We exited the site at Las Negras promptly as our pitch was needed by others. We hadn't managed to book where we were heading next, Los Madriles at Isla Plana. The last time we turned up there 'on spec' in 2020 it was full, and if anything Andalucia's winter moho swarm has increased since then. Many sites simply don't answer the phone anymore, it has made being certain of finding somewhere to stay into a bit of a lottery in the more developed stretches of Spain's coast all the way from Valencia to the Costa del Sol. That means most of it, as the undeveloped patches shrink year by year.
It makes the Cabo da Gata very precious, and maybe Las Negras is the most beautiful bay of them all in a place which abounds with them. So I had to say farewell. I pulled over and parked on a scrap of waste land next to the campsite's entrance. A rough track leads from here to the beach. It's used by the 'illegals' overnighting in their venerable self builds. Wild camping is forbidden throughout the northern area of the national park, but this doesn't deter our moho tribe's crustier members at all.
The mimosa flowered while we were here. Our pitch had a big clump of it, spotted with yellow buds when we arrived becoming an explosion of buttery coloured florets by the time we left three days later. Mimosa bushes lined the track to the beach too.
A beautiful sight, unlike the vision that confronted me as I rounded a bend in the meandering track. A woman of indeterminate age from the beach encampment crouched by the roadside. She was quite unabashed by my sudden arrival and wished me a friendly "Guten Morgen!" So much for the eco-tourism mantra about leaving nothing behind but footprints! I can understand why the local authority took the decision to ban wild camping in such an environmentally sensitive area, partly to control the number of tourists but also to discourage anti-social behaviour. I took my farewell picture and off we went. We were lucky with the narrow road to Las Negras, no oncoming traffic at all. Then onwards through the park, Gill caldera spotting as we went.
Our plan, a quick shop in San Isidro Lidl then up the A7 autovia to Mazarron. It's familiar territory but the semi-desert landscapes around Los Gallardos and Vera always come as a shock, so arid that just looking out the window makes you feel thirsty. Inhospitable too, bare wind sculpted outcrops surrounded by deep fissures and crevasses that resemble the surreal geology you find in the background of Dali's dreamscapes.
At Vera we turned off and took a different motorway towards Cartagena. We were surprised to find a toll booth. The majority Spanish motorways are free, but a few are not and we had forgotten that this was one of them. It was spookily empty, due to the toll or the early afternoon lunch break, it was difficult to tell.
Most of the time there was not another vehicle in sight. The arid landscape stretched away endlessly in all directions, but waterless does not necessarily mean infertile. Patches of lurid green dot the dusty plains and lower slopes of the Sierras. Irrigation has enabled the desert to bloom - with lettuces! Here and in nearby Murcia is Europe's 'salad bowl'. The result is a curious landscape, think Dali reimagined by Monty Don, or vice versa.
We are familiar with the coastline around the Golfo de Mazarron, it's a peculiar mixture of the hauntingly beautiful and the ghastly, the two things cohabiting somewhat awkwardly. The short drive from the motorway to the campsite at Isla Plana provides plenty of opportunities to appreciate the uncomfortable mix.
The mad geology continued. I had time to admire the deeply fissured cliffs, oddly sculpted rust coloured rock formations and drab weedy gulches as I waited in a long queue of two at the Mazarron exit toll booth. The woman in the car in front was having a moment with the card reader which required human intervention. It took a while.
Mazarron itself is an unremarkable place with a sprawl of retail parks around the ring road. The nearby tourist development of Puerto de Mazarron is a mid-rise small resort, soul-less and spookily empty in the winter months. The best two ACSI campsites in the area are at opposite ends of the bay, at Bolneuvo to the west and Isla Plana to the east, both are packed full of northern European retirees here for the duration. Bolneuvo is the most attractive town on the bay but the inmates at the campsite are so weird we tend to avoid it these days.
Consequently we are heading for Isla Plana's Camping Madrilles taking a chance it would have space as no-one was bothering to answer the phone. Isla Plana itself is pleasant, a low key seaside village not entirely swamped by apartment and villa developments. It's position is spectacular, the craggy outline of Cabo Tiñoso dominating the view to the east.
Camping Madriles has a complicated entrance arrangement with double barriers, one by the road, a second by the reception area about 100m further on. In between is a layby where you can park while negotiating your stay. There were two other British vans in front of us so there was some low level competition. In the end there was enough room for us all.
The site is geared up for people staying for months and offers discounts to encourage them. People passing through are not a top priority. Since we last were here the site has imposed a minimum three night stay. In truth it's about as much as we can stand anyway. Most places where long term residents predominate develop a peculiar ambiance, here part Anglo-German temporary suburb, part landlocked Saga cruise. However, it only becomes intolerable if you stay on the site, much better to get out and about.
On our first evening we pedalled down a rough track opposite the entrance. It follows the course of an old river bed skirting the side of an unfenced small ravine before reaching an 'ecopista' by the sea. The nearby beach is one of the few in the area which allows dogs; there is a bit of irony in this as Los Madriles is one of the few sites hereabouts that doesn't.
If you can ignore the buttoned-up overmanaged campsite and the sprawl of villa and apartment developments in the distance, it's not all horrible here. To the east, separating the Golfo de Mazarron from Cartagena, the wild, mountainous Cabo Tiñoso is magnificent.
