Ronda, Hiking and the South Coast of Spain
Heading into Ronda, the sun was shining lulling us into a false sense of security for the day ahead. After a brief fiasco trying to dump the grey tank we then had the fun task of trying to find somewhere suitable to park in this not very camper friendly town. The highlight being one parking attendant who saw us driving toward him and promptly hanging a “no motorhomes” sign out front.
We very nearly just gave up on even stopping here, having both gotten to the point of “if they don’t want my money, then I won’t give it to them”. Perhaps this is just our frustration at many anti-camper measures we’ve encountered. But as we have started to discover, there is a real problem with over tourism nowadays. Add to that the awareness that we are now part of said problem and you can maybe understand why our tolerance for messing about was getting low. They don’t want more tourists and we don’t want to make the problem worse.
On our last look as we headed out of town, we did find a side street with a parking lay-by we could use. So locking up and preparing for all weathers, we headed into the old town of Ronda for the day.
Now, yes this is a tourist trap, so once we’d seen the bridges and wandered a couple of the streets we decided to head further out of town for lunch. This was to avoid the touristy restaurants (you know, with pictures of food, menu all in English) as best we could.
We had a specific place in mind, thanks again to Lonely Planet. As usual though, our British metabolisms had led us to a restaurant far too early for Spanish cuisine. So upon our arrival at Resturaunte Almocabar, they did have a table for us… but we were of course the only people in the dining room again!
Thankfully the waiter turned out to be extremely helpful. Whilst he spoke fantastic English, he was patient with us trying to speak Spanish, helped us when we weren’t sure and laughed with us when I kept slipping into my more dominant French.
Already we felt at home and were able to ask for some of the bar’s Tapas as a starter and then have their amazing mains.
The food here was spectacular, and whilst we were waiting, more locals and some tourists arrived. So we were no longer on our own. There was also a local party or celebration of some kind going on upstairs so again, all really positive.
The star for me though was, on recommendation by our waiter friend, the ‘Tarte De Queso’ or Cheesecake for those not familiar with Spanish.
Those who know me, will know that I do not say the following lightly as I am something of a cheesecake fiend (something I have inherited from my Dad’s side):
This was the best cheesecake I have ever tasted.
That’s it. That’s the quote. And surprisingly, it didn’t even have a thick crunchy biscuit base! A feature which so often pushes a slice of God’s own dessert to the top of my list! I’m under instruction not to write an entire blog post about one slice of cheesecake, so ask if you want to know more, but I shall leave it at that!
Leaving confectionary Nivarna behind, we walked back up into the old town and realised that we had avoided quite the deluge of rain over our long lunch. Unfortunately, there was still more to come though. We wove back up the hill and through some of the gorgeous back streets less trod by the hoards of tourists swarming around Puente Nuevo (the new bridge). Then crossing the bridge the heavens opened and the wind whipped up.
We dove between shelters at the tourist info point and then into the bullring gift shop. (We don’t agree with bullfighting and we only came in here to get out of the rain and buy a pin for our notice board.) we couldn’t hide here any longer and as we turned left out of the gift shop toward the small park, the wind tore down the street. With only the cheap umbrella we had bought in Tasmania a year prior as a shield we forced our way up the street and hid behind a pillar in the park fence as others did the same behind statues and round street corners.
That was the deciding factor then for us. It was time to say goodbye to Ronda and head back to the coast ready to head further into Andulucía and go hiking. And thankfully the weather was due to improve dramatically the following week.
The next day awaking in Manilva the sun was finally breaking through and we headed on further south along the coast. The rock of Gibraltar hove into view and we veered right and inland toward the Alcornocales Natural park. Specifically a campsite outside Jimena de la Frontera.
Our arrival here was in the pouring rain and as such our first impressions weren’t great, with all the gravel pitches churned up from the constant rain. We had 3 loads of washing to do too and Ellen was starting to hit “the Vanlife hump” or more broadly “the traveller’s hump”.
