We’ve arrived in La Mancha, where Cervantes created Don Quixote’s adventures. There are several known episodes of the Don’s imagined chivalry but the most well known must be his tilting at windmills episode. Francine’s research had shown two main locations of collections of windmills, one at Consuegra and another at Campo de Criptana. The two towns are about 40kms apart. Hoping for the chance of morning and/or evening light, Francine decided to position us in between the two to make both reasonably accessible. We’d be staying at Alcázar de San Juan.

Our route in from Cuenca took us very close to Campo de Criptana so we called in en route at ~15:00. Our route was a good one, avoiding the tangle of the town and dropping us straight on to the field of windmills on the northern edge of town. I must say, they were an immediately impressive sight and conditions were very favourable with a mixture of sun, blue sky and cloud.

We parked in an area not favoured by anyone else thinking we’d lucked out even more. Then we spotted the busier parking area right on top of the windmills. In this now tourist-ridden world armed with all manner of digital photographic equipment, we wandered around the collection of 10 restored windmills, looking for appealing line-ups sans Joe Public armed with his selfie sticks, mobile phones, iPads, proper cameras and … wait for it …a swarm of 12 or so Italian motorcycles turned up whereupon one rider launched one of those accursed drone contraptions. For Darwin’s sake! Touring on a motorcycle with a drone in the side panniers? Maybe changes of clothing were seen as superfluous. It’s a good step from Italy to the middle of Spain.

We spent an enjoyable hour or so, drones aside, wandering in the sun and snapping various combinations of windmills, before threading our way through the town of Campo de Criptana towards our hotel at Alcázar de San Juan. One of the Italian motorcyclists, now also back on the road, had threaded his way into a Spanish couple’s car and was engaged in slightly animated discussions surrounded by broken red glass from the car’s rear light. That would’ve been interesting to overhear.

Francine had spotted a hill with a further four windmills. As we neared our destination, these proved to be a mere 2kms from our target. That’d make a good evening spot and, not being one of the main collections, would surely be quieter. We checked in, discovered that dinner at the hotel was cheap and served between 20:00 and 23:00 (mas o menos) [more or less] and went for an evening shoot.

Atop the hill it was blowing a gale. Francine put her tripod down, legs splayed but not extended, and it blew over. Furthermore, locals were up there picnicking and engaged in trysts inside cars. Cyclists kept popping up on the road over the hill; runners jogged around the windmills dressed in fluorescent clothing. At least there were no drones – in that wind, they’d have ended up back in Cuenca. There wasn’t any light to speak of, either, there being a collar of murk along the western horizon into which the sun had descended. We did take a couple of handheld shots to see what could be made of them in post-processing, though. Francine discovered something called direct positive that at least stuffed some blue into an otherwise bland sky. Useful.

We enjoyed a basic three course meal with coffee and wine for the princely sum of 9.50€ each.

Our ultimate goal on this road trip of four days is to go tilting at Don Quixote’s windmills in La Mancha. Given our relative locations, the town of Cuenca made a logical intermediate stopping point. There is a reason, of course: Cuenca is famous for its Casas Colgadas [Hanging Houses].

We checked in late afternoon yesterday. The hotel staff seemed friendly and the accommodation perfectly adequate, in a basic sort of way. Our hostess provided a map upon which she indicated the hotel, the main town area where we might find restaurants, and the old town area where we’d find the tourist sights of the hanging houses. After freshening up, we set off in search of sustenance.

We are travelling with a friend from our valley. After failing to spot any restaurants ourselves, Jim resorted to 3G technology to locate restaurants in relation to where we were. It was Monday. Most restaurants seem to close on Monday. Eventually, he found one that claimed to be open. We wandered to it as the rain began. It was firmly shut. Jim found another restaurant up in the old town. The rain increased in strength so we repaired to a bar to see how things developed. I wasn’t equipped with a waterproof of any description. The barman gave us some gherkins with our drinks; at least we wouldn’t starve.

