One night in the sauna

#19 Aguadulce

Rest and relaxation are the order of the day. Today we are only realizing how exhausting the three days in Ronda and Seville were, alone the 800 kilometers, 400 of which were on country roads with endless roundabouts. The many overwhelming impressions of the breathtaking landscape and the deeply impressive cities with their monumental buildings worked like a stimulant.

But where there is a lot of sunshine, the shadow is not far away. In our case, it mostly got quite shady at night. Yes, that's right, our heating had problems, but this time it wasn't because of the battery or the lack of gas...

It's getting a bit technical now: Our motorhome is 15 years old, so it's not up to date anymore, but it's not yet an oldtimer either. Our heating has five levels that can be regulated with a dial. Should be able to - in my experience, it either works or it doesn't. When we return to our motorhome in the evening around 6 p.m. after our excursions, the heating is off because the interior is already well heated due to the sun. The coldest temperature is reached in Seville around 6 a.m., then it's about 8 degrees.

Now you might think, just set the alarm clock, start the heating at 6 a.m. and go back to sleep. But the good Truma - that's the thing's name - takes about half an hour to get going. Then it turns on its blower - which sounds like a rescue helicopter is landing next to your bed - and distributes its warm air through several nozzles. It takes another 20 minutes until it's really warm.

So I thought I'd set the alarm clock to 5 a.m. We sleep in our motorhome in a bunk bed that is exactly 1.10 meters higher than the floor where the dogs sleep. Warm air rises, as is well known, with the result that it is colder on the floor than one meter above it. In our case, this means that the air gets cold faster at the dogs than in our bed. That's when Icke comes up with this idea: When it feels cold for us at 5 a.m., it may already be cool for the dogs, they are probably freezing and will definitely get sick. So set the alarm clock for 4 a.m.? No way, says Icke. At least 3 a.m. is the minimum. No point in arguing.

Our motorhome is designed for humans. And the designers assumed that these humans would sleep in the bunk bed and not on the floor. That's why they designed the airflow of the heating system so that it warms up the fastest in the bed area. So at 3 a.m. we turn on the heating, it slowly gets warm, quickly warmer and eventually hot. After 50 minutes, I lie in bed, have kicked the blanket to the farthest corner, undressed everything there is to undress, and sweat away. "Icke, please turn off the heating," I beg against the blower. Icke drops her right leg out of bed. With her leg length, her foot is now about 90 centimeters away. "No, still too cold," she shouts. "You know how quickly the little ones freeze."

The "little ones" are now lying stretched out at the front, because it's the coolest there, each one near a water bowl. While I consider whether I should maybe switch places with the three annoyances, Icke rehearses with the rescue helicopter next door in canon. The blower blows, Icke snorts and whistles, and the dogs snore in a three-part chorus, while I silently melt away.

It is now 6 a.m. I sneak quietly out of bed and turn off the heating. By the time we leave home at 10 a.m., our motorhome will have been heated up - and hopefully so have I.