Saturday 19 February - Seville

Where's Bertie: He's moved to be nearer to the entrance of the Aire, but otherwise is in the same place.
Weather: Some cloud, but mainly sunny. Twelve degrees first thing, but building into the low twenties by mid-afternoon.

When we arrived here on Thursday, all was quiet at the port. Yesterday there was activity. For most of the day it sounded like the big 'grabber' crane we could see was loading broken crockery into a large metal vessel (actually, it sounded like broken crokery was being rotated very slowly in a massive metal tombola, such was the regularity of the tinkling crashes). Later in the day they must have run out of broken crockery as it sounded more like rubble. The rubble pile must have been big as they went on shifting it the whole way through the night and into today.

I only know that because I woke up a few times and heard it, although it neither woke me nor kept me awake. Mick was chatting to our next door neighbour later in the morning, who, it turned out, had also been in the same car park as us during the brass band/nightclub session in Cadiz on Wednesday night; he commented that the noise here was nothing compared to that.

They were still working on shifting the rubble when we headed out for our morning exercise. I had a long run on the agenda, whereas Mick had his final little leg-stretch of his pre-marathon taper period. He thus joined me for the first 1.5km of my outing, at which point I shooed him back to Bertie and continued on to join the riverside path.

Goodness, it was busy with runners! It felt like I'd accidentally got caught up in a race, but hadn't got the memo about the distance.

Busy riverside!

Busy on the river too with all sorts of (mainly human-powered) craft

Apparently I also hadn't got the memo about the route, as once I reached the north side of the city, I suddenly found myself on my own again.

I also found a truly impressive sculpture (probably sculpture of the trip, never mind of the day). Hopefully the trees and lamp posts give a sense of scale.

I was feeling fatigued well before I got back to Bertie (after 24km), but then I suppose I have done quite a lot this last week (particularly with the 20km bike ride added to my scheduled activities). Given Mick's impending marathon, and my fatigue, I think it's excusable that we did so little for the rest of the day.

We moved Bertie to be nearer to the entrance (and further from the port activities), I went and sampled the showers that we belatedly discovered they have here (short shower as it was powerful but on the cool side of tepid; noon probably isn't the best time to get hot water), and we took a little wander to the nearest shop for some bread.

I'll finish with a few snaps of the motorhome parking here, but first I'll mention the approach. We've parked in some decidedly unattractive places, but the approach to this parking area looks so waste-landy and full of rubbish, that it was off-putting to the point that we questioned whether we wanted to stay here. Then we reached this secure compound which is manned and gated 24 hours per day.

It's some sort of vehicle handling place:

Some of the vehicles are new, some not new, and plenty of fleet vans too

On Thursday and Friday there were transporters coming and going

They've allocated a section of their massive yard to motorhomes. On a quick tot-up there must be 100 here tonight, making a secure yard feel even more secure. 

The other advantage of having moved is that it's given us a river view. Admittedly it's a world away from the best watery views we've ever had.

It's just a pity that the place isn't a little closer to the city - and that you have to walk a kilometre of skanky approach road to get to a proper road. 

Friday 18 February - Seville

Where's Bertie? He's still in the same place in Seville.
Weather: A few clouds around for a short while this afternoon, but otherwise sunny. 22 degrees.

For the second time in as many weeks, my day started with a bike ride - 10km each way around the edge of Seville to collect Mick's race number and goody-bag.

The navigation looked involved, so I donned Mick's bone-conducting headphones and set Google Maps to direct me. Whilst I couldn't see the map (because I don't have a handlebar mount, so the phone was in my pocket), it gave me clear enough directions such that I only stopped to check the map a few times (mainly where Google didn't seem to know that the cycle path took a short detour down a road, to cross the carriageway and come back again).

I expected my destination, an exhibition centre, to be something like the NEC, but it wasn't. In fact, what I found appeared to be a deserted building with no apparent way in. I was just scratching my head and consulting the map some more when I spotted some flags and an inflatable 'start/finish' arch just up the road, and sure enough, that's where I needed to be.

When I arrived there was only one bike at this stand, and it didn't instill confidence!

