The sun is shining again this morning as we sit at a pavement cafe partaking of a leisurely breakfast. Phoebe again needs the coolant topping up, but at least she's not overheating although the footwells are still awash and the interior reeks of antifreeze and old engine oil.
We're still heading south and the drive is uneventful. From the coastal plain past Cadiz we head over yet more mountains towards Algeceiras and get our first view of Africa across the Straits of Gibraltar.
We get into Gib just after midday and Anthony gives us a guided tour of the island. It really is a remarkable place, a little piece of England in the Med with road markings, signage, police cars etc... just as in the UK, only the sun is shining and they are all driving on the wrong side of the road.
The main road in and out of the island runs across the airport runway and we witness the bizarre sight of the traffic lights turning red, a BA 737 then roaring past and taking off diagonally across the road and the lights then turning green again - apparently the only place in the world where this happens.
Gibraltar is only 2.5 miles long and about 1/2 mile wide (and most of that is vertical) with every available square inch being used and history oozing from every stone. Talking with the locals there is a very strong sense of their Britishness and their apartness from Spain - the local Morrisons supermarket recently ran out of milk and when Anthony inquired as to why was told, straightfaced and as if it was the most obvious and logical reason in the world, that the lorry bringing it from England was delayed.
Gibraltar is only 2.5 miles long and about 1/2 mile wide (and most of that is vertical) with every available square inch being used and history oozing from every stone. Talking with the locals there is a very strong sense of their Britishness and their apartness from Spain - the local Morrisons supermarket recently ran out of milk and when Anthony inquired as to why was told, straightfaced and as if it was the most obvious and logical reason in the world, that the lorry bringing it from England was delayed.
The view from the top of the Rock is astounding and gives a real sense of why this little piece of Empire has been so important over the centuries with it's strategic domination of the entry to the Med, the peaks of Northern Morrocco are only 10 miles away.
But we are only tourists for a few hours, our rendevous with all the other teams at the Meson de Sancho outside Tarifa awaits, so we bid farewell to Anthony and family and head back inland.
Some teams are already in the bar when we arrive and others arrive in dribs and drabs throughout the evening with the Retford Nutty Boys being the last at nearly 2 AM. We thought that we'd had issues with the incident with the heater matrix? That pales into insignificance compared to the stories that some other teams have to tell...
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