By Ben Ade Passing through a lesser known national park, in Valencia province, we stumbled upon an interesting old place. Numerous imposing old buildings lay scattered around the woods and completely deserted. A good area with shade, beside a derelict motel and bar, became a camp for a few days. After some thorough exploring we figured the place out, it was a huge complex from decades passed, designed to house and treat the mentally insane or 'loco'. The reasoning for complete abandonment of the place is still a mystery though. Numerous hospital buildings lay completely open to the elements and surprisingly un-vandalised, perhaps because of the remote location here.
A huge 1950's era hospital invited us through the open front doors, turning out to be one of the eeriest places we have yet explored, and we have been in a lot of eerie locations! The silent corridors led to individual patient rooms. Frozen in time, the beds and furniture lay as if ready to use. Patient boards still remaining on some with faded, old fashioned print forms. The weathered wooden security shutters on windows left the building very dark inside, combining with the dank odour of urine and decay, it was no five star hotel. Next came the treatment rooms. 3 separate, old style, electro-convulsive therapy machines, each in a separate room, rusting from decades of electrocuting the fragile minded. The stretcher beds are of the type to combine with heavy tie-down straps. The next room was a corrective surgery area, same tie down stretchers only of a heavier duty build, also a viewing area with small glass windows, presumably for student doctors. Tiny cleaning sinks and precision tool racks lined a back wall, brain surgery equipment and tools were no longer there though. Another room with bookshelves of paperwork and theory notes, dating from the 60's and 70's, lay scattered on floors among thick layers of dust, including many type-writer produced patient documents. A thudding/scraping noise from within the deathly silent building sent us looking for the exit, with haste. Upon leaving we heard the noise again, lingering and coming from the upstairs section. Strangely this section was completely and utterly shut off, with no access from inside. The only access was a rickety staircase outside, of which the door was permanently sealed with huge steel bars and long grown over with ivy, all upper windows were also sealed. We hastily left the building, along with the mysterious noises and unpleasant atmosphere. Among the numerous other buildings were streets of sheltered housing, a cinema and auditorium plus another complete hospital. The manager/bosses luxury mansion was also now returning to nature, complete with his 2 swimming pools and sauna house, I guess life was good for the big wigs. Yet another large and imposing, hospital style building lay perfectly preserved among woodland at the top of the hill. The authorities had made sure of permanently sealing only this one for reasons unknown to us, with solid concrete over the door entrances and thick, rusted steel bars on every gap, I dread to think of what went on within the building. A possible reason for the overall abandonment of the complex could be contaminated water, fairly modern signs lay posted all around saying something about water being toxic. The whole place had a very depressing and negative air about it, although quite interesting to visit, we were glad when time came to move camp once more.
3 Comments
By Ben Ade Having heard very little about the areas of central Spain, we really didnt know what to expect. A worry was that it may just be swathes of huge plantations and farmland, which tend to be very poor areas for the traveller or tourist. Although there is a considerable amount of the fore mentioned farming, the country has cordoned off much larger areas, at regular intervals, to house spectacular national parks. This prevents the money hungry farm empires from closing yet more areas off to the public, leaving their persistently grumpy faces and plentiful 'my land-keep off-go away' signage, well outside these parks.
