Road trip to Spain - The Report
Discussion
I write this a couple of weeks on from my return, with plenty of time to have thought about things that were amazing, things that went wrong, and things you just couldn’t make up. A mixture of videos and pics, you may want to grab a coffee. 
The plan started off simple enough. A road trip to Spain with some mates. Somehow fate conspired against us and the usual group of folks I go driving with all ended up on different schedules for 2013, so there was only one real alternative: Sod it, I’m doing this alone.
One man. Four countries. Ten days. Mode of transport: 997.2 C2S.
Never having visited mainland Spain before, but having lived in Gran Canaria for a while 10 years ago, I had only a vague idea of what to expect but I knew that it was a place I wanted to visit. I couldn’t quite work out where I should prioritise, never having been, so decided that visiting all of it was probably the best idea! Andorra and Portugal were added in as minor detours just to say I’d been, although in hindsight I’d have left one of them out…
Thursday, 30th May
The looooong run down to southern France, in the one day. Early start needed for the Eurotunnel.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqhozUni3ak
Apart from the atrocious weather, which meant the reduced speed limit on the French autoroutes, everything seemed to be going well. Until I started seeing road signs that I wasn’t familiar with, which meant that I about to enter Paris. Ah.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbFrfu3Z0VQ
Yes, my own silly fault for just relying on the sat-nav, I know. Lesson very harshly learnt! To top it off, the sat-navs then decided to take me right through the centre of Toulouse as well, which meant more delays. With the last check-in time of my hotel fresh in my mind, I kept a close eye on the clock. I ended up making a quick call to my wife back home, to ask her to ring the hotel in Pau and inform them that I might be a little late, which bless her she did. At about 20:45 the hotel rang me direct, and the monsieur on the end of the phone gave me instructions on how to pick my room key up as the reception was about to close. I finally reached the hotel at 21:30, a full 15 hours after I left that morning.
Thankfully, Pau is blessed with a McDonald’s just round the corner from my hotel so I didn’t even go hungry that night, although it wasn’t exactly the French gourmet feast I’d hoped for.
Friday, 31st May
Today I was going to hit Spain! It had to be a better day than Thursday, didn’t it? First step was getting over the Pyrenees. It was still raining, but surely that wouldn’t matter much as I crossed over the mountains.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBs5mPTB5q0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMrTSlZj0hA
Sums it up pretty well in those two vids, I think! Never having driven the 911 in the snow before, especially on RE050As, things were getting a little more mobile up there than I would’ve liked, and I still can’t decide whether the PDK was helping or hindering me.
So I wasted approximately 2 hours by having to turn around and take what is the main route for lorries to enter Spain, which also happens to be a pretty damn good bit of road anyway, even in the rain. There’s a 6km tunnel at the end, which of course means you end up going through it in 2nd and 3rd gears. Be rude not to.
So I finally get to Spain, and it’s as if someone was looking down upon me and thought, “Yeah, this poor guy has had it pretty rough, let’s go easy on him now”. The skies cleared, the roads opened up, and I was left with this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D15pdZUqoSc
Stunning. The N260 is one of the great driving roads anywhere, with smooth empty tarmac and that gorgeous vista. Absolutely beautiful.
What is slightly less beautiful is Andorra. Perhaps that’s just me being overly-critical of the place due to circumstance though. You see, I saw Andorra twice. The final few hours of this day went a bit like this.
Entered Andorra. 45 mins from hotel. Sunny. Southern Andorra reminds me a bit of Monaco.
Hit a bit of traffic. Still okay, 40 mins from hotel. Skies clouding over.
Going up through Andorra. Skies are grey. Looks like Tower Hamlets now.
Hit the top of Andorra. It snows again. Brilliant. Not too bad though, and I’m going down from this point anyway. Just 15 mins from hotel.
Descend mountain, find tunnel is shut. Have to drive all the way back through Andorra again. 3 hours from hotel.
To say I was slightly unimpressed at this point would be a massive understatement, and it was a real low point of the journey. All by myself, no-one to share the pain with, very frustrating. The hotel in Puigcerda that evening was okay but the food menu was limited and quite posh, and my narrow palate meant I didn’t have a lot to eat. So I drank instead! I have to admit though, at this point I was starting to question whether this trip was a good idea at all.
Saturday, 1st June
Breakfast at the hotel was much improved, so I filled my belly and set off. Plenty of coastal roads today, and although it was once again raining first thing it brightened up pretty quickly. That meant I could make good progress to get to the really good stuff.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=005UFYcc0F4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75atLIYnXvk
Plenty of wannabe-Wiggos to keep an eye out for, but otherwise it was fantastic. I did so well that I even had time to stop at the top for a bit and grab some sun, just watching some folks frolicking about on the beach below whilst keeping an ear out for anything interesting coming my way. The current gen V8 ‘Stang and the 991 cab made some seriously epic noises bouncing off the cliff walls, I could hear them long after I couldn’t see them anymore. It was really nice just to finally get some time to spare and waste, I can tell you.
I took a detour through Barcelona as I really wanted to see the Nou Camp, although I hadn’t realised that it was their final game of the season which great because it was a hive of activity, but bad because it meant I had literally nowhere close by to park and grab some photos. That was a shame, but I think that dull pictures of an empty stadium wouldn’t have been as good as memories of a bustling crowd of all ages, pumped for the game. Tbh if I’d have known I’d probably have tried to get a ticket, but never mind.
