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Over the next few days, before our tools and furniture
were due out, we had plenty to do clearing spaces in which to work. Alan
cleared the track with the strimmer, and I raked a lot of the dried
vegetation out. We were always aware that anything could be lurking in the
undergrowth, so we made plenty of noise to make sure it disappeared before
we put our booted feet there. My boots just about fitted with 3 pairs of
socks – in a funny way it seemed to insulate them from the heat, so it
wasn’t as bad as the sadist Alan thought it would be! Ha!
Alan spent a lot of time trying to sort out some power to
run the computer, have lights and run the fridge. He even rigged up a
method of charging the battery while we were driving the Vitara.
Disappointingly though, this wasn’t sufficient to charge the battery
properly and we gave up after a few goes. We had lights, to a limited
degree, in the caravan but we were still showering and cleaning our teeth in
the house bathroom where there was nothing. Luckily we’d bought some little
garden solar lights with us, and we would carry one of those into the house
for our ablutions. We so looked forward to our shower: we only used a
minimum amount of water, but to dry off, I would run outside in to the
relatively fresh night air and do a little dance while the breeze dried my
naked skin – deliciously cool. I just hope nobody had binoculars on the
other side of the valley!
We’d picked up a little two burner cooker in one of our
many forays into Malaga which I set up in the awning to do dinner, rather
than heat the caravan up before sleeping in it. Dinner was always eaten
late, after dark and when we were so tired that it was impossible to make
much of an effort. With the fridge no longer working, menus were restricted
to things like pasta, rice, tinned tuna and bottled frankfurters. Generally
we would carry our meal up onto the roof terrace with a bottle of warm beer
and enjoy the night views. Little lights shining in the valley below us
from houses that were hidden during the day time. The velvety black sky,
pinpricked with silver stars – frequently a shooting star would momentarily
light the sky, almost too quick for wishing. Our plates were then put in
the house sink for washing in the morning and before crawling into bed,
barely to lay our heads on the pillow, it seemed, before the alarm would
wake us to start all over again.
The excursions into town did save on the physical hard
labour in the heat, but as it was nearly half an hour to get even to the
nearest shops, we had to make each visit as valuable as possible. It didn’t
help matters when we bought a generator and got it home only to find it had
already been used … and didn’t work. After returning the duff machine to the
shop in Malaga, we then journeyed all the way to Marbella to a huge Leroy
Merlin to buy another one. Shopping seemed to fill most of our early days,
trying to get everything together that we needed.
While in the UK, Alan had made a work schedule to ensure
we would be prepared for our first guests arriving on 17th
October (yes, in the same year). I would regularly query to how much time
had been allotted for certain tasks. He had used his sound experience to
estimate each required job, however, his sagacity had never before
encountered living in rural Spain. A mere 14 days had been given to
“shopping”. This proved to be the underestimation of the millennium. Tasks
that in UK were straightforward, even simple, became major undertakings
without mains electricity, far from DIY shops and, not to be forgotten, in
the searing temperatures – and that’s not even mentioning our lack of
experience in this field.
We were still desperately waiting for all our things to
come out from the UK and were dismayed when we had a call from Tudor
Removals to say they couldn’t get the trailer in the lorry. We had only
given them the size of the box area and not included the towing bar, they
had thought it was an overall size and so now they couldn’t get it in
without re-packing the entire lorry.. We were worried that we had no method
to transport our things if the lorry couldn’t make it all the way to
Cencerrita. Tudor Removals were made of stern stuff - they reckoned that if
we had managed to get our caravan here, then they could get the lorry up the
track.
Two weeks after our arrival, the day finally dawned when
Tudor Removals would deliver our tools and furniture … and spa! We were
still not convinced that the driver would be able to get his van up the
hill, so we nipped down into Cártama to get some wood to make a base for the
old boat trailer that we could at least use as something to move our stuff
with – although the thought of putting our French Doors on it was too
terrifying to think about! This was another first: going all the way down
into civilisation for something essential, only to find out it was Fiesta
and nothing was open. Empty handed, we headed back up the mountain just in
time to see a squall tearing across the valley towards us. We had absolutely
no idea of the severity of such a wind, so we just stood and watched it
arrive, mouths open in disbelief. In fact, what we should have done, was
driven the car on the edge of the awning flaps to hold it down ... in spite
of the drilled pegs holes, the awning again landed up on top of the caravan,
this time with its legs badly bent, but not broken. This time it was tied to
the boat trailer which made a good anchor. Another casualty was the
beautiful agave spike that graced the front of the house. Although some 20
feet tall, it would survive most winds by flexing and swaying, but the
devastating nature of this particular squall was more than it could endure.