We have also found lochs, of all shapes and sizes, to be good areas to stop. One such watery haven, in Murcia province, became home for a few days. A small sign led us down a few kilometres of seldom used tracks, eventually breaking through the gnarled cedar forests and into a clearing. A very special place now lay ahead. Shimmering blue water, perfectly still and serene, surrounded by deserted mountainsides and forest. Camp was set on a sheltered shore, within a stones throw of the water. Whilst here the kayak was used extensively, exploring the hidden coves and just relaxing on the water. This loch, along with most others in Spain, has been dammed to increase the water storing capacity. The old ruins of various farms are clearly visible, abandoned after the dam creation as they now flood in rainy seasons. The water here was clean, cool and very pleasant swimming. It also seemed a hot spot for sizeable brown trout, we could see them cruising past occasionally and jumping for flies, the splashes were huge! Along with the trout were various other carp type fish, one of which we caught, providing a large tasty meal for two, thank you fish. Another lakeside stop, further North, started with exploring what looked to be an industrialised Machu Picchu perched on a hill. It turned out to be a gargantuan cement factory, presumably to aid with the dam building and long left derelict. Moving around towards shore to camp, it seemed this lake was more 'discovered' by tourists and locals alike, with boats for rent, cafe bar's, litter strewn, broken glass bottles abundant and daytrippers in every direction. Valencia province now lay ahead, among the sights and sounds here we explored some impressive castles. One was a forgotten relic, high upon an impenetrable rock, off the tourists trails. A steep climb up gave not only amazing views, but a glimpse into the life of these well defended people. The turf does not build up over years, like it would in Scotland, so the remains of human activity were quite visible. Atop the rock there were ancient almond trees, branches straining to the ground from centuries of fruit bearing. Remains of numerous houses and communal areas surrounded the castle, which would have been quite a labyrinthine network when still standing. Scattered around the dusty, rocky grounds were thousands of pieces of broken earthenware vessels and roofing slabs, thick with lichen. Digging through these, the fingerprints and shaping lines were still quite visible where the pieces had been lying in the ground. There was something quite captivating about running your fingers along the exact hand marks made by skilled potters, hundreds of years past. We also visited huge castles which have been upkept to this day, within magnificent walled towns. As recently as the Spanish civil wars these castles were used by the government to defend from rebellion, still equipped with early 20th century artillery. One of these castles had been maintained for many decades by Franciscan monks, who were also entrusted with the areas accounts and book keeping. These monks seemed quite focused on the ideas of death, doom and also gloom. Ancient wall murals within provided all sorts of scary warnings for living your life. This was of course a very different time, death was all around with battles, disease and short lives. More of an accepted part of daily existence I suppose, than for most of us today, with our higher than ever life expectancy, disease prevention and freedoms like never before. The hundreds of miles of unsealed roads, spanning around the woodlands of Aragon county were next up. A 4x4 is recommended, but a motorbike, pushbike or good ol' feet would also suffice. This lush area had a perfect combination of good sun, medium temperatures and enough rain to please the plants. We found it quite easy to get lost, repeatedly, on this ancient network of dis-used tracks, at times having to saw down felled trees in the road to enable Kaerus's safe passage. Discoveries included overgrown recreation areas, complete with benches, barbeque huts and running water. These made things very easy indeed, although placed remarkably far from general public reach, meaning they were barely used, they were well located for our explorations however. Leaving these forests, we saw structures in a field which looked way too unusual for a standard farm. Numerous large metal machines, dismantled and re-arranged in sculpture form. There were dinosaurs, 15 foot turkeys, strange beasts, gigantic plants, along with many I could not recognise. A real display of human creativity, the artist didnt seem to live on his land here, signage indicated a friendly vibe and for passers by to have a look. Quite refreshing when surrounded by repetitive rows of uniform farmed fields, punctuated by paranoid warning signs. The only worry to me was that I noted all the components used within the sculptures, it did not appear to be useless junk at all. A complete tracked digger had been sacrificed, along with many complete tractor attachments, dumpers, cement mixers and other handy tools. The sculptures are great, but my inner engineer wants to take them apart and rebuild/restore the machines! Our travels through central Spain have shown that, despite common belief, this country still holds onto some wild and traditional areas, steeped in history, culture and nature. Whilst writing this in another idyllic camp, I watch numerous airline jets zoom overhead and miss out on the joys of surface travel. We feel very fortunate to be of the overlanding persuasion. By Ben Ade A night time walk, high in the Sierra Nevada mountains. A lonely observatory perches atop a peak. Long abandoned and replaced by a much newer building, elswhere in the mountain range. Although quite a cloudy night, the moon was full, making the dome visible on the skyline.
By Ben Ade The sweltering heat of Andalucia drove us towards the mountains and cooler altitudes for a breather. Climbing the mighty Sierra Nevada range, above Granada, was quite a trek. We parked up at a pleasant viewpoint with breath-taking panoramic views, sitting at over 2500 metres above sea level. The temperatures dropped by around 10 degrees between here and the low lands, perfect. The next day we just had to go and inspect the distant snow capped peaks, for the novelty of seeing snow if nothing else! They were much further than we thought, but a few hours hiking brought us up the second highest peak, at 3400 metres. The afternoon sun allowed T-shirts to be worn even though the ground still held onto huge snow drifts all around. Playing in the snow commenced, in June, in the hottest county of Spain.
