We drove to Ubeda the long way round by way of the Las Alpujarras on the southern slopes of the Sierra Nevada, negotiating hundreds of hairpin bends. There are fine views down the valleys to the Mediterranean and up to the snow capped peaks of the Sierra.
Villages cling to the sides of valleys and the buildings here have flat roofs, the only such examples in Andalucia. The oak and walnut trees were resplendent in autumn colours against the background of pines and firs.
Lanjaron at the western entrance to Las Alpujarras is a spa town famous throughout Spain for its bottled water. We stopped at Bubion at the head of the Poqueira valley for coffee but it was closed for a funeral! The somewhat ugly holiday town of Trevelez towards the eastern end of the area is famous for its cured hams.
Crossing the Sierra Nevada towards the North through the pass of Puerto de la Ragua snow was lying at 2000 metres and we enjoyed a snowball fight.
Descending from the Sierra Nevada to an arid plain we took lunch at La Calahorra where an odd castle stands on the only hill around built, apparently, by some chap to please his wife.
We then drove along the Autovia towards Ubeda by way of the Sierra Magina. It started to rain as we increasingly plunged into Olive groves as far as the eye could see.
We had booked a four star Hotel at Ubeda in the hope of some luxury and a bath rather than the usual shower for Miggy but it was far from four star in reality. To cut a long story short we changed Hotel.
Ubeda is a World Heritage Site full of magnificent Renaissance/Gothic buildings. The grand buildings are plenty and splendid but in the drizzle and being the only souls present, Miggy felt that it was like spending a night in a museum.
The following morning it was still raining as we headed west towards Cordoba. We called into Baeza, another world Heritage Site full of grand buildings but were unable to see them due to dense fog.
All the way from Ubeda to Cordoba, via Jaen there were Olive groves north, south, east, west and up and down and the smell of Olives and Olive oil pervaded the atmosphere sometimes so pungent as to be overpowering.
Jaen is a large city with little interest other than a Cathedral. We decided to give the town a miss in favour of taking coffee at the Parador de Turismo, one of the many state run Hotels that give an excellent and consistent service (expensive mind you), next the Castillo de Santa Catalina built on a rocky pinnacle high above the town with spectacular views.
We took a detour from the main road through what appeared to be a service road through the Olive groves. We were close to the trees and were amazed at the variety and differing sizes of the Olive and the fact that, in some cases, they were growing black and green Olives on the same tree, perhaps by way of grafting.
Our ‘Pensione’ in Cordoba, ‘El Repose de Baghdad’ again provided clean and comfortable accommodation in the heart of the city, the Juderia, the old Jewish quarter near the Mezquita. It was very reminiscent of a Moroccan Riad. We walked around the narrow, pedestrian cobbled streets of the area during the evening and felt the sense that nothing had changed for 1,000 years. It was lively and it felt ‘lived in’. After a good but expensive supper we retired for the night.
The star attraction of Cordoba is, without doubt, the Mezquita that dates back 12 centuries. This great mosque that embodied Islamic power on the Iberian peninsular has within its mighty walls more than 850 columns of granite, jasper and marble, some taken from Roman and Visigoth buildings, supporting the roof and creating a dazzling visual effect.
The ‘Mirhab’ or payer niche is richly decorated and held a gilt copy of the Koran around which pilgrims circled seven times on their knees.
In the 16th century part of the mosque was destroyed to accommodate an enormous Cathedral. It is quite astounding to see a Christian place of worship inside that of a Muslim one.
We were advised to start our visit to the Mezquita before 1000 to take advantage of the fact that there is no entry fee at that time. I think the reason for this is clear as, when we arrived and for some time thereafter, Mass was being sung in the Cathedral. Roman Catholic mass made an interesting accompaniment to our tour of a former Muslim place of worship even though the lead lady soprano was out of tune!
The Torre del Alminar, built on the site of the original minaret to the mosque is impressive and stands over the Puerto del Perdon where Christian penitents were pardoned! Between this tower and the entrance to the mosque lies a courtyard planted with orange trees. This is where Muslims would wash before entering the Mosque’
The grandness of the Mezquita, the juxtaposition of different faiths and the Islamic architectural detail of its construction make this a building of incredible beauty and significance. It is surely a sight that must be on the itinerary of everyone travelling through this region.
Lunch of local Racion was interesting. Neal ordered what was reputed to be chicken liver and turned out, after he had digested a cube or two, to be congealed blood! “I don’t care for blood be it called liver or not”.
