The HU 8105 is a pretty little road which winds along the Sierra de Aracena, from Aracena westwards towards Alajar. There are spectacular views of wooded valleys with small villages nestled down below and church steeples peeping up above the terracotta roofs. You have to keep your wits about you though, as although the traffic is sparse, it can be madcap..it’s also doubly difficult when you are keeping your eyes peeled for somewhere to park overnight.
We’d left the hurly burly of the Algarve behind and headed inland, to the deep deep bliss of the mountainous interior of Portugal and Spain.
Our first night inland, we despaired of finding somewhere to park and ended up just off a quiet road near Monchique. it wasn’t particularly appealing, as there was a lot of deforestation resulting in vast swathes of brown hillsides with a few eucalyptus dotted here and there; they were being replaced by yes, more eucalyptus! Don’t ask me! We found ourselves a better spot, tucked away down a rough track just off the road and settled in for the night. It was quiet, no dogs, no traffic, this was our idea of motor homing. As darkness fell we became aware of how dark it was: it was absolutely pitch black, when you stepped out of the van you could not see anything at all, it was like being in a black velvet glove with the darkness encasing you. Gradually my eyes became accustomed and I could begin to see the outline of trees, then the white of Lottie’s wheels and gradually the shape of the van emerged. It really was quite an experience and quite a privilege. I will freely admit that when I first stepped outside, it frightened me, I had no idea where Alan was!
The next night it was matched by a night out under the stars near the observatory at Foia, perched at 900 metres above Monchique, which sits in its own Sierra. We’d oohed and aaahed at the view right down to the distant coast with all the day-trippers and then crept back in the evening to park nearby. So that night, not dark at all but gloriously starry with wonderful views of the Milky Way and various constellations.

If I’m honest, I prefer being away from other people but the next night, we were at a commercial camperstop, having showers (hot and no buttons to keep pressing since you ask…) We met several like-minded travellers from other continents and formed friendships. Again, I was impressed by the people you meet when travelling: there was one elderly couple in their late 70s and 80s, he on crutches, still gamely toddling around Europe. We’ve also met people who have sold their homes in the UK and are now permanently on the road, others who have let their houses to travel, others again who are building their own houses and taking the winter off to recuperate and get their strength back and we’ve also met people who have had serious illnesses and decided to go travelling rather than stay put. So a wide variety of people, mostly friendly……. and of course the characters like the woman I nicknamed Babs who was busy organising games of boules in the afternoon, in a very loud voice……run away!
Speaking of which in this discourse about flora and fauna, I came across the Fkoff Bird, It’s an antisocial little beast which ruffles up its feathers and becomes agitated, rushing up and down its perch when it sees another bird trying to come too close and build its nest nearby. It utters little cries of ‘fkoff fkoff’ hence the name. If another bird is brave enough to make its nest nearby the Fkoff bird becomes overly friendly and sidles up to the new arrival, fluttering its feathers and making chirruping noises in an encouraging way. ‘Where is the Fkoff Bird to be found?’ you ask, ‘Why by looking in my mirror’ I reply…… In my defence,I will say, it is extremely irritating to have found a nice quiet spot for the night and another motorhome arrives and then it parks right next to you! Grrrrr! I have to tell myself it’s not my private spot but do they really have to park so close??? You can see why I prefer mountains…
So we had a couple of pleasant nights With Other People at this camperstop in the Sierra de Monchique, which is a beautiful mountainous area about half an hour north of Portimao, in the Algarve. Yes we were back but it was a very different experience, with more quiet starry nights and plenty of pleasant walks. Portuguese footpaths are quite challenging and difficult to follow, not to say non existent in places! We scrabbled over many rocks and had some very dodgy walks on cliff top headlands where signs disappeared and drops were quite steep…..
Onwards, heading east towards Spain, we drove through the Portuguese town of Aldomovar and looked for somewhere to park up for the night. It was difficult. Unusually, a lot of the land was fenced in, belonging to the large ranches which own the land out in this area. Then we spotted a brown sign to a ‘Fontana’ and off we went down a dirt road (in Portugal you are either on a beautiful new empty road, a bone rattling A road or a dirt road it seems to me….) this ended in a picnic spot and a ford, after which the road continued. We’d spotted a nice grassy site up the road and parked up for the night in the evening sunshine so I walked while Alan flew his model plane. We stayed another night, it was so pretty and unspoilt, the weather was glorious, we walked by the river and barbecued chops on the barbecues which seem to be provided at all picnic sites. We had the occasional tractor or car go past and we waved at each other in a friendly way, all very peaceful.
We woke up to heavy rain the next morning! So on to Spain via a crazy new road in the middle of nowhere. On the map it looked like a dirt track but when we arrived, it was a spanking new road linking Spain with Portugal and there was barely a soul on it. Yes it was EU funded and yes, I did wonder at the wisdom of the spending…..particularly after I’d practically lost all my teeth on other more used roads. So we parked down below the bridge linking the two countries and had a quiet night by the river, except for a massive hailstorm! Traffic? I should think we saw 10 cars using the road in all the time we were there overnight…
On to Valverde Del Camino and after a night with a host of barking dogs and a noisy road, we went off to the Rio Tinto Mines. The most dramatic landscape with the deep scars of mineral mining and the rusty brown red river. Very impressive. I had another uncomfortable experience about British colonialism seeing how the company had treated its workers and in what affluence the largely British management had lived with tennis clubs, polo, golf and so on; on the other hand, there were an awful lot of British workers who were being exploited back in dear old Blighty too….we weren’t all wearing crinolines and eating cucumber sandwiches….
Leaving the Mining Museum was what led us to the 8105 which is where this chapter began….we found ourselves a spot after much searching (and levelling up!) and ended up near Linares which is a pretty little cobbled town, much to be recommended if you fancy hillwalking in northern Andalucia.
So here I am now writing this at a campsite near Aracena, with showers (hot). There are lovely walks through old cork plantations alongside the river and the weather has been glorious today. We have friendly Spansih neighbours who struggled with the slope as we did. Mum was dressed in blue and had a red shawl making her look remarkably like Supermum…..
They seemed remarkably unperturbed when I told them that their large black dog was being mounted by the large campsite dog, (I used expressive hand gestures if you are wondering……)and even less perturbed when a passing Yorkie tried to get in on the action too…..
Last night the quiet was broken by yes dogs, the occasional frog and for a change a few owls….oh and the rooster joined in from 3 am onwards….On which note, as always I will leave you!