Cadiz to the Costa del Sol

My escape from the Cadiz prison cell went according to plan so I headed south for one hour to the scene of The Battle of Trafalgar, well not exactly the scene, but as close as a landlubber can get. Unsurprisingly the Spanish have made no tourist attraction of this momentous defeat to the British Royal Navy back in 1805 and advanced signage is conspicuous by its absence, but Google maps doesn’t harbour such grudges so it guided me easily to Cape Trafalgar. The only battles taking place now are that of the surf boarders with the waves, along this stretch of the coastline it seems to be one of the ‘go to’ places for the sport.

I’d initially driven past the €3 car park assuming it was a tourist rip off trap, not that €3 for as long as you want is much of a rip off. But as I drove down the narrow road, which quickly changed into something more suited to a 4×4 than a low slung sports car with tyre profiles the thickness of rubber bands, I found that there were in fact no other places to park. I returned to the excellent value car park where the attendants gave the Boxster pole position next to their hut, and and were complimentary towards my choice of chariot.

There are a few stalls (lining the sandy lane leading to the barriered off road to the lighthouse), where the merchandise on offer mainly comprised of home made bead and leather wrist bracelets. The two cafes on the same road were very inviting and the one I chose was particularly characterful. The hand written sign prohibiting drug use added to the air of authenticity that this was in fact a genuine surfers’ hot spot, not that I’m judging or anything.

The area had an ambience of friendliness about it with most people being considerably younger than me and smiling, probably due to the effect of the drugs, the dreadlocks and campervans complete the picture of the place.

With the roof down, as it had been for all the trip, the drive across to Puerto Banus was very pleasant, By the time I hit the dreaded A7 near Gibraltar temperatures were hitting 25c, and consideration had to be given to the impact of the sun on my slightly receding hairline. As usual, the entry to the A7 commenced Wacky Races, but I was not taking part and just enjoyed life in the ‘slow lane’.

I was going to book some accommodation on the Costa del Sol for about eleven nights, but after my experience of the cell in Cadiz I decided to air on the side of caution and just book 3 in Puerto Banus, it turned out to be a good move. Suffice to say the apartment failed to meet my expectations, maybe in my old age my expectations are unrealistically high, but I will stick with the standards I expect and refrain from turning into a grumpy old man.

Next entry: More from Puerto Banus