I pressed on to my hotel in Tarragona, which although situated in an industrial estate in between Nissan and Volvo dealerships, was really good. Well decorated, good interweb access, just one downside: Their restaurant didn’t open at the weekend! I got room service to make me a cheese pizza, which truth be told was better than I made it sound.
Sunday, 2nd June
Today was taking me from Tarragona to Cartegena, via Valencia. Why Valencia?
F1 street circuit! Obligatory pic of the car on pole was a must, and I was surprised by how much of it seemed open and walkable. I wasn’t entirely brave enough to park the car up and have a proper nose around though, as the parking signs were pretty unclear and getting towed away at this point would not have been good. Nor surprising, what with my luck so far.
And no prizes for guessing where I stuck my GoPro on the car.
Travelling on, by complete random I saw this parked up and decided that a quick comparison shot was too good to miss:
The size difference is clearly very stark, but I do still like how the family resemblance has carried on through despite decades between them. Beautiful colour too, and I don’t mean the filthy black one. It was clean when I left Blighty, I promise.
Los Alcazares turns out to be a bit of a Benidorm-lite, which kinda worked out pretty well for me here. I was feeling like I needed some civilisation at this point, so I abandoned the car and just walked until I hit this:
After the long days driving, and the stress at the start, it was so good just to take my shoes off and walk in the sea. Temperature of sun, sea and sand was perfect, and this was the first point where I truly felt like I was on holiday. I’ve not had a beach holiday for about 15 years, and all those childhood memories just came flooding back and I finally simply relaxed.
Sitting on the beach, paying no attention to the topless ladeez at all, it was at this point that I decided that as much as I wanted to do some serious driving on this trip, I also needed a holiday. As such, I changed my plans for the following day and I’m so glad I did. Okay, it meant removing a drive around the Ronda valleys which were to be some of the better roads I’d planned, but I had a new target.
Gibraltar.
Monday, 3rd June
I got a really early start and ploughed down the motorways at a good pace, and while it was almost gut-wrenching to see the mountains off to the side, knowing that I should be driving them, I had only the one goal in mind.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZq7c_6bNzg
Cue obligatory embarrassing posing pic
The body count was getting a little excessive here too now.
Gibraltar is an incredibly strange, yet incredibly rewarding place to visit. It’s like driving on a film set, where everything initially seems real but at the same time quite odd. What I can’t understand is why they use British traffic lights, road signs and even road cones: Surely all these things would be much cheaper to source from Spain? And yet, that’s part of the attraction, part of the “Up yours, we’re British!” attitude. I can totally understand that.
It’s a very tiny place, and some of the roads are horrendously narrow even for a boggo 911. It’s not a place where’d you’d drive with anything other than full concentration, else you’d be losing a wheel arch. Very steep too, but then I’m not sure what else I was expecting really. Truth be told I didn’t know what to expect, and I had no idea what was there. Sadly I didn’t have too much time to explore, but I did manage to go up to the nature reserve to find this little chap:
Note for anyone else thinking of visiting the reserve: When they say take a taxi, they don’t mean because it’s hard to find or too busy, they mean because there is literally zero room to park there and the roads are horrendously steep! Luckily I got chatting with the security guards there and they let me basically park where I wanted, but I was damn glad my handbrake was working well.
The hotel for the night was in Algeciras, and was a wonderfully quaint Victorian-style place. Algeciras itself is a typical port town, but the hotel was like stepping back in time. Very pretty, and a lovely place to unwind with the realisation that wherever I went from here, it was putting me closer to home.
Tuesday, 4th June
Today was only ever about getting from A to Z, from Algeciras to Zamora, just to get me up the country. It was all motorways which aren’t particularly exciting to drive nor write about, however I did have one treat for myself today.
The Hotel Valbusenda.
It was the one treat I’d allowed myself in terms of accommodation. Five stars, full spa, winery attached, the works. To pinch an incredibly old but true cliché, I’ll let the pictures do the talking here.
Not bad, eh? Weather was perfect, about 25c, and the hotel was basically empty with only one other couple staying there so it was as close to having a private hotel as I’m ever likely to get. The staff could not do enough for you, although they were slightly puzzled as to why I wanted to park the car myself in their underground car park. Nothing against them at all, it was just that I wanted to know where it was so I could nip back and get bits and pieces from the frunk at my leisure.
I quite liked that every time you ordered a drink, you got this rather funky coloured crisps and olive combo:
Neat, huh? That was just a hint of the culinary delight I was about to experience.
The food. Oh my god, the food. Quite simply the best meal I have ever had.
Asparagus mousse and smoked sturgeon.
Main of oxtail in rich local red wine gravy on a bed of potato and white chocolate foam with some pink flowers and a pink foam on top. Oh, and some funky see-through wafer thing.
Dessert of crepe with crushed oranges, cointreau and chocolate ice cream.