During the afternoon we walked to the Plaza de la Corredera that was built in the 17th century in Castilian style. This vast, beautifully arcaded square was the scene of bullfights and other sports and public events. The square is now lined with cafes under the arches and seems to be a gathering place for gypsies, vagrants and dogs.
The Roman bridge over the Rio Quadalquivir is being repaired at the present time and is inaccessible.
We had supper of Tapas including the local speciality of ‘Rabo de Toro’ (bull’s tail) and an enormous ‘Torres’ brandy.
The next day we made our way south from Cordoba through plains and rolling hills still littered liberally with Olive groves. As we climbed once again into the Sierra de las Nieves and the white villages that we had seen on the first day of our tour we were heading for Gaucin where the D & K guidebook told us we would have fine views of the Mediterranean. When we got there we found to our surprise that the view from 1600 metres down the valley to the south encompassed not only the Mediterranean but also the Rock of Gibraltar.
We nearly ran out of petrol on the way to Gaucin and had to coast the downhill sections of the drive in neutral for twenty kilometres!
After six days of wonderful sights and beautiful countryside we were bought down to earth as we arrived at the coastal strip of the Costa del Sol where there is massive and ugly over development. We sat at a café on the Marina side at La Duquesa and ordered coffee in Spanish only to get the reply in broad Glaswegian that it would be bought to the table. In fact not a café or restaurant in the vicinity of the marina had anything Spanish on the menu and
we heard only English spoken for the entire time we were out of the car.
We were extremely pleased to arrive at Mary and Peter’s (John Gilbe’s Mother and Stepfather) splendid house in an oasis of beauty and serenity just outside the Marina of Sotogrande. They gave us a very cordial welcome with something we had been longing for – a good cup of tea and later for supper,
Roast Lamb, which we had missed for many months. This accompanied by good wine and great company made a fine evening at Mary and Peter’s home.
Peter and Mary were kind enough to show us the Marinas along the coast to the east of them to help us with our plans for net year. We decided that Estepona Marina was the one for us in that area due to its reasonable price, its cleanliness and to the fact that the restaurants surrounding it were Spanish. They also drove us out to Castellar de la Frontera, an amazing castle on a high rocky outcrop, the Medina of which is a fully functioning town.
After a lovely lunch with them we said our farewells to Mary and Peter, until next year that is, and headed north back to Rota.
On the way we stopped and had coffee at the white hilltop town of Medina Sidonia. This town was historically the seat of the Guzman family who made their riches from investments in the Americas. Much of the town’s medieval walls still stand and cobbled alleys nestle between them.
Our tour of Andalucia has been an outstanding success and we have enjoyed immensely every facet without exception. We have driven more than 1500 kilometres through stunning and varied countryside from fertile valleys and arid plains to snow capped mountains amongst which Eagles soar. How could we forget the sight and smell of olives in sufficient numbers to feed the world forever? We have been immersed in the Andalucian culture, a mixture of North African, European and Middle Eastern, that has made its proud people carefree yet caring and we marvel at the material heritage their ancestors have left for us to enjoy.
Villages cling to the sides of valleys and the buildings here have flat roofs, the only such examples in Andalucia. The oak and walnut trees were resplendent in autumn colours against the background of pines and firs.
Lanjaron at the western entrance to Las Alpujarras is a spa town famous throughout Spain for its bottled water. We stopped at Bubion at the head of the Poqueira valley for coffee but it was closed for a funeral! The somewhat ugly holiday town of Trevelez towards the eastern end of the area is famous for its cured hams.
Crossing the Sierra Nevada towards the North through the pass of Puerto de la Ragua snow was lying at 2000 metres and we enjoyed a snowball fight.
Descending from the Sierra Nevada to an arid plain we took lunch at La Calahorra where an odd castle stands on the only hill around built, apparently, by some chap to please his wife.
We then drove along the Autovia towards Ubeda by way of the Sierra Magina. It started to rain as we increasingly plunged into Olive groves as far as the eye could see.
We had booked a four star Hotel at Ubeda in the hope of some luxury and a bath rather than the usual shower for Miggy but it was far from four star in reality. To cut a long story short we changed Hotel.
Ubeda is a World Heritage Site full of magnificent Renaissance/Gothic buildings. The grand buildings are plenty and splendid but in the drizzle and being the only souls present, Miggy felt that it was like spending a night in a museum.
The following morning it was still raining as we headed west towards Cordoba. We called into Baeza, another world Heritage Site full of grand buildings but were unable to see them due to dense fog.