The novelty of the snow soon wore off, where next then? Various marked ski slopes could be seen in the distance, we followed one named 'Pista Del Mar'. Ahead loomed all manner of enormous sea creatures and ocean paraphernalia, scattered along the course. A 15 foot octopus lay to the left, whilst a pair of worn old pirates guarded the next stage in front. Walking through a giant shark tunnel, then past a lighthouse, brought us near the base of the run, but not before passing an enormous fibreglass starfish and an inflatable Nemo. The next slope lay ahead, fans of German automobiles will love it. This Audi themed course is a 'vorspung durch technic' overload, the cable car is even a replica Audi A2! Further down the mountains we plod, bringing us to the main ski resort now. This is a town the size of Castle Douglas, in Scotland, but it only opens for 3 months a year during deep winter. The rest of the time it sits looking rather depressing, awaiting the ski crowds return. There is everything here; bars, cinema, hotels, town square, estate agents, supermarkets, barbers, pharmacy, etc., etc. All closed. We walked the silent streets for a while, then stop for lunch and a siesta in the huge, but empty, town centre. Back at the viewpoint, where we had setup camp, a friendly English couple named Julie and Jason invited us for tea. They were parked across the way and seemed to be nearly permanent road dwellers, throughout Europe and Morocco, making our months away seem like a quick holiday in comparison. The huge Hymer motorhome was their casa on wheels, complete with all the luxuries of a UK home, even a friendly pet dog! The next day we watched very strange commotion involving numerous cars, disguised in covers and vinyl, being unloaded from lorries to drive the mountain roads. The people were not keen on spilling the beans, I attempted to strike up a conversation with one young bloke; having seen the French plates on the trucks I asked if he was from France, he responded with hesitation and a strong French accent, "no, I am from all around the world.", then he rudely instructed me not to take photographs and mumbled something about paparazzi. I think he quite enjoyed feeling like a secretive super spy on a top secret mission. The dull truth was that these blokes seemed to be doing 'real world' road tests on various unreleased car models, involving driving up and down the main mountain pass repeatedly, recording all data on laptops. Some bright spark had decided the cars should all be wrapped in ridiculous vinyl covers as a 'disguise', this drew huge amounts of attention to them solely due to the vinyl. The main contenders seemed to be new models of Citroen, Volvo and Dacia as far as I could see, among others. More hiking was on the cards today, bringing such sights as a herd of apparently wild, and pregnant, horses. Also many odd little mountain based creatures that seem to be a cross between a deer and a goat. The next day we met a cheerful German family, the guy was very excited to see the Land Rover. He and his wife have been touring the Sahara since the 1970's, starting with a citroen 2CV (amazingly) and moving on to an early Land Cruiser with roof tent. These days he has a huge motorhome as his family expanded, but still keeps the roof tent in the garage just incase! He remembers standing at this mountain location 30 years ago with his wife, on their way to the Sahara desert, seeing our roof top tent and Land Rover with its Saharan tales to tell brought back good memories for them. It now seemed time to leave the mountains, suitably refreshed and cooled. We dropped a couple of kilometres in altitude and rolled off towards the sun-baked plains of North Eastern Andalucia. By Melissa Shaw Today Kaerus seems to have made herself a mutual friend whilst rambling throughout the desert of Morocco. Although not far away, her owners seem to be very preoccupied, gallivanting around taking photos of the rest of the family of camels. Leaving Kaerus with a moment of peace to a well deserved short break, awaiting their return. One camel youngster glances over to Kaerus and decides that perhaps this big, white, defender, creature could be lonely and would welcome some company. Striding over to the Land Rover, the camel made herself/himself acquainted with the mechanical overlanding camel. "Oh hello there! I'm so pleased to meet you! It's ever so nice to meet a friend amongst the desert. I hope you have packed lots of water, it's a long stretch to the next well. I see that you have squishy feet like mine. Don't you find it really does help us trek across this tricky terrain all full of sand and rocks, most unpleasant for others. Although, no offence but your feet are a bit odd, all round and black and no toes! Also, I have long legs, but you have none? Anyway, feet aside, I see that you carry a large hump on your back. Snap, me too! It's awful nice that we can have this chat face to face. I like your beady round eyes, they are very similar to mine. However my friend, it appears you wear a large pair of thick black glasses that covers most of your happy face. Should have gone to Specsavers and picked up some modern specs, or even contact lenses? Very