I wish I was a better writer so I could describe for you exactly just how good the food was, but I’m not sadly. A smashing of flavours and textures (asparagus in a mousse? White chocolate potato?) as well as some decidedly sumptuously cooked meats (I’ve never had sturgeon or oxtail before) meant that it was a revelation in how good food can be, especially when you’re not expecting it.
It was amazing. Truly, incredibly, amazing. If you’ve ever done wrong by the other half, take them here for the weekend and I guarantee you’ll be back in the good books again. I didn’t get time to explore the winery, which is a shame as the full tasting tour looked excellent, but doesn’t tend to agree with driving so much. Next time, I’ve promised myself. They give you two free bottles of wine to keep as well, a rose which we’ve already devoured and a red we’re saving.
I allowed my inner Liberace to come out for the night, and had a soothing bath whilst watching Spanish Masterchef. Yeah, I was quite relaxed that evening.
Wednesday, 5th June
Today should’ve seen me crossing some mountains after a quick detour into Portugal, however some things just aren’t meant to be. Before that though, the first failure of the day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6dfxWF4C2A
Don’t worry, I managed to fix it in the end. Obviously it was the 12v fuse that had gone, although it did take me two attempts to find the right fuse. In days gone by I’ve converted an NA engine into a turbocharged one, and stripped to the bare bones more than the one car with the intention of flogging bits so it had to be done with care, but it’s amazing how blank your mind can go with something as simple as changing a fuse.
The detour into Portugal was fascinating, as I’d never been there before and had no idea what to expect. It was very much like Spain, of course, but it was the little things that made it interesting. Different fauna planted by the roads, for example, and villages laid out in ways that were very un-Spanish. It’s very hard to describe, but I’d love to go back there again I think. Of course, all this driving would be nothing without a little tomfoolery…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjqBK9nbdts
Launch control! I had no idea that the spoiler raised itself on the 911 when you do that, as you can’t see it from the cabin. You’ll note that I clearly didn’t clamp the GoPro down enough, as the whole thing dives when I come off the gas at the end of the straight. Meant that a whole load of what I’d hoped would be good footage was basically pointing at the floor. Oops.
And then I hit my next failure. And this one wasn’t a simple fuse.
Basically, in the past I've had a minor brush with acrophobia. Nothing extreme, mostly when at work and I'm climbing a vertical ladder or multi-level scaffold and I get this odd feeling like my ankles want to lock up. They don't, and I push through and I'm fine. A couple of days back when on the mountain stuff in Spain I had a very similar feeling, but ignored it and carried on. I thought it was just one of those things. It wasn't.
I was climbing a mountain today, only 1850m above sea level but it was in a quarry so very steep sides. Bit of snow still on top, even when the valley below is 30c, but the roads were perfectly dry. Suddenly I had a very acute awareness of the height of the mountain and how far the car could fall if I got it wrong, and my ankles suddenly went very tight. Almost to the point where I had to stop driving, kind of tight. It's hard to explain if you've never suffered, but it was a horrible feeling and I descended the mountain slower than any car has ever possibly done so before. I was glad to get held up behind a Citroen Xsara, just to slow the pace and give me something to follow. Usually I reckon you could take the corners happily at 70mph in a normal car: I was struggling to get to 50mph.
When the car breaks it’s fine, it’s fixable. When your head breaks, what do you do? To say I was a little down at this point is an understatement, and when I’ve driven the IoM course loads of times in the past and even in this same car, I couldn’t understand it. What do you do when you’ve designed a whole trip around driving mountains, and then you suddenly can’t stand to be on them?
You change things, that’s what. I checked the route that night in the hotel, and it was easy enough to remove a mountain section and chuck in a beach section, and I also amended my route at the end of the trip as well. I knew I’d be a couple of days short of the D-Day anniversary, but I wanted to visit the Normandy beaches again so I put them in. Not a worse route, just a different one.
Thursday, 6th June
Turns out my newly-discovered phobia saved me a world of grief, as when I awoke this morning I peered out of the window to gaze upon the mountain tops, only to discover they were covered in thick fog. Even without the mental block, there would’ve been no point driving over them.
Instead, I headed towards one of the beaches that Google said was worth a visit, and it was indeed very pretty. I couldn’t tell you what it was called sadly, and nor did I get any decent photos of the place. The beach was invaded by a group of school kids, guessing 12-13 years old, and a single bloke hanging around such an area with a flipping great camera taking photos was probably not such a good idea, so I left rather sharpish!
I then had what I thought was a masterplan.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_FIQxl0lYA
Best laid plans and all that.
Friday, 7th June
To give a further indication of just how changeable the weather conditions were on this trip, I preset this video as evidence.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mvFkAGQbtk
Madness.
I'm not sure if it's me that jinxed, but just as I came out of the tunnel the visibilty was near zero and probably worse in real life than the video makes out. Bizarrely once I'd cleared that little section I had gorgeous sunshine the rest of the way up, and I mean proper 100% sun with zero clouds. It was lovely, temps peaked at 31c which was the hottest I'd seen all trip. Sod's law on the last day though.
I made good time on the motorways due to being able to cruise at 140kph indicated, so about 135kph in real terms. Limit is 130kph, but you're never going to get flashed or pulled for doing 5kph over the limit and it's surprising just how much that little bit extra makes to good progress and not getting stuck behind things. I know for a fact you won't get a tug for those speeds as I had a Renault 3-up with gendarmes come steaming up behind me as I was mid-overtake, and I'll be damned if I was going to speed up just in case they were looking for an easy Rosbif target so I left my speed as it was, and they flew past me when I pulled in.
