As September rolled in the weather was already hinting at autumn’s approach which gave a brief reprieve from the summer heat before snapping back with a vengeance and the temperatures spiked to 37°C again, so it’s with mixed emotions, that we leave the village of Vinho. There’s a sense of eagerness for the road ahead, and relief to be escaping the dry heat, but also a touch of sadness as we bid farewell to our routine of popping into Coja for a chat with the locals.
Leaving the house-sit our trusty motorhome creaks to life as John navigates the familiar, bumpy rubble roads out of town with fewer tourists now in this part of Portugal, the roads are very quiet as we head towards the Spanish border.
Travelling along the N17 before joining the toll road to Guarda, we pass several fire-scorched fields and forests, though we are spared the sight of active flames, the heavy smell of smoke lingers until we near the Spanish border.
Crossing into Spain, the change in atmosphere is almost immediate. The landscape is much flatter, and wider, and the roads stretch out before us, we also realise we lost an hour because we changed to Spanish time.
The temperature in Spain is much cooler and breezier, we even have rain which turns John into the spitting image of the old Nan from the Catherine Tate sketch. The first drop hasn’t even hit the window screen before he’s sighing, “Oh, here we go!” in that same exasperated tone, as if he’s lived through decades of miserable weather just waiting for the sky to open up again. He’ll mutter about how “it’s typical, isn’t it,” with the same level of dramatic outrage, throwing side glances at the window like it’s a personal attack. I can’t help but laugh every time. It’s like living with a sitcom character!
We only stayed one night in Spain on this leg of our journey, but it was a restless one with plenty of noise so we were up early to move on.
We like Portugal and Spain the food, the culture, the villages and cities. But the roads? Let’s just say I’m convinced the locals think road markings are purely decorative. And brakes? I’m not entirely sure they come as standard in vehicles here. Every drive feels like an audition for the next Fast & Furious movie, except with fewer rules!
So with the French border now in sight, we’re heading off to find somewhere quieter for a peaceful night’s rest.
On the outskirts of Ciudad Rodrigo, we pull into a lay-by and put the kettle it isn’t the most glamourous place but most stops along this route are the same and I have learnt not to be fussy about where I drink my tea
We parked our motorhome at the Aire in Valladolid for the night, a convenient spot near the city. After settling in, we take a stroll into the city which has some charming streets and a vibrant atmosphere.
The Pisuerga River is a hive of activity late into the evening
Back at the van we can hear the loud and mad Spanish, where the ‘quiet’ air is just a myth. The streets buzz until 3 am when they finally tire themselves out – only for the bin men to arrive at 7 am to finish what they started. Happy days, right? Who needs sleep when you’ve got fiestas and trash collection to keep you company?
Co coordinates for Aries used in Spain
Valladolid
N 41° 39′ 21
W 4° 44′ 14