All the way from Ubeda to Cordoba, via Jaen there were Olive groves north, south, east, west and up and down and the smell of Olives and Olive oil pervaded the atmosphere sometimes so pungent as to be overpowering.
Jaen is a large city with little interest other than a Cathedral. We decided to give the town a miss in favour of taking coffee at the Parador de Turismo, one of the many state run Hotels that give an excellent and consistent service (expensive mind you), next the Castillo de Santa Catalina built on a rocky pinnacle high above the town with spectacular views.
We took a detour from the main road through what appeared to be a service road through the Olive groves. We were close to the trees and were amazed at the variety and differing sizes of the Olive and the fact that, in some cases, they were growing black and green Olives on the same tree, perhaps by way of grafting.
Our ‘Pensione’ in Cordoba, ‘El Repose de Baghdad’ again provided clean and comfortable accommodation in the heart of the city, the Juderia, the old Jewish quarter near the Mezquita. It was very reminiscent of a Moroccan Riad. We walked around the narrow, pedestrian cobbled streets of the area during the evening and felt the sense that nothing had changed for 1,000 years. It was lively and it felt ‘lived in’. After a good but expensive supper we retired for the night.
The star attraction of Cordoba is, without doubt, the Mezquita that dates back 12 centuries. This great mosque that embodied Islamic power on the Iberian peninsular has within its mighty walls more than 850 columns of granite, jasper and marble, some taken from Roman and Visigoth buildings, supporting the roof and creating a dazzling visual effect.The ‘Mirhab’ or payer niche is richly decorated and held a gilt copy of the Koran around which pilgrims circled seven times on their knees.
In the 16th century part of the mosque was destroyed to accommodate an enormous Cathedral. It is quite astounding to see a Christian place of worship inside that of a Muslim one.
We were advised to start our visit to the Mezquita before 1000 to take advantage of the fact that there is no entry fee at that time. I think the reason for this is clear as, when we arrived and for some time thereafter, Mass was being sung in the Cathedral. Roman Catholic mass made an interesting accompaniment to our tour of a former Muslim place of worship even though the lead lady soprano was out of tune!
The Torre del Alminar, built on the site of the original minaret to the mosque is impressive and stands over the Puerto del Perdon where Christian penitents were pardoned! Between this tower and the entrance to the mosque lies a courtyard planted with orange trees. This is where Muslims would wash before entering the Mosque’
The grandness of the Mezquita, the juxtaposition of different faiths and the Islamic architectural detail of its construction make this a building of incredible beauty and significance. It is surely a sight that must be on the itinerary of everyone travelling through this region.
Lunch of local Racion was interesting. Neal ordered what was reputed to be chicken liver and turned out, after he had digested a cube or two, to be congealed blood! “I don’t care for blood be it called liver or not”.
During the afternoon we walked to the Plaza de la Corredera that was built in the 17th century in Castilian style. This vast, beautifully arcaded square was the scene of bullfights and other sports and public events. The square is now lined with cafes under the arches and seems to be a gathering place for gypsies, vagrants and dogs.The Roman bridge over the Rio Quadalquivir is being repaired at the present time and is inaccessible.
We had supper of Tapas including the local speciality of ‘Rabo de Toro’ (bull’s tail) and an enormous ‘Torres’ brandy.
The next day we made our way south from Cordoba through plains and rolling hills still littered liberally with Olive groves. As we climbed once again into the Sierra de las Nieves and the white villages that we had seen on the first day of our tour we were heading for Gaucin where the D & K guidebook told us we would have fine views of the Mediterranean. When we got there we found to our surprise that the view from 1600 metres down the valley to the south encompassed not only the Mediterranean but also the Rock of Gibraltar.
We nearly ran out of petrol on the way to Gaucin and had to coast the downhill sections of the drive in neutral for twenty kilometres!After six days of wonderful sights and beautiful countryside we were bought down to earth as we arrived at the coastal strip of the Costa del Sol where there is massive and ugly over development. We sat at a café on the Marina side at La Duquesa and ordered coffee in Spanish only to get the reply in broad Glaswegian that it would be bought to the table. In fact not a café or restaurant in the vicinity of the marina had anything Spanish on the menu and
we heard only English spoken for the entire time we were out of the car.
We were extremely pleased to arrive at Mary and Peter’s (John Gilbe’s Mother and Stepfather) splendid house in an oasis of beauty and serenity just outside the Marina of Sotogrande. They gave us a very cordial welcome with something we had been longing for – a good cup of tea and later for supper,
Roast Lamb, which we had missed for many months. This accompanied by good wine and great company made a fine evening at Mary and Peter’s home.
