The drive further south from Isla Plana was a journey into the arid and even more intense agri-commerce of northern Andalucia. We headed north to pick up the free A7, rather than the coastal and toll-booth-rich AP7. As we neared the coast at the Cabo de Gata natural park that we have visited a few times in the past, and even though we knew what to expect, the full horror of the consequence of cheap fruit and veg from Spain was splashed all over the campo with mile after mile after mile of plastic polytunnels.
Putting our northern European landscape appreciating prejudices to one side, it was a sobering reminder that this is one of the few industries that provide work outside of tourism, in a region of Spain that still suffers from high unemployment. So some selective viewing tempered with economic realism was the order of the day.
Which is why we opted for a site just down the coast from one we had stayed at in the winter of 2016 in Roquetas, in full knowledge of the probable close proximity of plenty of plastic.
The drive down to the coast at Balerma was a plastic lover’s wet dream come true, with hardly anything visible except the odd building dotted amongst the sea of polytunnels. As the plastic gave way to the small town of Balerma on the coast, we expected some respite along the littoral, but no – our campsite, Mar Azul, had literally been carved out of what was once a gap in the campo between the poly-tunnels, and was surrounded on three sides by plastic, with the fourth letting onto the beach.
Whilst not the prettiest of beaches we have seen on this trip, it was mile after mile of uninterrupted coastline with hardly a soul about. So all we needed now for our last beach-focussed Mediterranean sun-soaked stop over was some sun. Hmm. Well, we knew it was up there as it was toasty warm in the mid 20s and around 20c at night – but those rich blue Andalucian skies we have known and loved were hidden behind hazy cloud for the beginning of our stay.
This didn’t deter us though, and our first day saw us mounting up on Freddie and Fanny the folders and cycling north to the port of Almerimar
Part compacted sand, part road and part pimped-up cycle path, our journey took us past the best named topographical feature we have seen in a while – Punta Culo de Perros – dog’s arse point! We are still none the wiser how it came to be called this, and on some maps it’s just Guardias Viejas, which at least links to the old Castilian ‘Carabineros’ we saw on a building near a small hill fort on the point. These Carabineros the old coast guard/customs corps, disbanded in 1940 by Franco for their allegiance to the Republican cause. (And not to be confused with posh prawns, which came up first on Mr B’s interweb search!)
Passing loads of excellent free camping spots en route, we eventually arrived at the edge of a slowly spreading urbanisation of what looked like holiday flats, now mainly empty, all along the coastline.
Agreeing that this section of the coast was considerably less picturesque than our cycling adventures from Roquetas in 2016, Mrs B suggested that we should at least continue into the port itself and look for a place to eat. Which is how we discovered a charming ‘Area de Autocaravanas’ right on the harbour by the boats.
At €15 a night with electricity, showers and water, we thought this might be an interesting final night option before we travelled further west into Andalucia.
Wandering around the campervans we spotted what looked like a fellow Brit camper, so we went over to have a chat. After a good natter about van-life with Martin and Geri, who were full timing their way around Europe and elsewhere, we had to take a photo of their number plate on their much more modern version of Evie – what a cracking way to make statement after selling up in the UK and hitting the road!
After learning from them that whilst pretty, the location did have a lively night-time economy, with a nearby disco from 1030pm until 6.00am at weekends, we put the idea of a visit on the back burner and went off to enjoy lunch at one of the many harbourside restos. Where we got to enjoy our first proper tapas of the trip, with a drink and a tapa at €3, what’s not to like!
Stocking up with our first bottle of Manzanilla sherry (we’ve been looking but this is the first time we’ve seen it on sale) we arrived back at the campsite with a 12 mile cycle under our belts – and Mrs B wondering out loud about the benefits of an electric folder…
Mar Azul is another truly international site, with Finns, Swedes, Bulgarians, Hungarians and Norwegians adding to the ubiquitous assortment of German, Dutch, Belgian, and French campers, with a few Brits and Spanish thrown in for good measure! We experienced a continuous ebb and flow around our pitch, realising we were clearly in the ‘short stay’ road!
The site also provided us with a glimpse into the ultra-expensive end of campervan life, with an enormous Bliss-mobile 6x6 truck better suited to the Sahara, amongst the enormous coach size behemoths dotted around the site. But our favourite giant was a home made one we saw in the port!
As the weather perked up we did what we do best; decided to stay on a bit longer and enjoy the delights of a toasty Mediterranean for a bit longer. Which is how we ended up discovering the delights of the nearby town of Balerma, dismissed as ‘scruffy’ in a number of ACSI reviews, we had an inkling that it might just be our cup of tea, especially as it was market day!
And it didn’t disappoint, with its North African influenced food stalls and fabulous fresh veg, no doubt literally from up the road, a stall selling mouth watering pollo asado, (the roast chickens here are so lush!) we soon filled the panniers with enough yummy goodies to keep us smiling for a while.
We were bemused why the town had been described as scruffy, with its sea front prom overlooking crystal clear water, and a well appointed Consum supermarket, it seemed ideal for a short ride from the campsite to stock up or just enjoy the laid-back vibe.
Regular followers of the blog will know that we are partial to a bit of graffiti/street art and this one tickled us pink! Popular in the 70s and beyond, we had only ever known the spray painting of ACAB to mean ‘all coppers are bastards’ – but this southern Spanish spin certainly shone a new light for us!
And so we stayed for a bit longer to enjoy the swimming and reading on the beach, whilst the daytime temperatures were still in the mid 20s and rarely dropping below 20c at night, enabling us to enjoy eating outside the whole time we stayed – not bad for late October!
Next stop Ronda!
S&J
30.10.22
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