After coming all this way, would it not be rude to fail to stop for the obligatory pic here?
I’ve never been to Le Mans this early before the race, and it was kinda nice to be there when it was really empty and with a few workmen still dotted around the place putting up signs and barriers. Normally when I come here the place is heaving with petrolheads for the race itself, and it was a very different atmosphere. Charming is probably the right word.
Left LM and headed straight for the Ibis I'd booked in Caen. Found it first time, rocked up and was promptly told that I had no booking. I said I did, and that I'd had the confirmation email from Expedia. I was then told that they don't deal with Expedia, so I showed him the email. Turns out I was trying to check into the Ibis Budget, and that the Ibis Regular was literally right behind the cheaper one. Ah well, at least I got the better end of that deal!
Saturday, 8th June
The end of the trip. As disappointed as I was to have reached the end of my adventure, I couldn't have wished for a better end.
My hotel in Caen put me within perfect distance to visit the Normandy D-Day beaches in the morning, a place I'd been before but had always promised myself I'd go back to as there is so much to see and do. Five years ago I managed to see Utah, Omaha and Gold beaches, so I'd already made up my mind to go see Juno and Sword today. First off though, I had to go back to Omaha.
That last picture is the US cemetery. Due to the recent rainfall the plots were closed so I couldn't really get any more decent images, but the scale of the place is immense.
I make no apologies for having precious little to say about these beaches, museums and cemeteries, but only because words can never do them justice. The whole area of Normandy encompassing all the varies beaches and visitor spots is one huge monument to the appreciation and gratitude that still exists from the French to the Allies for their efforts and losses on 6th June, 1944. Flags fly everywhere, and wherever there is a Tricolore there is a Union Jack or a Stars And Stripes to accompany it. Forget everything you ever thought you knew about how the three nations have a mocking grudge for each other: That goes all out the window in Normandy.
I challenge anyone to visit the area and not feel an incredible emotional attachment to the place, and what happened there. To say I had a lump in my throat at times during both visits is an understatement. It's a very powerful place, and one I would encourage everyone to visit at least once.
Anyway, after a brief visit to Omaha and the cemetery I went in search of Juno and Sword. Juno was fairly easy to find, being as it is right on Courseulles-sur-Mer front and well signposted. There's not much there to tell the truth, but again I felt it should be a place I should go to.
Sword was a little trickier to find, as it's a massive beach split into various towns. I stumbled across the second most westerly town, Langrune-sur-Mer, by accident. A pleasant enough place, but again not much there. Time was against me at this point, however I decided to press on and see if there was anything at the easterly most village, Ouistreham. I am so very, very glad I did.
As I turned down a random street towards the beach, I saw a huge throng of a couple of thousand people in the town square, so I abandoned the car and set back to see what was happening. It turned out that as part of the 69th anniversary celebrations, they had invited all the Scots regiments piper and drumming bands over, along with some Swiss and other nations who I didn't catch. They were playing God Save The Queen as I walked up, then La Marseillaise, and then finally Flower Of Scotland. There were a few veterans milling around too, some in wheelchairs and some still quite nimble of foot, all proudly displaying their medals. After the anthems, and a few words from the organiser, we had this:
A Spitfire did a fly-by and looped four times over us. Given the location, and the occasion, truly a lump-in-throat moment for all attending. If at any point I'd got lost in traffic, or stuck around somewhere else for a bit, or even stopped for a quick toilet break, I'd have missed all this. If really did feel like fate was on my side today.
The final monument I saw, at Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer, where 48th Royal Marines landed first to take the western side of Sword. Really makes you proud to be British, standing there in the footsteps of heroes that have gone before.
And that was that. A quick Eurotunnel trip led to an uneventful and early arrival home. Nearly a month on and I’ve still not washed the car, nor really driven it anyway apart from back to my local OPC who gave it a check over for me (nothing wrong at all, apart from a sparrow in the rads). I still find it bizarre to think back and realise that I did all this completely on my own, and perhaps even more so that I really enjoyed nearly every second of it. Would I do it again? Absolutely.
I’ll leave you with one last pic, which I think sums up the trip rather nicely. And yes, that’s door to door.
The plan started off simple enough. A road trip to Spain with some mates. Somehow fate conspired against us and the usual group of folks I go driving with all ended up on different schedules for 2013, so there was only one real alternative: Sod it, I’m doing this alone.
One man. Four countries. Ten days. Mode of transport: 997.2 C2S.