Once in the hall there was no indication as to where I needed to go, so I worked on the basis that they wanted everyone to have to pass all of the exhibitor stands, and headed via the most direct route I could find to the back of the hall. Ten minutes later I was back outside with everything I needed and, via a quick nip into Aldi for a couple of soft pretzels (somehow I'd gone out without anything to eat and it had been a long time since breakfast), back to Bertie I tootled.

What an excellent place Seville is for cycling! All but two short sections (200m each?) of the 10km route was on dedicated two-way cycle paths, with either traffic lights at junctions, or with the cycle path having priority. The two short non-cycle path bits were on shared foot/cycle ways, so I didn't need to venture onto a road at all.

In fact, I've noticed a lot of cycling infrastructure on this trip that I've not noticed during previous visits to Spain - perhaps because we didn't have a bike with us so it just passed me by. I very much approve.

Mick's leg-stretch didn't come until this afternoon when we ventured out to recce the start/finish area for the marathon. Having located it, we then formed a circuit, returning via the place where we parked Colin back in 2016. Our thought was that, even though it's no longer a motorhome parking area, if it's still possible to park a Bertie-sized vehicle there, then we would move tomorrow afternoon, so as to be better positioned for Sunday. It turns out that it's no longer a motorhome parking area because the whole car park is now an excavated building site, into which piles are just being driven.

On our previous visit to Seville we were parked on the right bank in this photo from where we watched many a rowing crew as they went up and down. The only people we saw today were this group of SUPers.

Just one final comment about today: we have had a change of neighbours since we arrived. Unfortunately, the way that the new neighbours have parked leaves us looking like we've ignorantly plonked Bertie right in the middle of a span of spaces, with the gaps on both sides of us (which were perfectly big yesterday) now too small for anyone to access comfortably. I do hate it when the subsequent parking decisions of other people make it look like we don't know how to park politely!

Thursday 17 February - Cadiz and Seville

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire in the port area (container ships) on the S side of Seville. It costs €12 per night to stay here. Electricity and a service point are available at extra costs. Exact location: 37.36036, -5.99481
Weather: wall-to-wall sunshine. Particularly warm in Seville (22 degrees)

Just after eight o'clock last night, the noise from the port died to nothing. About ten minutes or so later, I thought I could hear a trombonist outside. Over the next half an hour the sound of brass instruments got louder and louder, joined by some very loud drums too. It was not, however, a harmonious sound.

At just gone 9pm we went out to investigate. It turned out that there were at least four brass bands, and one drum band, at intervals along the road in front of the car park. They were all playing at the same time, but not the same music.

I took a little (40 second) video, from in front of Bertie's bumper. Turn the volume up to max and you'll have an idea of what it was we could hear.

Click here for video

They played without a single pause (in that if one lot stopped, some of the others would still be going) until just after 10pm when all went quiet. "Well that wasn't too bad" we thought.

Two minutes later they'd all started up again, but it was the beginning of a very slow end. By eleven they had dwindled down to just one brass group, plus the drums (which had now moved down the road to be nearer to us), and after another few false-ends, just after eleven they finally all stopped.

A few minutes later one of the nightclubs started playing music. That music, with a thudding base, occasionally augmented by the sound of screeching revellers, went on until 6am.

I have to conclude that we were unlucky. No previous commenters on Park4Night have mentioned brass bands, nor nightclub noise midweek. Google tells me that none of the clubs (there are three along that street) is open on a Wednesday. There was obviously something special going on last night.

Despite all of that, and thanks largely to the help of audiobooks with the volume turned up loud, we didn't have too bad a night of sleep. Each time something woke one of us up, we'd put our respective audiobook back on (we're both listening to stories we know well, so they're good to fall asleep to). The noise of the port didn't start up again until gone half eight this morning.

I was, admittedly, a little later getting up than normal, so the sun was properly up by the time I went out for my run.

I should, perhaps, at this point stop assuming that everyone knows where Cadiz is and what it looks like, and put a little map to show that it's a little city almost surrounded by water:

The orange line is my route

To run around the exterior of the historical city, most of which is along a seafront promenade, is almost exactly 5km. So, I ran two circuits, plus a little out-and-back by the port. A good time was had, eyeing up the historic buildings and structures as I went.

