Unnatural Habitat

For a variety of reasons we have spent our first night at the humongous Alannia Costa Blanca resort.

1. There were no appealing options between our previous stop at Granada and here.
2. Whilst there are a couple of small campsites in the area, booking would have required an email exchange giving us an unknown period of uncertainty. [Alannia has an online booking system.]
3. Alannia is actually the closest campsite to the Parque Natural el Hondo, which I wanted to visit, being just 1.5 kms away.
4. We were just plain curious to experience such an enormous campsite with >1400 pitches.

We had been very lucky with our pitch allocation and really could not have picked a better one (given the caveat that we have not seen the entire campsite – I don’t even know if that’s possible) and our night was perfectly peaceful.

First impressions are favourable. Being huge, this appears to be one of those impersonal campsites where people keep themselves to themselves, there being hardly any interaction with other “guests”. Suits me.

In a futile attempt to show the scale of this site, here are two images taken from a central roundabout (yes, a roundabout) looking both ways up and down the main drag, the first looking back towards the entrance.

There are six large sanitary blocks, one in each of the major zones, so nobody is far from showers and toilets. We see many staff constantly buzzing about on electric carts doing maintenance and cleaning. There are two pool areas for those keen on such things, a bar, a restaurant, a modest supermarket, a hairdresser and a medical centre. To some extent, you don’t have to leave and I imagine there are those that don’t; it is pretty much a self-contained village.

The minimum pitch size is 95m²; these being the great majority. However, there are a few larger pitches available, going up to 180m² and there were a number of these in our close proximity. One such was needed by a garishly coloured, stonking large Winnebago, which arrived yesterday not long after ourselves. We’d seen outfits of this size waiting to board our outbound ferry and wondered where the hell they could park them in Spain. Here’s one answer.

Quite a few of these pitches are clearly seasonal and some look completely permanent, given the support structures crammed onto the pitch, which ends up 100% utilized. This unit doesn’t look as though it’s going anywhere any time soon, with a huge sun canopy fixed onto the front of whatever lies behind. Planters surround the pitch enclosing the usual back garden paraphernalia like full-sized Weber kettle barbecues..

Almost opposite our pitch is the most incredible “camping” unit I have ever seen. At first, we thought it was a fifth-wheel but, on closer inspection, no, it’s a caravan. That’s if something on this scale can be called a caravan. This behemoth must be 10m long if it’s an inch. [How’s that form mixed units?] Facing us were two wind-out side sections. On the opposite side was another wind-out side section. In addition to the attached veranda/sun shade complete with wind up and down side sections, there are not one but two garden shed storage structures at either end of the pitch. Along with a few other local inhabitants, the man has his own leaf blower. I looked at all sides of this beast but failed to find any identification name as to what it might be; I desperately wanted to look it up but couldn’t. The car, I noted, was Belgian registered.

This site is one of those used by the Caravan and Motorhome Club for its winter rallies when it books, I believe, 200 pitches (not that I’d want to get involved in a rally). The site was not, however, as scary as I might have first of all thought. I think because you can never see everything, just your own somewhat restricted area, it doesn’t actually feel as large as it is. We were lucky with our placement, being on an edge, though.

Having made our reservation at the full price, I was also impressed that the receptionist asked if we were with ACSI and gave us the reduced rate when we showed our card.

I have to say that I was favourably impressed, though it’s still not and never will be our natural habitat. As a necessary stopover, it’s fine.

After Hondo, we did venture into the local town of Catral, a mere 1.5kms away, looking for a bar. In this area I was expecting something Spanish but was sorely disappointed. We could pick between two Indian establishments, a Chinese, I suspect an Irish bar and an English-run bar called Vibe, which, in desperation, is where we drank a beer. The menu included “a giant Yorkshire pudding with 2 sausages”, along with nothing remotely Spanish (unless calling a sandwich a bocadillo constitutes Spanish). “Follow us on Facebook”, it declared. Jeez, NO!

Unsurprisingly, living in such close proximity of each other, Francine is now going down with the lurgy.