The rain abated and we went outside. Francine spotted what looked like a restaurant down a side street. I investigated. It was. There was also another taberna nearby, which looked open but the outside menu implied no food on a Monday. We asked and were welcomed in. The meal was great.

This morning it was raining again. We sat watching the rain to the accompaniment of the worst breakfast I have ever experienced. There was a toast machine with, it appeared, tailor-made bread exactly matching its heating elements. I swear to a non-existent god that a 1×4 plank of balsa wood would’ve had more flavour and more texture. At least I got something resembling coffee. Advice: if anyone stops at the Buenavista Hotel in Cuenca, avoid their meagre morning offering and breakfast in town.

The rain eased off, though. We returned on foot to the old town and its hanging houses. It started raining again but a helpful local lady came out from her umbrella long enough to direct us to the best viewpoint. The Spanish are a generally friendly lot. Pants grey skies aside, here they are.

With a few dying spits, the rain eased off … mainly. We crossed that rather unattractive metal bridge to get a closer look. Personally, I was a little underwhelmed. It isn’t really the houses that are hanging, it’s their balconies, as this shot shows. The houses are certainly teetering on the edge of a precipice, though. The old town of Cuenca seems have been well protected, being essentially triangular with gorges on two of its sides. The second photograph gives an idea of one of the gorges.

My being underwhelmed by a tourist attraction is not an unusual state. In this case, given the weather, I wasn’t seeing the sight in the best light, though. In fact, there wasn’t a lot of light at all, and precious little colour. Personally, I found some of the other precipitously positioned more modern buildings more impressive visually.

Leaving the houses and their hanging balconies, we investigated the old town further. Francine began trying to make the most of the conditions by trying to get reflections and saturated colours from a saturated Cuenca. None of the locals appeared to be enjoying the conditions much, either.

Spits continued on and off. We found a very pleasant little bar for a better coffee, together with an edible pastry to fill some of the gap left by our inedible breakfast.

“Come to sunny Spain”, they said. Let’s hope we get better meteorological fortune at the Windmills, which is where we were heading next.

We’re on the road exploring for a few days, splashing out on some hotels. Francine has come up with a 4-day itinerary and our first overnight stop is Cuenca, where there are some famous so-called “hanging houses”. Before checking in for the night, though, our first stop en route was the nearby Ciudad Encantada [Enchanted City].

After a journey of 5 hours culminating in winding our way up about 30kms of mountain road – a better mountain road than most of our main roads, it must be said – we arrived at the entrance car park which appeared to be quite busy. Being 1:00 PM, as well as being thirsty, our worms were biting so we repaired initially to the bar beside the car park for beer and calamares. Their idea of a ración [portion] of calamares was just that, fried calamari rings; no adornment, no mayonnaise, from which it certainly would have benefitted. OK, though. Thirst and worms sated.

Our neighbours had told us about this place. They reported having seen loads of butterflies so I mounted my 300mm wildlife lens leaving Francine to deal with the landscapes. We crossed the road to pay our 5€ entrance fees.

OK, so just what is Ciudad Encantada [Enchanted City]? Well, according to the information boards it is a karst landscape. From what I can make out, as someone disinterested in geology, this involves the gradual dissolution by water of soluble rocks such as limestone. In the case of Ciudad Encantada, this process has resulted in several “whimsical shapes”. [Not my words; I don’t think I do whimsy.] We began our wander.

At this point, I’ll congratulate the organizers on their decision to make the circuit a one way walk. The main advantage of this is that, though there were many cars in car park, along with a few coaches, all having disgorged many people, since everyone is made to walk in the same direction, the place never felt crowded. Had it been a free for all, I suspect it might have been a different matter.

Naturally, the various formations have been given names. Some of the names are obvious enough and translate well into English, whilst others stretch the imagination a little. “What were they smoking when they named that?”, kind of thing. The most impressive shape in my view is at the beginning of the route, Tormo Alta, and is the one that troubles translation: just what a “High Tormo” might be, I know not.  Neither does my dictionary.