strange creature you are but perhaps we will meet again, toodleoo!" By Ben Ade We are now back in Spain. A slight cultural adjustment may be required. The supermarket was high on the priority list now, to sample such forbidden delicacies as pork chops, beer and gin 'n' tonic. Followed by a couple of nights on the refreshingly breezy beaches of Tarifa, the Southern most point in Europe. The N340 was the next mission, this road runs the length of the Costa del Sol and is said to be one of the most dangerous roads in Europe, averaging over 100 fatalities per year. You can bypass it nowadays using the enormous toll road nearby, but toll motorways are ever so boring. Anyway the N340 turned out to be pretty relaxed to drive, or maybe all roads will seem that way after African motoring! The route took us through all the infamous haunts of North European sun seekers. One of our many stops along this route was busy Marbella. Kaerus was navigated into a large area of overgrown and forgotten land, the result of a long abandoned development project. This land lay surrounded by luxury villas, two minutes walk to the beach in one direction, two minutes walk to the town centre the other direction. Good camp for a few days we thought. Despite its central location, the only people who passed by on occasion were villa owners, walking their poodles and Chihuahuas . They were mostly English speaking and friendly, although seemed quite surprised at our chosen camp. One very large, Northern English bloke in a Manchester United top found it hilarious, apparently we were the topic of gossip within the villas, he advised us to stay there as long as we want and thought it was a great idea! In popular holiday areas within Western Europe, it is often these areas of waste land within towns, which become more isolated or 'wild' than the remaining country side. During the stay we did plenty of your textbook beach holiday stuff; lazing on the beach, topping up tans, walking the promenades and swimming in the sea. A horrible realisation occurred after a swim in the sea which we assumed was fairly clean. There was a line of flotsam floating with the tide which we assumed was just seaweed etc., however, I soon noticed small fragments of toilet paper followed by a sanitary towel floating past. We frantically splashed for dry land and used the complimentary beach showers numerous times. It is a notion that now seems so obvious and I shall hence forth only ever swim in wild sea sides, away from excessive habitation. In all seaside resorts and towns there are of course many septic tanks. These obviously are positioned downstream and have their overflows straight into the sea. Now if these tanks dont get emptied regularly, which they rarely will, or experience too high a usage at any time, they will flow sewage straight into the swimming areas. If you stay in a beach side hotel, then you could even flush the toilet and run down to the beach for a swim beside whatever you just flushed. All the other swimmers seemed unknowing of this information and happily splashed about in the tidal toilet contents. This was by no means an isolated event, we noticed the same signs of overflow in all the beach side towns we visited, complete with oblivious and grubby holiday makers. If you are one of these swimmers, please remember to use the beachside showers thoroughly, and then maybe again for good measure! Our week in the 'Costas' was pleasantly warm and sunny. We are now very keen to explore the real lands of Spain though, so North is the direction. Lets see what the country has in store! By Ben Ade
A lonely electricity sub station, circa 1960's. The giant coiling's and components have long been robbed, leaving only a hollow shell which was once so important. Distributing electricity throughout a now derelict, remote Moroccan district. The odour of warm, high voltage electrical components still lingers throughout the structure. The thick, green glass, anti-conductive routings glow from white lighting, placed within, for this night time photograph. Red lighting was used on the outer walls, along with help from the glowing gibbous moon. By Melissa Shaw "Le Menaces!", was amongst other interesting facts printed on a wooden sign. The sign lists a range of unique wildlife from the birds flying high above the towering trees, to the down below creatures scrabbling within the forest floor. Then boasting it's presence of "Le Menaces", also known as Barbary Apes. Tourists and locals like to catch a glimpse of them during visits to the lush and protected southern woodland areas of Azrou, Morocco. Sheltered by the magnificent cedar trees, many of these troops casually passed by our camp, as we enjoyed our morning breakfast of coffee and porridge. Equally as curious as we were about them, they observed our strange appearance and movements. I should imagine that they wondered if we were a type of monkey or ape. Curious as to where had all our fur disappeared to and what is this white box we are so interested in? On arrival into our camped area, we noticed the alpha ape (rather scary looking, showing off his many accomplished fighting scars) checking out the perimeter before giving the