Never having visited mainland Spain before, but having lived in Gran Canaria for a while 10 years ago, I had only a vague idea of what to expect but I knew that it was a place I wanted to visit. I couldn’t quite work out where I should prioritise, never having been, so decided that visiting all of it was probably the best idea! Andorra and Portugal were added in as minor detours just to say I’d been, although in hindsight I’d have left one of them out…
Thursday, 30th May
The looooong run down to southern France, in the one day. Early start needed for the Eurotunnel.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqhozUni3ak
Apart from the atrocious weather, which meant the reduced speed limit on the French autoroutes, everything seemed to be going well. Until I started seeing road signs that I wasn’t familiar with, which meant that I about to enter Paris. Ah.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbFrfu3Z0VQ
Yes, my own silly fault for just relying on the sat-nav, I know. Lesson very harshly learnt! To top it off, the sat-navs then decided to take me right through the centre of Toulouse as well, which meant more delays. With the last check-in time of my hotel fresh in my mind, I kept a close eye on the clock. I ended up making a quick call to my wife back home, to ask her to ring the hotel in Pau and inform them that I might be a little late, which bless her she did. At about 20:45 the hotel rang me direct, and the monsieur on the end of the phone gave me instructions on how to pick my room key up as the reception was about to close. I finally reached the hotel at 21:30, a full 15 hours after I left that morning.
Thankfully, Pau is blessed with a McDonald’s just round the corner from my hotel so I didn’t even go hungry that night, although it wasn’t exactly the French gourmet feast I’d hoped for.
Friday, 31st May
Today I was going to hit Spain! It had to be a better day than Thursday, didn’t it? First step was getting over the Pyrenees. It was still raining, but surely that wouldn’t matter much as I crossed over the mountains.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBs5mPTB5q0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMrTSlZj0hA
Sums it up pretty well in those two vids, I think! Never having driven the 911 in the snow before, especially on RE050As, things were getting a little more mobile up there than I would’ve liked, and I still can’t decide whether the PDK was helping or hindering me.
So I wasted approximately 2 hours by having to turn around and take what is the main route for lorries to enter Spain, which also happens to be a pretty damn good bit of road anyway, even in the rain. There’s a 6km tunnel at the end, which of course means you end up going through it in 2nd and 3rd gears. Be rude not to.
So I finally get to Spain, and it’s as if someone was looking down upon me and thought, “Yeah, this poor guy has had it pretty rough, let’s go easy on him now”. The skies cleared, the roads opened up, and I was left with this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D15pdZUqoSc
Stunning. The N260 is one of the great driving roads anywhere, with smooth empty tarmac and that gorgeous vista. Absolutely beautiful.
What is slightly less beautiful is Andorra. Perhaps that’s just me being overly-critical of the place due to circumstance though. You see, I saw Andorra twice. The final few hours of this day went a bit like this.
Entered Andorra. 45 mins from hotel. Sunny. Southern Andorra reminds me a bit of Monaco.
Hit a bit of traffic. Still okay, 40 mins from hotel. Skies clouding over.
Going up through Andorra. Skies are grey. Looks like Tower Hamlets now.
Hit the top of Andorra. It snows again. Brilliant. Not too bad though, and I’m going down from this point anyway. Just 15 mins from hotel.
Descend mountain, find tunnel is shut. Have to drive all the way back through Andorra again. 3 hours from hotel.
To say I was slightly unimpressed at this point would be a massive understatement, and it was a real low point of the journey. All by myself, no-one to share the pain with, very frustrating. The hotel in Puigcerda that evening was okay but the food menu was limited and quite posh, and my narrow palate meant I didn’t have a lot to eat. So I drank instead! I have to admit though, at this point I was starting to question whether this trip was a good idea at all.
Saturday, 1st June
Breakfast at the hotel was much improved, so I filled my belly and set off. Plenty of coastal roads today, and although it was once again raining first thing it brightened up pretty quickly. That meant I could make good progress to get to the really good stuff.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=005UFYcc0F4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75atLIYnXvk
Plenty of wannabe-Wiggos to keep an eye out for, but otherwise it was fantastic. I did so well that I even had time to stop at the top for a bit and grab some sun, just watching some folks frolicking about on the beach below whilst keeping an ear out for anything interesting coming my way. The current gen V8 ‘Stang and the 991 cab made some seriously epic noises bouncing off the cliff walls, I could hear them long after I couldn’t see them anymore. It was really nice just to finally get some time to spare and waste, I can tell you.
I took a detour through Barcelona as I really wanted to see the Nou Camp, although I hadn’t realised that it was their final game of the season which great because it was a hive of activity, but bad because it meant I had literally nowhere close by to park and grab some photos. That was a shame, but I think that dull pictures of an empty stadium wouldn’t have been as good as memories of a bustling crowd of all ages, pumped for the game. Tbh if I’d have known I’d probably have tried to get a ticket, but never mind.
I pressed on to my hotel in Tarragona, which although situated in an industrial estate in between Nissan and Volvo dealerships, was really good. Well decorated, good interweb access, just one downside: Their restaurant didn’t open at the weekend! I got room service to make me a cheese pizza, which truth be told was better than I made it sound.
Sunday, 2nd June
Today was taking me from Tarragona to Cartegena, via Valencia. Why Valencia?
F1 street circuit! Obligatory pic of the car on pole was a must, and I was surprised by how much of it seemed open and walkable. I wasn’t entirely brave enough to park the car up and have a proper nose around though, as the parking signs were pretty unclear and getting towed away at this point would not have been good. Nor surprising, what with my luck so far.
And no prizes for guessing where I stuck my GoPro on the car.
