Help help me Ronda, The Rock

Impressionism - rainy day in Ronda

Heavy rain, drizzly rain accompanied us when we arrived at Ronda, a ‘white town’. Fortune smiled on us though as we noticed the parking lot at the railway station had the barrier raised, and 5 motorhomes were ‘in’. We slotted in to a spot chosen to minimise the risk of entrapment by Spanish parkers and dodged puddles as we walked into the centre of town. The rain doubled its efforts and an umbrella purchased; we dripped quietly in a cafe that advertised fresh churros and thick chocolate. The buzzy cheerful waitress ignored the puddle growing around us and set down our order. It was SO GOOD - all the other churros I have had are just stale imitations.

Tajo gorge in Ronda

We waited out the rain back in the truck and set off again into Ronda when the sun peeped through, we were not leaving with business half-done. Ronda was a big surprise for me, we had been told to visit but I didn't know why. The 'why' is the spectacular placement of this white town on the sheer cliffs of the Tajo gorge. The town has been made famous by people such as Hemingway and Orson Welles. The dizzying gorge is spanned by a towering bridge, the gorge so deep you can't see the river without climbing down steps to view it from a distance. This bridge (Puente Nuevo), separates the old and new towns. We walked through an Arab fortress, descending flight after flight of steps running with floodwater down to the river and also visited the adjacent hanging gardens. Both rather disappointing compared with the spectacular setting of the town.

The visit concluded, we decided we didn't need to spend the night in the railway carpark and although the light was diminishing we set off to an aire in another white town. The journey was on a steep ridge, fog coming up from the valley obscured the scenery, and in some places, the road.

The sun came out - looking out from the cliff in Ronda

It was quite dark when we turned onto a minor road and headed downwards into the valley. I had fingers crossed that the aire didn't involve plowing through some squishy village and it worked because the aire was neatly set on the upward side of the village. Five spaces each with their own services. Over-engineering had come into play here, we have experienced one black/grey/fresh water connection to service 100 vehicles. This one had 5 of each!

Hoods up on our jackets, we had a look-see around the village, a coffee in the bar and then off to Gibraltar with a via point of Lidls to replenish supplies. It bucketed down as Stuart returned the trolley, joining it to its fellow trolleys to get our Euro coin back.

We turned onto the highway and followed the coast in the rain, when around a corner suddenly a huge chunk of rock standing sentinel looking out to sea dominated the vista. We settled into a spot on the marina, tomorrow would be a better day to explore 'The Rock'.

100 metres above the Tajo  gorge in Ronda,
an Egyptian Cleopatra poses for the ultimate photo

We walked from the marina, through customs and immigration and across the airport runway to get to British controlled Gibraltar. Yes, both the road and footpath bisect the runway at Gibraltar. Once in the town proper it was like stepping into an English high street. Debenhams, Marks and Spencer, Next, Mango - all were there together with advertisements for fish and chips with mushy peas. The surprising thing for me was eavesdropping on locals' conversations. They would start in Spanish, drop a whole sentence in English in, then revert to Spanish. The accents were British and the currency sterling, things were a bit pricey and ever so slightly scruffy.

A cable car whisked us up to the top of ‘The Rock’, a strategic military position overlooking the entrance to the Mediterranean from the Atlantic. It is a prized piece of real estate that has been fought over many times. We walked through tunnels that have been developed over centuries, the last extension was made during WWII. The day we visited there was water running everywhere, fallout from all the rain that had bombarded the area recently.

Sitting on top of the world

 I was a bit apprehensive about meeting the Barbary macaques that live at Gib, my encounters in India and Nepal with monkeys have not been good. There they were, greeting visitors as they emerged from the cable car or taxi-vans. One grabbed at a woman’s handbag – she had something interesting inside, I kept my bag zipped and eyes open. They were pretty cool really and after a while I could walk quite close to them and not feel threatened. The babies were especially cute and subjected to a lot of grooming by the adults. The macaques (tailless monkey) are provided with good quality food and there are notices about not feeding them – something disregarded by the taxi drivers. Legend says that when the macaques disappear from Gib so will the British, they looked as if their feet were well under the table so to speak.

We had a quick look-see in St Michaels Cave, a huge natural grotto within The Rock full of stalagmites and stalactites, lit with lurid pulsating lights and music and once again running with water. 

Top of the Rock

Our feet were tired by the time we arrived at the heaving Morrison’s supermarket, part of an English chain. Such a treat to peruse the shelves filled with things I haven’t been able to buy in Europe. As we were still some distance from ‘home’ and only could choose what we could carry, we were somewhat limited. I choose some precooked lamb shanks in red wine and Stuart chose a box of hot roast potatoes. It was a feast that night.

Street in Gibraltar

This post is being written from a campsite between Marbella and Malaga on the Mediterranean coast. 

Marbella is one of the more swanky places on the Costa del Sol (sunshine coast). A highly developed (think concrete tower blocks) area which has offered cheap holiday destinations to Europeans since the 70s. There is a large Brit population here and lots of notices are in English.

It is a short walk to the beach which has stretches of sand dunes and boardwalks, a little like NZ.  The camp is a lot different to the other places we have been staying, the majority of the guests have GB on their number plates and it looks as if they stay for a long time and are regular visitors. They are into the Christmas thing and pitches are decorated with lights, baubles, 3D reindeer, purple Christmas trees .....We are the odd men out – the tourers who only stay for a short time.

Beach near our campsite

Serendipity struck again in the campground and we parked next to two Kiwis towing a Fifth Wheeler that they are exporting back to NZ in a weeks time. We have had a great time sharing dinners and drinks with Keith and Bron-e and they have been generous with sharing their equipment – a ladder for cleaning our roof and awning, a printer/scanner for some admin, and a lift in their Navara to the supermarket. We had a kiwi working bee cleaning organic matter from our vehicles so they can make the big trip home.

All good things come to an end and we will embark on the next chapter of our adventures to – El Chorro and Granada in the mountains.