Thursday 5 March - Naitré (France)

Where's Bertie: He's in a small Aire in a little settlement just outside of Naintré. Exact location: 46.76639, 0.51090

Weather: Some sunshine but mainly lightly overcast, but warm (20 degrees max)

Make northerly miles whilst the wind's southerly, as the famous saying goes, so we set out early today. It wasn't yet light as we rolled out of Berastegi. 

With fuel being so much cheaper in Spain than in France, a 700m detour from the motorway was taken to fill Bertie's tank (135.6c/litre), with a slight delay as the fuel station was just putting 'not available' signs on certain of their fuel types. Happily bog standard diesel was still available. 

It was only when we went through the next toll plaza that I realised that because of how this motorway charges, when we left the road to go to the petrol station, we paid for the bit of road we'd used to that point, then when we went through the next toll plaza we paid for the entire section of road, including the bit we'd already paid for. However, given that the toll in question was €1.61 and the fuel was 63c/litre cheaper than France, the saving was still worthwhile. Oh, and when I say that we 'filled up' we still haven't had Bertie's leaky-when-full fuel tank fixed* (hey, it's only been 6 years...), but on this occasion we pushed it and went to 7/8th full. We know he doesn't leak at 3/4 full, and even when he does leak it's a slow drip, so 7/8th seemed a worthwhile gamble given the price differential.

Our next stop, well into France, was supposed to combine lunch with filling LPG. That didn't go well as we found ourselves in a HGV area due to a 1.8m height barrier for cars. Having to mingle with HGVs isn't unusual, but in this case we had to go through a ticket barrier, with the ticket telling us we had a maximum of 1-hour to leave. That would usually be plenty of time for lunch, but when we couldn't find the LPG pump either (it was definitely there somewhere!), we opted to move on. Lunch was had in a rest area a couple of junctions further along the road and we were later successful in our LPG mission, albeit at 5c/litre more (and Bertie's tanks were as low as we ever let them get, with just 12 litres remaining). 

The question over lunch was 'Where are we going?'. The furthest south we could afford to spend tonight, in order to get to Wissant/Calais in time with comfortable driving days, was at Castets (where we stayed on our way S), but had passed there before 10am. The next likely candidate I'd identified was by the failed LPG stop, which was also too early. So, we found ourselves in this Aire, north of Poitiers. I've no idea why it exists, as it's in a tiny community, with no shops to benefit from visitors. There's a full bespoke service point here, but (it appeared) only room for two vans, and we were the second to arrive. We have since been joined by an absolutely massive bus of a motorhome, who has proved that we were short-sighted in thinking that the place was full. 

After a chat with our Belgian neighbours, we took ourselves for a leg-stretch along the road and back, and to the river and back. At the latter we witnessed a man throwing sackfuls of very mouldy baguettes into the water, from where they floated off downstream. Why he was discarding them in a watercourse, rather than a bin, is anyone's guess, but I assume he knew it wasn't an acceptable thing to do, as with our presence, he quickly emptied the bag he was holding, then left with the other two sacks in his boot still full. I wonder how long the ones he discarded took to sink, as I can just imagine someone standing on a bridge downstream when a couple of dozen blackened baguettes bob by.  

(*Bertie's leaky fuel tank: we have taken him to a garage, with tank all but empty, for it to be fixed. When we picked him up they said they couldn't see the problem and needed to drop the tank to investigate further, which is exactly what we'd asked them to do and why we'd taken him with an empty tank. We didn't book him back in. At some point I'm going to remove the flooring in between the two cab seats and hopefully find there's an access hatch to the top of the tank, whereupon we may find that an issue that has taken us years to address is a really easy fix.) 

 

Wednesday 4 March - Berastegi

Where's Bertie? He's still at Berastegi

Weather: Sunny and warm, but a bit breezy

Just as I was about to put tea on the table last night, Mick nipped out to put a couple of things in the recycling bin, about twenty paces away. After a while I wondered if he'd failed to notice the big bank of bins almost next to us and had gone on walkabout, but it turned out that he was just chatting to our Dutch neighbour. His tea may have been cold by the time he got back, but it was a fortuitous chat, as he received a recommendation that the Menu del Día at the bar in the village was excellent. A plan was thus formed: I would get up early(ish), head out for a 4-hour run/walk at 8am, then we'd go for lunch about 1pm, after which we would either get on the road for the shortish hop up to France, or we'd stay here another night. 

I'd downloaded three possible routes for my outing and ended up doing a mishmash of two of them, taking in six summits (the highest being 860m) and amassing 900m of ascent over the course of 19km. 

The first summit didn't have much merit, and I felt like I'd trespassed to get there (I have no idea what the access laws are, but my observation in Spain in general is that if there's a track and it's not marked as private, then it's fair game. On this route, however, I'd left a track to walk up a field and into a felled forest, which felt a bit dubious. That said, just about everywhere that someone may want to cross a field boundary there seemed to be a gate or some sort of a cobbled together style, so maybe access is accepted even off-piste hereabouts). The second summit had a trig point and good (if slightly hazy views) over a magnificent looking ridge that still had some small patches of snow. 

