Where It All Began 7

Javea

1976, Spain was a totally different Spain to what it is now. Franco had died one year earlier and much of his legacy remained. After the grapepicking we arrived in Javea, and the first thing we were told by the Guardia Civil was, “No es posible acampar aquí.” It was a phrase we heard often. Basically, no camping. Peter’s reply was always the same. “Pesca submarina.” For some reason spearfishermen had special rights, and we were left alone, although we were informed they would check on us throughout the night, which apparently was thirsty work. So, each evening we left a half bottle of wine and two glasses on the rear bumper step.

For a couple of weeks Javea was fun, there was a lot of diving, drinking and a few girls. Mudguts and I reverted to our feral nature, and I have to admit, looking back we were probably out of control. One particular night we had a disagreement with some American backpackers from the campsite. As I remember it, we were (entertaining?) two girls in the rear yard of a bar who, it turned out, were partners of two Alpha Male backpackers. It didn’t end well, we were outnumbered and felt some justice should prevail. Their campsite was at the bottom of a small cliff, so in the early hours, after gathering some ammunition, (stones and rocks). As Maximus the Gladiator said 😂

We only aimed for the tents, but to see so many people running around in the dark, half naked was a joy, until they discovered where the mystery stones were being hailed from, and so they began to climb. We escaped into the night and laughed all the way home. It was short lived! The Gaurdia arrived the following morning and after a long conversation with my mentor, Peter, and Mudgut’s older brother John they left. This, apparently, was the last straw (to be honest, as I said we had been a little naughty before) They took our money from us, explaining we were now to be given a small allowance, enough for maybe a beer. But we knew where we could buy bottles of wine for about 40 pesatas (30p) And the barmen were willing to swop beers for lightbulbs. Yeah, I know it was kinda inventive, but we became quite adapt at appropriating light bulbs from many sources.😂

Eventually we had to consider moving on, the fishing was still not good. But then our fortunes changed once more. We met Laurie and Ronnie, ex merchant seamen who owned a bar in the town, The Cave Bar. After a few beers they asked if we would convert their stockroom into a small eating area. Peter was an electrician and John the Aussie was a builder, whereas Mudguts and I were… well, we were just 18 years old 😂 In return they offered us a flat to stay in, they would feed us, and give us some spending money. So, we set to work.

There was a lot of chicken wire and paper mache used, that’s not the original photo, but its close enough. At least it kept us out of trouble, for now. When the work was done we set off once more. Next Stop, Almeria.

Happy Trails, Folks x