hadn't foreseen the heat. It was 22 degrees when we went to bed, and with the ventilation system having been switched off along with the lights when everyone went home, it was also awfully stuffy. Not the best night's sleep, but at least the sealant on Bertie's new wheel arch got to fully cure in situ.

The poor night's sleep perhaps had a bearing on my laziness today. I had considered the options for going for a run, but finally concluded that as all of them involved having to get washed and changed in the dealership's toilet, none of them was particularly practical. So, another day has been spent mainly sitting around (knitting, reading, crosswording, pacing, brief foray outside).

When Bertie was handed back to us this evening, we could easily have driven off elsewhere, but it was already dusk and as there is flat parking in a quiet-enough location, with free electric here, it made sense to stay another night, before Bertie gets taken off to the Fiat dealer for his annual engine service in the morning.

Monday 14 January - Izegem, Belgium

Where's Bertie? This has got to be our oddest overnight kipping spot yet: he's inside the workshop of the Hymer dealer.

After a day spent sitting around in the Hymer dealer (I entertained myself modifying knitting patterns and took myself off for a small strollette; Mick surveyed a dozen or so of the motorhomes that surround us and concluded that none of them would suit us as well as Bertie), the news came at just gone 6pm that the workshop hadn't been able to complete the work required on Bertie's back wheelarch, and thus would we mind spending the night inside the workshop?

My main focus was on dinner at that point (I'd carelessly undercatered for the day), and we certainly weren't planning to venture out anywhere this evening, so it made little difference to us whether Bertie was inside or out.

It does feel a little odd to be left in the pitch-dark inside of a locked-up building with millions of pounds worth of stock (albeit not very stealable, even if one was dishonest), but it's most certainly quiet.

Sunday 13 January - Izegem, Belgium

Where's Bertie? He's outside the Hymer dealer in Izegem, Belgium.

The destination on this trip is firmly 'south', but not without a small detour north to visit our Hymer dealer to (hopefully!) get the final warranty issues sorted before Bertie goes out of warranty at the end of the month. This is the visit that had to be rearranged from early December, just a few days after our previous trip got suddenly, and slightly dramatically, curtailed.

It's less than two hours to get here from Calais, even tootling along at 80km/h, but we broke the journey anyway, with a stop at the lake just outside Ypres.

There we listened to the rain hammer down, and watched white horses being blown up on the water (conditions that didn't seem to be offputting to the fishermen, nor the various groups of walkers we saw), whilst we had cups of tea and contemplated heading out into the weather.

On the plus side, the temperature was at least 15 degrees warmer than last time we were in Ypres (during the 'Beast from the East' last March), and by the time we stepped out of the door suitably clad in Lycra, the rain had slowed to a quiet patter. Mick ran two laps of the lake, I ran three, and except for the return leg of each lap (which was into the wind), a good time was had.

Later in the afternoon we completed the final hop up to Izegem, where we settled Bertie into one of the overnight parking slots, plugged him into the free electric and watched the final light fade from the sky, hoping for a rather quieter night than we'd had at Calais (boy racers in a multi-storey car park nearby, using the building as a sound amplifier, and motorhomes coming and going all night, due to the proximity to the Eurotunnel terminal).

Saturday 12 January - Calais

Where's Bertie? He's in the motorhome parking area at Cite Europe, right next door to the Eurotunnel terminal by Calais.

It was a day of travel. We left home at around 9.30am, stopped for a very tasty lunch with friends, had less of a battle with the weekend closure of the M20 than we had expected, caught a Eurotunnel shuttle an hour earlier than the one booked and settled into the Cite Europe car park at just gone 9pm.

I could leave this blog post right there, but instead I'll zip back to Tuesday last week when started the 'mini saga of the SatNav'. No, in fact, I'll go all the way back to March 2017 when two days of my life were lost in trying to update the maps on our TomTom. It wasn't the first time that obscene chunks of time had been lost in the endeavour, and I swore that no matter how many times the unit gave me the warning that I needed to update, I wasn't going to do so again for at least two years. I would have stuck to that too, except that France has changed the speed limits on its single carriageway roads and Spain has de-tolled a number of its toll motorways. It was the latter that swung the balance to make me think that it was time to bite the bullet and plug the SatNav into the computer.

A day and a half later, and uncountable de-installations and re-installations of the TomTom software, not to mention clearing of caches, deleting of folders and all other things suggested by various help topics, I had to declare defeat. The biggest problem is that the first thing the SatNav does in updating the maps is to delete the existing maps, thus when the update fails, you're left with an electronic gizmo that is neither use nor ornament.

Thus on Wednesday we bought a new SatNav and, given that we have never in five years been able to update the TomTom without problems, we did the obvious thing and opted for a Garmin. On Thursday we tried it and after a bit of analysis of 'Do we not like this because it's different, or is it really less functional?' we came down on the side of not liking it because it really isn't as good (example: it will tell you distance to go or time of arrival, but it won't tell you both at the same time). On Friday evening I gave the TomTom one final chance to redeem itself and, of course, it seemlessly completed the update on the first attempt.

That is how we found ourselves driving down to Folkestone with a TomTom SatNav on the dashboard, a Garmin on the side window and Google Maps in my hand. And every one of them decided that the best route to Folkestone, in view of the closed M20, was down a small lane (also being used by almost every other man and his dog) rather than straight down the A20. Unfortunately, the navigator wasn't doing her job properly and didn't spot this until after Bertie had got up close and personal with various hedges.

Is there a lesson to be learnt here? Would it have been worth spending £180 more for the 'Camper' specific SatNav? It's a question to which we likely won't have an answer until both of the current units die.