There were a few butterflies but just a few and those that I spotted kept flying through. Mind you, we were earlier in the year and there really wasn’t a great deal in the way of nectar to encourage them to stop. Having said that, I did amuse myself snagging a few plants, including this delightful little Angel’s Tears (Narcissus triandrus), which required a little dedication to snap.

Francine snapped away at the various formations around the circuit. She was also very happy to find a few examples of Early Purple Orchid lurking about. In the mountains and with some floral and butterfly interest – I did spot two Cleopatras (Gonepteryx cleopatra) fly through – It is a very pleasant walk no matter what one makes of the named rock formations. Here’s three of the formations that seem clear enough: Los Barcos [The Ships], La Cara Del Hombre [The Man’s Face] and Los Osos [The Bears].

In the “what were they smoking?” category, I’d put this, La Luche Entre El Elefante Y El Cocodrilo [Fight Between An Elephant And A Crocodile]. Well, OK, I suppose but decidedly complicated.

Ciudad Encantada was definitely worth a visit.

Elche lies a spit south-west of Alicante. In fact, the airport there is known as the Alicante-Elche Airport. Touristically, much is made of the Palmeral de Elche, the Elche Palm Grove. We fancied being tourists and going to investigate. Elche is close to the El Hondo nature reserve so our plan was to give Francine  some botanical interest in the morning, while nature was warming up, then move on to Hondo for some odonatology.

What we didn’t know was where to go to start. My investigations became quickly confused. I found that descriptions existed but precious few maps. Life became a little clearer when I read

The Palmeral de Elche is the generic name used to designate a system of date palm orchards in the city of Elche …in the urban area of Elche there are a total of 97 different orchards containing about 70,000 date palms.

Small wonder that I was having trouble finding a specific target with a dedicated parking place. Eventually I found a walk outlined, with a rudimentary map, so we headed for that.Francine took over from Sally Satnav and got us there. Our car park was beside a park. We wandered through that and picked up the designated walking route part way around and followed it backwards. 🙂

What we saw was not what we expected. Certainly there were very tall date palms but they appeared to be planted largely around rectangles of, well, drab soil devoid of anything else. This seemed curious. I suppose we were expecting something more ornamental  However, the lack of ornament MAY be explained by the fact that the female palms are actually a cash-generating crop producing dates, which we didn’t realize at the time of our visit. Maybe the empty gaps are needed for harvesting? Maybe it’s nothing to do with that at all? 🙂

A little underwhelmed, we left our initial track, which we discovered was actually a road as a car went past, and began trying to follow one of several footpaths through this particular plantation. This soon became quite difficult and the interest in the soil surrounding the palms changed not one jot – still bland. The palm trees were undoubtedly impressive, though.

We thought we were still on the designated footpath but we seemed to have come to a dead end. At least, without stepping over a low wall into a play area, it was a dead end. Stepping over the wall was no problem for either of us but it felt a little weird; surely not the intended route. However, we were now back on the main walking route that we’d originally joined. Tis took us past one of the palms that bears a name, in this case, the corkscrew, for obvious reasons.

The corkscrew looks a bit bedraggled at the top. Spain is suffering from a voracious invading red weevil which attacks palms and kills them. Regular large doses of insecticide are needed to keep the pest in check. Could it be that this poor old palm is suffering, Francine wondered? The Elche plantation is both a cash crop and a world heritage site so it could have devastating results. Worrying.

Towards the end of or walk, we came across what probably should have been our original target, a more formal garden called  Huerto del Cura, “a beautifully landscaped private garden” [according to the Rough Guide to Spain].

Coffee and Hondo called; we must return to Elche to look again. We must also remember to consult the Rough Guide in a more timely fashion next time destination confusion arises. Educational, though.

