Like every autumn, the heavy blankets of fog that last for days, increasingly shorter days and cold, wet weather have been getting on our nerves for some time now. In fact, we once agreed that we would hit the road when temperatures dropped below eleven degrees. Why when it's eleven degrees? Yes, that's a long story that I might tell you one day. Just this much: If you know our Unimog licence plate, you might be able to make sense of it.
In the meantime, the Advent season has begun, the first snow has fallen and we are still fighting our way through the cold streets between stressed Christmas shoppers. The only consolation is the sometimes beautiful Christmas lights, small yellow and white colours, which don't really make the cold any more pleasant. Finally, the time has come. We have finalised our last appointments and, with heavy hearts, say goodbye to our loved ones once again. Time for us to leave!
The destination is the sun, the warmth, the direction is south. It will be our third winter that we want to spend in warmer climes with our Unimog. After Morocco two years ago and Cyprus last year, we want to go somewhere new this time too. We are explorers and adventurers, so travelling to the same destination twice - at least for now - is unthinkable, however exciting and beautiful they may have been. Even if winter destinations with a Unimog don't exactly grow like oranges on trees, we still have a lot to discover. Only the direction is set. We can only head south.
We are leaving the final destination open for the time being, but once again we are travelling to Spain via the south of France. This time we explore the Rhone route, which we don't know yet and the chances of getting through the Alps without snow and ice seem reasonable. Fortunately, the sun shines for the first time in a long time on our departure day. Even in otherwise foggy Zurich, our favourite travel companion is already smiling at us before the engine warms up! Nevertheless, without seat heating and sheepskin on my co-pilot's bum, nothing works for the time being. Despite the cold, we are overjoyed to be back on the road. What people, what experiences, what adventures await us this winter?
Shortly after Geneva, we meet the Rhone as planned, which meanders steaming but silently in a south-westerly direction. After a record-breaking 364 kilometres across Switzerland and into the French Haute Savoie, we drop anchor just before sunset. The first night near Anglefort is still bitterly cold for FRAME. The garden thermometer shows minus two degrees Celsius in the morning, while we are so cosy and warm in the cabin. I can't remember ever having to scrape ice off the windscreen, but today I can't do without it. Oh, how we long for more warmth, for the days when we can sit outside the car in the enchanting countryside and listen to the birds. Well, not today, let's see what the next day brings.
The onward journey is idyllic, partly in the haze of the sweating Rhone, but then soon crossing the river again and again in bright sunshine. The villages are deserted and you wonder how long the old people will be able to hold on before no-one is willing to live here any more. Most of the village shops have long since disappeared and where the population is still reasonably high, the traditional boulangeries and cosy French street cafés have all been replaced by bakery chains and fast food outlets. We are also forced to get our morning croissant in a Marie Blachere outlet. Long live the good old days when your hands were buttery and your croissant didn't end up in a thousand crumbs on your lap.
above: Fog and sun alternate in the Rhone valley
below: The steaming Rhone has to be crossed several times
The further south we travel through the departments of Isere and later Drôme, the more the river idyll loses its magic and industry dominates the scenery. Soon, the horizon is characterised by nuclear power plant cooling towers and plumes of steam. These are images that make us dream all the more of the sea, which we will hopefully reach tomorrow. At the end of the day's journey, however, we are once again rewarded with a great place to spend the night. We rest in absolute peace and tranquillity with a far-reaching view on a hill of Mont Bouquet. Only a few daring paragliders cross our view of the setting sun.
The night is noticeably warmer. We are now close to double-digit plus temperatures and on the edge of picturesque Provence. Unfortunately, it's not the right season to enjoy the beauty of this part of France at the moment. We are content with the images in our heads and the memories of the contrasting lavender fields that are common in this region. The images in our heads and the fond memories are important components of a long journey to a distant destination anyway. The area we are travelling through triggers the themes and provides the inspiration for the thoughts and discussions during our journeys. No matter how mundane the surroundings may be.
We have arrived in the south of France! Montpellier, Beziers, Narbonne and whatever else they're called - terrible big cities that we're forced to drive past. The reward is the first view of the Mediterranean. The low winter sun reflects off the water like at no other time of year. A first stage destination is within reach. At the turn-off from the main road, we once again come up against a height limit that is impossible for us. We come to a brief standstill - will we now be denied the place we've been aiming for to spend the night right by the water? It's not for nothing that we have an expedition vehicle. We creep along rough paths, somewhat complicated but purposeful, to the place of our desire. Far away from the noise of the motorways and main roads that can be heard for miles around, we reach our third and final overnight stop in France. We meet a few nice French people and a plethora of flamingos, but otherwise we are on our own. But tomorrow it's ‘Adieu La France’ and ‘Viva Espagna’ yet again.
