Conflicted coasts

Having just typed the title, it seems as good an example of the pathetic fallacy as I've seen in a while. Of course coasts can't be conflicted only people, namely me!  

We knew we had to move on but were uncertain about where to go. With twenty days before we need to be in Bilbao for the ferry there is no immediate pressure to head north. We want to revisit Valencia but the coast between here and there is unappealing. The entire Costa Blanca is a tourist hellhole and many of the smaller resorts to the south and north of it even more tawdry than the sprawl along the Golfo de Mazarron. One place we do like is Moraira, but the campsite there is closed at the moment.

Inland, in Murcia and Valencia provinces, there are some interesting Via Verdes to explore but it's still very chilly at night and first thing in the morning. What to do? No idea. You see - conflicted!

One thing is certain, the next place where we are heading is a Decathlon. I rarely leave home without forgetting something. Normally it's a minor thing like a charging wire or spare razor blades. This time I have excelled myself. Firstly I forgot my electric toothbrush and had to buy a cheap Oral B one in the first Mercadona we visited. However, what is really impressive so far as my burgeoning absent mindedness goes is the only shoes I brought were ones I was wearing when I left the house. So I have one pair of  well worn walking trainers and some ancient Crocs that had been left in the van from a previous trip. As the weather improves I will need some sandals. We had a choice of two Decathlons, one in Cartagena and another on the outskirts of Aguillas. We chose the latter as the route to it was more straightforward. 

There were half a dozen other motorhomes in the car park when we arrived. Outdoor equipment failures must be more common than I imagined amongst we greyhaired over-winterers - a woman from the French van devastated on discovering that she had only packed a single walking pole, Herr Wrinkly from the gleaming Cathargo seeking even skimpier Speedos to stretch the boundaries of common decency, to bask in the sun oblivious to the brisk northerly breeze, single digit temperatures and the sensitivities of his Anglo-Saxon neighbours. 

I chose some sandals, they weren't the cheapest on offer - €44, but they are comfortable and it now means I am in the luxurious position of being able to choose my footwear!  We had lunch in the Decathlon car park. Unable to resolve the question of where next we opted to head somewhere nearby. Cabo Cope seemed full of half built fun-in-the-sun villa developments so we pushed on to an old favourite, Taray Camper Park, near the small, ramshackle fishing village at Puntas del Calnegre. 

We have a soft spot for the place as it marked the most southerly place we reached on the autumn leg of our first extended trip in 2014. Back then it was off the beaten track, unfrequented, wild, a little unkempt, exuding the kind of sullied perfection that appeals to me. When I was writing a short sequence about headlands in 2016 I included this triolet:

 

Puntas del Calnegre 

The road becomes a stony track -

find solace in dilapidation,

wind-seared palms, a sun bleached shack.

The road becomes a stony track,

we reach a cove, then double back

through bleak garrigue and desolation.

The road becomes a stony track –

find solace in dilapidation.

The last time we were here in 2019 we enjoyed a somewhat windswept lunch at one of the beachside restaurants in the village. The grilled fish was freshly caught - simple ingredients cooked with know-how - always delicious.Taray Camper Park was a little busier than previously and we noted that the nearby 'bleak garrigue' had been improved and planted with acres of lettuces. Even so, the place was still pleasingly desolate.

Now not so much. The area immediately surrounding the village is much the same, but the lettuce and cabbage fields have multiplied as has plasticulture on an industrial scale. The extent of the incursion only became apparent when I went for a bike ride towards the remote  beaches to the north of us. The former scrubland is now a giant cabbage patch...

Plasticulture right up to the shoreline..

Gleaming polythene as far as the eye can see 

brand new factory sized greenhouses tall enough for fruit trees.

The thing is, I understand the need. With 8 billion humans to feed and pressure to cut carbon emissions by adopting a more plant based diet our 'greens' have to come from somewhere. Is energy efficient hi-tech plasticulture the answer? What about the carbon footprint of all the trucks heading Tesco-wards? You see - I'm conflicted, and even if l could be persuaded of the need,  part of me still would mourn when pristine wild places get shrink wrapped. 

After a few kilometres of cycling past plastic greenhouses I reached the edge of the village of Cañada de Gallago. From here a track runs down to a series of beautiful sandy beaches, then eventually to Bolneuvo. We have never managed to get this far. Our Lonely Planet guide to Spain (something else I've forgotten!) is very gushing about their semi-tropical appearance. I could see why. 

Sadly this place had become a little conflicted too. Google maps mentions a 'campsite' next to the beach - Schlangenbucht, or 'Snake bay'.

 

Read the reviews and it soon becomes clear that it isn't a campsite at all, but an informal 'area autocaravanas' occupying the beach car park. The Park for Night app explains the set-up as follows: 

Elena and David are the owners of the place. The beach bar has yet to be finished, however it has been illegally invested for years, it is now very good and well maintained.

The latest review on Google about a week ago claimed the place had been closed down by Mazarron council. You shouldn't believe everything you read on-line...

I reckon there were well over 100 motorhomes parked up, some so keen to get a sea view that they had parked on top of a dune.  It costs €7.50 per night, with this level of occupancy over a month, do the arithmetic, it may be illegal but it is very lucrative. 

The occupants are not van lifers living on a shoestring, ponytailed  crusties with a wooly pooch on a string, the place is packed with gleaming Cathargos, stylish high-end Possls, mostly German and almost exclusively Northern European.

It made me feel sad, not just about the impact of unfettered tourism on a fragile environment , but the peculiar sense of entitlement that enabled people to act this way. Most of all the sneaking suspicion that we were also part of the problem was discomforting. So I ended up feeling conflicted about our travelling life in general. Maybe I'm having a mid-trip slump. It happens. 

We have decided to move on tomorrow and head inland. To the west of Murcia is a Via Verde through the wine country near Bullas. Even though it's in the mountains the weather looks to be improving. It will be quieter, a relief to be well away from the mass tourism on the coast.

I woke early. It looked like a beautiful morning so I hopped out to take a photo of the sunrise.

I am not sure we will ever return to the Puntas del Calnegre, maybe my feelings about it were overly romanticised in the first place. Best to remember it like this, a quiet sunrise, nobody about; there are  some remnants of 'bleak garrigue and desolation' here, enough to still find  'solace in desolation'.