The rain in Spain

Quote from four days ago -" In truth, in January and February you do need to get south of the 38° parallel to guarantee regular tee-shirt weather, and even then you will get chillier days and changeable weather from time to time." It was intended to be an observation not a prophecy!

Seville duly delivered it's usual sunny skies and temperatures in the mid twenties but by the time we reached our next stop, Isla Cristina near the Portuguese border, the outlook was grim, with yellow weather warnings of strong wind and heavy rain in place for the next couple of days. The prospects for next week look better, but still unsettled. 

This prompted flurry of activity on all our 'go-to' meteorological sites, but they all told the same sorry tale. Whether we headed east towards the Costa del Sol or west to Portugal's Atlantic coast there was no chance whatsoever of finding settled sunny weather for the foreseeable future.

So we battened down the hatches, tidied away all our outside furniture and covered the bikes. In retrospect the latter precaution proved to be exactly the wrong thing to do. The nylon bike cover caught the wind like a spinnaker and the bikes keeled over in a heap. The stand on my bike became entangled in the frame of Gill's. My attempt to part the two resulted in the stand shearing. Both bikes seem usable but it's annoying. We lifted them back onto the rear bike rack, a good move as the wind strengthened even more during the night buffeting the van. 

We slept badly. Inside a motorhome a fresh breeze can sound like a storm, however this time the storm was real. The ramshackle gazebos attached to nearby camping bungalows and static caravans were in a sorry state next morning. A heavy duty canvas sunshade drooped pathetically, one of its chunky wooden supports snapped at the base by a particularly ferocious gust. If the only damage we have suffered proves to be a broken bike stand then maybe we got off lightly.

The rain and wind had fizzled out by late afternoon so we took a stroll through the pinewoods to Playa de Hora. It is was very puddly.

However the sea was magnificent, big waves crashing ashore, reducing the broad expanse of Playa de Hora to a slender strip of sand. At the height of the storm the waves must have reached the dunes. The local chiringuito was almost moated. 

The light was fabulous, big banks of wind riven clouds scudding dramatically above the the silvery sea. 

I have a bit of a thing about the lifeguard tower on this beach, I must have photographed it scores of times. 

Still, this did not discourage me from snapping it again. It goes to show that familiarity sometimes breeds appreciation rather than contempt.

To get really nerdy about it, I know for a fact that I photographed the thing from almost the same spot exactly 368 days ago.

It must have been a Monday, because I entertained myself last year by taking a black and white photo with my DSLR every Monday for 52 weeks. I am not sure why, however, escaping the self imposed pressure of this year long project has come as a bit of relief.

Today dawned brighter, a short sunny interlude before the showery weather is due to return tomorrow and continue until the middle of next week. We unloaded the bikes and checked that yesterday's pile up had not resulted in more damage than the broken bike stand noted before. They were fine.

Mercadona called. We took the long route via the esplanade, pausing to take a couple of shots of Isla Cristina looking handsome on the other side of the harbour. It was a bright day but the breeze had a cold edge to it. 

Camping Giralda does a deal where if you stay for seven nights they only charge for six. Given the weather is changeable across the western half of Iberia we might as well stay put. 

Gill has definitely settled in.