Our new aire in the village of Cobreces is very atypical and all the better for that. From what I can read on the signs in Spanish is a private agricultural development part funded by the EU. It is next to the village but set amongst arable fields and so I suppose the owner, a woman who comes round collecting the fees is a rather enterprising farmer. Although the rules are supposed to be the same for all aires, such as not getting out chairs, tables or awnings, because that constitutes camping and would require a different licence, everyone seems to ignore the rules and chairs and tables are strewn in front of each motorhome on the large green area, which otherwise has no other purpose.

The aire, with the two enormous new village churches in the background

Last night we had more English speakers in close proximity to us than has ever previously been the case on an overseas aire. Two English, one from Northern Ireland and two from Eire. Our next door neighbours, whose nationality I will not reveal, caused me some embarrassment as they went to bed. I was in my normal “captain’s chair” facing our open door and also their bedroom window. They went to bed with their lights on and then I had little option but to watch as they cavorted about in their nightclothes in a vain effort to pull the blind over their bedroom window. In the end I had to avert my eyes, much to Sarah’s amusement!

This morning the English speakers all had a bit of a conflab, exchanging ideas on places people had enjoyed visiting. As a result I have now got two extra places on my map of potential stopping places.

Today we had a very pleasant walk from our campsite through the lush green fields to the nearby cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. We then followed a footpath very close to the cliff edge, through lovely meadows of wild flowers. We spotted numerous different butterfly species, none of which were familiar to us. In particular there were several bright blue ones of two different sizes and another of dazzling plain yellow. With undulating profile of the walk, the cliffs and the sea we could almost have been on the coastal path in Devon or Cornwall and the weather was perfect – in the low 20s with a gentle breeze.

Sarah pretty in pink on the coastal footpath

Eventually we descended to what had been described to us as a small beach, but which was actually quite a decent size. The dogs are prevented from going in the sea for a few days because they have just had their Scalibor collars put on. In Southern Europe it is recommended that dogs have extra protection against sand fly bites, which can cause Leishmaniasis, and Scalibor collars are one of the preventative treatments. Having said that I think humans are also vulnerable to the Leishmaniasis, but we don’t have any protection at all!

Cobreces Beach

So with the dogs prevented from cavorting in the water we sat on the beach for a while watching a few surfers and a new bride finding the best places for her post wedding photographs. We presumed she had not got married today otherwise the guests would have been kept waiting, because she, the groom and a photographer were on the beach for the best part of an hour.

Eventually hunger got the better of us and we succumbed to the €16 menu of the day. For €16 we got three delicious courses each, a bottle of white wine (between us not each!) and water. It was really good quality and cooked from fresh – what value for money. Having read in my Rough Guide about the tradition of the Spanish to have something called a Chupitos at the end of the meal I mustered my best Spanish and asked for one. I was treated to a large glass of fluorescent yellow liquid, which all I can say made me a bit “sleepy”! It wasn’t very pleasant and so I don’t think I will be repeating the experiment.

The offending “sedative”

Back at the aire, we are now the only Brits, but I’ve had a brief conversation with a Dutch couple and they are here to watch the Vuelta tomorrow, as, I suspect are a few others, so I hope tomorrow will be a fund day. Expect one or two cycling photos!

*Apologies to Fiction Factory