Spanish steps.

 (Composed in Burgos on 23rd but sent from the Bay of Biscay on 26th.....Internet?What's that then?)

Title: Spanish Steps. Quite a few. Wet ones. You need to take more when trying to avoid the puddles.

We’re taking a few days longer to cover the distance between Algeciras and Santander than we really need, just to wind down a little. The motorway hasn’t got a lot of interest and the small diversions from it, to explore possible camping sites, even less. The weather is changing too. A few days ago the temperature was in the mid-twenties, now it’s barely breaking double figures some of the time. The clothes we stuffed “upstairs” some weeks ago will make a re-appearance tomorrow, methinks. Something more appropriate for the Northern European climate in late Spring…thermal underwear and woolly shirts…I bet you buggers in Oz are laughing, but just remember where you came from and who subsidised the cheap ticket, and why we wanted to….

So, back to business. We managed to send the last missive courtesy of the well-appointed and, in many ways, excellent site in the Parc Nacional de Monfrague. The facilities at most European sites are excellent and the Home Market could do with a bit of a wake-up call where this is concerned. Back in the UK, sites charge far too much for too little compared with the EU “mainland”. Last night we enjoyed sparkling-clean washrooms, loos and showers. The internet allowed us to update this blog and the site appeared ideal. Until 02-30, when the resident hound decided to serenade us. For 4 hours. Our complaint this morning (23^rd April) brought forth the excuse that the offender “belonged to the tinkers who are close by”. ‘Scuse my French, as they say, but that’s b*llocks. We saw the offending canine being exercised by the site owners in the carpark. Almost a “Pythonesque moment”, with the staff trying to block out the view through the windows. “Chiens? Oh non, monsieur, pas de chiens ici. Oh, that un? Ce n’est pas un chien, c’est un Shetland Pony, avec le short nose and long hair. Bien Sur!” No “tinkers” within earshot or, in my case, rock-range. And I did consider it at 0400…Despite the window-dressing, all we really need from a campsite that we have to pay for is a quiet night and a hot shower. We got half of that last night.

So here we are in Burgos, at the same site we used on the way down. An easy drive to the port at Santander. It’s still soggy and the girl at reception advised us to “keep one wheel on the tarmac so you can get out tomorrow”. It’s certainly damp. We haven’t been keeping much of an eye on the northern European weather this past month so the waterlogged fields weren’t expected. No matter; we have a go-anywhere vehicle. Mashi mushkil. We’ve attracted some glances – or raised eyebrows -  as we drove in tonight – all “clarted up” as they say at home, with mud up the doors and over the bonnet, everything looking as if we’d just been around the world picking out the dirtiest bits. Actually, we took a side road a few miles back to explore a camping spot that turned out to be a quarry, complete with deep muddy puddles and lots of airborne slurry –at least it was as we went through it. So now we look as if we’ve just clambered out of the Quattara Depression…all we need is a sticker saying “We’ve seen the Ends of the Earth, and rolled in them”. Still, we’ll play the game for a while. Just about every rig on this site is at least 30 feet long and very Well Appointed. All the comforts of home. On wheels. The ladies on board seem very happy with that, with pot plants in the windows and all the rest of it; the blokes all look at Daphne and you can read their thoughts in their eyes…You feel like saying something like “Pull up a sandbag, mate, and I’ll bore you with a Boy’s Own Story”. I bet they’d listen, too.

Tomorrow we’ll do the last leg up to Santander and wait for the ferry on Monday. The 24-hour “layover” was built into the plan to cater for breakdowns etc so, touch wood, we’ll have some time to clean up and restock with cheap vino before we depart for the UK. If the next site has wi-fi..Well, actually, I don’t give a toss. Tomorrow night is going to be spent in the pub, or whatever passes for it, celebrating our safe return. And if that’s not tempting fate, I dunno what is.