We have a couple of friends in the valley who enjoy going out to lunch. Lunches in Spain tend to be significant affairs with the local fondness of Menu del Día, consisting of at least two courses, and often running to three or even four. Our preference tends to be for light lunches with a main meal in the evening. However, when invited to join in today, we’d rather have socialized than not so we adjusted our normal eating habits accordingly.

The chosen venue was to be an establishment called Verdi Vent at Maserof, which is about half way up the road to the Sierra de Bernia, one of Francine’s orchid patches. A cunning plan developed; we could spend 90 minutes or so orchid hunting before a lunch that would be almost guaranteed to stop much further movement for the day. Lunch was set for 13:00 so we shot up the Bernia for 11:30, passing the restaurant on the way which didn’t look as if it was about to open. Faith, Franco. 🙂

Abandoning the car, we began combing the roadsides beneath the towering Bernia for orchids. Francine worked one side while I worked the other. We found three old faithfuls plus a new one for this site. Actually, this was only our second ever encounter with a Yellow Ophrys (Ophrys lutea). With the other three – Dull Ophrys (Ophrys fusca); Woodcock Ophrys (Ophrys scolopax); Mirror Ophrys (Ophrys speculum) – Francine could be described as a happy camper.

After a successful morning we meandered our way back down the long and winding road to the restaurant which was magically now open and absolutely heaving. Our friends were already there and shepherded us in through the door to a table at the rear beside a group of 19 birthday-celebrating Germans.

As we set about working our way through four courses, wine continually being topped up, an English group arrived and took up the one remaining empty table. Both the German group and the smaller English group were accompanied by a young girl. A musical trio fired up. [Oh joy! Actually, it wasn’t too bad but if I wanted music I’d go to …] The two girls soon began playing contentedly together, with absolutely no sign of any language barrier or self-consciousness. Now why can’t we adults do likewise?

My main event was duck, Francine’s main was lamb. Jim, our friend, waxed lyrical about his fillet steak declaring it the best he’d ever had. It was all very convivial.

We just about managed enough limb movement to get back to the cars and meander our way back down the mountain road to Jalón where we could continue digesting.

Just a bite of cheese in the evening, then.

Butterflies, some species at least, indulge in hill-topping; individuals tend to aggregate at the tops of hills. It is apparently a mate location behaviour.

A couple of kilometres down our Spanish valley is the village of Senija overlooking which is a decent hill topped by a cross (as is the habit here). First of all it provides a decent leg-loosening walk of about two hours up and down. Secondly, it is often typed by two species of Swallowtail butterfly, so I like going up there. Thirdly, Francine has seen orchids on the way up so she likes going there, too. The weather was clear and the temperature was reasonable, so off we set.

I should point out that we had a little trouble finding the correct route for this walk on our first attempt, several years ago now. Those responsible had chosen to mark the route with blobs of yellow paint. The paint inevitably gets somewhat weathered. You may also be aware that there are several species of lichen which tend to grow on rocks in a circular shapes, some of which are yellow in colour. I will leave you to draw your own confusion. 🙂

We know the way now. On the lower slopes was a tiny blue butterfly that I’m now used to seeing over here. Not being something we see in the UK, It’s always nice to try and get another picture of the flighty little creature, though. Not a perfect pose with a bit of leaf somewhat in the way but worth a few pixels: it’s the diminutive Panoptes Blue (Pseudophilotes panoptes).

Moving further up, Francine began spotting orchid stems. I say stems because several had gone over. She did, though find this lovely example of a Woodcock Orchid (Ophrys scolopax) which kept her knees and camera occupied for a while. While Francine was playing with her orchid, I was rather taken by some Rosy Garlic showing well against a nice dark background, so I joined the ranks of amateur flower photographers for a while. Flowers flap in the breeze but they don’t fly away. 😉

We gently continued our way to the top of the hill. Here, life was decidedly breezy but, as we’d hoped, there were indeed two species of Swallowtail zooming about, the [Common] Swallowtail (Papilio machaon) itself and the Iberian Swallowtail (Iphiclides feisthamelii). In these windy conditions, they weren’t settling much and I only managed to get a half-way decent shot of P. machaon.

