We know we can't out-fox Winter forever. So now every clear blue day seems a bonus, a thing we can't take for granted, a series of moments to savour.
We woke, and it did look to be going to turn out as gorgeous as Wunderground had forecast. While Gill was in the shower I lugged the bikes off the back of the van. Really it's a two person job but I wanted to get out exploring as soon as possible. We had a plan. Head off east in the morning towards the harbour at Puerto Marrazon that Gill had spotted on Google maps. I was sure that I'd read in the Lonely Planet guide that there were a series of famous 'desert coves' to the west of Bolnuevo, so we planned to return to the van for lunch, then explore the coves in the afternoon.
Neither scheme quite went to plan, proving Breton's adage that paradise is beset by pitfalls. In our heads we had imagined a cafe lined marina at Puerto Marrazon where we could sip a couple of cortados. As we pedalled along the coast it became clear that Puerto Marrazon had closed up shop for the winter. At times we were entirely alone among the shuttered apartment blocks and empty shopping arcades. Yet it was warm, the sky deep blue, and the coastline itself a series of coves and islets, with a vista to the east of a distant pale grey mountainous promontory. Looking west you could see the whole sweep of the Golfo de Mazarron. The sea was utterly still, and looking down at the red rocks below where we where standing, so clear you could see shoals of small black fish darting about. The scene was so deserted it had a post-apocalyptic, slightly mysterious atmosphere. I was reminded of the mood of Ballard's late 60s Sci Fi stories set in the abandoned resorts of Vermillion Sands and Terminal Beach. We never did find our cortados, but the experience proved far more memorable than any quayside cafe could have produced..
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| The Golfo de Mazarron |
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| Beach shacks and palm trees |
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| Looking east towards Capo Tinoso |
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| Eucalyptus fringed bays |
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| bare rocks and palms |
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| white rocks, translucent blue sea |
After lunch we headed to the west to find the desert coves that the Lonely Planet guide mentioned as being 'among the most perfect as you'll find on the Spanish Med coast.' The temperature was now in the mid 20s, the day sunny, the sea clear, I had packed my cossy and was all set to do some serious splashing about. A paved promenade stretches a kilometre or so along the coast, then the road climbs to a point where you get a view of the coastal scenery stretching out to the west beyond the Golfo de Mazarron. There were no coves to be seen, the road petered out into an un-metalled track which dropped precipitously, then snaked across a wild looking area of low cliffs and shingly rocky inlets. A sign advised us that we had arrived at the Playas Nudistas.
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| End of the road... |
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| just a steep, unmetalled track... |
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| where you get glimpses of shingle coves |
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| and a wild, bare coastline leading, appropriately enough tp the Playas Nudistas |
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| Beach life.... |
On the way back to the campsite we stopped to take a closer look at an area just on the edge of the village where the cliffs have been sculpted into fantastic shapes by wind erosion.
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| The famous Gredos de Bolnuevo are jyst behind the beach |
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When we returned to the van I looked again at the Lonely Planet guide to try to get the bottom of the missing 'desert coves'. What an idiot I am! The coves are at Aguilas, 30 kilometres south of here, the place we are headed to next. I had misread the book. Maybe I will get to swim in Las Cuatro Calas, or perhaps in a week's time the sea will have become too chilly for a dip.
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| Heading back, beach chairs stashed on the pannier rack. |
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