Where's Bertie? He's in a free car park on the edge of the town of Torrox. Exact location: 36.76109, -3.95557.
Weather: A few high clouds floating around, but mainly sunny and warm (21 degrees).
The negative reviews of the car park in Nerja (for the purposes of sleeping) mainly involve noise through the night. There must have been many comings and goings, straight past Bertie as we were parked by the entrance/exit, but neither of us noticed them. The only thing that vaguely woke me up was the emptying of the bins*, but even that didn't disturb me sufficiently to make me look what time it was.
Our 24 hours were up at just gone 9 this morning, but we'd already decided that we were going to go a little into a second day, as the time of sunrise and the lengths of runs we were doing this morning didn't really accommodate that early a departure.
I didn't mention yesterday that when I referred to running up the river, I really meant alongside a dry river bed.
We only ran together today for the first kilometre or so, as our objectives were at odds (Mick: marathon pace; me: speed intervals). I'd just finished my intervals and was heading the 3km back to Bertie, when Mick ran towards and past me. As I was quite near the end of the track at that point, I expected he would soon catch me up. Sure enough, a while later I looked back and he wasn't far behind. Next time I looked he was nowhere to be seen, and when I got to the point from where I expected us to return to Bertie together, he was still not within sight. It turned out that he'd expected me to do what I said I was going to do (I seldom do! I go out with a notion as to route, then a better idea strikes me whilst I'm out), so was waiting at the bottom of the river for me. Thanks to mobile phones, we were reunited and back to Bertie we went.
The fact that we were now paying 3 cents per minute to stay in the car park focussed our minds on not tarrying too much longer, so I soon headed to the pay station, then back to Bertie when I discovered it only takes cash (not something I generally carry), then back to the paystation.
The vast car park (not all captured in this snap) where Bertie spent last night. You can just see his front bumper behind the silver van, left of shot. The vans either side of us were not in use.
Our next stop was a free car park on the edge of Nerja, with the thought of taking a gentle walk into the adjacent natural park. The parking is generally reported to be sloping, but one recent reviewer said they'd found a spot where one could get tolerably level. We drove a few laps of the area, but failed to find anywhere that was even vaguely level (even taken advantage of Bertie's natural front/back slant). It wasn't even suitable for a breakfast stop, which was becoming a matter of urgency, so we backtracked to a supermarket car park in town for that purpose.
By the time we'd breakfasted and I'd spent an age at the checkout in the shop (they had some mispricing issues going on, affecting both the people in front of me), we had concluded that we were going to return to the town car park for another night. First, however, as we were out and about, it made sense to visit the service point.
The service point in question is at a petrol station to the north of Nerja, just off the motorway, and we timed our arrival badly. By the time we'd worked out the location of the facilities (which turned out to be in the van-wash bay), another motorhome had just pulled into it, and it transpired they didn't just want to use the emptying and filling points, but also to give their van the most thorough wash that any motorhome has ever received. I kid you not, we were 40 minutes waiting for them to finish, and having already paid our €3 for the use of the services plus a €5 deposit for the key (which we couldn't obtain until the people in front of us had returned it), we felt inclined to wait.
By the time we pulled into the bay, there was a whole host of motorhomes waiting, so we were as quick as we could reasonably be, and were just finishing when someone else came in, squeezing past Bertie, to empty their toilet. They apparently thought that the charge didn't apply to them, and were most miffed when, as they went to use the tap, I quickly put the padlock back on it. Telling them that they needed to pay and wait for the key, they protested that they only needed 5 litres. In all honesty, had they asked nicely rather than presuming and barging, then I probably would have let them use it, but my general thought on the point is that this service point has been provided as a commercial enterprise by a business, and to use it without paying is theft. If we'd been sitting in an all-you-can-eat restaurant, having paid our fee for being there, would they consider it appropriate to come and join us at our table and start eating our food, on the basis that 'Well, we only want a few chips'?
Anyhoo, with Bertie all serviced, back to Nerja we were to go ... or were we? By now I'd noticed that we were half way to Frigliana, which I know to be another attractive pueblo blanco, and a look at Park4Night told me that there was some day-parking up there that was suitable for larger vehicles. So, we took the chance that there would be a spot available in the middle of the day (apparently at the weekend, even at this time of year, it can be full by late morning), and headed on up.
Frigliana is indeed a pretty old town (the prettiest in Spain, so they claim, although we later found that this is due to an award won in 1982), and thus is also very touristy, although thankfully relatively quiet for our visit.
Frigliana snaps
Back at Bertie**, we thought we may as well sit a while at the roadside parking, enjoying the view, rather than returning immediately to the Nerja car park, and by the time we'd sat there a while, I'd come up with a different plan: instead of returning to Nerja, of which we've already had a taste, why not go and take a look at the neighbouring town of Torrox instead?
Hence, that's where we are. It's another pueblo blanco built on a hillside, but not quite as pretty as Nerja or Frigliana (it does, however, boast of having the 'best climate in Europe'; they didn't explain the basis for the claim). That's perhaps why I completely failed to take any photos when we took a walk around, save for this one of the mask-wearing statue in the square:
The one thing that did strike us about this place is that whereas in Nerja we heard various languages being spoken (and plenty of Spanish amongst them), every single person we have heard since arriving here has been a Brit or Irish. Perhaps a snapshot that is misrepresentative of the reality of the town, or perhaps not.
(*Bins in Spain are communal, located in the streets and emptied overnight. In the places we tend to sleep, we expect to hear them at some point during the night, so it surprises me to find other motorhomers giving a parking place a bad review for that reason.
