France/Spain 2022 (Week Six)

It was with mixed emotions we left Bonterra Park on the Thursday of this week, finally deciding to move on one day short of 4 weeks after our arrival. We were only supposed to be staying for a few days, and both of us were not sure as we drove in nearly a month ago. I think we looked at every weather App & forecast known to mankind and at least twice every 5 minutes before convincing ourselves it would be better to move south, as a weather blip was expected in the area. Countless Google site searches ensued before

deciding to go where I first suggested.

The warmth of the genuine send off by Lord and Lady JJ, the Brummies and “Halifax” woman was touching & reflects the feel of the place. What we won’t miss is the upcoming last weekend of the festival and fair; if I hear Tarzan, Pepe Go Pepe Go and the Star Wars music blasting out until 5 in the morning one more time it’s Adios or Bonjour from us. On the subject of JJ I wondered over after dinner with an offer of some Limencello which was gratefully accepted, I think it went straight to the 78 year olds head and he promptly got up and put on some Hank Marvin, sounds of “Apache” drowned out the fair. Mrs J almost fell arse over tit taking her pots to wash later. Bless them.

Whilst our original Brummie (next door but one) friends were ok we were surrounded by YamYams shortly with 2 long termers pitching up. They’d been here every year, seventeen times a year for the last 500 years and exuded an air that no one else had the right to be there or even look at them, apart from those already in the inner circle. She had a dog in a pushchair, I’ve already expressed my feelings for twats who overfeed their pooches and wonder why they can’t walk. It was entertaining though to watch him reverse up his ramps, first time apparently, van was too long for the pitch and he came close to hitting the tree & the neighbouring Dutch van, who’s occupants actually stopped watching TV for a few minutes to look.

The Dutch here do seem a little standoffish compared with through France last year, and Tracey watched disapprovingly (or so she said!) a particularly trim chap walk past cleaning his teeth, whilst holding a towel just too short to circle around him clearly naked underwalking back from the shower.

On the Monday was the Funeral and we were able to see some of the events, definitely a feeling for me of pride in our monarchy and admiration of the pageantry, history, discipline and precision clear to see. Total respect. Our week otherwise was filled with cycling, visiting Les Palmes (which seemed upmarket as well as uphill with lots of villas, 2 private health clubs but no bars) walks into town for coffee (2 coffees and a toastie €3), sunbathing, good food and beers! It did begin to feel a little repetitive, albeit pleasantly so, and we needed to move on.

Arriving at Javea (2 1/2 hours from Benicassim) we faced the usual pitch selection walk, trying to pick a sunny, open, twat free location; the pool area is lovely and the pitches opposite whilst full is he called Coronation Street. It struck me first evening of a feeling of oneupmanship - satellite dishes progressively bigger, lit flagpoles taller and light shows more elaborate. Not for us.

The site is fairly well placed,if you ignore the small business park next to it, for the lovely old town (where we enjoyed a quiet beer on Thursday on one of it’s pretty historic streets) which is about 20 minutes away uphill and the Port roughly similar. We’re familiar with the Port and prefer it to Arenal, the latter whilst having lots of bars etc on a pleasant promenade doesn’t feel so comfortable. We opted for a Tapas lunch in the Port on Friday at Miramor which we’d been in probably 10 years ago, bit shit really. Leave it another 10 years I think. There’s lots to do and see in this pretty and busy area, and I’m sure we’ll be back for a longer stay again at some point.

On the Saturday and after a very sleepless Friday night, (Tracey bothered by the barking dogs in the agricultural surrounding area and me just not able to switch off) we decided, after visiting a pharmacy to get a knee support for our Gert (the first stop at vets being unsuccessful-blue cross is Vet Green is ours!) we cycled on adrenaline and Sport mode the 9 miles or so into our favourite spot; Moraira. It was lovely to go back again and it made us both realise how much love we have for this beautiful little place. The ride in took us through green lanes, firstly stopping in the Arenal for coffee (not a place for us tbh) then onto a familiar road to Benitachell before descending into Paichi. Once in town, choosing a place for lunch Daisy attracted the most attention of our visit; with people asking to take photos ffs! Even the customers of the now bikers cafe once run by Ugly Betty stood and pointed as we rode by with her perched on the front. After a lunch stop at Cap D’Or we went out to look at Camping Moraira, it wasn’t as bad as we thought - awkward access but some decent pitches. We were stopped by an English couple who recognised Daisy from seeing us in Javea and enjoyed a chat for a while. We then rode up to Portet to enjoy the fabulous view around the bays and over to Calpe before turning back. We both said how comfortable and at home we felt on seeing Moraira again; if cash was available then making it our home would be something we’d consider again. Just something about the place.

Katie and Ellie are away in Whitby for the weekend and Tracey was crying laughing when getting a message from them that a seagull nicked her sausage from their chippy tea; the whole sausage before she even took a bite.

Saturday night saw heavy rain and a storm needing me to go outside and fasten up properly at about 2 in the morning, pissing it down and a river on the road and under the van. I denied this next day when asked by a nearby van as to why I’d been outside, mind your own fecking business I wanted to say.

Week 6 ending soggily, we might go seeking the sun a bit further south next week and push out our planned return date a little. We’ll see.