Where's Bertie? He's in a small informal parking area at the very east end of Getares Playa (exact location: 36.10197, -5.44113)
Weather: Sunny and nice and warm before the wind got up this afternoon.
With how busy the Aire at La Línea was last night, and not wanting to find ourselves waiting in a frustrating queue for the service point this morning, we moved earlier than our parking ticket's expiry required. With Bertie's tanks serviced, we were out of the marina and on the road before 9am.
As our destination was only 25km up the road (just 9km as the crow flies), we were early arriving here too.
I wondered how much of this place I would recognise, having last been here in 1999, for the wedding of friends Vic & Juan. The answer was that as soon as we parked up and I looked out of the window along the promenade, I was able to point out to Mick the location of the incident of the rucked-up skirt*.
I'd described the place to Mick as having a large sandy beach, but had almost convinced myself that it wouldn't be as nice as I remembered. Turns it it is.
Looking along the beach towards Gibraltar
With most of the beachfront cafes and bars that are open at this time of year (a surprising number) humming with customers in the late morning and through lunchtime, the place has a nice feel to it too. Presumably the customers are mainly locals, as there's not a single hotel and we didn't see anyone else who stood out as a tourist (although there are a couple of other motorhomes in another car park at the far end of the beach, of which I think one may have been foreign).
There were lots of fish in the river (and two turtles, but I don't think they're in this snap).
Our sea view is more interesting than most too, as it features a number of ships moored in the bay, with one occasionally making a move either into or out of the port at Algerciras. As night has fallen, they're lit up like little villages (which, as Mick pointed out, with all the crew on board, that's effectively what they are).
Taken from Bertie's front bumper. In this shot as well as the ships there are three kite surfers, and two flippered and snorkled swimmers just heading out with spearguns. More interesting than our usual sea view!
On arriving we weren't sure if we were going to stay here the whole day, or just have a quick look and move on. The answer, as you'll have gathered, is that we've stayed, filling our day with ambling and sea-watching (I even got the binoculars out a couple of times - a rare event).
With time now pressing before we need to be in Seville, we'll be on our way again tomorrow. (Just for the record: we are exactly where my itinerary said we'd be tonight and we intend to move on to exactly where we're supposed to be tomorrow - so maybe our adherence to the plan isn't quite as bad as expected.)
(*June 1999: I was walking along the promenade in a short skirt, carrying a small backpack, and it seeemd to me that an awful lot of people were staring at me. Was it the blonde hair and blue eyes? Surely not so uncommon around here as to make so many people stare. I pondered the point at length before eventually realising that the movement of my backpack had caused my skirt to ride up, such that it had become bunched entirely around my waist, exposing my not-overly-substantial underwear to the world. I'm pretty sure that even 23 years ago my first thought, after a slight sense of mortification, was exactly as it would be now: at least I don't know any of them!)
Weather: Sunny and nice and warm before the wind got up this afternoon.
With how busy the Aire at La Línea was last night, and not wanting to find ourselves waiting in a frustrating queue for the service point this morning, we moved earlier than our parking ticket's expiry required. With Bertie's tanks serviced, we were out of the marina and on the road before 9am.
As our destination was only 25km up the road (just 9km as the crow flies), we were early arriving here too.
I wondered how much of this place I would recognise, having last been here in 1999, for the wedding of friends Vic & Juan. The answer was that as soon as we parked up and I looked out of the window along the promenade, I was able to point out to Mick the location of the incident of the rucked-up skirt*.
I'd described the place to Mick as having a large sandy beach, but had almost convinced myself that it wouldn't be as nice as I remembered. Turns it it is.
With most of the beachfront cafes and bars that are open at this time of year (a surprising number) humming with customers in the late morning and through lunchtime, the place has a nice feel to it too. Presumably the customers are mainly locals, as there's not a single hotel and we didn't see anyone else who stood out as a tourist (although there are a couple of other motorhomes in another car park at the far end of the beach, of which I think one may have been foreign).
Our sea view is more interesting than most too, as it features a number of ships moored in the bay, with one occasionally making a move either into or out of the port at Algerciras. As night has fallen, they're lit up like little villages (which, as Mick pointed out, with all the crew on board, that's effectively what they are).
On arriving we weren't sure if we were going to stay here the whole day, or just have a quick look and move on. The answer, as you'll have gathered, is that we've stayed, filling our day with ambling and sea-watching (I even got the binoculars out a couple of times - a rare event).
With time now pressing before we need to be in Seville, we'll be on our way again tomorrow. (Just for the record: we are exactly where my itinerary said we'd be tonight and we intend to move on to exactly where we're supposed to be tomorrow - so maybe our adherence to the plan isn't quite as bad as expected.)
You can play games on the beach as long as they're not annoying.
(*June 1999: I was walking along the promenade in a short skirt, carrying a small backpack, and it seeemd to me that an awful lot of people were staring at me. Was it the blonde hair and blue eyes? Surely not so uncommon around here as to make so many people stare. I pondered the point at length before eventually realising that the movement of my backpack had caused my skirt to ride up, such that it had become bunched entirely around my waist, exposing my not-overly-substantial underwear to the world. I'm pretty sure that even 23 years ago my first thought, after a slight sense of mortification, was exactly as it would be now: at least I don't know any of them!)
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