I opted to bypass the next couple of nobbles along the ridge (they felt even more like trespassing to me), but detoured to the next couple. Then came the highlights of the outing - a couple of summits topped by rocky tors. The first one was easy to navigate and technically the second would have been too, but it was a scramble with some big chasms in the rock, where a fall would have serious consequences, so I erred on the side of caution and made do with getting within metres of the cross on the summit. 

My final high point (811m) was accidental. On a path through another grassy field (where I was confident I was allowed to be by the fact that another chap was following me, and four came the other way - I feel like I saw more walkers on this outing than I've seen in the last month combined) was indistinct on the ground and I wasn't sure which side of a fence I needed to be. Having crossed the fence I decided I was on the wrong side of it, by which time I thought I may as well re-route over one final top. 

Setting off back down the hill, I thought I was going to be late for my lunch date, but it was a speedy descent and I actually arrived a few minutes early, and not alone, as Mick had walked out along the road to meet me. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable route that I'd happily do again, although I'd probably choose to do the PR111 next time, and to take Mick with me. 

Back at Bertie, it was a quick shower and change, then out to Ategi Taberna, where I was pleased to see that the menu was written in Spanish, not Basque. The food was good, and the place was reasonably busy for a Wednesday. It seemed a little odd, just after being served our main courses, that our puddings were put down on the table next to us, but it wasn't just us. A couple that came in after us were still on their first courses when their mains were delivered, and their puddings arrived just after they started their mains. It's obviously just the way they do it, and as everyone else seemed to be local and regular customers (everyone seemed to know everyone else), it's obviously just accepted. It does make for a rather fast lunch, though. 

Given how close this place is to the route that we've now many times driven through Spain, we'd happily pop by again, even if just for a lunch stop.  

We could have driven on into France after lunch, but given what a nice spot this is, and that it's free and quiet, we decided to stay another night. That gives us three days to get from here to Calais, so we'll be in full-on driving mode from tomorrow. The only potential fly in the ointment is that on the TV news in the bar there were reports of queues at petrol stations in Spain due to the attack on Iran. If that escalates into large-scale panic buying and fuel shortage, that could be problematic to our journey. It's not something we can control though, so no point worrying about it.  

I'm liking the variety of field boundaries hereabouts. No one seems to go in for manufactured fence posts - any piece of straight-enough local tree will do.  

   

Dry stone walls are prevalent too

 If you can look past me and the trig point, that's a fine ridge as the backdrop. The map tells me its high points are around 13-1400m.

I passed a lot of hunting/shooting infrastructure (and I'm sure some of the paths I took were created solely to cater to that activity). I don't think the scale comes across here - the scaffolding tower atop which sits a the shooting but, in this snap, was hugely tall. No way would you get me up that ladder!

Talking of not climbing things, this is the summit I didn't quite reach. Technically straightforward enough, but grykes were of man-eating size and a slip would have ruined more than just my day. 

There was active felling going on just to my left (two trees fell in the short time it took me to cross this section). In the UK there would have been signs prohibiting me from proceeding and warning me not to approach machinery, not to mention not to climb on timber stacks. There was not a single sign here, and do you know what? I applied the exact same degree of caution as I would have if there had been signs.

Three courses, including a bottle of wine, for €14. When we'd ordered the first item on the 'Segundo Plato' list had been rabbit.

 

 
 

 

Tuesday 3 March - Berastegi

Where's Bertie? He's in a small Aire in the village of Berastegi. Exact location: 43.12372, -1.98324

Weather: Disappointingly overcast, against a forecast of sunshine, but warm this afternoon (17 max)

We woke up to the sound of light rain on Bertie's roof - a surprise as there was no mention of it in the forecast and it must have continued for around an hour. It was still overcast as we set out, but based on the forecast we expected that either the sun would win through, or we would drive out from under the cloud. Unfortunately neither happened, although the afternoon did warm up as predicted even with the cloud cover. 

Our initial journey was a short one, to a petrol station (€1.266/litre), then a supermarket, in Tudela, where our trolley, along with some groceries, included 18 bottles of wine and 24 cans of beer. It's a long way to haul it home from Spain, but Mick knows some of the wines he likes in Spain and the prices are so low that it makes it worthwhile (our entire shop, including the food, came in at €82).

It was then a 2-hour drive up to Berastegi. If we had been solely chasing the weather, we would have continued on another hour or so to Capbreton, but I've run around the Capbreton area a few times now, and fancied something a bit different and hillier, so an Aire within 3km of our route and in a typical village in the Basque Country fitted the bill nicely.

Once again, lunch was our first priority on arrival, then I sought out a route for us to go and do this afternoon, settling for one that did a circuit around the outside of the village (6.8km, 225m).

I don't think we saw a single thing that didn't scream 'Basque Country' at us. The landscape and buildings are so distinctive that using the 'if I was abducted by aliens and abandoned here' test, I don't think I'd struggle to know where I was.  