As is usual here, there were also several Wall Browns (Lasiommata megera) settling on rocks. They have a frustrating habit of settling with their wings slightly open then, just as you acquire focus, snapping them shut. Such was the case today.

We made our way gradually back down again. Hopefully we’ll get a chance of a re[eat visit in slightly calmer conditions.

Having suffered from swarming humanity yesterday, but having previously had a relatively calm and successful visit to the marjal de Pego-Oliva, today we thought we’d try another one of our wildlife haunts, another marsh, the marjal de Gandia. It’s up the coast a step towards Valencia.

Our route out would take us past Ondara. The former Eroski supermercado there has recently been taken over by Carrefour and I’d seen something on their website that implied it was open on festivals, like this Easter Sunday. The Carrefour n Benidorm certainly is open on Sundays and festivals but any alternative to Benidorm would be a welcome addition. We’d call in to check it out.

Well, that was quick: firmly shut. In case of emergency, resort to Benidorm, still. Bother! (At east you only have to pop off the autopista and can avoid the town itself.)

We found our way to Gandia and parked. There’s a rough stone track that we have to saunter down to access the area of interest. It’s usually traffic free. Today, however, a few cars headed in but had to make way for a few other cars heading out. Curious. We did spot some Common Bluetails (Ischnura elegans) hovering about in one of the watery ditches while we waited for the vehicles to sort themselves out. The cars cleared and we continued. More curious.

Rounding a curve in the track, ahead of us near the main entrance, we spotted a lot of parked cars. Passing a few more Bluetails, we eventually arrived and the entrance to find masses of parked cars. Many of the massed parked cars were disgorging people armed with chairs, tables and cool boxes, etc. Oh dear. On Easter Sunday, my little wildlife haven had become a picnic ground for the population of Spain.

Approaching the first of two modest lakes, every piece of grass was home to a family out enjoy lunch al fresco in the sun. Fair enough; it was just an unexpected shock. We’ve never seen the Spanish out picnicking en masse before. We picked our way through them studying the margins of the first lake but found nothing more than the good ol’ Bluetails. Well, I did find a nice hoverfly to play with, as yet unidentified.

Having drawn what essentially amounted to a blank and with massed humanity disturbing much of the nature, I almost didn’t bother with the second lake. We did look, though, and it’s a good job we did. I soon scared up a teneral dragonfly with very shiny wings. Fortunately, it was so freshly emerged that it didn’t fly far so I could snap it. It’s a female Broad Scarlet (Crocothemis erthraea).

Out over the lake, we spotted a couple of Blue Emperors (Anax imperator) cruising back and forth hunting. The wind was not in a favourable direction (they tend to fly into the wind) so they never faced me but I did get an id shot of one flying away from me, enough to distinguish it from a coupe of congeners.

So, not a complete waste in the end. As we drove away, the stream of traffic heading, I imagine, for the beaches, was extraordinary – I hope it was heading for the beaches because the marjal de Gandia was already most certainly full up.

Bloody religious festivals. 😀

Saturday, sandwiched between shop closures caused by Easter. First duty, hit a food shop to lay in supplies for three days.  Since neither of us could face an early start and since Jalón on Saturday gets heaving with visitors to the rastro [best described as flea market], we chose to go to another nearby supermarket in Orba. That was also heaving, of course, since everyone in Spain now has the same 3-day catering puzzle.

Catering puzzles such as this are relatively economically solved in Spain ‘cos you can buy an excellent pollo rural [free-range chicken] weighing 2kg+ for a mere 8€. One such bird is quite large enough to feed two of us for three days. We’d got two days worth of a chicken languishing in the freezer. Of course, it’s nice to throw in a bit of variety, just in case one gets fed up with chicken. [Can one get fed up with chicken?] The heaving masses soon got too much for us so we bailed out but not before we’d thrown in a net of local mussels for said variety, which I think are called glochinas but don’t quote me.

