04/2003 - Rockin the Van
26th December 2003 - Rosas, Spain
Here we are again folks!
We've had a few concerns about inflicting you all with our Fruitbat Bulletins and wondered if it was 'a bit too much information', to coin a cliché. However, we've had such lovely responses from many of you that we feel reassured enough to continue. (So it's all your fault really, 'incitement to encourage ramblings' is the charge!) We figured if we always use the header Bulletin Number X, then at least it gives you a chance to click on the delete button if you've had enough! (And seriously do let us know if it is indeed too much information, as we can drop you from the mailing list - as our friend Pikey Pete quipped when we offered that facility prior to departure "that's the best offer I've had since ..."!) Dave wants it to be known that Jeni (who as you are probably aware is a TF [touchy feely] kind of being) frequently experiences 'optical waters of heightened emotion' on receiving your warm and loving email responses! So thank you.
Anyroadup, where were we? Where are we? (Who are we ... Matron?)
From our 6 night stop at Alet Les Bains we headed south again. Our drive took us high into the foothills of the Pyrenees, through rocky gorges and up to vineyard-rich territory. As we climbed, the rain started and lashed down, and we marvelled at the resilience (and bulging calf-muscles) of some very wet, determined cyclists who we gingerly overtook round the snaking roads. We passed a short distance away from the Chateau de Queribus, teetering unfeasibly high on a craggy outcrop. As we did so, the sun came out, creating a rainbow right across the front of it. Amazing! We were virtually at the same level as the rainbow, and it seemed to follow us along for miles, the ends dipping into a great valley between us and the higher, snow capped peaks of the Pyrenees. (Alas, we didn't feel it was sensible to pull over at that stage and search for the crock of Euros, though the temptation was there.)
We decided to take the coast road into Spain down through Port-Vendres, Coullioure, Banyuls-sur-Mer and Cerbere rather than use the Autoroute. Hands up those of you who've done that one? Yes, lots of fun isn't it?! Especially in an 8 metre motorhome (or Lorry as one friend has dubbed it) with a full load! Truly spectacular views out over the Med and the rocky coastline - achieved, of course, by relentless climbing of an increasingly narrow road with pant-wetting hairpin bends that would make you seasick just to look at on the map. Oh, complete with adverse cambers, naturellement. Fortunately Manly Dave was driving since Jeni spent an inordinate amount of time shrieking and gasping (alternately in delight at the scene and in fright), and/or with her eyes closed. Sad, huh? We would, though, really recommend that route to the stout hearted and those with a reliable vehicle. Don't try it in your Winnebago or on your moped though!
The border crossing between France and Spain on that route is a bit like an outpost in a low budget Mexican bandito movie, though the machine gun the surly guy was holding looked real and scarey enough. We don't think that the English speaking one who checked our passports really believed that we were intending on spending our Christmas "on the beach" as he described Rosas. So it was away with the French dictionary and phrase book, and on with dredging up our little bit of Spanish.
First stop Rosas (aka Roses), 35 kms or so down the coast, a pretty resort town that's obviously jumping in the season, but fairly quiet now. Welcoming sunshine and warmth for our arrival encouraged us to whip out the other sets of wheels for a cycle along the seafront as soon as we'd pitched up on the site. Rosas has a beautiful level prom stretching for perhaps 2 or 3 miles, all well ramped and surfaced and scattered with date palms. Ah the Med! Many Sunday strollers out and about, en famille (or should that be 'en familia' now?), enjoying the late afternoon air.
Our first night here at Rosas was disturbed by a kind of ghostly scratching on the outside of the van soon after we'd settled down to sleep. Further investigation revealed that it was only the branches of the olive tree next to us, whipped up by a freshening breeze, knocking against the window. That's ok then. We snuggled back down, only to be woken again abruptly by what must surely have been a 6 person troupe "dancin' the reel o'bogey" (as Jeni's Mum would have said) at the other end of the swaying van. What on earth ... ? But no, the wind had really whipped up and was catching us, broadside, and buffeting the whole Lorry. Haven't experienced wind like that since we were caught in a storm up in the north of Scotland last May. The difference here was that it didn't have the accompanying lashing rain, thank goodness. But we feared for the top box on the roof nevertheless.
So our first day in Spain was spent cosily in the rocking van watching the trees flex and bend in the winds, mainly against bright blue skies and sunshine - the occasional five minutes of darkening cloud and a real wild squally shower. There was even a brief interlude when the precipitation looked dangerously like snow! There were also several memorable and frenzied forays outside, dashing after escaping items of equipment (the waste bin we normally have outside the door, a grip mat that was under one of the stabilisers and which pulled free as the van was blown about, some plastic bottles waiting to go into the recycling - you know the kind of thing that the wind loves to play with!).
