Beyond Malaga the coast returns to days of old – white washed fishing villages carved into secluded inlets like ancient limestone sculptures now stained and crumbling with the passage of time and a neglected serpentine road capturing each town in its coils as it twist and turns along the rugged contours of the coast. Gone are the beach bars, the stained deck chairs, the military regiments of beach umbrellas, the coastal high rise apartments, the gaudy hotels and the over-commercialised real estate that stretches from Malaga all the way back west to Gibraltar. Here there is normality that is only safe from modernisation because the money and patronage ran out.
We are whisked along by the modern marvel that is the Spanish Autovias. From the heights above, the black ribands of progress carry us speedily on our way. We burrow through mountain tunnels kilometres long and traverse dizzying gorges hundreds of feet deep on viaducts that defy gravity and imagination. High above like Olympians looking down on the mortal world below.
As we near Almeria the hills subside and we cross a plain that runs from the coast to the foot of the mountains. The contrast is unforgettable. The plain is virtually flat for miles and miles and meets the mountains in a abrupt transition. There is a defining line where the plain stop and the mountains rise shear in some places for hundreds of feet. What was once undulating in places has now been scoured flat as a table top and it seems every square inch of the plain is covered with giant green houses. Row upon row, mile upon mile of plastic and shade cloth covered frames. The REAL Greenhouse Effect in operation. Here vast amounts of rubble from the plain have been graded flat and the tailings formed into huge reservoirs – three squared sides backed by the hard edge of the mountains. Each reservoir filled to capacity with water feeding all the greenhouse by gravity alone. At first glance it is an ugly sprawl of white blighting the land but this blight produces crops year round in a climate that has over 280 sunny days in any given year. It not only feed a nation but the rest of Europe and the UK as well. The other blight on the landscape here are the rows of wind turbines that cost a fortune, are hopelessly inefficient at producing electricity, kill and maim thousands of birds each year and have been one of the contributing factor in Spain's economic woes.
Our camping ground was tucked into one of those little forgotten coves just outside Almeria. An old bridge that was part of the old coast road divided the camp in two. We were only metres from the lapping waves of the Mediterranean and were lulled to sleep by the sound of the tide. This campground was old and faded like the villages we passed and must have been here when we were here 40 years ago. We walked across the now disused bridge and along the old coast road no longer in use. We couldn't believe how narrow it was and wondered how back then we had traveled along this very road.
We caught the local bus into town and spent the day wandering around the town. This is an ancient city like most along this part of the Spanish coast and it's name is a clue to it's origin. Spanish towns and cities with Al, Ben, Gib, Guadal are all of Phoenician origin. Historian like to portray these places as former Moorish enclaves but one only has to go back to Roman and Greek writings to find that this part of the Mediterranean was firmly in Phoenician and Carthaginian control for thousands of years before the Moors invaded Spain in the 9th Century AD. The Moorish conquest could be said to be a homecoming rather than an invasion. The Arabic language is but a 2nd cousin to North African Punic and is but a later version on Ancient Canaanite the father of Ancient Hebrew and Berber.
We made our way along the streets of the old town to the Alcazar, a Moorish fortress built on the hillside overlooking the harbour and city. It is one of the best preserved pieces of Moorish architecture in Spain even though much of it has been rebuilt after an earthquake in the middle ages.
The place is astounding with its high walls, corner towers and the beautiful gardens. It is amazing how people from a desert climate went out of their way to produce gardens of such outstanding beauty. I guess every caliph or suzerain was trying to reproduce his vision of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The dominant feature is water - ponds, spillways and fountains abound. To a desert people 'water is life'.
We also visited the Cathedral of Almeria which looks like a small fortress. Its plain exterior belies a rather splendid interior. It is built in a very Gothic style with huge vaulted ceilings that are supported by massive external buttresses. While not as imposing as Notre Dame or Amiens it was none the less a very special place. The U shaped choir was notable for its double row of stepped seats that were a double for the one in The Name Of The Rose and I could even imagine Venerable Jorge reading from the spiral stepped pulpit. The organ was also intriguing as several banks of pipes were aligned horizontally – very strange. Needless to say we enjoyed Almeria even though to borrow an adjective from Douglas Adams it looked (like much of the rest of Spain that we have visited) a little squalid.
Our next leg took us into the desert of Tabernas, the only desert in Europe and the setting for many “B” Grade movies that became classics. It was here 40 years ago we discovered quite by accident the movie sets of Sergio Leone. The Dollar Trilogy staring a then unknown Clint Eastwood was made here in a desert landscape that could be the background for every western ever made. Here also the Spaghetti Western with Bud Spencer and Terrance Hill were made. Other notable classic that used the local area and the sets were Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Once Upon A Time In The West, Lawrence of Arabia and many Italian and German westerns. Although it wasn't filmed here one can imaging the Magnificent Seven or Gunfight at the OK Corral as you walk around the now ageing and shabby sets. I don't think they have made a movie here for a while as westerns have fallen out of favour these day.
We left the sets and our fond memories behind and headed for the northeast coast. The barren landscape continued until we crossed (went under) the coastal ranges and ended up on another coastal plain even larger than the one we left with even more greenhouses. If you thought Asia was into intensive farming this beats it hands down. The Motto here could be “You name it we grow it”.
We are now settled into a very nice campground in the coastal town or Isla Plana just south of another Ex-Phoenician port of Cartagena – pronounced 'Car-ta-hay-na'. That's Carthage or New Carthage. We've decided to stay a while and just chill. The campground is beautiful – shaded terraced plots with sea views, quiet with a cool sea breeze, huge swimming pool that is replenished every day with warm clear sea water – heaven on a stick. Not sure where we are headed next but it will be further north when we decide to move on. For now we are happy to stay a while and enjoy the sunshine and peacefulness of Isla Plana.
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