Peter and Mary were kind enough to show us the Marinas along the coast to the east of them to help us with our plans for net year. We decided that Estepona Marina was the one for us in that area due to its reasonable price, its cleanliness and to the fact that the restaurants surrounding it were Spanish. They also drove us out to Castellar de la Frontera, an amazing castle on a high rocky outcrop, the Medina of which is a fully functioning town.
After a lovely lunch with them we said our farewells to Mary and Peter, until next year that is, and headed north back to Rota.
On the way we stopped and had coffee at the white hilltop town of Medina Sidonia. This town was historically the seat of the Guzman family who made their riches from investments in the Americas. Much of the town’s medieval walls still stand and cobbled alleys nestle between them.
Our tour of Andalucia has been an outstanding success and we have enjoyed immensely every facet without exception. We have driven more than 1500 kilometres through stunning and varied countryside from fertile valleys and arid plains to snow capped mountains amongst which Eagles soar. How could we forget the sight and smell of olives in sufficient numbers to feed the world forever? We have been immersed in the Andalucian culture, a mixture of North African, European and Middle Eastern, that has made its proud people carefree yet caring and we marvel at the material heritage their ancestors have left for us to enjoy.
We rose early in the morning to look at the view from the Generalife (sounds to us like an Insurance Company but is pronounced (G as in Gun) Gaynayrahleefay), the Sultan’s summer palace and farm, with the early morning sun on the Alhambra. As did the Sultans in the 13th and 14th centuries from their summer palace, Generalife, we watched the soft rays of the early morning sun wash the stark stone walls of the Alhambra with a warm glow and wake the mist kissed valley of the Albaycin way below. All the time the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada to the South presided, grandly.
The outer walls of the Alcazar or fortified Citadel that housed the Sultan’s elite army are intact but only foundation stonework walls remain of the quarters and workshops for the troops. One of the most potent symbols of the Alhambra and of Granada itself is the Watch Tower at the western end of the Alcazar. This massive Tower appears on Granada’s coat of arms and the views from it over the city and the hills to the west are magnificent.
In the evening we climbed up through the narrow streets of the Albaycin, the original Moorish town, to the Plaza San Nicolas where we watched the colour of the walls of the Alhambra and of the snow capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada change to pink as the sun set.
We hired what we thought to be the smallest car in the world, a left-hand drive Kia ‘Picanto’, until we passed a gas-powered car. In fact we managed to pass two of them! In truth the small car proved to be an advantage in negotiating the narrow twisty roads, not only in the hills, but also in the narrow streets of the old quarter of Cordoba and Ubeda. The one significant drawback of this car is that the door pillar obstructs the driver’s sight line around tight left hand bends.
The gateway to Los Pueblos Blancos in the Sierra Cadiz from the direction of Rota is Arcos de la Frontera, an archetypal white town with its labyrinth Moorish quarter. The principal buildings are mostly in the Gothic – Mudejar style and hang from the hillside, as is the tendency in all White Villages.
In the valleys and on the lower slopes of the hills between Arcos and Ubrique there were citrus and Almond trees and Olive groves and as we climbed through the Villages of Benaocaz and Grazalema, the town reputed to have the highest rainfall in Spain, there were Oak tress whose bark is stripped and used for cork, pine and fir forests and massive sheer sided rocks rising to 1600 metres. Eagles were gliding on the thermals rising from the valleys.
The view from the Mirador at Puerto de las Polamas overlooking the sheer drop to the valley below and the lake stretching up to Zahara, where we took lunch, was magnificent and we could even see the snow capped mountains of the Sierra Nevada in the distance to the west.
After walking round the compact historic centre Miggy had excellent duck for supper while I tried the local delicacy of suckling pig for the first time. Whilst Miggy’s duck was overwhelmed in a rather rich date and wine sauce, my pig was perfect with moist tasty flesh covered with a delicate crackled skin.
The bullring is one of the oldest in Spain and is the spiritual home of bullfighting. The classic Ronda style of fighting is more severe than that of Seville and was developed by Pedro Romero, the father of modern bullfighting.
The English tour should have begun at begins at 1200 but there was no English-speaking guide. No matter a sweet Spanish lady who spoke not a word of English takes us around the Bodegas. This somehow enhanced the experience in that we had to listen intently and understand the commentary the best we could. In fact we did comprehend a surprising amount and now have a good knowledge of the Sanlucar sherry making activity.