By the time darkness fell that evening, far from the wind blowing itself out, as we tried to reassure each other it was bound to do, its velocity increased dramatically. Even the ritual Boggle Challenge after supper couldn't entirely distract us from the howl and whistle of the wind and the alarming, constant movement of the Lorry. Sorry to be so predictable, but, yes, it was the Team Worrier, Jeni, whose nerves finally gave out and she confessed to being 'shit scared' that the van was going to go over. Despite Dave's logical explanations of the noises (panels of the van flexing as they should do, wind going under as well as round and over, bit of a whistle round the top box etc.) and his reminders of our Mighty Weight, Jeni's palms were sweating by that stage and with the bowels in a knot it was time for action.
Dave wrestled the door open and disappeared out into the night to see if there was a less windy spot on the site. He eventually returned to report that we appeared, purely by accident, to have picked the most sheltered spot and that other motorhomers and caravanners were congregating in a huddle in reception as their own units threatened to blow out to sea!
We briefly considered spending the night in the temptingly solid shower block, but as one of us would have to cross-dress if we were to be together in the gender-separate facilities, we gave that up as a bit of an over-reaction. However, it certainly was a wild night. Jeni tried to trick her brain into believing she was on a ship and therefore the movement was to be expected, but even that didn't save Dave's thighs from a severe bruising as she gripped tighter each time a more violent squall passed round VeeJay. (Even Dave's jokes that she should be well used to windy nights by now didn't do a lot for the peace of mind!)
We were pathetically grateful that the Lorry was still upright in the morning, but will never know if the German guy in the small camper van nearby left the site under his own steam or the gale wantonly tossed his unit over the olive trees, seaward.
In response to our best phrase book Spanish enquiry '?Hace normalmente esta viento?' (is it always this windy?), our receptionist, Juan, assured us it was most unusual. Waving his hand at the nearby snow-covered hills, he said he'd only seen snow so close twice in his life (this guy was in his 30s folks). So we timed that well then. Juan helpfully looked up the local weather conditions on the internet and cheerfully advised us that the winds would increase from last night's Force 7 to Force 9 that day, then reduce so that we could expect calm and peaceful conditions for Christmas day (a light Force 2!). Dave's relieved, as he'd been very worried that Santa Claus would have been blown off course!
So we cycled (yes!) to a local shop for some supplies, played happily on the beach in the bright sunshine enjoying the exhilarating experience (that's one way of putting it) and did what we could to batten down the van's hatches so to speak. This included improvising a kind of protective gusset over some of the vents to reduce the rush of wind round the cutlery drawer and fridge. By the time late evening came the roar of the wind had reduced considerably and VeeJay was no longer a' rockin' and rollin' all the time. Makes you grateful for the little things in life, doesn't it?!
It hasn't helped that we've both watched the movie 'Twister' again fairly recently and that we spent a large part of those couple of days looking out of the window saying things like 'tractor', 'cow', 'donkey with max payload in panniers' - you have to have seen the film, but you can imagine!
Hope this makes you feel better, to know that we have not been prone, bikini clad, on a sun-drenched beach (not all the time anyway)! (Though Dave does look very fetching in his bikini on or off the sands ... ) Apologies to those of you who got the text message from the sea-front café on Christmas Eve as we sat sunning ourselves with cups of caffe con leche. Didn't mean to cause you grief!
With regard to Dave's preoccupation with Santa Clause, or Padre Natividad perhaps (?!), Jeni found Dave sitting up in bed late on Christmas Eve listening intently. "It's OK", he mumbled in his half waken state, "I can hear him" and then promptly lay back down and went back to sleep. He denied all knowledge the next morning, but we worked out that he had probably heard the halyards on the flag poles across the road from our pitch gently slapping against the metal poles. The resulting noise was just like the sound of sleigh bells - ah bless!
On a final Christmassy note, we must tell you ("must you?" we can hear Pikey Pete muttering as he reads this) of a strange occurrence that resulted in our having our very own little Christmas tree for the van. Bear in mind that we're surrounded by olive trees as far as the eye can see. Well, walking along the road to the prom just before Christmas in those very strong winds, Dave gave a sudden lurch and spun round in his famous origami pose ready to defend us both from obvious attack. Lying at our feet was the branch of a fir tree, complete with pine cones! "That'll do" said Dave, tucking it under his arm as we continued our walk. Jeni swears that he was waiting for a load of tinsel and coloured fairy lights to come hurtling out of the sky as well as we headed back to the van! Stranger things have happened folks.
More to follow ...
Jeni and Dave
xxox