We've been weather forecast watching for days, trying to second guess when the best moment to visit Granada might be. Because of its proximity to the Sierra Nevada the weather at this time of year can be distinctly wintery. Having just flown 1000 miles south to escape snow, we have no desire to rediscover it unexpectedly in Spain. The problem is, the weather forecast constantly changes and El Tiempo, Spain's 'met office' frequently contradicts Wunderground, the web's leading weather site, so we've decided, Granada next week, come rain or shine. Having become bored with our pitch underneath the arches we decided to move south a bit. We trundled through the not too unpleasant resort sprawl of Aquadulce, found a Carrefour and stocked up - due to its French affiliations it sells Creme Fraiche - a rare and exotic commodity in Spain. Other retail triumphs followed - capers and couscous. Gill was quite overwhelmed, but not entirely satisfied due to a continuing tinned chickpea famine. She's pinning all her hopes on Lidl.
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| Aquadulce - sprawl, but low-rise mediocrity, rather than hi-rise hell. |
To save time we took the Autovia. Soon we were crossing a wide plain covered in plasticulture. These are measured here in tens of square kilometres, and where the land does become more mountainous they cling to the rocky hillsides and cover the dry creeks with shimmering plastico. Just how many 'on the vine' tomatoes can the citizens of the new Europe consume! The mind boggles.
West of Adra the newly built section of the AP7 clings to the cliff-tops, swooping around the headlands to give spectacular views of the sea (and the odd plastic greenhouse). As we chugged up a long climb Gill reached into her bag, grabbed the Moto and furiously began to photograph the empty road in front of us. "Wow!" she enthused, "lenticular clouds." Sure enough, there ahead of us was a strange circular cloud formation. Lenticular clouds are rare in Britain because they form at high altitudes above mountain ranges. More common in the USA their strange saucer shapes have been responsible for a good number of UFO sitings. "I think they are associated with high winds." Gill mused, unaware of just how prophetic her comment was to become.
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| Lenticular clouds |
The campsite at La Mamola is pleasant enough, again like the previous one positioned between two headlands, other than a small group of apartments nearby, it's somewhat isolated.
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| The local apartments had a bit of a promenade - shame about the dog crap though.... |
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| Gill tests the outdoor gym |
The camp site is hosting a British Caravan Club rally...oh goody! I can see why it might attract the British, it's got hedges, grassy pitches, and the occasional deciduous tree...'and in some corner of a foreign field', and all that.
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| Sea view |
If anything, we are even closer to the sea than in the previous pitch. This became obvious as the waves developed from a gentle lapping to a roar like an express train. Even the pollarded plane trees started to waft their stumps as the stiff breeze strengthened to a full scale gale. As the gusts buffeted the van, we began to feel slightly queasy as Maisy rocked gently side to side. To get a some fresh air (a lot of fresh air actually) we had a wander down to the sea which was now thundering in, white topped waves crashing on the narrow beach a few feet beyond the fence.
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| A photo does not quite capture the strength of the wind - video is better... |
Towards dusk the trunk of the plane tree outside the window lit-up with a rosy glow. Clearly there was a spectacular sunset going on, so we grabbed cameras and the vid and headed back to the beach, braving the howling wind. I'm glad we did, it was an awesome sight.
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| No, I'm not praying to the Great White Spirit, that's a Panasonic cam-corder I'm holding. |
The wind continued all last night and today. It does not take long to get you down. Another day and I will begin to lose my mind, like a character from Pagnol. I might greet one of the Caravan Club rally happy campers tomorrow wearing our colander on my head repeating EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! in a Dalek voice. Or perhaps we might just move on.
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