Trip to Cortes de Baza ...
(Note: some of the pictures are quite small when viewed on a pc, but if you right-click and opt to view in another tab, you'll see them more clearly.)
Back in 2017, I had cashed-in the small pension ~ which would have been fairly useless as a weekly payment by the time I might be forced into retirement ~ and attempted to open a bar of my own (see ....) which ultimately came to nothing. With most of what money was left, following this, I wanted to have one more good trip/holiday.
Some musician friends I'd met had made the move to live in a cave house in Southern Spain, and had sent out a general invitation to all their friends to visit them there.
It seemed too fortuitous timing to be ignored, so I began to make plans. I worked on, the basis of a five-day trip either way, with a two-night stopover with the friends, Pop and Gelda. It would mean a lot of driving, which was no issue to me, but also finding eight places to stay, where food was available, not too far from the route I was taking (obviously didn't want to be faffing around in and out of crowded towns), that were of a decent enough quality without breaking the bank.
Eventually, I sorted it out and began to make preparations. The route I chose was both fairly direct and scenic, whilst it totally avoided toll roads ~ I didn't want to have to mess around with carrying loads of Euros, or arranging automatic number plate recognition payments in advance ~ preferring instead to use my card wherever possible.
After all my careful planning, there was just one thing that was slightly troubling me. I'm good at sorting routes, and producing visual aids showing turn directions, junction details, etc. ~ and I had a good European map to help if I went wrong. But there's no way anyone could journey that far without making some slight error, and getting back on track ~ once I realised my mistake ~ could prove time-consuming ... and I would be on a tight schedule. Still, I knew I'd get by, but I'd just have to make my plans very clear and easy to read while I was driving (I had worked out a way to have the sheets hanging from the dashboard, just above the gear changer).
Having made arrangements with Pop and Gelda, sorted my travel dates out and booked the hotels, I had to let my music quiz regulars know I would be missing for a couple of weeks.
While doing so, a few friends there suggested I ask the landlady, Rachel, if she wanted to join me, as it had been a long time since her last break (she worked very hard at keeping that pub going) and she really could do with a change of scenery. I must admit to doubting whether it would be of interest to her ~ after all, most of the time would be spent simply on the road, with days split at a ratio of a third of the time each driving, sleeping and eating/resting.
There was also the fact that I had already booked the hotels ~ most of which were double rooms, rather than twin ones (I never book single rooms ... those poxy little beds are no use for someone 'man-sized'!) ~ which meant she would have to trust me to handle the situation in a gentlemanly fashion ... i.e. take turns to get changed in the bath/shower room and not sleep in the raw, like I usually do.
However, when I asked her, she was definitely up for it ~ saying she knew me well enough to trust me, knowing I wouldn't try to take advantage of the situation. All the driving etc. didn't seem to faze her either ~ I think, as others had suggested, she really was in need of a change of scenery.
So, there was nothing for it, other than to buy myself something to wear while I was sleeping! It made no difference to the price of the rooms, I simply informed each one that I would no longer be travelling alone, and provided Rachel's details where necessary. What it did mean, was that I now had a navigator … and some good company for the journey. And, ultimately, it couldn't have worked out better ~ we both share a wicked sense of humour, fairly laid-back nature (apart from my tendency towards road rage!) and a fine taste in music!
So, on Saturday 20th May, 2017, we set off from Rothwell, Northants, heading for the Eurotunnel and France.
In spite of my having allowed plenty of time to make the train, severe delays on the M25 left me having to risk a speeding ticket all the way down the M20 ~ but, thankfully, we just managed to make it on time.
By the time we reached the Hotel Le Continental in Forges-les-Eaux, we'd covered around 340 miles, to arrive at this enormous, chateau-style hotel, with a country club over the road. Our rooms were large and comfortable with pleasant views to the rear from French windows, which looked out over what appeared to be a chicken farm. There was no air-con in the room or extractor in bathroom ~ the latter making showering on a warm day quite uncomfortable.