Final remark of the day: we are parked right next to a church (a disproportionately large one in such a location, I would say) complete with a chiming clock. The chimes aren't the loudest, but I wouldn't be surprised if they continue all night. 

 

Views

 

We saw a few fields with lambs and not recent ones either.

 

We also saw more than one field containing miniature horses. Do they have a purpose?

 

 

  

 

Monday 2 March – Zaragoza and Mallén

Where’s Bertie? He spent last night in the motorhome parking area in Zaragoza and tonight he’s in a little Aire just outside of the village of Mallén.

Weather: Yesterday: sunny and warm. Today: overcast first half of the morning, then clearing to sunshine and gradually warming up to around 17 degrees.

We weren’t in any rush to leave the Aire at Morella yesterday morning. Having paid for 24 hours, we thought we may as well tarry a while and take advantage of having electricity. We weren’t entirely successful in our tarrying, and just before 11 we got on the road to Zaragoza.

We’ve driven past the city a few times now, so thought that on this occasion we'd stop by to have a look at the place, killing two birds with one stone by also making our mandatory trip to a Decathlon store. 

The motorhome parking area is on the north side of the city (we usually pass to the south) and we arrived* to find it busier than expected, but managed to nab one of two empty spaces (out of, I think, 50, although there were plenty of motorhomes parked elsewhere in the large car park too).

Being gone 1pm by then, lunch was our first priority, then I mixed the dough ready for a fresh loaf of bread. Once that was done, we thought it was a bit late to be heading off into town, so instead we filled a backpack with laundry and walked the 1.3km to the nearest laundrette.

The smallest washing machine they had there was 13kg. We had a 5kg load with us. Bit of a waste, and possibly the most expensive wash & dry we’ve ever done in Spain (€10 for one wash cycle and one dry cycle). Arguably, I should have just continued to wear my smelly running gear, and bought a few more pairs of pants!

Whilst it had been a semi-overcast start to the day in Morella, we’d driven out into clearer conditions, enjoying wall-to-wall sunshine and a warm afternoon in Zaragoza. With the forecast being the same for today, we were looking forward to good sight-seeing conditions…

…we awoke to a heavily overcast morning! Perhaps, with hindsight, we should have lounged around for most of the morning, but we didn’t think to do that, so it was only just gone 0930 when we donned warm jackets and gloves and wandered the few paces to the tram stop. The trams run frequently, and we had no wait at all - just as the ticket machine spat out our tickets, a tram pulled up; ten minutes later we were in the city centre. 

First on the agenda, having walked past some of the city’s Roman remains, was the Basilica, which is a mightily eye-catching building from afar. It had a good smattering of bling and features inside too, but wasn’t one of the most awe-inspiring interiors I’ve seen.

Next was the Goya museum, except it turns out that it’s closed this year for complete renovation. Harrumph! We might have gone to the city museum instead, except that is also currently closed. So we wandered around a bit, saw another church and the adjacent mansion, wandered around the market, then ducked into a bar next door for coffee (and to warm up – it was somewhere between 8 and 12 degrees out, depending on which display you believed).

At that point, we decided we’d seen enough of Zaragoza. It’s a bigger city than either of us had realised, and although we only saw a bit of it (we probably saw more of the suburbs than of the centre, with our walk to the laundrette yesterday and our further wanderings whilst the washer was washing), we liked what we saw.

We walked back to Bertie, via a big shopping centre that housed Decathlon. There we were restrained, coming away with just a new fleece for each of us.

The sun had won through and we were overheating in our jackets by the time we got back to Bertie, whose interior was also toasty warm with the sun on his windscreen. We might then have sat around for the rest of the afternoon, to move on tomorrow morning, but the Aire is neither attractive nor in the quietest location, being metres away from a busy road, along the middle of which runs the tram. Thus, after a quick lunch, Bertie rolled back out of the car park and came, via a detour to a Lidl, to Mallén, which is just a stone’s throw away from the motorway.

We’re just outside the village here, but it’s only a 1km walk to the church, so for another leg-stretch as much as anything else, we wandered up to see it. As with almost all churches these days, it was locked, and the outside wasn’t interesting enough for me to trouble to take a snap. However, we did get the impression from our walk there, together with an information sign we found showing the location of five or six mansion houses, that this used to be a prosperous place. On the street we walked, we noted some very grand historic buildings, with their lower walls bulging outwards, other old houses in a similar but worse state, intermingled with far newer buildings that have obviously replaced some of the former category. It made me wonder whether there had been an earthquake hereabouts to cause all the structural degredation and such an extensive programme of replacing the old with new (rather than the expected renovation of the old).

 (*As we arrived in Zaragoza there was a marching band practice in progress in the car park where the motorhome parking is location. I feel that if there was to be a bingo card of things that we often encounter on a trip to Spain, a marching band practice in a car park where we're staying is one of them.)

We got to see Morella under a blue sky before we left yesterday morning

The basilica in Zaragoza. It's not short of domes and spires. 

Fountain of the day

Roman remains and a wonky tower