Oh, Happy Day

Saturday, 21st March

Our bags were packed and loaded into the car. Preparation for the journey had been made as well as we could. Enough food and drink for a family of four should get us through the two day journey. If we could get there. I’d even written out some key phrases in Spanish to explain where​ we were going and why in case we were stopped by the police. It still seemed like a good idea to allow an extra 4 hours for delays.

Leaving Jávea was so very different from previous years​, no fond farewells or see-you-next-time except by phone, the uncertainty palpable. So it was fitting that the day dawned dark and damp. Cloud obscured the mountains and misted the mostly deserted roads.

On the motorway the lorries were on the move, unsung heroes transporting the vital supplies to keep the country going. Signs over the road warned of checks on unnecessary journeys and we fretted about the rule only allowing one person in a car. The police presence was most evident at service stations where we stopped for comfort breaks (another worry allayed: would the toilet facilities be open?) They left us alone, though and gradually we gained in confidence. It must be obvious that a foreign vehicle, loaded to the gunnels and heading north must be leaving the country we reasoned.

The weather even reflected our growing optimism. Soon we were wearing sunglasses and opening windows. Hawks flew over the empty roads and seemingly deserted towns around Zaragoza By the time we reached the coast between Bilbao and Santander we found ourselves wanting to explore the many holiday resorts signposted as if these were normal times.

That they weren’t was reinforced when we reached the port. Staff and the many Guardia Civil were all wearing masks and gloves. At check-in we were instructed to read a notice informing us that we must remain in our cars until boarding and go immediately to the cabin where we must remain until instructed to return to our car on arrival.

Neil had received an email en route to inform us that the ferry would be an hour late departing and we now had five hours to wait before boarding. Visits to the toilet block were permitted but woe betide those tempted to linger to enjoy the sea view or exchange pleasantries. The Guardia were having none of it. Thankfully, they were more tolerant of stretching legs by the car or taking items out of the boot as long as we kept a distance of at least a meter from anyone else.

Boarding took much longer than usual to ensure no overcrowding on the garage decks or stairways and to allow for only two people in the lift at a time. It seemed to work better than usual, to be honest.

Thus we’ve made it onto the ferry and are underway. We’ve even been provided with complimentary cold snacks delivered to the cabin at meal times. So we now have enough food to feed a family of six.

Return to Spain

Portsmouth from the ferry.

 

It was still dark when we left a frosty Hereford to drive down to Portsmouth. Naturally we arrived ridiculously early (made even earlier by using the alarm on my phone to get us up and I hadn’t put the clock back) for the ferry and were one of the first on as usual. I still didn’t particularly like the look of the weather forecast but after last weekend and as we weren’t crossing on a 40ft yacht, I was easily persuaded it wasn’t a problem. We both swallowed a couple of Sturgeron, though.

Brittany Ferries are delighted that they can now cross Biscay much closer to land via the Chenal du Four and the Raz de Sein. Having sailed these areas, I wasn’t sure it was such a great idea and, of course, it was as we were rounding this area that it all got a bit choppy. An early night was the solution and by morning our lost sea legs were no longer required.

I love the drive across Spain to Valencia. It always makes me realise how densely populated the UK is in comparison. Mile upon mile of mostly empty, rugged terrain, changing from lush green pine forests to sparse and dry greenery as the relatively empty motorway curves around and cuts through the terracotta-coloured mountains before descending towards that first tantalising glimpse of the Mediterranean. The final few miles into Jávea is then like coming home, the roads familiar, the artwork on the roundabouts well known and the orange groves welcoming. It’s good to be back. 

 Neil’s morning cuppa was all the better for the flat sea and sunshine.

 

 

Update

Saturday

With the BBC talking about winds of 80mph and Passage Weather’s maps turning purple, you can perhaps understand my relief when I got the phone call from Neil to say all Brittany Ferries’ crossing had been cancelled for Sunday. So it’s now Wednesday before we can cross to Spain. It means we lose out on the hotel we’d booked before taking our apartment but it seems a small price to pay to me. Much as they might warn of uprooted trees and the threat to power cables I couldn’t be happier to be staying on dry(ish) land. 

 

Ferry Bad Weather

I’m almost packed and ready to head off to Spain for the winter. Just about the whole contents of the wardrobe along with a mountain of food supplies and toiletries that are either expensive or difficult to get hold of in Spain are piled up and standing by to be loaded into the car. I’m just waiting for the thunderstorm to subside. Now there’s the rub. The weather.

We have a ferry to catch on Sunday amid dire warnings of the storm conditions that are approaching the British Isles. The worst storm since the 1980’s according to the Mirror. Surely they’ll cancel the ferry, thinks I. Oh no, says the Caravan Talk forum, they’ll happily go out in a force 9. I’ve been trying to reassure myself that at least we’ve got a cheap interior cabin where the motion will be less than on the more expensive exterior cabins.

So there was definitely a feeling of relief when I got a broken call from an annoyed Neil to say the ferry had indeed been cancelled. Until I got home and read the email, that is. Yes, the ferry had been cancelled but not because of the weather but due to “a technical difficulty on board” and we’d been offered a place on the sailing from Portsmouth to Bilbao. Not only that we had been upgraded to an exterior cabin. Lucky us. Oh, and this is a two night crossing with a stopover in Roscoff. Agghh!!