Coffee and soft drinks were available in the lounge area downstairs, but the restaurant over the road apparently had a strict dress code, so our road clothes would not be welcomed. Fortunately, the Café Tabac next door provided us with a lovely evening meal, with selection managed somehow between my schoolboy French and the staff's pigeon English ... plus a lot of tolerance and good humour.
That night, Rachel discovered how really safe she was sharing a bed with me ~ after all, it's really hard to get 'fruity' when you're masked-up and connected to a CPAP unit!
After a good sleep and a short breakfast, we were back on the road again, making a roughly 275-mile trip to Poitiers. Hotel Campanile was more of a motel on the edge of a trading estate, but, it was comfortable, the staff spoke good English, and we managed to secure a ground floor room at the rear of the complex which was so far removed from the estate itself, it almost appeared rural.
After dining in the hotel restaurant ~ with its excellent sweet bar (something we found it very difficult to drag ourselves away from) ~ we were able to sit outside for a coffee or two, listening to the birds' final chatterings, until later, when the bats came out and we could watch them instead.
After breakfast, we headed off ~ Monday's journey took us as far as the Northern Pyrenees, after around 275-odd miles through some beautiful countryside. Although we were avoiding the toll roads, the ones we were using closely resembled A-roads in the UK, just with far better road surfaces, fewer potholes and much, much less traffic.
We arrived at the turning for the Hotel le Chateau d'Arance in Cette-Eygun ~ which led us up a zig-zag of hairpin bends, climbing all the way, until we reached this almost castle-like building halfway up a mountain. As you can imagine, the scenery was breath-taking.
It was worth staying here for the views alone. There was only one middle-aged gent (who looked more like gentry) running the place, serving table ~ and probably doing the cooking as well. There was no lift, but we could get access to the back of the house via a slope at the rear. The room was very large but had no air conditioning, so we had to keep a small window open all night for fresh air. The bathroom was large too, but also lacked any extraction, so got steamed-up very quickly ~ and whoever thought of putting the tray-less shower between the toilet and sink just wasn't thinking straight!
The evening meal was on a take-it-or-leave-it basis as it was pretty much off-season (i.e. no choices), but you couldn't moan about the steaks they served.
When we popped out in the evening and early morning for a coffee and a smoke on the hotel forecourt ~ and clocked the low-lying cloud partially obscuring the mountains around, with their peaks poking through the top ~ it was like being on the set of some fantasy film. Absolutely stunning! The mist was so close you felt like you could just reach over, grab a handful and eat it like candy floss.
At the foot of the hill, where we had entered, there was an enormous car park and what seemed to be a small café or snack bar, so there must be some draw for tourists in the summer season, but other than the scenery, I couldn't figure out what that could be.
Tuesday, day four, took us over/through/under the Pyrenees and into Spain, via the lengthy Tunnel de Somport. This day's near 300-mile journey took us past Zaragoza to Requina in Valencia.
The Hotel Patilla Ciudad de Requina was a quirky hotel on the very edge of the town in a district which had obviously seen better days. It almost seemed that, had the town kept expanding in that direction, it would have been better positioned ~ but it didn't. The block of rooms/apartments to the back were run down and up for sale I believe. The remaining block could also have used some TLC.
We were put on an upper (2nd or 3rd) floor, but lift worked well. Room was large with chair, settee, case stand, wardrobe and air conditioning. Bathroom was dated and shower didn't work well, but finally did the job. Had to leave window open when showering though, as no extraction once more … and the sink was outside the bathroom in a vanity unit of its own, which was strange.
Luckily enough, the staff (whose English was only slightly better than my Spanish, which is awful!) were very helpful and a good evening meal was had after some translation difficulties. After dinner, the evening was spent drinking on the patio, just watching the world go by, albeit very slowly. Continental breakfast was very good though, with a lot of what was obviously fresh local produce.
