The weather forecast was a little bit grim for today, from what I could tell by searching last night, and so I had expected a day of rain cloud dodging and lounging around the hostel. But when I woke up this morning it was because the sun had been shining through the open window just beside my sleeping head. I was pleasantly surprised. But I didn’t get my hopes up. The weather can be unpredictable and especially along the Atlantic coast, the weather can change pretty quickly. So going with the flow I hobbled up the steps to take a shower and popped into the kitchen to make my free breakfast, compliments of the hostel, of toast with jam and butter and coffee. It was a quiet morning, the sun woke me up a little earlier than the rest of the guests that I had seen the night before. I went back to the room and decided to pack a bag for the beach. The morning looked promising weather wise.
I walked out of the hostel, aiming for the beach. I made it as far as the quay wall behind the beach and paused for a moment to take in the scene around me. The sun, high in the morning sky, was surrounded by a huge, perfect bubble of clear blue. Huge, scattered puffy clouds sat in the sky off to the north, and just across the strait, Africa was engulfed in these black clouds, pouring rain all along the coast. But since the sun over Tarifa was all alone in its blue bubble, I figured I had some time to go down and sit on the beach awhile. I walked probably for about two or three miles north along the beach, north and away from the town, closing in on the mountains and meadows. The beach just kept going and going as far as I could see. I found a nice spot, miles from anybody, the open ocean spread in front of me, wild flower meadows directly behind, it was great. I brought my beach towel, changed into my swim suit, and sat there just enjoying the peace and quiet. Occasionally a dog walker or jogger would make their way along the shore but all in all I was left pretty much alone. A few times I braved the water, walking in and dipping my toes, but the water was icy cold and I was not bold enough for a swim.
I sat here for a couple of hours. Eventually, from out of the meadows apparently, a hippie couple and their puppy appeared out of nowhere, approaching from behind. They took a seat off to my right, about 20 feet away, and set up camp. They dropped their huge packs with camping gear and all sorts of hippie necessities. I looked around in all directions, and still no one had joined me on the beach for miles. I was wondering why the hippie couple had decided to set up so close to me but to be honest I didn’t really care and wasn’t bothered at all, just amused. They didn’t say anything to me, nor I to them. We just sat there together in some silent commune. It was kind of nice. Their little puppy, a little black lab or something like it, ran down into the water and jumped around in the waves. The hippies eventually fell asleep, and I eventually left.
I decided to walk in the direction that the hippies came from, directly behind where I was sitting, into the meadows. I have never seen a more attractive collection of wild flowers. Every color imaginable burst from the bushes and grasses around me. And, looking off into the distance, the rain clouds were swirling and transforming shape, but still the same bubble of blue sky, perfectly protecting the sun, told me I could continue my outdoor trek. I eventually popped out to the main road that connects Tarifa to the coastal, two lane highway. I crossed it and made my way to the foothills of the looming green mountains just beyond. From where I was I could spot a winding access road that led up the edge of the mountain towards several windmills that lined the top of the ridge. I thought maybe I could make my way up the mountain and to some really nice views if I followed the access road so I crossed the highway and made my way in that direction. I found a dirt road and followed it past some horses being led on a rope from a Spanish cowboy, and then past a large motocross circuit where a few guys were offloading there bikes from a pickup truck. I found the access road and continued to walk up but just beyond the motocross park, I eventually ran into a gate. I was up a little ways though and I did indeed get some nice views of Tarifa and the beach below, but I figured it was time enough to turn back anyway. I walked my way all the way back to the hostel and took a short rest in the common room.
I was preparing my trip out to Morocco for the next day and went to the receptionist to ask about reserving ferry tickets. She helped me and I had them ready to go, but at the same time she was checking in two Austrian girls and a German girl from Bavaria, and we met and started chatting awhile. They were off to the beach and I had no other plans so I joined them, back to enjoy the sun that refused to find the clouds. Back on the beach the clouds that were wreaking havoc over Africa had disappeared and the blue bubble around the sun became the entire sky. It was a gorgeous afternoon. We laid out some blankets and sat on the beach. During this time I had worked up the nerve to jump in the water. I had been wanting to go swimming in the ocean by the beach on this trip since Russia and it seemed that this might be my last opportunity to do it. Walking up to my knees was no problem. I had done that before and was relatively used to the temperature. Besides, the best way to approach situations like this is to just jump in and worry about being cold later. So that’s what I did. It was a nice feeling, being in the ocean, but I didn’t last more than five minutes before I had to jump back out and warm up, which I never really did. It was getting kind of late so we eventually packed up and went back to the hostel. The girls were going to cook some dinner and they had made way too much food so I was lucky enough to snag a free meal of potatoes and vegetables. Then we lounged awhile in the common room and met some more folks staying at the hostel, two Canadian twins, two French guys, and an American from California. The big group that we were, we decided to head out into the night to see what Tarifa had to offer.