Travelling on, by complete random I saw this parked up and decided that a quick comparison shot was too good to miss:
The size difference is clearly very stark, but I do still like how the family resemblance has carried on through despite decades between them. Beautiful colour too, and I don’t mean the filthy black one. It was clean when I left Blighty, I promise.
Los Alcazares turns out to be a bit of a Benidorm-lite, which kinda worked out pretty well for me here. I was feeling like I needed some civilisation at this point, so I abandoned the car and just walked until I hit this:
After the long days driving, and the stress at the start, it was so good just to take my shoes off and walk in the sea. Temperature of sun, sea and sand was perfect, and this was the first point where I truly felt like I was on holiday. I’ve not had a beach holiday for about 15 years, and all those childhood memories just came flooding back and I finally simply relaxed.
Sitting on the beach, paying no attention to the topless ladeez at all, it was at this point that I decided that as much as I wanted to do some serious driving on this trip, I also needed a holiday. As such, I changed my plans for the following day and I’m so glad I did. Okay, it meant removing a drive around the Ronda valleys which were to be some of the better roads I’d planned, but I had a new target.
Gibraltar.
Monday, 3rd June
I got a really early start and ploughed down the motorways at a good pace, and while it was almost gut-wrenching to see the mountains off to the side, knowing that I should be driving them, I had only the one goal in mind.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZq7c_6bNzg
Cue obligatory embarrassing posing pic
The body count was getting a little excessive here too now.
Gibraltar is an incredibly strange, yet incredibly rewarding place to visit. It’s like driving on a film set, where everything initially seems real but at the same time quite odd. What I can’t understand is why they use British traffic lights, road signs and even road cones: Surely all these things would be much cheaper to source from Spain? And yet, that’s part of the attraction, part of the “Up yours, we’re British!” attitude. I can totally understand that.
It’s a very tiny place, and some of the roads are horrendously narrow even for a boggo 911. It’s not a place where’d you’d drive with anything other than full concentration, else you’d be losing a wheel arch. Very steep too, but then I’m not sure what else I was expecting really. Truth be told I didn’t know what to expect, and I had no idea what was there. Sadly I didn’t have too much time to explore, but I did manage to go up to the nature reserve to find this little chap:
Note for anyone else thinking of visiting the reserve: When they say take a taxi, they don’t mean because it’s hard to find or too busy, they mean because there is literally zero room to park there and the roads are horrendously steep! Luckily I got chatting with the security guards there and they let me basically park where I wanted, but I was damn glad my handbrake was working well.
The hotel for the night was in Algeciras, and was a wonderfully quaint Victorian-style place. Algeciras itself is a typical port town, but the hotel was like stepping back in time. Very pretty, and a lovely place to unwind with the realisation that wherever I went from here, it was putting me closer to home.
Tuesday, 4th June
Today was only ever about getting from A to Z, from Algeciras to Zamora, just to get me up the country. It was all motorways which aren’t particularly exciting to drive nor write about, however I did have one treat for myself today.
The Hotel Valbusenda.
It was the one treat I’d allowed myself in terms of accommodation. Five stars, full spa, winery attached, the works. To pinch an incredibly old but true cliché, I’ll let the pictures do the talking here.
Not bad, eh? Weather was perfect, about 25c, and the hotel was basically empty with only one other couple staying there so it was as close to having a private hotel as I’m ever likely to get. The staff could not do enough for you, although they were slightly puzzled as to why I wanted to park the car myself in their underground car park. Nothing against them at all, it was just that I wanted to know where it was so I could nip back and get bits and pieces from the frunk at my leisure.
I quite liked that every time you ordered a drink, you got this rather funky coloured crisps and olive combo:
Neat, huh? That was just a hint of the culinary delight I was about to experience.
The food. Oh my god, the food. Quite simply the best meal I have ever had.
Asparagus mousse and smoked sturgeon.
Main of oxtail in rich local red wine gravy on a bed of potato and white chocolate foam with some pink flowers and a pink foam on top. Oh, and some funky see-through wafer thing.
Dessert of crepe with crushed oranges, cointreau and chocolate ice cream.
I wish I was a better writer so I could describe for you exactly just how good the food was, but I’m not sadly. A smashing of flavours and textures (asparagus in a mousse? White chocolate potato?) as well as some decidedly sumptuously cooked meats (I’ve never had sturgeon or oxtail before) meant that it was a revelation in how good food can be, especially when you’re not expecting it.
It was amazing. Truly, incredibly, amazing. If you’ve ever done wrong by the other half, take them here for the weekend and I guarantee you’ll be back in the good books again. I didn’t get time to explore the winery, which is a shame as the full tasting tour looked excellent, but doesn’t tend to agree with driving so much. Next time, I’ve promised myself. They give you two free bottles of wine to keep as well, a rose which we’ve already devoured and a red we’re saving.
I allowed my inner Liberace to come out for the night, and had a soothing bath whilst watching Spanish Masterchef. Yeah, I was quite relaxed that evening.
Wednesday, 5th June
Today should’ve seen me crossing some mountains after a quick detour into Portugal, however some things just aren’t meant to be. Before that though, the first failure of the day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6dfxWF4C2A
Don’t worry, I managed to fix it in the end. Obviously it was the 12v fuse that had gone, although it did take me two attempts to find the right fuse. In days gone by I’ve converted an NA engine into a turbocharged one, and stripped to the bare bones more than the one car with the intention of flogging bits so it had to be done with care, but it’s amazing how blank your mind can go with something as simple as changing a fuse.