So, by the time we were ready leave, we were well refreshed. Unfortunately, the car wasn't! It had developed a sensor fault and wouldn't start.
I had taken out comprehensive European breakdown cover and made the calls. Some time later a breakdown truck arrived, whose driver somehow managed to get the vehicle on the back, and invited us into his cab for a trip to Barcelona ~ the nearest dealership.
Now, if fear is your bag, then this would have been the highlight of your trip! The driver managed somehow to drive at around 90mph, with the motor swinging around on the back (despite being strapped-on), while eating his lunch, drinking coffee, smoking and swearing at everyone else on the road ... oh, and while being almost perpetually on the phone! We just held on for dear life ~ Rachel keeping her knees away from the driver's roaming hands, while I sat nearest the door, holding on to it for dear life, as it looked like it was going to spring open at any time!
However, somehow, we made it safely to the outskirts of Barcelona, and ~ after managing to convince the dealers there to do a quick repair for us (the office and sales staff spoke no English, but thankfully one of the mechanics was practically fluent!) and we were soon back on our way.
We obviously arrived quite late at our destination, and our poor friends were starving ~ having delayed their meal until we arrived ~ but not quite as hungry as we were, having had scant time to eat due to all the delays.
But their cave home ~ in Cortes de Baza, Grenada ~ was amazing. Built into the natural rock, it kept cool in the summer and maintained a good temperature (with heating) in the cold winter months, or whatever passes for winter in this part of Spain.
I thought it must be a weird experience living in a home where most of the rooms have no windows, but also a bonus when it comes to the DIY front, as you could, for example, just chip yourself a hole in the wall, paint around it and add a few shelves just about wherever you wanted. The front of the house, where their kitchen and dining room were located, had windows and were very light and airy, so I doubt you'd really get too claustrophobic in there.
These kind of properties were becoming very popular, both with the Spanish and other nationalities, so there must be a draw of some sort … perhaps it's the relative peace and solitude that attracts them?
Pop and Gelda had taken intensive Spanish language lessons so they could fit in with the locals, unlike a lot of other ex-pats. Through this ~ and Pop's music and humour ~ they did more than just fit in, participating in and helping to organise local music events and festivals.
(It was so sad that they couldn't spend longer in their retirement paradise ~ Pop sadly passed away in 2020, to be missed as much by the friends he'd made in Cortes de Baza as by the friends he still had at home.)
We managed to visit a local lakeside café they both knew, on a wonderfully sunny day. They took us to the local pool, where Gelda loved to go for a swim. And, on the last night, we went to their favourite restaurant and shared the most enormous paella you've ever seen ~ the pan itself must have been around 3ft or more in diameter ~ and its contents were most excellent.
But Saturday rolled around and we had to be on our way. We said our goodbyes and headed off on a 350-mile journey to Gargallo in Aragon, and the Hotel Venta La Pintada ~ which again was more of a roadside motel, frequented mainly by local farmers and an assortment of Spanish rednecks! The building itself had an enormous function room, so I can only imagine it was probably used in the main for events such as weddings, etc. for the farming community.
Of all the empty rooms it had, they managed to put us right at the back of the hotel in one without any air conditioning, so we had to keep the window open all night and wipe the flies off all our belongings before we left in the morning. The vent in the bathroom looked like it had a bird's nest in it and we couldn't figure out if the foul smell was coming from the surrounding fields or the processing plant around 100 yards down the road.
The evening meal was alright, but not exciting enough to make us feel it was worth hanging around for more than a coffee in the morning.
Leaving there, we took a 290-odd mile trip back to France, this time mostly over the Pyrenees, rather than under them, which was another bout of amazing scenery ~ somewhat similar to the lake district, but with mountains thrown-in.