Cathedral to the right, sea to the left. Prom and cycle path by way of self-powered road infrastructure.

Looking out to La Caleta

With not much time available to us, once I was back, second-breakfasted and washed, we headed back out. Our first port of call, per Humphrey's suggestion, was to pop by the Mercado Central. What a wide range of fish you can buy there! Unfortunately, we were too early even to salivate over the wares of the eateries inside, as they were only just starting to set out their tables, but we did stop by one just outside for cafés y tostadas.

A while later we were about three quarters of the way across the causeway to the fort at La Caleta when Mick pointed out that we were out of time. We were now over 2km away from Bertie and we needed to leave town in about half an hour.

On our way across the causeway

Winding our way back through the city streets (we saw a good array of them today)...

City street. Almost everyone was wearing a mask.

...back to the car park we went, where the attendant only charged us €3.10 for our stay. As much as I'd be happy to return to Cadiz, I'm not sure I'd be champing at the bit to go back to that car park, even if our assessment was that the saving of over €25, compared to the other motorhome parking option was worth the disturbed night. In fact, the whole brass band thing was so bizarre that it made our stay in Cadiz all the more memorable.

To Margaret B: we happened to find ourselves passing, but too early, and without the time, to eat.

The drive to Seville was an hour and a half or so, at the end of which we dived into an Aldi for enough provisions to see us through to Monday, as we may not move again until Sunday afternoon.

The motorhome parking area here is surprisingly busy. Last time we were in Seville (the same weekend, in 2016) we were one of only a handful of motorhomes parked in what was then the motorhome parking area (which was conveniently nearer to the city).

It was only once we parked up that I asked Mick where it is he has to go tomorrow to pick up his race number. We'd both assumed that it would be somewhere central, near to where the race starts and ends, but we were both wrong to assume. It's actually 10km away, with no convenient way to get there. Had we checked that in advance, we probably would have timed ourselves to arrive here tomorrow morning, driving first to the exhibition centre for that purpose. We have a few options as to what we do about picking up his number, the two most sensible of which would be to drive, or for me to cycle to pick it up on Mick's behalf. I will report back tomorrow...

Wednesday 16 February - Cadiz

Where's Bertie? He's in a car park next to the busy port (container ships) in Cadiz. The special rate for motorhomes is €3.10 per parking space per 24 hours (we expect to pay €6.20 as although Bertie is short, these bays are even shorter). There's a toilet here, open when the parking attendant is present. Exact location: 36.53849, -6.28984.
Weather: Gloriously sunny.

A cool start today. We put the heating on for a short while first thing.

Because of the cool start, we were later than usual in heading out to trot off in different directions. As Mick turned one way, I turned towards one of my 'chose a path almost at random' routes. My selection didn't work out well (again!) today, featuring increasing amounts of deep, soft sand.

Not a good running surface

So, I turned back and ran my speed intervals up and down a section of promenade alongside the harbour. I passed Mick on my way who nearly said something to me, until he realised that I was focussed and going fast. It's a pity, as he was going to tell me what a treat I had to come, and if he had, I would have continued rather than running back and forth along the same 700m. It turns out that had I carried on for just 100m more, I would have seen that there's a promenade that runs alongside the huge (wide and long) golden sandy beach of Barbate:

I didn't miss out completely, as we walked out that way later in the morning, although not before we'd used the showers at the marina. That nearly didn't come to pass, as the entrance code had changed, so the one printed on our receipt (which worked yesterday) now buzzed as invalid. Fortunately there were two Spanish women also trying to gain entry, who indicated that we should go with them as they walked purposefully along the dock towards the office, although we didn't get that far as on the way they nabbed a member of staff who came and swiped us in.

Suitably clean, off to the beachfront we went, before venturing further inland, to see if there was anything interesting in the town. Maybe there is, but we failed to find it; the roads along which we passed mainly had a seedy/down-at-heel feel to them. We thus returned to the prom, and back-tracked a little to give some custom to one of the few open bars. We'd already had two breakfasts apiece, but at noon it was too early for lunch in Spain, so a third breakfast it was:

Mick looking rightfully smug that we were served exactly what he thought he'd asked for.