Snapped in two, a clumsy awkwardness replaced the elegance of this wonderful
architectural plant and remained in place as a visual reminder of the power
Mother Nature wielded over our little corner of this Earth.
While rushing around trying to get the awning back down
off the roof of the caravan, Tony from Tudor moves rang to say he was almost
in Cártama, so off we went back down again! We found Tony and the
xx ft removal van parked on the main
road outside the garage. Tony was unfazed by our descriptions of the road –
we were not to worry, he had driven through the Pyrenees. This boast was
one we were to remind him of many times afterwards, whilst we tried to keep
our near hysterical laughter from rupturing our insides!
He gamely followed up the winding tarmac road onto the
dirt track – “I just put the vehicle into first and kept going” he told us
later. There was a minor hitch when the impact of a pothole broke the
latches on the bit above the cab and things fell out. I noticed something
amiss in my sun visor mirror and told Alan to stop. Luckily it was just
some spare plastic sheeting, and nothing of ours! When we got to the last
bit of track, I left Alan and Tony to it and went to get the video. As when
bringing the caravan in, there was a long delay whilst I waited to film the
successful arrival of the only ever lorry to make it Cencerrita. Apparently
it was very slow progress whilst Alan cut branches back that we had missed
when preparing the way. There was a nasty moment when stuck on bend with
flat tyre and wrecked the wheel – but hey, he had arrived! Tony was in a bit
of a state, but very jubilant. He agreed that driving through the Pyrenees
wasn’t really ample training ground.
As he was able to park directly outside the front door in
a very short while, and many litres of water consumed, we had emptied the
van into the lounge – except for the sofa which we put in what was left of
the awning, just to make sure we had some creature comforts. The hard part
was turning the van around – just not enough of a turning circle, with a
sheer bank one side and a sharp drop the other. After nearly two hours
passed in frustration, sweating blood, Alan persuaded Tony to trust his
directions because the only way the van was ever going to be turned round
was by hanging the back end off the precipice – the wheels would still be on
a solid surface ... probably! Alan pointed out that our spa was still in the
van, so there was no way he was going to let the van fall of the edge. Not
too much longer after than, and lots of tea, the triumphal pair had turned
the removal van around to face the way out. The strange thing was, there had
been a large mound on the edge before this operation and now it was totally
levelled. I can’t help but wonder just how solid the edge of that drop was
...
We took Tony down for a celebration meal in Estación de
Cártama as we figured we all deserved a few glasses of nice cold beer. Tony
was still in some degree of shock and kept talking to various people on the
phone trying to explain where he was and what a removal he’d just
undertaken. Alan and I just smiled at each other – nobody can ever believe
it until they come here.
Our troubles were not yet over: the next day we had to
get the spa off the van. Weighing in at 238 kg, and no tail drop on the
lorry, this was not an easy task. However, with a couple of sack trucks, a
pallet truck and all three of us bursting the odd blood vessel or two, we
succeeded in safely lowering the spa to the ground. At the time, we left it
more or less where it had landed as we hadn’t a clue how to move it any
further. Once everything was all sorted, Tony asked if he could spend his
regulation 24 hour rest with us – this place gets to you, you never want to
leave! So that he could completely relax, we helped him take the van down
to Estación de Cártama and parked there in a lay-by until the next day.
That night, Tony spent the night on the sunroof under the stars –
understandably refusing the “accommodation” below. I think he will dine out
for many years on the strength of his tale about Cencerrita – he deserves to
be proud of himself, he’s the only one to ever make it up in such a large
vehicle. What his boss said about the state of the van is another story ... |