Undaunted, we returned with such purchases as we had and Francine declared that I could treat her to lunch out. We stashed our food and headed for Calpe in search of chiperones/chopitos [baby squid]. Calpe was heaving; so heaving that all our usually reliable parking spots were taken. We drove around several areas, all without success – even the illegal spots were taken. 😀 Daunted, we bailed out again and returned home for lunch on the balcony. Bloody religious festivals.

Actually, our balcony is often the best lunch choice. At midday, most other inhabitants of our little development have gone out for the day so, not only do we have good views across the valley to the mountains beyond but we tend to have the place to ourselves. Relatively bliss.

There are now far too many people on this planet. When I began work, the world population broke 3 billion. It now stands at 7.5 billion. The most populous bird on the planet is the Red-billed Quelea (Quelea quelea) with an estimated breading population of 3 billion, admittedly all in sub-Saharan Africa. We are very quick to declare that wildlife species “need culling” but the truth is that Homo sapiens is the worst scourge on the planet and the only population that really needs culling is ourselves.

I could make some politically very incorrect suggestions as to where to start. Current world politics may beat me to it, though.

Remind me to avoid Easter next time … if there is a next time.

Yesterday, Thursday, was our first full day back in Jalón and was largely a day for getting straight. With Easter approaching, a little forward planning would be required. We managed to get straight with food supplies but both the Correos [Post Office] and bank were closed..

Stick with me on this; Spain gets complicated. It seems that food shops are not allowed to be closed for two consecutive days on which they’d normally be open. Friday is usually a trading day so the food shops had to be open for business on Thursday. The post office and the bank could close and did. My local authority bill which needed paying would have to wait. The shops would be open again on Saturday, of course, but then more planning would be needed. On Sunday food shops are usually shut, it’s not a usual trading day, so doesn’t count  Easter Monday would be another closure. On Saturday we’d need food for three days. I know my mother used to a weekly shop but I’m not used tot hat now. Bloody religious festivals!

Anyway, we had a squint at the local river which was still flowing well after Spain’s proper winter. It had plenty of water but it didn’t have any dragonflies, save one fly-through which remains unidentified. It is a bit of a late starter. I suspect a combination of the altitude – the valley floor is ~700ft above sea level – and the species list, which doesn’t contain some of the earlier emergers.

I’d seen reports of activity at the nearby marsh, the marjal de Pego-Oliva. We went for an afternoon rummage there.

Our first spot produced three suspects, one of which was being flighty and not posing very well. It looked a  bit confusing, though. It became even more flighty when a couple parked and tipped out a small dachshund for a drink. The dachshund didn’t want to drink but it did scare off my suspect. Thanks. Bloody dogs. [I have to admit that it looked quite cute.] The badger hound turned dragonfly hound duly left.

Another suspect was a male Bluetailed Damselfly. I’ve been deliberately non-specific, and so to my conundrum. We have chosen an awkward part of Spain; awkward for a couple reasons, really. Firstly it is one of the drier parts of Spain and thus not greatly suited to aquatic insects such as Odonata. Secondly, it is an area of Spain where two different species of Bluetailed Damselflies co-exist, the Common Bluetail (Ischnura elegans) and the Iberian Bluetail (I. graellsii). It is the devil’s own job to snap clearly the very small distinguishing feature that differentiates the two and, for the last couple of years, I’ve not really known which we have in this marsh. We could, I imagine, actually have both but it would be nice to get a firm id on at least one. Consequently, we hopefully snap any candidate fr later study. We duly snapped this one.

Continuing to the main area our hunting improved. We were early in the season and stood a chance of seeing different species for this location. Sure enough, Francine soon spotted a Clubtail which cooperatively settled on a stem over the bank of the stream. We’ve seen this character, a Western Clubtail (Gomphus pulchellus), in France but this was a first in Spain.

