Wolves, bears, and bandits on the loose

After five weeks, a little more than halfway through our journey and 5500 km, Gibraltar is becoming a distant memory. Arriving in Cantabria, our pace slows with almost every kilometer driven, and now we're considering cutting Portugal from the route.

This is mainly due to the prevailing summer heat. We had actually been looking forward to exploring the Portuguese and Spanish inland, discovering nature parks, and exploring life off the beaten path.

However, with the expected high temperatures in August, which are already reaching 42°C, we are postponing this exploration for another time and enjoying the Cantabrian Mountains in slow motion.

This means that after about 20 km of driving and a morning shopping trip, we find a nice spot for lunch. In the shade of the trees by a babbling brook, a small reservoir, or a mountain peak, whatever happens to be along the way.

After a refreshing swim, it's time for a tasty snack. And then you can read a few pages, type a few lines, make a travel sketch, gaze off into space, take a walk, explore the world online, take a nap. Or observe the happenings around you and learn Spanish: la vaca, el gato, la oveja, el perro, el burro, la desbrozadora - time flies by! We're smitten with the Spanish siesta. And suddenly, the afternoon has turned into early evening.

Do we really want to keep driving? Get in the hot car, crawl along heated country roads, expose ourselves to the danger of crazy Spanish overtaking maneuvers, and end up in a place for the night that is nowhere near as beautiful as this one? No, we don't want that. We're staying overnight.

What, we've only driven 20 kilometers? Doesn't matter, tomorrow is another day.

After such a wonderfully lazy and very warm afternoon by a very clear and very cold little brook in the mountains, we do make the five-kilometer trip to reach mobile data. We stay up here for the night as well. The view is great at around 900 meters altitude, the air is cool, and a short walk helps with digestion and stretching our legs.

Under mountains of insulating blankets, the little 'refrigerator' is hidden. These things need to be moved to a different place for sleeping. With nighttime temperatures around 12°C, it's no problem to slide the drinks under the car. I take a big sip from my yellow orange soda and take one final look at the sky to see if the first morning sunbeams will touch the chilled liquids.

Around 6:00 in the morning, Zappa wakes me up gently. It's still pitch dark. It takes me a moment to transition from sweet dreams to the dark reality. Zappa says something, but I have to dig the earplugs out of my ears first. Now I hear that he's trying to tell me that there's a nasty monster lurking outside the robber's cave, making a loud noise.

Based on the commotion, Zappa suspects it's one of the rare Cantabrian brown bears that live freely here. Is Master Petz messing with our cooking box, which smells so delicious to his sensitive nose, right in front of the half-opened rear door?

Or maybe it's the Iberian wolf, tempted by the scent of chorizo, venturing close to the German car?

I hear the commotion and a chill runs down my spine, as it's unlikely to be a human in this desolate place. Goosebumps cover my whole body as I crawl deeper under my blanket.

Zappa has thoroughly studied his scout handbook and knows that such beasts are best driven away at night with fire, noise, or light. At present, throwing ourselves at the wild animal with a flaming gas flame is not an option, as the stove is in the pillaged catering box.

Therefore, Zappa is now pounding on the roof of the robber's cave with clenched fists and all his might. Thunderous noise makes me reflexively plug my fingers into my ears, as any creature should flee and take flight!

But instead, a growling, deep, thumping, hoarse woof-woof-woof! rings out. Quickly, the headlamp is ripped off the hook, and blinding light illuminates the darkness in front of the secure glass. It's only now that I realize that the rear door is still partially open.

In the deep darkness, two glowing red eyes, a huge snout with sharp, pointed teeth, and a thick black nose can be seen.

Zappa whispers to me that I must remain completely calm. Because he has seen in a movie how American grizzly bears can easily smash car windows with their massive paws. Now I have to crawl even further under my blanket, be absolutely silent!

The growling gets louder and louder, now scratching at the sliding door. Then suddenly: a thunderous, bass-booming, long-lasting, throaty woof-woof-woof!

Not a fox, not a wolf, not a bear! El perro from the nearby village is out on his pastoral dog walk, disturbing our night's sleep! Now that we're awake, he leaves completely unspectacularly to mark his territory and check on the sheep.

After the excitement, Zappa holds my hand for a moment, then we fall back into a restless sleep. We've also heard about packs of feral dogs in rural Spanish areas.

In the morning, we want to move on and pack our belongings. Of course, the cooling zone needs to be set up again. Cheese, yogurt, chorizo, and drinks are placed under thick layers of bedding. But where is my yellow orange soda? There was still half a bottle with a little bit of carbonation yesterday! Did Zappa accidentally grab the wrong bottle after the nighttime drama?

No, he didn't. He didn't touch the drink at all. It's neither rolled far under the vehicle nor hidden deep in the footwell, nor between the clothes or in the food or cooking box. And no, I didn't leave it by the brook!

The bottle is nowhere to be found. My yellow orange soda has disappeared without a trace.

For a long time, we wonder what could have happened to my precious drink. Did the local tramp get thirsty on his way to the mountain? Did the lonely hiker reach for the bottle? Did the nighttime hellhound look for a new toy? Did the bear visit and fall in love with the yellow stuff?

In our search, we discover el perro sleeping peacefully on his home farm, nestled among giant, torn dog food sacks. But he doesn't guard the gnawed yellow soda bottle under his impressive body.

This place is now extremely uncanny to me. Who knows what kind of specters, ghosts, trolls, monsters, imps, goblins, troublemakers, and whatnot are causing mischief here.

We'll never know, we won't solve the mystery, we won't crack the case. The yellow drink remains forever lost.