above: At the Etang de Salses we stand with the flamingos
below: Evening light at the Etang
For the first time since the Swiss border, today, on day four, we reach a section that we travelled two years ago on the way to Morocco, which is the French-Spanish border at Le Perthus. A short detour in Girona to get two SIM cards and a pair of beach shoes and then on to the Costa Brava. In the age of online shopping, it's fair to ask why we still buy our SIM cards from real people in shops. E-SIM cards are certainly justified and, especially for overlanders who often cross national borders, they promise simplicity and versatility. To date, however, these arguments have not been able to dispel our concerns about dependence on a specific network system. What use is a fast connection immediately after crossing the border if network coverage is no longer guaranteed three valleys away? Even a promised fast upload and download rate will be of no benefit. The best possible coverage is the most important thing for us, which is why we always buy two of the SIM cards with the best coverage in a country whenever possible. In the three years we've been travelling, there have been countless times when we only were left with one SIM card connected. But we were never completely without connection, even on the most remote off-road route in the Moroccan Erg Chigaga, we were still able to communicate in an impending emergency situation, albeit only just. I think only a satellite phone provides a more reliable service here and would still make sense for us in regions outside Europe.
Spending the night undisturbed on the beach in northern Spain is not easy. The onslaught of wild camping enthusiasts must be too great here in summer and they must have behaved too undisciplined in the past. The fact is, the area is heavily populated and the opportunities for undisturbed wild camping are extremely limited. For these reasons, we prefer to try our luck in the north of Spain in the romantic pine forests on the hills with fantastic views of the sea and the sunrise.
First pitch in Spain: Costa Brava with a view of the sunrise
It's day five, we've been travelling along the coast in Spain since yesterday and are already enjoying temperatures close to 20C degrees. A clear sign that we have reached the desired warmth is the command from my co-driver: ‘Please switch on the air conditioning!’ Today is indeed the day. The flat winter sun in the midday sky burns through our conspicuously vertical windscreen. Due to the location on this route towards the south-west, the driver gets much more of the lovely sun. So Brigitte's request comes as a relief to me.
In Spain, even toll-free driving is extremely direct and fast, so we manage well over 300 kilometres again today. We take a wide detour around Barcelona. Then we drive on unspectacular motorways through industrial and extensive agricultural zones, one after the other. The surroundings seem greener to us than two years ago. This may be due to the time of year - we are travelling around five weeks later than then - or to the heavy rainfall that recently hit the region. However, we both agree that Spain only starts to show its charm from Valencia onwards, so for the time being we are travelling as fast as we can.
We have now reached the orange and mandarin orchards for which Spain is so famous. Paradoxically, we still have a few mandarins with us from home. We are probably taking them back to their origins. All that's missing is for them to roll out of the fruit bowl and wistfully yip out ‘Oh, mi casa!’.
At the end of the day, however, we don't end up in one of the numerous orange groves, but on the shores of a reservoir just outside Valencia. The approach is quite narrow, but we have the whole lakeshore to ourselves. In the evening, in the distance, a lone fisherman waving to us in a friendly manner and, early in the morning, a few groups of cyclists cranking past high above us on the paved road and chatting happily. With yesterday's mega stage of around 370 kilometres, we have taken further pressure off our shoulders to reach our first intermediate destination. This much can be revealed: we have an appointment with a ferry that probably won't wait for us.
We are also leaving Valencia out this year. We visited this interesting city extensively on our last trip and stayed there for several days. Instead, we went food shopping today to stock up for the upcoming holidays.
A little after Ontinyent, we climb up to the right onto a ridge just over 700 metres above sea level where, for once, there are no transmitters or wind turbines. We take up one of the few flat spots on this natural path and are thrilled by the panoramic view from east to west. But the highlight comes when we get out of the car. A fantastic scent of rosemary immediately fills our nostrils. Surprisingly, we find ourselves in the middle of an endless herb garden, surrounded by wild rosemary and thyme, wild asparagus, kermes oak, Nice stonecrop and various types of rockrose. Other plants previously unknown to us are quickly identified with the app with well over 90 per cent certainty. Technology and nature don't always have to contradict each other. Spain surprises us time and again with such fantastic, secluded natural locations, where we quickly set up our FRAME Hotel and settle down in a cosy spot. In the midst of this wonderful rosemary scent, we grill a juicy entrecote for sunset, roasted in and infused with the scent of wild rosemary, of course.
Fortunately, we always plan our trips with enough reserves to be able to take a day's break in places like this. As expected, the weather is glorious and the fresh herbal scents just won't let us go. Off we go on a short hike over the ridge. Although it's the weekend, we don't meet a handful of people all day, a solitude that we love after the pre-Christmas rush.
Invigorated and revitalised, we set off on the last stage before the short Christmas break. It is our first time travelling to a place we already know. It was so spectacular two years ago that we spent a whole week there. It won't be more than two days this year, but the Christmas holidays deserve somewhere a little more special. The pirate beach on the Costa de Almeria is our location of choice. A narrow, steep path a few kilometres south of Aguilas leads to a clifftop platform with a view and access to the turquoise-blue sea. A campsite could hardly be more romantic. The ramp down has become a little bumpier and sandier in the meantime. It's no problem going down, but we'll see if we can get back up again after Christmas.
One of the coolest places in the Spanish Mediterranean: Pirate beach on the Costa de Almeria
Next blog: From the pirate beach to the ‘pirate’ ferry
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