In praise of wild camping So far in my short trip into Spain I’ve enjoyed four evenings in ‘wild camp grounds’. The beauty of having the van is that you are totally self contained. Pull up, put the roof up and you’re set for the night. A truly nomadic existence and cost free. Camp sites with toilet blocks, internet connections and security gates provide a sense of safety, but also domesticity and a sense of being insulated from the world around you. The uncertainty and adventure associated with finding a place to lay your head is a real return to nomadic roots. My most recent wild camp was on a beautiful beach bordering Andalucía and Murcia. Signs proclaimed sin acampar (no camping) and when the local Guardia Civil (Police) drove onto the beach at 6.00pm I thought I was about to be told to move on. However the gods seemed to be with us and they simply smiled and drove off. The warm Mediterranean Sea proved to be the perfect bathing pool and the clear night sky showed more stars than...

I’m very much cast in the role of supporting actor on this trip. Lucy (the van) is clearly the star. For example as I sat in the van on Sunday evening eating my tea almost everyone in the Sierra Nevada mountain village that passed us by stopped to admire Lucy’s lovely lines and paint work. A German woman stopped to tell me how much she loved the van and then when passing half an hour later came up, arms outstretched, and gave Lucy a hug. A group of young Spanish students shouted ‘we love your van’. Wherever we go we’re ‘honked’ at and receive waves and smiles on the quieter country roads. There’s something very special about old VW vans which spread joy and love.

Some of my friends have given me side long glances when I’ve mentioned ‘couch surfing’. But yesterday I met one of Spain’s all time gentleman c/o this travel website. Its motto ‘building a better world one couch at a time’ is probably a bit too cheesy even for me, but I agree with the sentiment. Danny is a local, who gave me a wonderful lunch followed by an expert walking tour of the old city mixing information about the history of the area with tit bits about current city living. Thank you Danny and thank you couch surfing.

The largest and the biggest On Sunday I climbed Mulhacen, the highest mountain on the Iberian peninsular. One of the reasons for doing this is because Giles, an occasional mountain companion of mine seems is always keen for us to bag ‘the biggest thing around’. So finding myself in the proximity of ‘a big one’ I didn’t feel I could pass by without adding it to the list. Together Giles and I were fortunate enough to climb the highest mountain in the Tatras range last year and when with Giles I failed to get to the top of Mount Whitney (highest point in the contiguous USA) earlier in the year. It was certainly satisfying sitting on top of the mountain surveying the peaks below and scanning south to the Mediterranean Sea and the Rif mountains of Morocco beyond. But was it any ‘better’ than its neighbouring peaks? Tubkhal, the highest peak in North Africa is sitting in the Atlas Mountains waiting for me now ……….

My home for the last four days has been a beautiful house overlooking the mediteranean set in a wonderful garden. The garden is terraced and includes a cactus garden, herb beds, a swimming pool, Lindsay's sculpting workshop, a lovers hammock and the most wonderful compost heap where after the casual dropping of seeds butternut squash grow in profusion. So many squash have grown that they are used as decoration in the house and garden. Today we have been mostly eating squash ............ On Monday we picked oranges, grapefruit, figs and pomegranites from the garden - what a joy. I'm staying in the home of Ollie, who is Lindsay's partner. He's a generous boule player, charming, linguistically gifted and a fine companion on a mountain walk. Lindsay is an artist and one of Max's step sisters. She came here four years ago to complete her art degree and has yet to leave. Lindsay and I have shared Hong Kong Christmas adventures in the past. I also saw her here in March 200...

I have proper internet access for the first time since arriving in Spain, so everything is happening in a rush today - including quite confusingly posting a blog I wrote on the ferry over a week ago ............. One correspondent has asked for tales of swash buckling adventure ............. well I'm sorry to say I have yet to rescue any damsels in distress, the same correspondent has complained about too much van detail .......... so all I can say is Lucy is fine (and her fan belt is working like it should). I'm in Altea, a beautiful old town on the Costa Blanca, I'm staying with Lindsay and her boyfriend Ollie for a few days. As I'm typing I'm looking out across the balcony to the sea and looking forward to my dip in the pool ............ but for now I'll bring you up to speed with my travels .... When I last posted I was in Madrid soaking up culture and catching up with friends. It's Tuesday today (I think). On Friday I launched myself east into New Cast...

What’s been happening in the Red House on wheels? The first week has been filled with farewells and love – thank you to you all for your hospitality in Stokesley, Ipswich, Colchester, Englefield Green, Bracknell, New Malden and Paddington – not quite the preparation for a solitary existence, but great all the same. Highlights so far include; driving across the roof of the North York Moors in beautiful autumn sunshine with my Mum, standing on the roof of Lincoln Cathedral, lunch in Carluccio’s (nice choice Katherine), being silly with Mathew and Abigail in Hyde Park, Katie’s 8th Birthday party, the presentation of spare wing mirrors for Lucy (thank you Paul, what does that say about my driving style?) meeting the Tynedale Biscoe’s au pair, guarding the Cooper’s house from burglars, free van door repair from VW antics of Suffolk (thank you) a pint with me old mate Cliff and a protracted and highly amusing farewell telephone call to Clare. Special thanks go to Karen and Derek ‘my support...

Monday morning saw Lucy and I driving through fog, cloud and rain as we climbed the foothills above Bilbao. The rain dettered us from exploring the Atlantic coast and the Picos Europa and the call of Madrid 400 km to the sunny south was too much to resist. The first three hours or so went without a hitch - beautiful vistas opened up across dry sweeping plains and we passed through several mountain tunnels and a mountain gorge. It was only after filling up with petrol about two hours from Madrid did a routine engine inspection reveal an almost snapped fan belt. With Haynes manual in hand and Dad´s tool kit beside me I dived into replacing the belt - driving away I felt rather proud of myself and headed on into the heats of the plain. For those of you that are not familiar with VW camper engines it´s useful for you to know that the fan belt is especially important. The engine is air cooled and needs all the air it can get to be blown over it - especially in the sun of Spain and Moroc...

Today the adventure began Lucy was pawing the ground on Henry Street like a true thoroughbred and with the roar (well muted putter) of the engine headed east over the Pennines to Stokesley and the first stage of the journey. After picking up the Queen of the Co-op we drove deep into the heart of Heartbeat Country, taking in autumn sunshine and colours in equal measure. Disapointed in not being able to find Nick Berry on his bicycle (and therefore not able to do him any physical harm) we retired to a traditional N Yorkshire hostelry and ate Thai food ................... tomorrow Ipswich ......... I promise it's going to get more exciting, honest ................. This blog was brought to you by Andy and his Mum learning about blogs and stuff