Back at Bertie there was no reason to hang around, so we didn't. Everything was stowed in double-quick time and towards Cadiz we headed.

Our first objective approaching the city was diesel, as Bertie had just reported to us that he was running uncomfortably low. We pulled into the first cheaper-than-normal station we found (139.9/litre), but then found that the payment machine required us to choose either to fill the tank, or a specific value (not volume). We can't fill Bertie's tank (yep, still not had that issue fixed), so some quick sums were done to chose a suitable value. The problem then was that there was no option between €60 and €100. The latter was too much, so we had to settle for the lower amount (we did consider, but discounted, going around again for another €20).

I'd just got the receipt when I noticed that the garage also sold LPG, so we put €25 in the gas tanks (at 82.9/litre). On reflection, there may well have been a 'fill' option on the LPG too, which would have been the better choice.

Onwards to the car park we came and after a ridiculously late lunch, we adjudged there to be enough time before tea to head across Cadiz to the cathedral/old cathedral/Roman remains. It's a small city, so it was only a 15 minute walk to get there.

We meandered our way through the maze of streets on our way back, eyeing up menus, even though we'd already had three breakfasts and a good lunch.

Statue of the day, and the only photo I'm sharing from Cadiz. I don't specialise in quality snaps at the best of times, but I outdid myself on poor shots today.

We don't need to leave here until early afternoon tomorrow, so we'll see more of the place before we go.

As I type this at 1930, there's a lot of noise going on behind us, with a container ship being loaded. This car park has the advantage of being exceptionally cheap for one so close to a city (the one on the other side of the city is €28.80/24 hours, versus €6.20 here), but with lots of bad reviews based on noise. The majority of those complaints are about weekends, when the nightclub opposite blares out its music until 5am, so (being midweek) we thought it'd be okay tonight. However, there are also a few reviews about the disturbance from the port activities. As we're usually pretty good at tuning out traffic noise, I didn't think that would be a problem, however, if the revving of engines, rumbling of heavy vehicles and clanking/banging of the container-moving process goes on all night, we're not in for a restful time.

(Forgot to mention: I also gave Mick a haircut this afternoon. This is something that heretofore has required us to go somewhere to get mains electricity. We now have a small inverter, so rather than having people stare at us as I clipper his hair on a campsite or Aire, today he got a hairdo in a car park. Sometimes we do consider that our lives have taken a bizarre turn, but haircuts in car parks barely register on our 'this isn't normal behaviour' scale.)

Tuesday 15 February - Bolonia and Barbate

Where's Bertie? He's in a municipal Aire at the marina just outside of Barbate. It costs €9.55 per night to stay here, including use of the toilets and showers. Use of the service point is €3 extra. (Exact location: 36.18425, -5.93546)
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine.

Bertie ended up with a lot of neighbours in Bolonia last night.

My intended running route this morning was to go 5km SE along the Atlantic Coast Path then turn around and return. Whilst I know that's a perfectly feasible thing to do, when I was 2.5km in the good path suddenly unravelled into a multitude of cow-trods through the sand dunes. I poked around for a while, trying to find the best way forward, before deciding that all the faffing around wasn't proving beneficial to the intention of my outing. So, I made do with two repetitions of the bit I'd run to that point. It wasn't as interesting as the section of coast path I was on a couple of days ago, but still nicer than pounding the streets.

Another sunrise outing. The sun hampered me on the outward leg, as it blinded me to the trip hazards that lay on the path in front of me.

The morning was marching on rapidly towards lunchtime by the time we walked purposefully up the road towards the entrance to 'Baelo Claudia', the Roman archaeological site. There we expected to pay an entrance fee. Our guide book (now 10 years out of date) said the fee for non-EU passport holders was €1.50. An online review two years ago reported the same, but I couldn't find any up to date price information (not even on the museum website); however, we felt sure it wouldn't have jumped to anything unreasonable.

