Sue woke first and nudged me ‘Do you think there’s someone outside with a torch knocking on the van?’
‘No’ I reply, determined to stay asleep.
But then I hear it too – a clear double knock followed by a voice ‘You can not stay ere …. you must go.’
We have to make a decision, the first of a number over the ensuing hour.
‘As remote as anywhere in Essex’ says the AA Illustrated Guide to Britain’s Coast in 1984. If it was true then it certainly still is I reckon as I walk along the top of the sea wall that’s offers resistance to the highest of tides in the Roach estuary. To my left are the salt marshes with the myriad of channels gradually drying with the receding water before giving way to the mudflats and then the thin channel of deep water. A few yachts sitting just outside the channel are pulling at their moorings as white horses stream past them. To my right is a wide band of tossing and writhing reeds running parallel to the wall and beyond that huge, empty fields with a few trees and hedgerows in the distance.
We had been pre- warned, although it didn’t prepare us for what we found. A blog by moho owners had talked about their drive up the valley towards Plitvice National Park and seeing the bullet holes in the walls of houses, a relic from the battles between Croats and Serbs in the early 1990s.
Ladies, I am reliably informed, like to attend to their correspondence in the morning – preferably propped up in bed with a view of the Adriatic and a cup of tea provided by the manservant. This is all good – it allows gentlemen to focus on their studies with a mind sharpened by that first coffee of the day. A sharp mind is a must when dealing, for example, with the complexities of the competing forces at work in post WW2 Yugoslavia and the impact these had in the subsequent Homeland War.
I had not visited Dubrovnik before. I know many have and may have had a similar experience, but it provided me with a rather sharp ‘in’ to the reality of recent Balkan conflicts.
By Bryan London (no relation)
I think many of us have at least one self-image of ourselves which is partly based in reality and partly aspirational – eg athlete, musician, writer, mountaineer ……
Well ‘Maybe’ as a Galician might say.
We awoke to the sound of cleaning. Well to be accurate we awoke to the sound of sweeping and voices, conversations between children (near to us) and their parents (a little further away). Opening the blinds of the van we saw a campsite transformed from the sleepy emptiness of inactivity that had greeted us on our arrival the evening before.
‘You can only stay tonight’ the guy behind reception had explained, ‘we close tomorrow, you will have to come back next year if you want to stay longer at Largo Sanabria.
Having spent three days inspecting tidal movement in the Solway Firth, from Maryport to Kirkcudbright, I had taken myself off to the west side of Fleet Bay for a much needed rest.
A frequently expressed concern by inexperienced campers is how to prepare a satisfying evening meal under stormy conditions. I have found that adherence to the following steps invariably ensures that campers go to sleep sated and contented whatever the weather:
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