In defence of Costa Blanca
The Costa Blanca (White Coast) covers more than 200 kilometres of Mediterranean coastline. From Pilar de la Horadada in the south, to Denia in the North. Its reputation is based much on the hotspots of Alicante and Benidorm, where ex-pats sit in English themed pubs, eating sausage, egg and chips and watching the footie on the big screen TV.
Don’t get me wrong, the Spanish holiday in Benidorm too. Or so I’m reliably informed.
At this time of year, October through to March, the Costa Blanca is a place where huge motorhomes overwinter having traveled vast distances from across Northern Europe. Just like the cranes that cross Spain on their migration from Scandinavia to North Africa, only not.
Gandalf, lost in a sea of behemoths
These huge, white, monstrous creatures settle in herds of many hundreds (I’m talking about the motorhomes, not the cranes), many settling in loose sub-herds by nationality. They disgorge their occupants who move along the sea fronts from cafe to cafe by means of electric bike.
I have an image of groups of Spanish tourists gathered outside beach-side bars while their guides explain the social behaviour and lifestyle of the foreign creatures observed gorging themselves before them.
Altea Old Town enticing the crowds since the 1950s
Who can blame them though? The coastline is sublime. The old towns a delight.
Early morning mist. Just 5 kilometres from the hideous high rises of Benidorm
What better place to escape the cold and rain of Northern Europe?
But, many of them never see beyond the seafront bars and cafes. Which is a shame, because beyond the glittering sea lies a mountainous playground. Beyond (and between) the deservedly coveted hill towns there lies a wilderness to rival the Alps.
Altea by night (and no, it’s not a Star Bucks) .
Outdoor adventures await just minutes by bike from the coast.
The Bernia Ridge dominates the view from Benidorm. Or it would, if the high rise buildings weren’t in the way.
Just an hour and several hundred feet of ascent later…
Our ride was almost four hours long and climbed almost 2,500 feet (762 metres). The roads were almost empty and the silence was, well, not so silent, what with Mrs P puffing and panting her way up the multiple 10% inclines (I, of course, was never out of breath 😂). The descent was somewhat quicker. Just over an hour back to the coast and the all important coffee stop.
Mrs P smiling happily because she thinks that I am paying
Of course mountains mean climbing and it would have been rude not to put in a few routes.
Me, in my happy place.
I was uploading the above photo thinking, “How many times have I published the same image?” Only the rock changes, or does it? Maybe I just keep using the same photo? I always look good too, not because I’m a great climber, but because I always edit out the ones of me crying.
Altea, from the free camping we spent three nights at
In short, come to the Costa Blanca. Ignore the bad press. Hide your campervan in the free parking for a few days…
Free camping…
…and cool neighbours…
…though the “shower” was a touch chilly.
Head into the hills.
Gandalf beneath the mountains of Erebor (not!)
Thunderbird 7 responds to an emergency climbing trip.
All this was more than a week ago. I have been somewhat remiss with my posts. We are already slowly heading north and much has happened since the above fun and frolics. I will do my best to post some more soon.
Thanks for reading.