The receptionist's greeting was to ask our nationality, and when we answered she told us that entry was free. We didn't argue the point. After all, if the requirement is based purely on passports, it would be perfectly feasible for us still to have EU ones for the next few years. It's just unfortunate timing that ours expired last summer. Or maybe they've made a positive decision still to allow Brits free entry?

Either way, we were in and before reaching the excavated site, we were routed through the museum. There's stunningly little inside considering the size of building. The real interest in this place is outside.

According to the leaflet (written in faultless English): "Excavations have uncovered the most complete Roman urban complex in the entire Iberian Peninsula, with monuments of extraordinary importance such as the basilica, the theatre, the market and the Temple of Isis." The leaflet also explains that the fishing industry, especially tuna, was the main source of income.

Looking across the site at the start of the tour route

The leaflet explained the recommended tour route and what we would see, which was augmented by signs on the ground. Most of the buildings in evidence were as expected, having visited quite a number of Roman sites over the years. What was novel here was the fish processing/salting factory.

The fish factory. Note all the sinks (I'm sure there's a better word that I'm failing to grab from my bank of words!) where the fish were prepared and salted.

From front to back: square, basilica, forum and temples.

As above, but looking from a rear corner, from behind the later-added temple of Isis.

We left agreeing that it would have been excellent value for money if we had paid and that it had been worth the visit.

Once lunch had been despatched back at Bertie (I had to be a bit imaginative today with a serious lack of typical lunch ingredients, such as any bread products), I suggested it might be time to move on, as tempting as it was to stay put for another night.

That may not have been the best decision. The Aire here at the marina in Barbate is not immediately adjacent to the town, and unlike the sister Aire we stayed at Caleta de Velez, here the marina buildings are all abandoned, with one significantly vandalised, and the toilets and showers are a good few minutes walk away, rather than being just across the street. It thus feels like it offers far less value for money, despite being the same price for, on paper, the same services.

Since arriving we've only walked around the quayside (a remarkably popular thing to do, as we've witnessed through Bertie's windscreen, but there are fewer interesting craft here and lots of empty moorings). Hopefully tomorrow we'll venture towards the town, even if only briefly.

Bertie's over yonder

^{After I started typing this, I started hearing a loud bird squawking nearby. I went out to see if I could see what it was, but drew a blank. Then curiosity got the better of Mick. It turns out that our neighbours have a parrot, as well as four West Highland Terriers, in their 7m motorhome.}

Monday 14 February - Bolonia

Where's Bertie? He's in the roughest-rocky-surfaced car park ever seen, just outside the archeological site at Bolonia (exact location: 36.08700, -5.76941)
Weather: Morning - rain!; afternoon - wall-to-wall sunshine.

Mick had not long been back from his run this morning, when I heard a few drops of rain on Bertie's roof. I didn't think it would amount to anything, particularly as the BBC was telling me we were in for another day of clear sunshine. It soon stopped, and stayed so until we reached the service point and set about emptying and filling tanks and bottles. The weather gods chose that period to turn up the volume and get us thoroughly wet.

Our next stop was only 1.5km away from the Aire - a petrol station with a laundrette on their forecourt. There, whilst I gathered the laundry, Mick went to buy two tokens - one for the washer and one for the drier. They duly gave him two tokens, he tapped his card without paying attention to the total ... and then they gave him a third token, at which point it became apparent that they had sold him two washer tokens. A refund was refused, with the attendant pointing to the sign clearly stating that tokens wouldn't be refunded. Not being in a position to argue the point (because surely that's if you buy more than you need, rather than are sold more than you asked for), we did a very expensive batch of laundry. Given how busy the place got whilst we were there, it's surprising I didn't manage to sell the token on to someone, but I didn't time my appearances in front of the machines quite right.

Fortunately, from the point of view of spiting the fuel station, we hadn't started by buying diesel or LPG, intending to do so at the end of our visit. Being immediately desperate for neither, the garage didn't get that custom.

The rain had continued as I'd gone back and forth across the road between Bertie and the laundry facilities, but by the time we'd finished folding and stowing everything the rain was stopping and blue sky approaching. By the time we reached Bolonia twenty minutes later, it was sunny.

Humphrey commented on a post a few days ago and described the beach here as 'magnificent'. He wasn't wrong. Bertie is in this shot.