The detour into Portugal was fascinating, as I’d never been there before and had no idea what to expect. It was very much like Spain, of course, but it was the little things that made it interesting. Different fauna planted by the roads, for example, and villages laid out in ways that were very un-Spanish. It’s very hard to describe, but I’d love to go back there again I think. Of course, all this driving would be nothing without a little tomfoolery…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjqBK9nbdts
Launch control! I had no idea that the spoiler raised itself on the 911 when you do that, as you can’t see it from the cabin. You’ll note that I clearly didn’t clamp the GoPro down enough, as the whole thing dives when I come off the gas at the end of the straight. Meant that a whole load of what I’d hoped would be good footage was basically pointing at the floor. Oops.
And then I hit my next failure. And this one wasn’t a simple fuse.
Basically, in the past I've had a minor brush with acrophobia. Nothing extreme, mostly when at work and I'm climbing a vertical ladder or multi-level scaffold and I get this odd feeling like my ankles want to lock up. They don't, and I push through and I'm fine. A couple of days back when on the mountain stuff in Spain I had a very similar feeling, but ignored it and carried on. I thought it was just one of those things. It wasn't.
I was climbing a mountain today, only 1850m above sea level but it was in a quarry so very steep sides. Bit of snow still on top, even when the valley below is 30c, but the roads were perfectly dry. Suddenly I had a very acute awareness of the height of the mountain and how far the car could fall if I got it wrong, and my ankles suddenly went very tight. Almost to the point where I had to stop driving, kind of tight. It's hard to explain if you've never suffered, but it was a horrible feeling and I descended the mountain slower than any car has ever possibly done so before. I was glad to get held up behind a Citroen Xsara, just to slow the pace and give me something to follow. Usually I reckon you could take the corners happily at 70mph in a normal car: I was struggling to get to 50mph.
When the car breaks it’s fine, it’s fixable. When your head breaks, what do you do? To say I was a little down at this point is an understatement, and when I’ve driven the IoM course loads of times in the past and even in this same car, I couldn’t understand it. What do you do when you’ve designed a whole trip around driving mountains, and then you suddenly can’t stand to be on them?
You change things, that’s what. I checked the route that night in the hotel, and it was easy enough to remove a mountain section and chuck in a beach section, and I also amended my route at the end of the trip as well. I knew I’d be a couple of days short of the D-Day anniversary, but I wanted to visit the Normandy beaches again so I put them in. Not a worse route, just a different one.
Thursday, 6th June
Turns out my newly-discovered phobia saved me a world of grief, as when I awoke this morning I peered out of the window to gaze upon the mountain tops, only to discover they were covered in thick fog. Even without the mental block, there would’ve been no point driving over them.
Instead, I headed towards one of the beaches that Google said was worth a visit, and it was indeed very pretty. I couldn’t tell you what it was called sadly, and nor did I get any decent photos of the place. The beach was invaded by a group of school kids, guessing 12-13 years old, and a single bloke hanging around such an area with a flipping great camera taking photos was probably not such a good idea, so I left rather sharpish!
I then had what I thought was a masterplan.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_FIQxl0lYA
Best laid plans and all that.
Friday, 7th June
To give a further indication of just how changeable the weather conditions were on this trip, I preset this video as evidence.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mvFkAGQbtk
Madness.
I'm not sure if it's me that jinxed, but just as I came out of the tunnel the visibilty was near zero and probably worse in real life than the video makes out. Bizarrely once I'd cleared that little section I had gorgeous sunshine the rest of the way up, and I mean proper 100% sun with zero clouds. It was lovely, temps peaked at 31c which was the hottest I'd seen all trip. Sod's law on the last day though.
I made good time on the motorways due to being able to cruise at 140kph indicated, so about 135kph in real terms. Limit is 130kph, but you're never going to get flashed or pulled for doing 5kph over the limit and it's surprising just how much that little bit extra makes to good progress and not getting stuck behind things. I know for a fact you won't get a tug for those speeds as I had a Renault 3-up with gendarmes come steaming up behind me as I was mid-overtake, and I'll be damned if I was going to speed up just in case they were looking for an easy Rosbif target so I left my speed as it was, and they flew past me when I pulled in.
After coming all this way, would it not be rude to fail to stop for the obligatory pic here?
I’ve never been to Le Mans this early before the race, and it was kinda nice to be there when it was really empty and with a few workmen still dotted around the place putting up signs and barriers. Normally when I come here the place is heaving with petrolheads for the race itself, and it was a very different atmosphere. Charming is probably the right word.
Left LM and headed straight for the Ibis I'd booked in Caen. Found it first time, rocked up and was promptly told that I had no booking. I said I did, and that I'd had the confirmation email from Expedia. I was then told that they don't deal with Expedia, so I showed him the email. Turns out I was trying to check into the Ibis Budget, and that the Ibis Regular was literally right behind the cheaper one. Ah well, at least I got the better end of that deal!
Saturday, 8th June
The end of the trip. As disappointed as I was to have reached the end of my adventure, I couldn't have wished for a better end.
