After our brush with a mega-campsite, we have moved back to our more normal habitat. We are at Alcalalí, a village just 2 kms from Jalón beneath our former house, Casa Libélule, which we can see up the hillside behind us..
Francine found a relatively new camping venture at the Heredad de Elias Ferrer, which translates as the Country Estate of Elias Ferrer. The property is a former bull and horse farm concerned with the controversial Spanish pastime of bull fighting. Since it is small site, in terms of number of pitches, I managed to make a reservation via email and we were expected. When we arrived in the narrow lane with 90° bends, Francine disembarked to see where to go. She was greeted warmly with hugs from the lady of the property, Susana, who pointed our way.
Elias Ferrer was the original proprietor but this is now run by Octavio and Susana Ferrer, along with a younger (teenage) Octavio. It is no longer associated with bull fighting but has been turned into a 15-pitch campsite. It is a delightfully rural setting and much more “us”. There were about 7 units here when we arrived. We are camped beneath the very mountains we used to gaze at from our former balcony. Whilst there are no longer bulls on site, there are still horses, though we haven’t seen them put to any use, yet.
Octavio senior, or should that be Señor Octavio senior, perhaps because of having been raised on this property, had once been involved in the bull fighting scene; he used to be a toreador. I get a bit confused about the various –dors involved in bull fighting but Octavio used to be on horseback. His old horsebox is parked next to our pitch, which is the last in the line. Since he has been retired from that game for a long time, we will forgive him.
Without doubt, the most intriguing feature of this property is that it comes complete with its very own bullring. No kidding, it has its own bullring standing as a monument to its past. The bullring, apparently, is where Octavio used to train as a toreador. I know such things are contentious but this is just a fabulous slice of history. Let’s be honest, we have our own chequered history with packs of hounds tearing foxes limb from limb, though bull fighting is still prevalent.
Octavio came and said hello in the evening. With his limited English and our limited Spanish, we had an entertaining conversation. He asked where in the UK we were from. We said in the middle of the country. “Birmingham?” “Ah, no, Milton Keynes”, we replied. “Ah ha, John Lewis”, he said with a beaming smile. It seems that one of his more recent ventures was using his truck to make deliveries to the UK, with Susana sharing the driving. His delivery destinations included JL in MK, also places at Birmingham (no idea if the Bullring was involved but that would be poetic), Manchester and Leeds. He thought the English were helpful and polite if his truck had a problem – not so the French or Belgians, he said.
Young Octavio has decent English and helped our chat along from the side lines, chuckling as Octavio snr. mimed his sylph-like youth as a toreador. They seem like a perfectly delightful family.
It’s a good job we’d made Octavio jnr’s acquaintance since we needed his help in the evening – I popped the 6amp electrics which needed resetting.
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