Platja D' Aro

At eight o' clock, two coaches appeared in the coach park. So much for us needing to leave at nine o' clock.

We were up anyway, so moved Marge down into the main parking area, and found a space that wasn't sloping very much, difficult as we were on the side of a mountain. 

The view out of Marge's side door was interesting. A skirt of cloud wound around the mountain. Thankfully, it softened the fear of looking down. Marge was parked right on the edge by a very low wall, as spectacular as it sounds, looking out was enough to put you off your cornflakes. We don't know what it is about height, mountains and spectacular views, but last night we saw youngsters stood on walls, with their backs to the view, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet below, having their photograph taken, probably all in the name of social media. We were a little worried someone might say, "step back a bit" to one of them! 

Even though we left earlier than we had ever done before, by the time we'd stopped to stock up on some wine to bring home, as it is much cheaper here than France, and then called in at a service point to fill Marge's water tank, time had passed by quickly. We could not load Marge up with too much wine just yet, as she still has many miles to travel, and we know there will be hills. Our original overnight stop was to be inland, as we keep reading on the internet about vans being broken into on the coast in this area. But we weren't happy where we were at lunchtime, and after talking to a Dutch couple who had cycled out, we decided to head to where we thought they were staying at Platja D' Aro, on the coast, just north of Barcelona. Upon arriving, we could see the aire was very busy, and a Dutch man waved us towards the two larger empty spaces. We are near the beach, but not close enough to hear the waves. As soon as we arrived, we walked out, as it was late afternoon.

The beach area deserted, not surprisingly, as we hadn't seen the sun all day. Everywhere were notices stating what you couldn't do, but thankfully you could 'stretch' in a designated area on the edge of the beach.

We walked around the marina, viewed some lovely boats, most in storage until next year.

As we knew we would, we have seen the weather change in the last couple of days. Underfoot, the dry crunch of leaves reminded us it was now autumn. We know last night at home, the temperature dropped down to zero. Oh dear, our central heating isn't on!

After taking in the beach and the marina, we visited a few shops in the shopping area nearby, including Decathlon, where we bought our young grandson Elliot a ball to replace one that he loved, but had been misplaced at his first birthday party.

Also took a jokey photo of John on an exercise bike for Jack another grandson whose dad has just bought something similar. 

At six o' clock, when we left the shops we were greeted by a pale October evening sky. We weren't long back at Marge, when a video call came in from Angela's son Chris. What a coincidence, After we'd just purchased a new ball for Elliot. As always, we were pleased to hear from them. Elliot, as normal, was not so interested in his grandparents, more into all things household! Those lights you have Chris are great, how do they turn themselves on and off like that?  

Tomorrow, we must plan our days carefully, not wanting to leave the better weather, despite it only being 21c, which we know is as good as it's likely to get now, and turn west towards France. We will hold out as long as possible, but at the same time, must not leave ourselves short of time to return to the north coast of France. One thing is for sure, we're not leaving the sun, until we have to!

Montserrat

Yesterday evening, our sixteen year old grandson sent John a message, asking if we'd done much that day. "Been to Lidl", he replied. It's not all sunshine and travelling you know. We also told him about the street bull fight we'd seen in Onda. "That's nuts", he said. We had to agree, yes it was. 

We left early this morning as we wanted to stop at Reus. The birthplace of Antoni Gaudi, a modernist architect. We always enjoy travelling early on a Sunday morning, when the roads are much quieter, and arrived mid morning in the town, found the safe, central parking for campervans, and set off.

We followed the Route Del Modernisme. Some of the buildings were impressive, some a little strange and others just too fussy.

At the Estacio Enologica, where they study wine and winemaking, we could hear the shrieking of parakeets, and stopped to watch them high up in the pine treas.

Their lime green plumage, a camouflage amongst the green needles.

On our tour of the town, we'd seen some fantastic examples of original, Spanish, solid wooden doors and gates. It was a shame to think that some of these over 500 years old were torn down and used as firewood during the Spanish civil war according to Laurie Lee in his autobiography. 

Our visit complete, we headed towards the coast to a small bay, at Sitges, but it was busy, and the parking area just a little close to the cliff edge.

O.K. Marge, enough of the coast. Are you ready to climb some mountains? Seriously Marge, we're not joking! We are now 720 metres above sea level, at Monserrat. The mountain road was, interesting, but Marge is an old hand now, and sometimes a little daring on the hairpin beds.

The views were stunning, especially that of the mountains that loomed high above us. The highest peak is 1,236 metres above sea level. Don't worry Marge, we'll give that a miss. 

Marge is now tucked in the corner of the coach park. A short while ago, one of the security men came over and spoke to us. It was alright for us to stay the night, but we must leave by nine o' clock in the morning. Luckily, we discovered the clocks went back an hour here as well as England, in the early hours of this morning. Why did we think they wouldn't?

