We did another impressive leap the following day after taking the longest ever ring road round Madrid to leave. It was rather like the M25 only without so much traffic, but it got us there. I battled against the toll roads and took a much smaller road than intended towards our destination of Salamanca. It was worth it, proper countryside villages at an even slower pace than usual. The road was winding and never flat, we got to see some great little places and a couple of bigger ones too, that we’d never have come across otherwise.
The huge monastry of Saint Lorenzo del Escorial on its vast yet peaceful hillside, the ancient walled city of Avila that appeared out of no where and seemed to go on for ages, thankfully there was a viewing point as we headed out of town, so we got to have a good look at it from a distance. Another one for further exploration at a later date. The schedule to get to my brother Peter wasn’t for breaking just yet. We didn’t use Charmin Garmin most of the time, he was just too much, though very useful for getting into and out of specific places. That in mind, I swung off the dual carriage way outside Salamanca to plug him in for our arrival. I had picked the right junction by chance and was within a couple of miles of our destination for the night. A swanky camp site situated right next door to a several starred hotel, we even got to use the reception desk to book in and the weakest ever wifi connection, where I uploaded my last postings. There wasn’t a planned stop in Salamanca, just a quick look if we got the chance. We had the chance, so again, we took Percy into town for a quick look see. The whole place was swarming with people, it was still very warm and again no where to park. There was a massive medieval market /festival / gathering in full swing and as neither of us were particularly in the mood for hustle and bustle we aborted, vowing to get up early in the morning as it did look beautiful. Our neighbours were evening entertainment, two sisters, traveling up from Morocco where one of them lives, in their clapped out motor home, they’d been keeping an eye on our washing when we went into town, and were more than happy to chat for a good long while. We got to hear their stories and share some of our own, drink a good few glasses of wine and sneak in dinner at the same time. I only wish I’d got the Morocco address for somewhen in the future. Next time.
|Avila from the van window|
|Avila from the viewpoint just outside of town|
|Salamanca in the evening sun|