This we’d heard tends to occur about 6-8 weeks in, start missing the familiarities of home and seeing friends and family etc. Having to find somewhere to sleep each night, losing whole days to dumping and refilling water, emptying bins (and the loo) etc. And then there’s the shopping every couple of days for bits that you either forgot last time, they didn’t have or you just don’t have space to store much of and so run out quickly. Add to this that every time you’re at a new supermarket so you don’t know where anything is, and it wears you down.
Please don’t get me wrong, we are still enjoying it and realise this is a pretty privileged thing to be able to do. But I want to be real with you and not sugar coat the experience. It’s not all sunshine, beaches and cocktails! (Though yes, sometimes it is, as I will get to shortly!)
Nonetheless, we spent the afternoon sorting laundry and went to the campsite bar for lunch. Which was also very good, not Ronda good, though that would be hard to pass now, but still very good.
That evening we decided to try and make some flapjacks in the air fryer for our hike the next day. Though it turned out we had forgotten to check the comments for the recipe which had said it didn’t have enough wet ingredients to dry. So after it had cooled it just fell apart rather than held together. Still, we got some fragments to take with us!
Next day, the sun was shining bright and not a cloud was in the sky. The worst weather was now behind us and Spain was warming up again! We got up and out and headed out onto the G7 trail that ran outside the campsite and up the hills to the north.
We followed the very muddy trail up and up, in parts running like a stream down the hillside. Negotiated with an escaped cow and her two calves, and then emerged at the top where we turned off the G7 and west toward the Alcornacales (Cork Oak) forest on the other side of the river Hozgarganta.
The muddy ascent should have been the first warning sign. Well to be fair, the 2 months of torrential rain should have been, but we weren’t in the best place the day before so it never really crossed our minds. The second warning sign was the freshly fallen tree right across the trail as we neared the supposed stepping stones crossing point on the river.
We climbed our way through the fallen tree and emerged on the bank…
The trail had disappeared and before us was the raging river. Much like in Cordoba, (maybe that should have been the first warning?!) the river here had burst it’s banks and flooded small islets in its wake.
I sent up the drone to see if we could see the crossing point further along and a way to it. Lo and behold, we could see the stepping stones about 20m downstream! But under about 1m of very fast water.
Maybe not then.
We turned back, found another way back round the fallen tree and took a break in a clearing a little further up the hill. After a brief return to the tree for me to find Ellen’s lost sunglasses, and a short lunch break further up, we headed back to the campsite via a very subsided road.
We had brief rest back at the campsite before deciding to head into Jimena de la Frontera itself and up to the castle on the rock above the town. Here we spent the afternoon wandering this free abandoned moorish castle built on Roman foundations. We even found a reference to my home town of Colchester in a description of the Roman gates! Here in the furthest reaches of southern Spain!
On the way back we dropped into a tiny little bar, crap all over the walls, big friendly guy behind the bar and a spatting of locals on the few chairs crammed into the limited space. Perfect! A couple of drinks later and we were headed back home to the van.
The next day we checked out of the campsite after some cold showers and parked up in Jimena. We then walked into the heart of the town itself, another beautiful white town of Andulucía doing all its renovation work ready for Holy Week. We continued on round the castle rock past the old artillery factory and up the east bank of the river. This was a great chance to test the drone out with some of the self following features so obviously I annoyed the hell out of Ellen with that for a good hour or so.
Once we got back to Noodle, we had some lunch and then headed onwards in the blazing sun back toward the coast and then south toward Gibraltar.
We had to get supplies and I wanted to see the rock, so we pulled into a big Carrefour and did a huge shop to cover us for a while and then headed round to the Gibraltar border for a look. Unfortunately we didn’t go into Gibraltar as we don’t want to confuse our French visa and Schengen time situation. I won’t go into it but it’s another of those Brexit benefits…
Hilariously (to me at least) as we turned the corner to the border with Gibraltar, a U.K. overseas territory, the sky clouded over in a thick grey. The rain began to hammer down and the temperature plummeted. Yep, this was definitely British soil, dark, wet and miserable. Oh and the beaches looked suitably crappy as well.
