15k from Africa

March 11, 2012 (second instalment)

I’M sitting with a glass of Rioja in the darkness, looking out of the windscreen over the strait where Europe faces Africa, watching the firefly lights of Tarifa and Tangier twinkling at each other across the water. Outside, David, is cooking spicy sausages on the barbecue but it’s a bit of a mission in the strong wind.

We’re at the Rio Jara campsite, the most southerly in Europe according to the blurb, and today has been a million per cent better than yesterday.

Javer de la Frontera lived up to its promise. The drive there took us through an unexpectedly lush valley – a welcome change after so much parched earth  - featuring well-fed and well cared-for cattle, zig-zag patchwork trees on the mountain slopes, and a major wind farm with at least 200 turbines going full tilt.

Most shops were closed because it was Sunday. That was good because there weren’t too many people wandering the steep, narrow streets with their whitewashed Moorish buildings, and I didn’t want to go shopping anyway (no, really, I just needed to switch off, for a variety of reasons). Picturesque, peaceful … perfect.

Seeking a shady spot for lunch where the dog would be comfortable, we found a restaurant offering a 7.95 Euro menu del dia and plonked down gratefully. At this time of year, it’s very hot in the sun but as we discovered, can be shiveringly cool in the shade, and plenty of Spaniards are still wearing winter coats while I’m in sleeveless T-shirts.

I was surprised when my calamari and David’s chicken and chips came with a fried egg, but it was all jolly nice. And zooming about overhead as we ate, putting on courtship displays, were seven lesser kestrels, which made David very happy.

At a table next to us, an English couple looked on fondly as their son, who must have been about six, demanded, and was given, a plate of chips – nothing else – for his lunch.

Further on towards Tarifa, and as the road hugged the shore, we rounded a corner and there were dozens of brightly-coloured kite surfers all over the place, with the odd windsurfer whizzing past for good measure.

On the road into town we sat in the Lidl car park and looked out through palm trees over the coast to Morocco, and couldn’t believe how clearly we could see it.

Back at our (expensive) site, time for a game of ball with Glen on the enormous expanse of beach before sunset. I really did try to keep him out of the water, because a dry dog is easier to live with in a camper van. But never mind …