Almerimar

Mileage: 163081

The super beautiful, small campsite had hosted us for two nights, and now it was time to move on. After the break yesterday, we had planned a longer drive of just over two hours for today.

So today we drove on the A7 - the Autovía del Mediterráneo - through the southern foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Along the way, we passed a whole series of tunnels and bridges, and Gary bravely managed all the climbs at his own pace.

We had to do a little research to find out that the Spanish Sierra Nevada should not be confused with the mountain range of the same name in northern America, which is also located in the west of the US state of Nevada. The local sleet-covered mountain boasted the highest peak of the Iberian Peninsula. The Mulhacén, at 3479 meters, was a good 500 meters higher than the Zugspitze (2962 m), the highest mountain in our homeland.

Almost throughout our journey, the mountain slopes and plains here were lined with greenhouses, with huge areas hidden under tarpaulins, film tunnels, and roofs. Here, tomatoes, cucumbers, and all sorts of other vegetables grew under the Spanish sun.

Our campsite today was located in the marina of Almerimar, which caught our attention during planning because the restaurant on-site had been praised for its ribs with honey sauce. Upon our arrival, we checked in at the harbor command and registered not with a yacht but with our motorhome.

Then we went to the planned restaurant for dinner and could now personally confirm that at Marios, an excellent rib with honey sauce was served.

Afterward, we took a walk around the harbor, which turned out to be longer than we expected, as the marina was larger than assumed. Here lay boats and ships from all countries of Europe, and we got the impression that a good number of them served as winter residences.

In the late afternoon, it was time for a siesta again.

Of course, we had planned to cook for dinner ourselves, but at Marios, there was also a wide variety of tapas, and so we visited the establishment a second time that evening, which prompted the very friendly waiter to ask us later in the evening:

“Do you have no home?”

We almost fell off our chairs laughing when this sentence unexpectedly reached our ears. A lady at the counter, who was obviously from Germany and clearly frequently visited this restaurant, informed us that she had taught the employee this important phrase, who otherwise only spoke Spanish and English.

And so we went to bed in a very good mood after a delicious and entertaining evening.