There are a lot of motorhomes here in Bolonia, but they're mainly parked in places where overnighting is forbidden. On the one hand it's apparently tolerated despite the signs, on the other hand, we weren't prepared to use the 'no entry except ambulances' entrance to the otherwise height-barriered car park in order to join them. Then we found our way to this car park, where it's forbidden to camp, but with no express prohibition on overnight parking. On the basis that we are parked, not camped (legally distinct activities under Spanish law), we've decided to stay here.

The main attraction for us here in Bolonia is the Roman site (having said only yesterday that we're not doing anything cultural!), however, it occurred to us even before we arrived that, being Monday, the museum would be closed. I was unsure whether any of the site would be accessible, but it turns out that no, it's all behind locked gates and fences today.

As viewed through the fence.

Having had a stroll around, we've decided to stick around until it opens tomorrow.

Our post-lunch stroll took us through the village (everything bar one corner shop and the pharmacy is closed, whether because it's winter or because it's Monday, we don't know), where we found both horses and cows grazing the grass verges and crossing the road at will. Some of the cows strolled along the section of beach in front of Bertie's window later:

Sun wasn't in the best position for this through-the-windscreen shot.

Odd, we thought. Not something we expect to see in a settlement on the coast.

Sunday 13 February - Tarifa

Where's Bertie? He's still sitting comfortably at the Aire in Tarifa. Exact location: 36.01847, -5.61108 (forgot to include it yesterday, even after my proof-reader pointed out the omission)
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine and warm when in the sun and out of the wind (in fact, not too bad when in the wind either).

I feel that we're not doing an awful lot on this trip. On previous trips it would have been unthinkable for us to be 3 weeks in and not have visited a single church or museum. Once Mick's marathon is over, we might feel more inclined to visit indoor spaces (particularly as I don't think we've ever been in a busy museum in Spain, so I wouldn't consider such an excursion to be a significant risk), but we'll likely still avoid public transport. Even so, whilst our pottering around probably doesn't make for interesting reading for anyone else, after 2 years of mainly sitting in an armchair at home, it is just a delight to be out and about in such a pleasant winter climate, and to be running rotues that we haven't already run hundreds of times over the last two years.*

Talking of which... I started today with a jaunt along the Mediterranean Coast Path, to the east of here. There are paths out of Tarifa in both directions, but by choosing to go east I was getting the 'into the wind' leg out of the way early.

Aside from the fact that it was bone dry and 'crushed stoney' rather than 'dirt and mud' underfoot, and that I could clearly see Africa just across the water, it put me very much in mind of the Welsh coast path.

These snaps aren't particularly illustrative. It seems I only took photos showing flat sections of good path.

The second of these gates that I had to go through was a squeeze and a duck; this one was just a squeeze.

I would have carried on further than I did, except that I'd not been on the path for long when my phone received a message welcoming me to Morocco and telling me what the charges would be to make calls etc. As my plan doesn't include Morocco, and I don't have any credit, that meant that not only could Mick no longer track me, but that I couldn't send him a message telling him what was going on either. I did a few manual searches, looking for a Spanish phone signal, but I couldn't identify an obvious one out of the long list of those available. So, after an hour, I turned back. Oh, how lovely it was to have the wind behind me!

Once back at Bertie and showered, changed, lunched and second lunched, out we went, for a look around Tarifa.

The old town was to where we headed, finding it to be a veritable maze of streets and walkways such that I'm sure it would be very easy to get lost and start walking in circles.

Old town street

Every now and then we popped out into a tiny square, each filled with tables and chairs, all full of chattering diners on this Sunday lunchtime.

The church in the old town

Our other objective of the outing was to go and visit the most southerly point, on the 'island' connected to Tarifa via a causeway. We failed in that mission, as the entance to the island was firmly barred.

If there weren't too many places to see and too little time we could easily be persuaded to spend another day here - it's a nice place with a huge number of eateries with enticing menus - but time is pressing, so we will leave tomorrow, on schedule.

^{(*Out of mud season we have quite an array of appealing running routes at home. In mud season we are severely limited.)}