We were pleasantly surprised how hopping this little town was on a Wednesday evening. We found a local bar where a live, local band was playing some very cool Spanish music. The bar was packed with locals, kids, and dogs and everyone it seemed knew the words to the songs that were being played. We ordered some cervezas and watched the band grooving in the corner. It was a great scene. There was another group of what looked like foreigners, really tall ones, that turned out to be a group from Holland, and they all had these red, white, and blue stripes painted onto their cheeks. I knew from Tim, my Dutch friend, that today was Queen’s Day back in Holland which is the country’s number one holiday and huge party day. So the group had come out to celebrate here in Tarifa. They were all kite surfers who had come to live and work awhile in the south. Our groups blended and before I knew it I had Dutch colors painted onto my cheeks as well.
Eventually the police came into the bar to complain that the band was making too much noise, I guess, and the bar had to close down, it’s a small town. But we moved on and found a few other spots for cheap beers and good music. It was a really fun night out. We came back around 3 in the morning and crashed at the hostel. Luckily, I didn’t have to get moving to catch my ferry until about 11 in the morning so I had some time to sleep in, catch breakfast, check out, and make my way to the ferry landing for a one o’clock departure to Tangier.
Tomorrow, Africa!
I walked out of the hostel, aiming for the beach. I made it as far as the quay wall behind the beach and paused for a moment to take in the scene around me. The sun, high in the morning sky, was surrounded by a huge, perfect bubble of clear blue. Huge, scattered puffy clouds sat in the sky off to the north, and just across the strait, Africa was engulfed in these black clouds, pouring rain all along the coast. But since the sun over Tarifa was all alone in its blue bubble, I figured I had some time to go down and sit on the beach awhile. I walked probably for about two or three miles north along the beach, north and away from the town, closing in on the mountains and meadows. The beach just kept going and going as far as I could see. I found a nice spot, miles from anybody, the open ocean spread in front of me, wild flower meadows directly behind, it was great. I brought my beach towel, changed into my swim suit, and sat there just enjoying the peace and quiet. Occasionally a dog walker or jogger would make their way along the shore but all in all I was left pretty much alone. A few times I braved the water, walking in and dipping my toes, but the water was icy cold and I was not bold enough for a swim.
 |
| Meadows sprawl out from behind the beach in Tarifa |
 |
| The sidewalk that leads down the length of much of the beach from town |
 |
| Black clouds hovered over the African coast in the distance, nearly completely hidden from view |
 |
| A lone white horse munching on some flowers in the open meadow behind the beach |
 |
| This playground had seen better days |
 |
| The beach had clean, white sand for as far as the eye could see |
I decided to walk in the direction that the hippies came from, directly behind where I was sitting, into the meadows. I have never seen a more attractive collection of wild flowers. Every color imaginable burst from the bushes and grasses around me. And, looking off into the distance, the rain clouds were swirling and transforming shape, but still the same bubble of blue sky, perfectly protecting the sun, told me I could continue my outdoor trek. I eventually popped out to the main road that connects Tarifa to the coastal, two lane highway. I crossed it and made my way to the foothills of the looming green mountains just beyond. From where I was I could spot a winding access road that led up the edge of the mountain towards several windmills that lined the top of the ridge. I thought maybe I could make my way up the mountain and to some really nice views if I followed the access road so I crossed the highway and made my way in that direction. I found a dirt road and followed it past some horses being led on a rope from a Spanish cowboy, and then past a large motocross circuit where a few guys were offloading there bikes from a pickup truck. I found the access road and continued to walk up but just beyond the motocross park, I eventually ran into a gate. I was up a little ways though and I did indeed get some nice views of Tarifa and the beach below, but I figured it was time enough to turn back anyway. I walked my way all the way back to the hostel and took a short rest in the common room.
 |
| I tried to follow an access road that linked these windmills up along the ridge |
 |
| The two lane highway, north to Cadiz or east to Malaga |
We were pleasantly surprised how hopping this little town was on a Wednesday evening. We found a local bar where a live, local band was playing some very cool Spanish music. The bar was packed with locals, kids, and dogs and everyone it seemed knew the words to the songs that were being played. We ordered some cervezas and watched the band grooving in the corner. It was a great scene. There was another group of what looked like foreigners, really tall ones, that turned out to be a group from Holland, and they all had these red, white, and blue stripes painted onto their cheeks. I knew from Tim, my Dutch friend, that today was Queen’s Day back in Holland which is the country’s number one holiday and huge party day. So the group had come out to celebrate here in Tarifa. They were all kite surfers who had come to live and work awhile in the south. Our groups blended and before I knew it I had Dutch colors painted onto my cheeks as well.
Eventually the police came into the bar to complain that the band was making too much noise, I guess, and the bar had to close down, it’s a small town. But we moved on and found a few other spots for cheap beers and good music. It was a really fun night out. We came back around 3 in the morning and crashed at the hostel. Luckily, I didn’t have to get moving to catch my ferry until about 11 in the morning so I had some time to sleep in, catch breakfast, check out, and make my way to the ferry landing for a one o’clock departure to Tangier.
Tomorrow, Africa!
No comments:
Post a Comment