A second new species to this marsh presented itself. This is a female Blue-eye (Erythromma lindenii). It’s one of those species that makes me baulk at the BDS [British Dragonfly Society] names: Goblet-marked Damselfly, indeed. How ungainly is that? This is the female, BTW, the male does, indeed, have blue eyes making the alternative name more appealing. I confess, though, that I still refer to them as goblets, for short.

I’d heard rumours of our third new addition which, sure enough, I bumped into along a boardwalk between reed beds. Here was another example of inappropriate names: a Norfolk Hawker (Aeshna isoseles). Really? A Norfolk Hawker on the Mediterranean coast? Hmmm. I prefer the European-centric name of Green-eyed Hawker, which is, at least descriptive. Even in the UK, it is not now confined to Norfolk, as it used to be. Whatever we call it, it was flying tirelessly and, with a confusing reedy background, no photo opportunity presented itself. We did see at least two individuals, though.

Finally another Bluetail opportunity presented itself when we found a copulating pair in and advantageous position. I’d brought my macro lens specifically, for just such a situation. Later, I could now see enough detail to know that this male, at least, was the Common Bluetail (Ischnura elegans). I’d have preferred the other answer ‘cos that would’ve been a new species for me but I was happy to know. The little beggars apparently hybridize, too, just to make life more difficult interesting.

Good Friday lived up to its name. (Bloody religious festivals.)

The normal price for a return sailing between Portsmouth and Bilbao runs to ~£750 and takes 24 hours. However, Brittany Ferries offer an “economy” service at certain times. When I investigated, I was happy to save ~$180. The downside is that these sailings, presumably on older, slower vessels, take 32 hours. Departure time was to be 08:45 Monday from Portsmouth, arriving in Bilbao at 14:15-ish Wednesday. With a crawl through immigration and eight hours on the road, we’d arrive in Jalón at about 23:00 Wednesday. We’re cheapskates; I booked it.

Then Brittany Ferries decided some maintenance of the ferry in Bilbao would be necessary. Departure was brought forward to 23:59 (i.e. midnight) on Sunday 9th April. Sailing time was still 32 hours. We’d now have two nights aboard and get in to Bilbao early morning on Wednesday. Once you’ve got used to 32 hours on a boat, this had two advantages. Firstly, we’d spend more of those stultifying hours sleeping instead of thumb-twiddling. Secondly, we’d arrive in Jalón late afternoon in plenty of time for shopping. Great.

And so it was. We actually docked at 06:00 on Wednesday but then remained on board for two hours while Spanish customs and immigration woke up. However, everything was now prepared on the ferry and disembarkation was swift. Surprisingly, Spanish customs and immigration were also swift. They glanced at our passports but not at us, too engrossed in an early morning conversation. We were off and cruising in what seemed like no time flat.

Our car salesman had expressed surprise that I wanted a cruise control on our new car. This, however, is where it comes into its own. With Spanish traffic density, or lack of it, you click it on just below the limit and simply steer occasionally around corners and the very rare obstacle; obstacles like toll booths. At our brunch stop we grabbed two sandwiches without really studying them; they turned out to contain tortilla with a slice of jamon and some green beans. Yes, a Spanish tortilla in a sandwich. I actually quite like them but it puts Francine off. She picked something else containing more sugar.

We sailed along pausing for the necessary wee stops, coffee stops and leg stretches. With a journey of 480 miles, I was expecting to need a fuel stop, too, but the needle was dropping only very slowly. I adjusted my expectation, it  looked as if we were going to do this on one tank.

Circumnavigating Zaragoza was quite straightforward. Valencia was, as usual, a little busier but nothing compared to British roads. On we trudged with plenty of fuel still aboard. We did add a cold beer stop to slake our thirst on arrival and reached Casa Libelule at about 16:30 having used only ¾ of a tank. I was pleasantly surprised.

I checked the on-board computer. The little beast – it’s a BMW X1, btw –  had returned 58.8 mpg on 480 miles, mostly at 70 mph. Good grief!

The beers may have been expensive from a motorway service area but they certainly tasted good.