By late afternoon, we landed at the Hotel Ibis in Auch, Gascony. This at least was a modern hotel with good facilities and multi-lingual staff. Situated on the outskirts of Auch, this hotel is exactly what you would expect an Ibis to be. Lifts to the rooms, which were of a good size and well air-conditioned. Double glazing removed every sound from the busy roads outside. Bathroom was of a pod format, which worked very well, apart from the lack of an extractor (why do none of these places have extractors ~ or at least, ones that worked?).
Gent in reception spoke excellent English and was extremely helpful ~ also serving drinks to us outside. Only downside was the attached restaurant, which was staffed by unhelpful youths who seemed more interested in chatting to each other than serving anyone. However, the food was good enough, though expensive for what it was. Thankfully, breakfast was served from a modular area to the side of the reception, not the restaurant, or we probably wouldn't have bothered with it. However, the breakfast bar was very well presented and stocked, making it almost a shame to leave afterwards.
Monday morning, we headed off on a 320+ mile hike through the eastern side of central France ~ and more stunning countryside ~ until we reached the Hotel Auberge de la Tour, in Mennetou-sur-Cher, in the Loire Valley.
Upon arriving, we were given instructions on how to put our car into the large garage a few doors away, so it was safe overnight. There was a very bad smell at the front of the hotel which at first we put down to the owner's cat's unsavoury activities, but on reflection it may have been from the drain cover outside the entrance.
This is a beautiful little historic town with some amazing local architecture. The houses seem to have been built either around or inside an old castle or fortification of some kind.
The hotel itself was part of this effect, with the side and rear of the building looking more 13th Century than 21st. Our non-air-conditioned room had large windows that opened out onto a courtyard below, which the local pigeons used for target practice.
This ended up being the worst night's sleep of the entire trip, mainly because the bed was low and lumpy. But the food was superb ~ I helped myself to a fish dish (trout or bass, I never did find out) with a home-made crème caramel to follow.
In the evening, we took a walk around the town and the scenery just got better as you went through it. We crossed the small bridge over the river Cher to sit and listen to the crayfish shrieking! (Rachel identified this, as I wouldn't have had a clue what the noise was.)
We also saw something I've never in my life seen before ~ outside the boucherie, there was a sausage vending machine! Imagine having one of those anywhere in England …
About the only thing I didn't like about Mennetou-sur-Cher was the locals. Rachel needed some bottled water and we couldn't find anyone in the hotel to provide one. So, I headed to a shop just down the road and tried to buy some ~ only to be greeted with mockery due to my poor French. I couldn't even look round the shop for any, as it was so badly laid out. Thankfully, by the time I got back to the hotel, she had managed to get some. But I really felt like lobbing a brick through that shop window as we headed out in the morning.
Day 11, and a shorter 210-mile trip to the City Hotel on the edge of a trading estate in Beauvais, Hauts-de-France. (On this day I managed to get a speeding ticket and on-the-spot fine ... ah well, you can't win them all, and at least it doesn't count in the UK!)
The hotel itself was just what you'd expect from a Premier Inn ~ except it had no lift. Luckily enough, they managed to give us a ground floor room. The hotel only catered for breakfasts, snacks and coffees, but over the road was a steak house and another, more traditional restaurant serving buffet meals. Not feeling like having to help ourselves to food, we chose the Buffalo Grill ... which I wouldn't recommend anyone else to do.
The food and service were fine, but the Maître d' was like some miniature animated Napoleon with his staff, and the fixed seating was not made for anyone over 12 stone in weight. If we'd needed to rush for the loo, it would probably have been better to simply ask for a bucket, as you wouldn't be able to squeeze yourself out in time to make it there.
An early start saw us make the 330+ mile journey back to Calais, through the Chunnel and back to Blighty ... and sunny, sunny Rothwell.
Twelve days, a total of around 3,000+ miles, averaging 300 miles a day or 6-7 hours on the road. There was too little time left to take in much of where we went, but both of us loved the experience. I knew, with my deteriorating health, this would probably be the last chance I'd ever get to make such a journey.
But we'd made it ~ accident-free, with only one minor breakdown and a whole mass of memories ...