The People We Meet #2

I could write a book about the people I’ve been with over the last two days.

You may wonder how two days could fill so many pages, but every person I meet seems to be worth a chapter!

I’ve only been getting a snapshot of each as I’d they end up getting so much more about me but for a change, less about me and more about them.

Firstly an apology to ‘Seville Gav’ with whom I still have regular contact, which just goes to show the impact of a chance meeting on a ferry, and to Alun (from the valleys) the two of whom were my first ‘connections’ on this trip, and I forgot to mention them in my last post.

Saturday morning, as the saying goes ‘I lost an hour of my life which I will never get back’. I had (in the motorhome) previously driven parts of the infamous 700 mile A7 which pretty much runs the entire ‘Costa’ coast, and Gav had reminded me with, quote ‘Do anything you can to avoid the A7’, but I was in the hands of my guides ‘Estepona Harry’ and ‘Marbella Jimmy’. 

The A7 serves a valuable purpose linking all the British pubs and cafe’s along the entire Spanish coast! But seriously, linking all the major resorts, towns and cities, and there is something nice about seeing the expanse of the blue Mediterranean Sea from such close quarters, but like Gav suggested, if there’s any realistic alternative you would avoid the A7 like the plague. A busy dual carriageway with everybody on a mission and ridiculously short entry slip roads just to add a bit of spice, as if it needs it!

Harry met me at the Repsol garage in Estepona where he was amazed to see me putting in the expensive grade of petrol, “What are you putting that in for”? “Coz I want maximum power” was my reply, I think it tickled him that I needed that from a 2.5 litre motorbike engine. 

We met James at one of the many British cafes along ‘the strip’ just outside Marbella, it was decent and cheap as chips, but wouldn’t hold a candle to those served up by some of my favoured establishments in Cumbria.

After breaky we continued up the coast another 25 miles to Malaga, which was our start point for the climb up the A7000 into the Montes de Malaga. We did a rather large anti-clockwise loop stopping off at all Harry and James’ usual cafes for a variety of refreshments. The temperature hit 33c again so cool drinks were generally the order of the day.

I got back knackered and sweaty, which is becoming standard practice, so just enough time to shower me and my clothes before heading into town for a meal with my hosts Andy and Andrea and their friends and neighbours Geri and Jean Marie, both motorcyclists.

A great evening, bed at 1am, up at 8 for breakfast then a mid morning swim in the pool where Keri was accompanied by her friend/partner Patrick. There was something about Patrick that made him instantly likeable, he had the appearance of Kenny Rogers with his white hair and beard and his friendly demeanour resulted in my pool entry being delayed somewhat. He had just arrived after a 40 hour flight from Vancouver via Mexico and Madrid, it seems the American twang I thought Keri had was actually Canadian as Vancouver is where they both originate. After some swimming and more chin wagging they eventually left to be replaced by Jean Marie, which turned my plans for yesterday on their head.

Jean Marie was actually born in Malaga but for all intents and purposes he’s French, from Brittany, he’s such a friendly and (yet another) likeable chap and is in awe of Reg. Fairly new to biking having recently passed his test, he’s riding a Yamaha Tenere trail bike which is hired until he gets his own new BMW F900XR later this month. He was keen for us to go for a ride so I shelved my plans for the day and we went off with him to Tarifa.

Tarifa is a place where all the young, beautiful, well tanned athletic types hang out, so it came as a bit of a shock to them to see an old, ugly, white muscle deficcient north European amongst them. Fortunately I kept my clothes on so as not to cause too much alarm. By all accounts it’s one of the world’s most popular destinations for wind sports and Jean Marie and I partook in that sport of hanging onto our motorbikes  as we climbed up the N340 to the peak of Mirador Del Estrecho, where even on this cloudy and hazy day Morocco could be clearly seen, which is not surprising as the dark continent is only 10 miles from Europe’s most southerly mainland point.

Jean Marie rides at a conservative pace, which was fine by me as it was a complete contrast from Harry and James’ style. After Tarifa we went further along the coast to get a closer view of those hanging onto kites whilst skimming across the water. Then we headed to La Linea next to Gibraltar, and as I didn’t have my passport we stayed on the Spanish side for afternoon coffee before returning back to Casares.

Yesterday evening I was invited to dinner with my hosts Andrea and Andy. Andy is English and is constantly flitting backwards and forwards between here and England due to the deteriorating health of his mum. 

Andrea is Hungarian from Budapest, I asked her how she learnt her excellent English, she started to give an insight into what life was like behind The Iron Curtain. At school their second language had to be Russian and she told stories about how controlling the establishment was of the people. It’s taken 30 years for the old regime to finally lose all control of the country, which is now regarded as one of the safest in Europe. She was saying how Romania sorted their escape from control of the communists by executing Ceausescu and his family, whereas the Hungarians allowed those in power to linger on and hence slow the progress of the nation. She’s also fluent in German, has lived in Brazil and Argentina and this winter intends to improve her understanding of English and Spanish, her vocabulary is excellent but she wants to understand the cultural aspect of the nations, I think she has her work cut out with us!

I’ve managed to arrange one extra day here so depart Thursday morning destined for three nights in Cordoba, watch this space……..