Travelling by boat, train and road is, to my mind, far more rewarding and less stressful than flying. It allows you to ease slowly into a new country, rather than getting dumped in a place with a new language, climate and culture.
So when we decided to visit Spain and return to Javea, the town near Alicante where my wife Debs grew up, I was determined to avoid a flight and make it a road trip – in a motorhome.
When I first mentioned my plan to Debs, she was aghast. But when Lloyd from hire firm Chief Rentals delivered our six-berth Swift Escape 686 to our door, she soon changed her mind. She saw the space (it’s 22ft long), and noted the hot water, shower, bathroom, oven, fridge and heater.
To make it even easier, Chief provides bedding, bikes, a food hamper and child seats – it seemed everything, including the kitchen sink, was taken care of.
And when I saw the look of delight on the faces of our sons – Daniel, four, and two-year-old Darley – I knew I had made the correct decision.
Packing before we set off was a simple affair. We no longer had to worry about squeezing things into bags – instead we just threw everything we wanted into our new home.
Heading for Portsmouth to catch our Brittany Ferries service to Santander in northern Spain, we were amazed by the elevated views from the Swift – we could now see over hedges and into fields we had driven alongside countless times. Our world had just got bigger.
Boarding the ferry was hassle-free too – we just rolled up and rolled on, so much easier than lugging bags around a crowded airport. On board it was like a hotel, and even with two active little boys, our 26-hour journey flew by thanks to the children’s entertainer, playroom, cinema and deliciousrestaurant food.
Our en-suite cabin was a relaxing place to watch the horizon shift from English Channel grey to Bay of Biscay blue either side of a sound sleep.
The next day we watched excitedly as the Spanish coast edged ever closer. After disembarking, we were on the excellent open roads.
The stunning greenery of northern Spain soon gave way to a more familiar country of spectacular mountainous landscapes and sun-kissed vineyards. We drove a couple of hours to Haro where our first campsite experience was fantastic (we had booked them all beforehand through the Camping & Caravanning Club).
We’d been longing for tortilla and found a tapas bar where Debs realised her Spanish wasn’t as rusty as she’d feared. From Haro it was another pleasurable drive on the deserted autopista to Zaragoza. We stopped for tapas whenever we fancied at lay-bys that had picnic tables.
By the second night, we settled into a bedtime pattern. Daniel clambered on the bed above the driver’s cab, and I climbed up too. It was so comfortable I slept there all night. Debs and Darley took the double bed converted from the lounge seats. Every night we slept wonderfully – but not before Daniel and I had gazed through our ‘secret’ window at the stars.
We grew increasingly attached to our motorhome. Made by Yorkshire-based Swift, which celebrates its 50th anniversary this year, it looked after us so impeccably that we vowed to buy one upon our return to Britain.
We roamed onwards in it past rusty roadside sculptures, wind turbines and alluring almond blossoms, all under mountainous backdrops. We loved the freedom this form of travel allowed us – the warm breeze drifting through open windows, and we ate meals while admiring one incredible view afteranother. At the campsites, the boys adored meeting new neighbours.
We couldn’t resist a visit to Valencia during our odyssey. We parked up near its Bioparc zoo where the boys loved watching the elephants, giraffes and gorillas in this stunningly imaginative 25-acre park.
From the primates we headed to La Pepica restaurant in the city, lured by its reputation of the finest paella in Spain. We weren’t disappointed as we ate at this historic venue – a favourite of Hemingway – poised beautifully by La Malvarrosa beach.
We soon discovered we were only steps from another stunning sandy beach once we arrived at Oliva’s Kiko Park campsite near Valencia, which was our favourite stay of all.
Even though we weren’t jaded, it was great to settle in for a few nights after covering 1,000 miles in a week. During our stay we strolled along the beach for café bombóns. Next we made it to Javea’s crescent beach and Debs’s childhood home, nestled under Montgo, the 2,470ft mountain that lookslike a slumbering elephant. We headed down to the stunning Cumbre del Sol beach, where 20 years ago Debs used to play.
During our journey back to Santander, we discovered Aranjuez near Madrid, a 16th Century royal palace, and later the dramatic snowcapped Sierra de Guadarrama range. Arriving back in Santander for the ferry to Britain, we found we had several hours to kill. Fortunately, there was no hanging about in a stuffy airport for us – we used the time to play on the beach.
When we finally got home, we all agreed our trip felt more like an extended period of travel than a holiday. It was as if we had been away for months rather than weeks.
It was perfect family time and left us feeling totally connected with a country. I’ve spent about a year of my life in Spain and Debs much more than that, yet we were in no doubt that we had experienced Spain like never before.
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