Ok maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but it was funny timing for the weather to turn.
We continued west along the coast and with the African shoreline visible to our left across the strait of Gibraltar, we wound our way up into the hills and towards Tarifa. The most southerly point of mainland Europe.
We spent that evening in the pouring rain near the entrance to a wind farm of all places. But as the weather cleared we were met with the most incredible sunset lighting up Jebel Musa on the opposing Moroccan shoreline in a warm orange hue.
The following morning the clouds were gone, Africa was plastered across our periphery and the warm sun was already charging the solar on Noodle.
We set off to Tarifa. Unfortunately this isn’t a town that’s easy to park in unless you go far out, so we didn’t stop here. However we did find by chance possibly the best spot we’ve found so far. Maybe it was the sun though.
It was nothing special, just a long strip of torn up ground where loads of vanlifers were parked up and prepping their kite surf gear. We were only going to stay for lunch and then see if people stayed the night but we actually ended up spending two nights here. Back doors open onto the sea, chairs out, beach 2 minutes away and hotel beach bar 15 minutes walk down the beach. Perfect. Here we found ourselves slip into beach bum/surfer/proper vanlife (maybe holiday) mode for the first time. It’s was quiet despite the people. But precisely because there were so many other van lifers (self converted vans, school buses, Lorrie’s etc) it felt safe and a bit of a community.
Leaving here was more out of guilt that we weren’t moving on more. We probably could have stayed all week in fairness. Maybe we should have. A sunset with horse riders was the icing on the cake really. Ellen even got a video of a young female rider who saw us filming and sped into a gallop past the camera. The result was an amazing silhouetted video of her against the sunset reflected in the calm rolling waves of the Atlantic.
Move on we did however and we found ourselves at Bolonia (not Bologna, that’s in Italy!) a tiny little village about 20 minutes further along the shore. Not the most camper friendly of places but it does feature some spectacular Roman excavations. You even get to walk along the original roads that crossed the old settlement.
After lunch in Bolonia, we continued further along the coast to a small town near the cape of Trafalgar. Los Caños de Meca is extremely popular with surfers and we very nearly couldn’t find somewhere to stay. We pulled up sideways in a car park to try and figure what to do.
And this is when I hit my hump point.
I just couldn’t make a decision, I’d had enough of deciding things every day. I’d had enough of trying to find somewhere safe and ok to sleep. I’d had enough of the unreliability of arriving places and not being allowed there or being able to park. I’d also had enough of certain cultural differences. Like the lack of respect for the surrounds, the dog crap everywhere, literally everywhere! The lack of respect for personal space or just other people it would seem.
Maybe I was over inflating some of this in my head, but that’s where I was at and I just shut down. I told you I didn’t want to sugar coat this style of travelling I guess.
Eventually we just decided to stay where we were. After an hour or so we took a walk along the beach to cape Trafalgar. As we walked we watched the surfers all waiting in the sea in a group for what seemed an eternity for a wave that never came. I could probably get into that to be fair.
Toward the end of the beach was a chill little beach bar with people spilling onto the beach this Friday night with a drink in hand and enjoying the sun. We stayed here for a while but unfortunately hadn’t bought any mozzy spray or our Flextail. So as the sun went down we didn’t want a repeat of a few nights prior where we had left all the doors in the van open without the Flextail on and a mosquito snuck in. Ellen got so badly bitten that before we had walked to this beach bar she had just been prescribed antibiotics for them!
So yeah we weren’t going to have a repeat of that and headed back to the van for dinner.
Next morning we weren’t sure what to do but ultimately we ended up walking to a pharmacy to get Ellen’s prescription, more mozzy spray and to replace the very out of date sun cream (it had gone gritty) and then headed off north. After washing the van we decided to then head on toward Seville. We were gonna do Jerez de la Frontera & Cadiz but we just couldn’t decide any more and just headed on through.
That’s where we find ourselves now. Parked up in Beautiful Seville in glorious 25° heat and plotting our next move!