Equally sublime - westwards, a broad bay with a backdrop of mountains and headlands of Puntas del Calnegre and Cabo Cope in the distance....click!
In the fading light the tawdry sprawl along the shore is less obvious and the area's natural beauty shines through.
Next day we cycled to La Azohia, the village at the eastern end of the coast road. Beyond here the cliffs of Cabo Tiñoso plunge straight into the sea. La Azohia hasn't yet been totally swamped by tourism, it has some small scale inshore fishing going on and a dive school.
We sat on a bench and watched three novice divers being taught the rudiments. Eventually the teacher gave the thumbs up and they all vanished underwater.
The submarine canyons below the headland are famous for the variety of aquatic life, a nearby tourist information board advised.
It also mentioned that La Azohia had been a fishing village 'since time immemorial'. This is no idle boast, the shores of Southeastern Spain are of the few places in Europe that remained habitable through the various 'glacial maximums' over the past million years. Remains of Neanderthals have been found hereabouts, and an even an earlier hominid species dating back 1.3 million years were discovered in a cave to the north of here, near Cartagena. It's a wild, rocky landscape, a magnificent coast; perhaps the more the bare bones of the Earth are on display, the more obvious the geology, the better we sense prehistory and imagine more easily how we walk in our ancestor's footsteps.
Gill remains committed to making progress with the Aran sweater. Time for another solo bike ride. The coast road goes no further than Azohia, but another even more minor road runs along the ridge of Cabo Tiñoso all the way to the lighthouse at the end. It was 16kms from the campsite and Google maps marked the route as having very steep hills. Maybe I'll get part way there, I decided, and I did!
To reach the upper road I needed to head a couple of kilometres up the road towards Cartagena, it's not busy so safe enough to cycle.
The side road on the left was signed to Campillo de Adrento not Cabo Tiñoso, but it had to be the one as there was no other turn-off to be seen. Campo de Adrento turned out to be a small village in a bowl shaped valley.
What had appeared from the coast to be a narrow ridge was in reality a cluster of hills. I was reminded of the lines in Auden's 'Mountains' -
And what looked like a wall turns out to be a world
With measurements of its own
And a style of gossip.
Compared to the coast the area was sparsely populated and unfrequented by tourists. Beyond the village the road narrowed and became potholed. Trucks and motorhomes are prohibited. Google Maps' promised steep hill appeared in front of me snaking up the tawny flank of the Sierra de la Muela.
I stopped to take a photo, A Dutch couple passed me on ebikes. Apart from three motorcyclists, a couple of cars and a wiry looking guy on a road bike reenacting the Vuelta in his head I had the glorious landscape almost to myself for an hour.
As I reached the steepest slope, I clicked the electrics to maximum and engaged the lowest gear. Years ago on my touring bike this would have been the moment I hit the pain barrier, but ebikes are magical things. I was working hard but never to the point of straining or becoming breathless.
The road zig-zagged over the undulating sierra, one moment the view was eastwards across the Golfo de Mazarron and far beyond, turn a corner and Cabo Agua to the west appeared
I made steady progress, an uphill straight then around a hairpin bend, the pattern repeating as I gradually climbed hundreds of metres. With each turn I gained on the figure of a hiker in front of me. I pinged my bell as I drew near. She seemed lost in thought and unaware of the low buzz of my bike's electric motor. She was young, early twenties maybe, and was making short work of the gruelling climb. I felt old! She gave a little wave as I passed, I nodded and smiled in return.
A communication mast crowns one of the hills and an unmetalled track led towards it. I pulled into the junction and stopped for a rest and a drink of water. Checking Google maps it seemed I was a little over half way to the Cabo Tiñoso lighthouse at the end of the peninsula. I decided to turn back, I know my limitations.
The ride down was much quicker, but took vigilance, the surface was loose in places and required constant use of both brakes to stay safe. The guy who had passed me previously on his road bike overtook me again. No doubt he had made it all the way to the lighthouse and now was on his way back. He came flying down the hill, pedalling in top gear. I never have had that level of nerve; I think I am risk averse by nature.
Gill was sitting outside of the van knitting when I got back. She had begun the front of the sweater, but sadly forgot the first few rows used different size needles to the patterned part. All the excellent progress she had made while I was cycling she had to pull out. She seemed remarkably sanguine about it, if it had happened to me I would have been very grumpy.
After lunch we pedalled along the promenade. It has wooden walkways around the site of a pottery dating from the Roman period. There is little remaining to see now.
The more substantial buildings by the beach and rock pools date from the early twentieth century. A notice board describe them as the remains of an unofficial sea bathing pool used by people who were too poor to use prim and proper municipal facilities nearby.
It was another hyperreal afternoon, the depth of colour uncanny. Such clarity is addictive. Something to savour back home flipping through Google photos later, when in England's softer, more subtle light you think - it couldn't really have looked like that. But it did.
We are leaving tomorrow, the suburban torpor of the site is demoralising. Will we come back another year? I don't think so, there has to be more to somewhere than a beautiful view and sunny weather to keep us in a place for more than a day or two.
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