Whatever the reasons we all like it as the photograph shows – the empties are piling up!
Gibraltar is a busy and noisy place. Miggy had expected it to be like Guernsey but is disappointed to find that not to be the case. The place has changed since I was there 25 years ago. There is massive redevelopment on reclaimed land with apartments selling for up to £2m. Who was buying them we asked? Rich Americans, Brits and all nationalities other than Gibraltarian we were told - they can no longer afford accommodation on the Rock. Main Street is now pedestrianised, lined with many more large shops and filled with a huge number of tourists. The waterfront has also altered extensively with many Marina berths being swallowed up by the redevelopment. We will have to book our space next April to have any chance of staying there.
I had mistakenly put our clocks back to BST! We made it only twenty minutes late having rushed back to the hotel, changed and splashed on some deodorant and catching a bus to the Hotel. After extending our sincere apologies we had a very pleasant evening of good food and wine in grand company and surroundings. At the other end of the scale we indulged ourselves with fish and chips and good old English Ale. We set off to the top of the Rock on the cable car with great expectations of fine views over North Africa and the Mediterranean. These were dashed by cloud although we were thrilled to see a Peregrine Falcon hover near to us and then dive out of sight. The interactive facility is excellent and we vow to return in the spring. 
The Barbary Apes enchanted us. They are by no means timid and are always on the lookout to steal one’s bag in the hope that it may contain food. There is a saying that as long as the apes remain on the Rock so will the British. When Winston Churchill was told that only three apes remained he imported some from Morocco. The half hour bus ride to Jerez takes us through rolling hills covered first with cotton plants and then with vines on which grow the grapes that make the sherry but more about this later.
Our walk through the cobbled and citrus tree lined streets and squares of the old town was all done in the pouring rain although the temperature was around 25ºC. The locals were in shirtsleeve order under their umbrellas and there seemed to be a ‘battle of brollies’ going on with no one giving way or raising their weapons to clear others. We came across no casualties however!
Amongst other attractions is the Cathedral and a superb pedestrianised shopping area.
To make the day complete we had lunch at an Argentinean restaurant. We had excellent meat at such a restaurant in Amsterdam and we were not disappointed here, anything but.
Earlier this week we were delighted to welcome Jane and John aboard for the night. They arrived with John’s mother, Mary and Stepfather Peter at lunchtime. We enjoyed an afternoon of superb company under blue skies and sunshine and an extended lunch washed down with various beverages including a delicious cold Manzanilla, a very dry, salty, sherry from Sanlucar de Barrameda, a town 20 kilometres north of here. Later in the evening, after Mary and Peter had left to drive back to their home outside Sotogrande, Jane and John were kind enough to treat us to a delightful dinner at El Sixto in town here in Rota. The following lunchtime we were thrilled to see Clare and her boyfriend, Richard, who, after lunch, drove John and Jane back to Sotogrande. 
During the previous week we were honoured to witness the Fiesta de Patronales de Rota, the town’s celebration in honour of their patron, La Virgen del Rosario. The week’s festivities started with the coronation of la Dama Major (the fiesta queen) and the swearing in of her Corte de Honor, a guard of honour comprising twenty beautiful young ladies and a number of children as pages. There was a parade with the girls in traditional dress on magnificently decorated floats, from which they were removed at the end by way of forklift trucks. Later the girls were paraded around town in somewhat more comfort in horse drawn carriages. After evening concerts, poetry readings and various children’s activities the fiesta concluded on a religious theme with the solemn parade of the effigy of the Virgen accompanied by town bands, the girls, the town dignitaries and representatives of local associations and organisations. The life size dressed statue of the Virgen together with silver candlesticks and ornamentation on a heavy silver or silver gilt platform measuring about two metres by three metres is carried by twenty strong young men at ‘shuffle’ pace around the town for three hours. To get the effigy out of the Church they had to shuffle on their knees to clear the arched doorway. When they stood up their burden toppled and raised a gasp from the exceedingly sizeable crowd. 
We visited the town of El Puerto de Santa Maria that stands n the shores of the Bay of Cadiz about a half hour’s bus ride from Rota. It is a town that once burgeoned as one of the main ports for the export of Sherry. A number of Sherry companies, including Osborne and Terry, still have Bodegas there. The Plaza de Toros is one of the largest and most famous bullrings in Spain and, among the Town’s other sights, are the 13th Century Castillo San Marcos, the old Fish Market and a small building on the river that housed the water supply for ships voyaging to South America in the 17th Century. Our greatest sight was the renowned shellfish eating house, ‘Romerijo’. The restaurant straddles the road on one side of which they serve boiled shellfish and on the other side deep fried. One buys portions of the incredible array of type and size of shellfish and conveys them in paper ‘cones’ to a table at which cutlery, plates, condiments and a large receptacle for disposal of shells are provided. One orders drinks from the waiter and then tucks into a feast! The place is packed. 
