From El Berro to Albox – Narrowing down for the House Hunt

We were lucky to get a small break in the nearly constant rain and took a nice walk through part of the village.

We could imagine that in better weather the views would be spectacular, and the campground was excellent in so many ways.

We did manage to get our laundry done, but it wasn’t fast or easy.  It poured rain all night and all the next day, and after putting the first load in the washer I went down three times before it was finally done – getting soaked to the skin each time.

In all it took 5 ½ hours to do two loads, but it was free, and we actually didn’t have much else to do.

Leaving the next day under slightly clearer skies we took the other road in order to avoid snaking our way through the village again.  We’d decided to head as far west as we might want a house and work our way back, crossing just into Almeria to start the hunt.

Picking an aire/sosta in the village of Canjayar we went on a bit of a diversion, passing several small mud/rock slides and ending up with a blocked-off road, then realizing we’d gone too far.

We pulled into a place where we could turn around, right after I’d said “what the f*** is that in the middle of the road?”.  Well – it was a giant Smurf, very dirty but right in the road – he was smiling but was not budging.

I got out to take a photo of dirty Mr. Smurf when I noticed movement on the hill above me – several large dogs had seen me and were starting to make their way down.

I quickly went to get back in the campervan but the side door has a stupid automatic lock thing and I couldn’t get in.  I pounded on the door and screamed but Colin was using the loo and couldn’t let me in.  I ran around to the driver’s door and jumped in just before the dogs arrived.

Taking a different route we finally made it to the aire, but it looked very bleak so we turned around and drove further down the road hoping to find a better place.

Luckily Colin saw a campervan sign several miles along at winery/bodega Fuente Victoria so we pulled in to their very large, flat and almost empty parking area.

We got out and went to the bar, asking if we could stay there.  The very nice lady said yes so we sat down and asked for two glasses of their red.  When Colin tried to pay she said no, no charge and we drank them outside while looking at the excellent view across to the hills.  We could see not one, but two distant peaks with snow still on them.

We bought a nice bottle of red and then moved the campervan to a different part of the lot – we originally were very close to another campervan that had three small children and wanted nothing to do with the noise – two dogs are enough!

After a very nice night we took time to decide where we really wanted to house hunt.  

We took another look online and zeroed in on an area that seemed to have everything we wanted – lower elevation (ie:  warmer in the winter), with several properties with what we consider essentials.  We sent an email to a local agent and drove to the general area.

Taking, as we frequently do, the ‘scenic route’ we went past the area where many of the old ‘spaghetti westerns’ were filmed.  It was hilarious – ‘Mini Hollywood’ which was packed with cars, followed a few miles later by ‘Texas Hollywood/Fort Bravo’.

We arrived in Albox at a decent time and found a very large flat parking area walking distance to the centre of town.  After lunch we took a walk around, and to find the estate agent’s office just so we knew where it was.

There’s a sculpture/display near the centre that bothered me – I believe it depicts a quarreyman and his mule pulling a load up a hill.  The mule doesn’t look very happy and it looked very cruel – I know that’s the case today in many places and situations and it’s horrible.

We found the estate agents office and headed back to the campervan for a light dinner.  There was a certain amount of activity in the large parking area we were in, but nothing that was too loud or lasted too long, thankfully.

The local church bells chime all night long and are very tinny sounding – not lovely and melodical like some.

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