Winding Roads & Wacky Racers: From Arganil to France

We began this stretch of our journey with a stop in Arganil, not originally on our itinerary, but life has a way of reshuffling plans. We’d heard a friend had been taken to hospital nearby, so we decided to stay close in case they needed any help. Thankfully, things settled , and it gave us the chance to slow down and enjoy a couple of peaceful days at a nearby campsite.

Castelo Mendo is a tiny medieval town with charming narrow lanes and enough character to fill a postcard rack. We set off on a walk and didn’t get far before being enthusiastically accosted by a woman perched on some steps. She lured us in with offers of goat cheese and ginger ale (a combination we hadn’t considered… for good reason). John declared the ginger ale was “potent” – which I suspect is polite code for “possibly homemade rocket fuel.” We tried to decline politely, but still left with a chunk of cheese we neither wanted nor had room for.

Back to wandering, and we spotted a hand-painted sign that simply read “Café.” John poked his head in and somehow we were suddenly seated, served drinks, and then invited to share someone else’s cake too (which, in fairness, was very good). A mystery drink was pressed into John’s hand—what it was, we still don’t know. Possibly wine. Possibly sherry . Before the hospitality turned into a second dessert round, we made a diplomatic exit and avoided eye contact with any further open doors.

Back at the van, we enjoyed a quiet evening under the stars with a friendly Spanish couple camped nearby. The kind of night where nothing happens and everything is perfect.

The next morning, we were up with the sun (mostly to avoid melting) and set the sat nav for Salamanca. We picked a site on the outskirts for peace of mind and hopped on a bus into the city. Salamanca is stunning—ancient buildings, sun-drenched plazas, and that old-world charm you can’t fake.

We should’ve quit while we were ahead, but no, we decided to stop for lunch. Big mistake. Everything that could go wrong, did. The food was either missing, mysterious, or completely miserable. My fish arrived with a sad leaf of iceberg lettuce and no sauce. It was like dining in a live-action episode of Fawlty Towers. At least we left with a story.

With the temps rising, we hit the road again, aiming for Cabárceno, where things were much cooler—literally. The scenery was green, the elephants majestic, and we bumped into some familiar faces from earlier in the year. Vanlife is a small world!

Our next port of call was Lekeitio. Now, at first glance, the town seemed a little rough around the edges, but it grew on us quickly with its lovely beach and charming harbour wall. The aire was a basic car park in the centre, but it felt safe enough—especially with the local police keeping watch. We ended up chatting to a couple parked nearby from Canterbury, not far from where we’re from. Always nice to swap stories about areas you know well.

Eventually, with water tanks low and personal hygiene in need of rescue, we aimed for the coastal road—dreaming of scenic views and cool breezes. Sadly, the route was closed for maintenance, so we found ourselves on the AP-1, which had apparently been taken over by a gang of wacky racers. Heat, madness, or full moons—we’re not sure, but every other driver seemed to be auditioning for the Formula one season.

Thankfully, we made it across the border into France with all wheels intact and nerves only slightly frayed. We celebrated with a deep breath, a slightly cooler breeze… and yes, we finally opened that cheese. Still not sure why we took it, but it’s part of the story now.

Whilst staying in Arganil we walk to the neighbouring village of Sarzedo that looks like it hasn’t changed in many decades and there are great views towards Arganil.

We have no idea what they were celebrating, but we’re not complaining — the delicious coconut cake they gave us in Castelo Mendo was a nice surprise!

I’m honestly surprised we only ended up with the goat cheese — the lady was really pushing everything from eggs to cheese to ham. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how long some of it had been hanging around for!

Castelo Mendo is a charming medieval village nestled in the hills of central Portugal, near the Spanish border

Salamanca is a vibrant Spanish city renowned for its stunning golden sandstone architecture, lively university atmosphere, and one of the oldest universities in Europe, making it a cultural and historical treasure.