Rocks, cannons, and firefighters

We want to move away from the outskirts of Alicante. The planes we see landing every three minutes promise a considerable number of Christmas tourists. To do this, we have to traverse a 20km long shopping mall, a route where at least every 200m there is a road bump that forces speed reduction. This makes driving considerably more difficult, especially with the château in tow, although the spaghetti and eggs are now securely stored. So we only start in the evening after dinner, now the one million roundabouts can be conquered without worries.

The place for the night is quickly found on the parking lot of a "batería", a former coastal defense with thick, old English cannons, as indicated on maps. The path there is an official access road, mainly for tourists, but very narrow, steep, bumpy, and lined with rocky cliffs. By 22:00, we have already covered a good part of this path. Then, behind a hairpin turn, we see orange flashing lights. And behind the next one, the suspicion becomes certainty: it is lit on our road. The firefighters are standing with a heavy plow truck on our route. It is impossible to turn around with the caravan, and passing by is also out of the question. So what to do? First, stop and look. Zappa goes a bit ahead and can scout that the firefighters are moving something from the road. They are armed with headlamps and are fighting with the obstacle in the flashing lights of their vehicle. So we wait. It is unclear whether their equipment vehicle will pass our projectile, we are standing in a relatively wide spot, but neither the caravan nor the fire department can retract their bellies.

After half an hour, something happens. The firefighters start driving, fortunately not in our direction. We go over there. A few of the strong men are standing around a rock, weighing several tons and of massive proportions, which is lying on the road and has obviously already been moved several meters. Fortunately, it is not a car that has fallen into the abyss and no one seems to have been harmed under the huge stone. I let the guys know that we are parked a few meters away with the caravan. That's not a problem at all, they just can't say how long it will take to get the obstacle out of the way.

The fire truck comes back, a spot to turn around is not far away. They have wrapped a fixed loop around the rock and are now trying to move the colossus using engine power and manpower. The first attempt fails. So does the second. A new tactic is needed. The plow truck must be positioned at a different angle, and during maneuvering, it should not come into contact with the thick, hard granite walls. After this millimeter work, the winch is once again put into action and five firefighters push in addition, already fearing that someone might end up under the boulder. But after nerve-wracking many minutes, it is finally done: the rock is lying on the roadside and is properly marked. The fire truck is off-road capable and allows our convoy to pass without any problems. More than two hours later, we are standing at the long-awaited sleeping spot, have a breathtaking view of the illuminated port of Cartagena, and thank the great god of chance that the little stone didn't roll onto us and thank the diligent firefighters for their tireless efforts on a late Sunday evening.