Motril 7th and 8th October

We drove from Almeria along the coast towards Motril. We were going to stop at a spot called Calahonda which was also on the beach, a pretty little not too developed beach, with fishing boats tied up under the cliffs at one end and a stoney shore closer to where we parked. While Hilary and i were out wandering along the stones picking up beutiful coloured and smooth "treasures" Di stayed in the van. When we got back, Di expressed her discomfort with the spot, apparently while we were out a number of blokes of dubious character had circled the truck on bikes (not all at the same time) but she didn't feel very secure and the area was reasonably deserted. So we shut up shop and headed to Motril a few dozen or so kms further south. We found the spot we were to stay reasonably easily, headed to the port as the book suggested and found a sandy car park right on the beach, with one other campervan parked up. There was a group of british blokes taking people (for a fee) up on these parachute/sail/buggy things. They raced down the beach and somehow managed to take off for a scenic flight over the Motril area before coming in to land at pace again quite sometime later. Looked like fun, but the though of the jarring when they landed again, and my already weak and often sore lumbar region put me off, so no enquiries about price were made.

The Magnificent men and their flying machines

The rest of the evening we sat in the truck relaxing and then admiring the setting sun, taking photos from the doorway of the van, and marvelling at how lucky we were/are to be having this experience, sleeping in our truck on a beach with views like this out the window.

Hilary, the runner (or Rodin's "Thinker")

The next day we biked the few kms up from the port to the town. Not a very inspiring town at all, we did a bit of shopping at some interesting and slightly different shops, knick-nacs and souvenir type things, but our highlight was coffee and for Hilary hot chocolate and Churros which she had been pining for since being told about them. They are a crisp doughnut type stick things (all fat and carbos, dipped in sugar, which you then dip in your thick hot chocolate and gobble contentedly!), as you can imagine they went down a treat.

Trying churros and hot chocolate

Parts of the town were quite pretty but nothing worth looking at was open so we just had a bit of a bike around admiring plantings and buildings before biking back to the truck for another pleasant evening.

Motril street scenes