As soon as we arrived, we walked out, it was early evening, and still very busy with visitors. As with all popular tourist attractions, it is a little commercialised, but visiting the basilica, which is very close to us, all this was forgotten.

It was stunning. You can access the monastery either by vehicle, train, cable car or on foot, a walk of five to six hours. If you wish to travel higher, then just hop on the funicular railway, which will take you to 1,000 metres above sea level. Your reward when you arrive, a spectacular view of the site of Monserrat. A step too far for us. Marge delivers some spectacular  breathtaking, and a lot of the time frightening views. Angela can confirm that. She could see all the way down from her driving seat. Her advice, if you don't like heights look straight at the horizon, oh, until the next hairpin bend!

Not Gaudi, but the typology is out of this world. 

L'Almadrava

Yesterday evening, just as the light started to fade, the sky turned to strawberry milkshake, a delicate pink, with just a touch of white. Beautiful. We walked into the town of Benicarlo as far as the port.

Two men and a woman sat on a bench looking across at the harbour. One of the men was giving the other man a knee massage. We thought it all perfectly reasonable, considering his wife was present. Obviously he had healing hands.

Yet another fantastic sunrise this morning. A walk to Lidl for bread and a few other items, resulted in us talking to another English couple. They were staying on a nearby campsite, and had been for a while. Price per night, started a eight euros, and now dropped down to six euros. We discussed that apart from diesel for the van, that food would have to be bought if we were at home, and that being out here was relatively cheap. Cheaper for us though. Staying free on the beach, with one of the best views in the area.

Back at Marge, the man fishing opposite caught an octopus with his hand line, creating much interest. We had wondered what the hand lines were intended to catch, and had taken a guess at octopus. They cost over twenty euros in the local supermarket for one this size, so a valued item, which would probably end up in a local restaurant. 

At lunchtime we arrived at an aire in the national park on the Delta De L'Ebra. We had now crossed over into Catalonia. All around us we'd seen lots of birds, including large white egrets that looked like white herons, but which were listed on the information board as little egrets. Also many actual herons, as graceful and poised as ever. Here they seemed a lot larger than any we'd ever seen before. Perhaps they had access to a very good food source among the surrounding paddyfields. Last time we had stayed near paddyfields, our local bird was the stork. Sadly nature reserves and paddyfields equal mosquitoes. We're out of here Marge! 

Moving on, we'd decided to head towards Salou. Our guide book advised the beaches on the approach were both quieter and nicer, so we set the course to L'Hospitalet de l'infant. Unusual name for a town.

However, en-route, we thought we'd divert from our course, and head to the coast to see if we could spot any other vans. The internet showed an overnight, at the small coastal town of L'Almadrava.

So we went to take a look, following behind a French van doing the same.

So here we are. Not in the main parking area anymore, but up above the sea along with a small French van in a gap in the vegetation above the cliffs. It's Saturday night, and although the town seems respectable and quiet, the thought of being in a large parking area, waiting for something to happen during the night involving young people and cars, does not bode well with is. Hopefully here, we are all a little less conspicuous.

We have a lovely view across the bay to our left, and a view of the nuclear power station to our right. It's been a while hasn't it Marge, since we last hung out by one of these. If our memories serve us right, it was in Portugal. 

Upon our arrival, we walked out, as did the couple from the French van we followed in, along with their five scottie dogs. The seafront was quaint, but we were surprised to see so much plastic on the beach, particularly tiny particles of it. 

Another day has passed by, along with another sunset. Tomorrow we will drive by Tarragona on our journey northwards.

Benicarlo. (Day 2)

Before we went to bed last night, we stood on the beach, and looked across the bay at the lights of Peniscola.

A rainbow of colours, pin pricking the night sky. 

This morning at nine o' clock the sun was dazzling, lighting the aqua marine sea. Along with Marge, we were glad to see we were still on dry land, despite the closeness of the shoreline. Feeling settled here, we decided to have a fairly restful day, and stay another night. We have plenty of time to reach Dieppe, and there is no way we're giving up the sunshine and warmth until we have to.

At lunchtime, we packed our Serrano ham, salad baguettes into our rucksacks, and cycled along the excellent seafront cycle-way  to Peniscola castle, stopping en-route for John to photograph Angela, who was very pleased at solving the towns wordsearch puzzle!

Up at the castle, we could see restoration, or should we say ruination work was taking place.

Along one wall, near to an entrance, that appeared to have been the rear entrance to the castle, there were marks in a stone lintel, that to us looked like the result of cannonball fire. If this is the case, we hope the restorers leave well alone, and do not infill with modern stone.

The streets around the castle were narrow, and the views over the castles artillery gardens beautiful.

The temperature this afternoon reached 28c. We can hardly believe, that at the beginning of the week the weather was so inclement.  We know the weather is once again not so good at home, and to add to the misery, the clocks go back an hour this weekend, meaning it will be dark quite early in the evening. In the meantime it's sun, sea and sangria here!