A striking feature of Rota and, indeed, the rest of Andalucia, is the ‘Patio’. Many houses are built in the classic Mediterranean and Moorish style where the courtyard or patio is at the heart providing light and air to the surrounding living and sleeping accommodation. Whilst many of the houses are now subdivided into apartments the patio survives with its whitewashed walls, citrus trees and terracotta pots filled with geraniums and carnations. Jasmine fragrance adds to the atmosphere. The Andalucians and, indeed, the Rotarians (yes, that’s what they call themselves) take great pride in their Patios be they palatial spaces in the grandest residences or the tiny courtyard in humble homes, shared by many. 
Hasta luego and love to you all until the next time.
A small fishing fleet sets out to sea each day except Sunday and on its return there is an auction for the trade and a stall for the townsfolk selling fresh fish caught that day extremely cheaply.
A word about the Ferreteria or ferret around ‘ere as Miggy calls it. This Institution is not just an ironmonger but an Aladdin’s cave hiding anything and everything one would ever need for the house, garden, the car, the shed, the workroom and even the boat.
There was a ‘Feria de Tapas’ in the church square for four days during which one swapped coupons, bought at a kiosk, for Tapas selected from six choices from each of six stalls run by a separate restaurants. Each tapas was 1.75 euros and Tapas de dia was 2.00 euros. A wine, beer or soft drink was 1.00 euro. During the evening there was entertainment including Flamenco, folk, rock and puppets! Talking of food we have bought a two ring electric cooker to supplement our electric kettle. We pay for electricity on the pontoon so we may as well use it instead of our camping gaz. Perhaps we’ll invest in a toaster and electric grill as well!
Cadiz is just a 30 minute ferry ride across the bay and the terminal is 100 metres from our berth. We were captivated by the intimacy of the old city that is just 1200 metres by 1800 metres in area. It is so small that we walked around its narrow cobbled streets a couple of times taking in the sites on the way. By far the most striking building is the Cathedral with its twin Torres. The panoramic view over the city, the bay and Rota from the Torre Poniente was superlative. We enjoyed a beer at a café in a cool, dappled square and lunch of Paella in a Restaurant on the street by the Mercado Municipio, the most gigantic fresh fish, meat and vegetable market we have ever seen.
It was great to hear from family including a phone call from Kate Hill – thanks Kate, also our 1st letter since March from Marion Satterley. Emails from Betsy and David, Jane and John and David’ Indian epistles have been much appreciated. We have also been happy to get emails from friends including John and Karin Spink, Ted and Iris Watts, Ian and Sue Burr, John and Annie Cordon and Ken and Jackie Hay. Keep them coming. Hearing your news makes us fell close to our real home.
Some fifteen miles up river we dropped the anchor in midstream between the whitewashed houses of the tiny villages of Alcoutim on the Portuguese side and Sanlucar de Guardiana on the Spanish side. We did not know which courtesy flag to fly and even the mobile phones were confused as to which country they are in.
Miggy has a creditable and usually successful attempt at cooking local dishes. The salt cod Bacalhau was not one of those successes in that it turned out very tough and extremely salty. She had soaked the fish for two hours whereas, as we later discovered, it is customary to soak it for two days! Neal thinks it was a deliberate ploy to go for a meal ashore!
Our next river was the Rio Piedras and the tiny holiday village of El Rompido reserved, it appears, mainly for the Spanish tourists. The marina there is new and sparsely populated but the management were friendly and helpful. We spent one night at anchor in the river which is separated from the sea by a strip of sand dunes upon which people picnic. The trouble is they leave their rubbish in plastic bags under the signs that say ‘National Park’ when they go home. They even leave cheap picnic tables, chairs and umbrellas. Who do they reckon will clear it up? We can tell them – it is the seagulls that rip open the bags, eat what they can and leave the rest scattered for the high tide to wash away and litter the sea.
At the next port, Chipiona, we witnessed the Fiesta of the Virgin de Regla. She is a black saint established by the Church to attract ‘pilgrims’ and swell their coffers! How could I be so cynical? The fiesta also marks the end of summer.
