Danger, Jabalí!

We arrived back in Oliva, just south of Valencia a week ago.  I say back, since, for those readers who don't know us, we were owners of a holiday home here for almost 13 years, and we miss the place a bit!

We headed down to Camping Olé on the long, sandy, dune backed beach where we whiled away many a happy day in the past, hoping for a spell of warm weather and some beach lounging, as well as catching up with old friends.

True to form, Oliva delivered the sunshine but also the wind, one of the reasons this stretch of coast is relatively undeveloped, and we hunkered down behind our windbreak to catch some rays and watch the dozens of kitesurfers and windsurfers zipping across the sea.  We even spotted a kite hydrofoil, the first we've ever seen in action.  One of our campsite neighbours was a keen kite flyer (in the traditional sense) and we were treated to a daily display of all sorts of kites and spinners, both on the pitch next door and on the beach.

We were about 5 or 6kms out of town here, so decided to cycle in for market day on our trusty folders, against the wind both ways of course - and pick up some delicious treats - olives, freshly roasted almonds in their shells, raf tomatoes and local cherries, just coming into season.

After a refuel of café con leche and pea and onion empanadillas (little olive oil pastry pasties) we pedalled back to camp to plan the next few days.

Next day saw us heading off across the Pego-Oliva marjal (marshland) on the bikes to visit Font Salada, a small hamlet of houses clustered around a natural spring water pool, fed by water which trickles through the rocks of St Pere 'mountain' - in reality a small hill, the area where we used to own our little casa.

As we crossed the N332, past the chupa chupa girls and onto the marjal, a purple heron burst out of the reeds above our heads - beautiful! And we began pedalling across a wide track between the bamboo, swishing and swaying in the wind.  It was idyllic.

A few moments later there was a great commotion and crashing sound in the rushes alongside us and the unmistakable sound of snorting.  It was a pig!! A very large pig by the sound of it.  Wild boar, or jabali are found in the mountains and forests of Spain, but we'd never heard of them here.  Feeling slightly panicked in case it came charging out at us, I began to pedal faster, much to Mr B's amusement, whist all the while the sound of rushes being crushed underfoot continued alongside.  I was convinced it was tracking us!

Fortunately this stretch of unmade roadway is relatively short and a few minutes later we emerged unscathed onto the small bridge and houses by the road leading to the font and one of our favourite swimming spots. 

With a sense of relief, we headed off to our old house where we'd been invited to see the renovation work.  What a difference! With new windows and the main living area knocked through, the old casa is looking quite transformed.  Chatting with the new owner, we heard that he too had had a close encounter with the wild boars when a family came ambling past his fence and up the hill to scratch their backs on some nearby trees.  He told us the adult was huge!

That night, safely back at the campsite, we tucked into a huge seafood platter and salad at the campsite restaurant, looking out across the dunes to the sea. Bliss.

And so the past few days have passed, with days on the beach and evening barbecues, it has been a treat to finally be eating outdoors.  The weather in Spain this year has been slow to warm everywhere we've heard, but is coming good at last, in one of our favourite places in the world.

Soon it will be time to move on and head off for some 'proper' sightseeing, to Granada and the famous Alhambra.  We have a long drive ahead.