My hotel in Caen put me within perfect distance to visit the Normandy D-Day beaches in the morning, a place I'd been before but had always promised myself I'd go back to as there is so much to see and do. Five years ago I managed to see Utah, Omaha and Gold beaches, so I'd already made up my mind to go see Juno and Sword today. First off though, I had to go back to Omaha.
That last picture is the US cemetery. Due to the recent rainfall the plots were closed so I couldn't really get any more decent images, but the scale of the place is immense.
I make no apologies for having precious little to say about these beaches, museums and cemeteries, but only because words can never do them justice. The whole area of Normandy encompassing all the varies beaches and visitor spots is one huge monument to the appreciation and gratitude that still exists from the French to the Allies for their efforts and losses on 6th June, 1944. Flags fly everywhere, and wherever there is a Tricolore there is a Union Jack or a Stars And Stripes to accompany it. Forget everything you ever thought you knew about how the three nations have a mocking grudge for each other: That goes all out the window in Normandy.
I challenge anyone to visit the area and not feel an incredible emotional attachment to the place, and what happened there. To say I had a lump in my throat at times during both visits is an understatement. It's a very powerful place, and one I would encourage everyone to visit at least once.
Anyway, after a brief visit to Omaha and the cemetery I went in search of Juno and Sword. Juno was fairly easy to find, being as it is right on Courseulles-sur-Mer front and well signposted. There's not much there to tell the truth, but again I felt it should be a place I should go to.
Sword was a little trickier to find, as it's a massive beach split into various towns. I stumbled across the second most westerly town, Langrune-sur-Mer, by accident. A pleasant enough place, but again not much there. Time was against me at this point, however I decided to press on and see if there was anything at the easterly most village, Ouistreham. I am so very, very glad I did.
As I turned down a random street towards the beach, I saw a huge throng of a couple of thousand people in the town square, so I abandoned the car and set back to see what was happening. It turned out that as part of the 69th anniversary celebrations, they had invited all the Scots regiments piper and drumming bands over, along with some Swiss and other nations who I didn't catch. They were playing God Save The Queen as I walked up, then La Marseillaise, and then finally Flower Of Scotland. There were a few veterans milling around too, some in wheelchairs and some still quite nimble of foot, all proudly displaying their medals. After the anthems, and a few words from the organiser, we had this:
A Spitfire did a fly-by and looped four times over us. Given the location, and the occasion, truly a lump-in-throat moment for all attending. If at any point I'd got lost in traffic, or stuck around somewhere else for a bit, or even stopped for a quick toilet break, I'd have missed all this. If really did feel like fate was on my side today.
The final monument I saw, at Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer, where 48th Royal Marines landed first to take the western side of Sword. Really makes you proud to be British, standing there in the footsteps of heroes that have gone before.
And that was that. A quick Eurotunnel trip led to an uneventful and early arrival home. Nearly a month on and I’ve still not washed the car, nor really driven it anyway apart from back to my local OPC who gave it a check over for me (nothing wrong at all, apart from a sparrow in the rads). I still find it bizarre to think back and realise that I did all this completely on my own, and perhaps even more so that I really enjoyed nearly every second of it. Would I do it again? Absolutely.
I’ll leave you with one last pic, which I think sums up the trip rather nicely. And yes, that’s door to door.
Thanks for taking the time to write up the trip! Looks like you had a great time.
We hit the N260 again last month. Towards the end of May from Andorra heading towards Asturias.
What I love about these kind of trips is the changing weather. 30 minutes later we moved out of the snow, into perfect dry conditions.
We hit the N260 again last month. Towards the end of May from Andorra heading towards Asturias.
What I love about these kind of trips is the changing weather. 30 minutes later we moved out of the snow, into perfect dry conditions.
Edited by redback911 on Sunday 30th June 11:24
Flanders. said:
You have me very excited for my Road trip to Italy in two weeks. Although my Charriot isn't quite as nice as your's 
.
. You're a brave soul doing that run in the Corsa, but I do have to doff my hat to you sir, fair play! Let us know how it goes, whereabouts in Italy are you heading for?gaz1234 said:
how much did it cost you out of interest mr harris ?
Heh, Mr Harris.?It actually wasn't all that bad. I've not done the full sums (as it would scare me too much), but having checked my credit card balance since I've been back I reckon the whole trip cost about £2K. Well, ish, might be a couple of hundred over, but for 10 days of almost motoring paradise I reckon it was worth it.
Ekona said:
You're a brave soul doing that run in the Corsa, but I do have to doff my hat to you sir, fair play! Let us know how it goes, whereabouts in Italy are you heading for?Ekona said:
Heh, Mr Harris.
It actually wasn't all that bad. I've not done the full sums (as it would scare me too much), but having checked my credit card balance since I've been back I reckon the whole trip cost about £2K. Well, ish, might be a couple of hundred over, but for 10 days of almost motoring paradise I reckon it was worth it.
thought it would be around that figure, about right.It actually wasn't all that bad. I've not done the full sums (as it would scare me too much), but having checked my credit card balance since I've been back I reckon the whole trip cost about £2K. Well, ish, might be a couple of hundred over, but for 10 days of almost motoring paradise I reckon it was worth it.
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