On our way to Santiago de Compostela, our group planned to make an interim stop at Mondoñedo. Everything was going very smoothly, including finding a fuel stop, until we arrived somewhere near a motorhome parking area on the outskirts of town. You will notice the use of the phrase “somewhere near”.
To expand on that, we have Frodo’s built in satnav which, as a satnav is pretty good; it’s designed for motorhome use and you can set vehicle size to avoid inappropriate roads. Added to this, its directions are clear. Where it falls hopelessly flat on its face is that the GPS receiver is buried beneath lots of other apparently confusing electronic gubbins and frequently loses you, having not a clue where you are.
For more reliable positioning we have more frequently resorted to the use of Google maps navigation. This, however, has its own shortcomings – you can’t set vehicle size, you are just a car. Another issue seems to be that on Apple Carplay you can’t change the map resolution in flight.
We were approaching our intermediate stop on Google expecting a left turn. In front of us was a motor vehicle service point sign pointing left. We took it. In about 20m was a T-junction. Up and to our right I could see a square with motor vans. There was a no-entry sign in front of them. Google was telling us to turn left. Thinking it would send us around a block to approach from the other side, I duly turned left.
“Turn right”, instructed Google; OK.
“Turn right”, said Google again. Ah, no entry.
I did a 3-point turn intent on going back down the road I had just come up.
“Bollocks”, said Pooh, profanely. There was a no-entry sign there, too. The road we had come up was a one-way street. I went down the only road open to me.
The roads were cobbled and seemed to be getting narrower. Google wittily asked me to turn left up a one-way street going in the opposite direction. Google suggested a few more illegal moves as I was shepherded inexorably down a maze of ever-narrower cobbled streets until we eventually were brought to a complete halt by a workmen’s truck parked beside scaffolding as they worked on a building front. [The picture is taken looking back up the road we were trying to come down.]
One of the chaps up on the scaffolding gesticulated at me to reverse. Yeah, right, you have to be kidding. Apart from being unable to make that manoeuvre there was not other way out that I could then take that I could remember. That’s why I’m where I am. I shrugged at him helplessly. The van was clearly there for the duration.
Shortly, a young man with his wits about him wandered past us and chatted up the truck driver. The driver first drove forward, then reversed up the street to the left unblocking our path and allowing me to approach the T-junction immediately in front. I praised him profusely through the windscreen. He must have thought these tourists are bloody mad. (He would’ve been quite right). Once again, I had but one way that I could go or, at least, might be able to go.
After a minor touch of the high-level no-entry sign mounted on the corner of the building up out of my sight – I was intently watching the steps directly in front of me – with both wing mirrors retracted, I managed to shuffle turn right around the corner, avoiding the steps in front of me, the truck to my left, the scaffolding to my rear and the building corner to my right.
This new street was slightly wider. It must have been wider ‘cos two cars were parked ahead of me and to the right with, perhaps, just enough space to their left . I edged Frodo left, breathed in and began inching past the cars parked in front of a shop. Unhelpfully, the shop had two potted plants mounted in holders on its frontage reducing the space available. Watching the cars on my right, I grazed one pot plant and dismounted it. Francine, who was outside watching doing all she could to assist, retrieved the poor plant. She muttered “losiento” [sorry] to a nonplussed man in the shop doorway as she handed back the plant, happily undamaged. We were racking up a goodly collection of disbelieving looks from various locals. [Again, this shot is taken looking back up the way we came down.]
Shortly we approached another cobbled T-junction downhill, overlooking railings and the cathedral square below. Parked to the left of said T-junction was a Policia Locale car. Great! Now what? Mercifully, rather than being annoyed, the policeman proved very helpful, though he probably justifiably thought us utterly barking. In a rather pointless attempt to explain, I muttered “satnav”. He pointed us left around the junction (and his police car), then right around a 180° turn down into the cathedral square, across the front of the cathedral before exiting the square on a slightly wider road. We could then turn izquierda [left] onto something resembling a proper road, i.e wider and tarmac rather than cobbled.
We were finally out of the maze. If I hadn’t had to drive, I’d have been trembling with relief.
My phone rang. We were overdue and leader Andy wondered what was happening. What indeed? You’re never going to believe this. “We’ll be with you in a couple of minutes” (barring further disasters).
We arrived at the intended parking area, found the correct entry point and surveyed poor ol’ Frodo. The plant did no damage, mercifully, and the street sign made but a small, relatively superficial mark on the high off-side moulding.
Next time I’ll drop a U-turn, even if it means going back the wrong-way down a deserted one-way street. It’d be the lesser of two evils.
Now I was free to tremble.
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