Weather: A few high clouds floating around, but mainly sunny and warm (21 degrees).
The negative reviews of the car park in Nerja (for the purposes of sleeping) mainly involve noise through the night. There must have been many comings and goings, straight past Bertie as we were parked by the entrance/exit, but neither of us noticed them. The only thing that vaguely woke me up was the emptying of the bins*, but even that didn't disturb me sufficiently to make me look what time it was.
Our 24 hours were up at just gone 9 this morning, but we'd already decided that we were going to go a little into a second day, as the time of sunrise and the lengths of runs we were doing this morning didn't really accommodate that early a departure.
We only ran together today for the first kilometre or so, as our objectives were at odds (Mick: marathon pace; me: speed intervals). I'd just finished my intervals and was heading the 3km back to Bertie, when Mick ran towards and past me. As I was quite near the end of the track at that point, I expected he would soon catch me up. Sure enough, a while later I looked back and he wasn't far behind. Next time I looked he was nowhere to be seen, and when I got to the point from where I expected us to return to Bertie together, he was still not within sight. It turned out that he'd expected me to do what I said I was going to do (I seldom do! I go out with a notion as to route, then a better idea strikes me whilst I'm out), so was waiting at the bottom of the river for me. Thanks to mobile phones, we were reunited and back to Bertie we went.
The fact that we were now paying 3 cents per minute to stay in the car park focussed our minds on not tarrying too much longer, so I soon headed to the pay station, then back to Bertie when I discovered it only takes cash (not something I generally carry), then back to the paystation.
The vast car park (not all captured in this snap) where Bertie spent last night. You can just see his front bumper behind the silver van, left of shot. The vans either side of us were not in use.
Our next stop was a free car park on the edge of Nerja, with the thought of taking a gentle walk into the adjacent natural park. The parking is generally reported to be sloping, but one recent reviewer said they'd found a spot where one could get tolerably level. We drove a few laps of the area, but failed to find anywhere that was even vaguely level (even taken advantage of Bertie's natural front/back slant). It wasn't even suitable for a breakfast stop, which was becoming a matter of urgency, so we backtracked to a supermarket car park in town for that purpose.
By the time we'd breakfasted and I'd spent an age at the checkout in the shop (they had some mispricing issues going on, affecting both the people in front of me), we had concluded that we were going to return to the town car park for another night. First, however, as we were out and about, it made sense to visit the service point.
The service point in question is at a petrol station to the north of Nerja, just off the motorway, and we timed our arrival badly. By the time we'd worked out the location of the facilities (which turned out to be in the van-wash bay), another motorhome had just pulled into it, and it transpired they didn't just want to use the emptying and filling points, but also to give their van the most thorough wash that any motorhome has ever received. I kid you not, we were 40 minutes waiting for them to finish, and having already paid our €3 for the use of the services plus a €5 deposit for the key (which we couldn't obtain until the people in front of us had returned it), we felt inclined to wait.
By the time we pulled into the bay, there was a whole host of motorhomes waiting, so we were as quick as we could reasonably be, and were just finishing when someone else came in, squeezing past Bertie, to empty their toilet. They apparently thought that the charge didn't apply to them, and were most miffed when, as they went to use the tap, I quickly put the padlock back on it. Telling them that they needed to pay and wait for the key, they protested that they only needed 5 litres. In all honesty, had they asked nicely rather than presuming and barging, then I probably would have let them use it, but my general thought on the point is that this service point has been provided as a commercial enterprise by a business, and to use it without paying is theft. If we'd been sitting in an all-you-can-eat restaurant, having paid our fee for being there, would they consider it appropriate to come and join us at our table and start eating our food, on the basis that 'Well, we only want a few chips'?
Anyhoo, with Bertie all serviced, back to Nerja we were to go ... or were we? By now I'd noticed that we were half way to Frigliana, which I know to be another attractive pueblo blanco, and a look at Park4Night told me that there was some day-parking up there that was suitable for larger vehicles. So, we took the chance that there would be a spot available in the middle of the day (apparently at the weekend, even at this time of year, it can be full by late morning), and headed on up.
Frigliana is indeed a pretty old town (the prettiest in Spain, so they claim, although we later found that this is due to an award won in 1982), and thus is also very touristy, although thankfully relatively quiet for our visit.
Back at Bertie**, we thought we may as well sit a while at the roadside parking, enjoying the view, rather than returning immediately to the Nerja car park, and by the time we'd sat there a while, I'd come up with a different plan: instead of returning to Nerja, of which we've already had a taste, why not go and take a look at the neighbouring town of Torrox instead?
Hence, that's where we are. It's another pueblo blanco built on a hillside, but not quite as pretty as Nerja or Frigliana (it does, however, boast of having the 'best climate in Europe'; they didn't explain the basis for the claim). That's perhaps why I completely failed to take any photos when we took a walk around, save for this one of the mask-wearing statue in the square:
In the absence of any fountains today, I'll go with this statue of the day
(*Bins in Spain are communal, located in the streets and emptied overnight. In the places we tend to sleep, we expect to hear them at some point during the night, so it surprises me to find other motorhomers giving a parking place a bad review for that reason.
**Who did we find just a few spaces up the road, but the Swedish couple who had thought it okay to help themselves to the service point without paying. They had the side door of their van open, and had they been eating (and we not been in Covidian times) it would have been too tempting to hop inside, take some of their food, and drive home the all-you-can-eat buffet analogy.)
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