signal to the rest of his family to move in. Closely followed behind this brute, followed along the mother apes clutching their brand new babies. Soon after there was a loud rucas and crashing in the trees above. This landed the 'teenagers' as they played at chase and wrestled with each other once reaching the ground. One of these cheeky chaps, found it great fun and games as he boisterously snuck into the Land Rover to steal an orange! As the apes moved on to there next point of interest. We took a brief walk to find the famous ancient cedar, the Gouraud Cedar. This giant, towers a massive 130ft high and holds a girth of 25ft around. It is said to be aged at around at least eight hundred years old! On our return, our cheeky chimps had given poor Kaerus a bit of a poke and a prod. They examined her closely including her solar panel, bike rack, mirrors and the roof tent. Luckily, the didn't manage to grasp the understanding of zips to get inside the roof tent to get cosy amongst our bedding. However, they did leave us a perfect Barbary ape handprint imprinted on the beige canvas as a souvenir. Very thoughtful they are! By Ben Ade A couple of months ago we stopped off in the quaint coastal village of Ferragudo, in South-east Portugal. Whilst there I found myself perusing the shelves of a second hand book shop. As might be expected, most titles were in the local tongue, however a few English books were piled together in a dark corner. Among these I found a volume of 'Bradshaw's Descriptive Railway Hand-Book', published in 1866. A mere fifty cents secured a welcome addition to my ever expanding library. This guide appears aimed at the railway tourism market of its day, including many descriptions of the areas covered by rail. Particular areas of interest this volume covers are the Northern counties, including Scotland and Caledonian lines. The railway systems which once surrounded Galloway and the entirety of Scotland. Of course the upper Glenkens was, as it still is, relatively remote and beyond the reaches of rail. This said, it was perfectly within reason to reach nearby surrounding stations which could transport the nineteenth century traveller to wherever the heart and wallet would allow. I shall now expand on some of George Bradshaws noted points of interest within close reach of our Glenkens glens. Being a text of over 150 years old, the grammar and punctuation do seem to differ slightly from our current usage, although still perfectly readable. I shall quote as written. New Galloway is mentioned as a point of interest to visit. This would be before the hydro-electric system flooded large sections of the Ken; "A telegraph station situate on the river Ken, which at this point widens very considerably, which circumstance, together with bold and picturesque aspect of the scenery along its banks, render it a place of considerable interest to the tourist." How about a day trip to visit familiar Dumfries; "At the Commercial Inn, Charles Stuart took up his headquarters, in 1745. Population 14,023. It has a little shipping trade; shoes and cotton goods are the principal manufactures. The site is flat and mossy, but the soil fertile, with the Nithsdale hills in the distance. The streets are clean and well built. Pleasant walks line the river's banks." Stopping off at Castle Douglas also; "This is a town of growing importance with a population of 2,259, and situated about a mile and a half to the South of Carlingwark Loch, a large sheet of water abounding with perch." Let's nip over to Kirkcudbright now; "Situated on the Eastern side of the estuary of the Dee, about 5 miles from the sea. Salmon and trout may be caught in the river. In the neighbourhood they profess to show, at Rueberry, Dirk Hatteraicks cave, and the Gaugers Loup, where poor Frank Kennedy was thrown over by the smugglers." Stranraer may not have changed much over the years; "A seaport town at the top of Loch Ryan, accessible to steamers of heavy tonnage; they only sail, however, about once a week to Glasgow and Belfast. The town itself has no particular attraction, but the country around is very interesting." We are all familiar with Dalbeattie im sure; "A small stone built town with a population of 1,861, engaged in shipping." At the other end of the area lies the seldom mentioned Sanquar; "This place is famous for its woollen manufacture. The old castle, once residence of the Crighton family, is worth a visit. The 'admirable Crichton' was born at Elliock House. In the vicinity are Castle Gilmour, a moot hill, and ruins of a hospital." Visiting Lochmaben also sounds quite appealing; "A telegraph station, and a place which the tourist would do well to make a temporary sojourn. It is poetically called the 'Queen of the Lochs', from its situation amid so many sheets of water." A trip to Lockerbie perhaps; "Looking North from this station, there being no curve, we can see down the line a very long way. Here 'Old Mortality' died at Brick Hall, in 1801. Lockerbie Hall, J. Douglas Esq., and Mains Tower, which belonged to the Johnstones, are close at hand." An ever popular town to visit nearby is Ayr; "The county buildings are copied from the Temple of Isis at Rome. Close by is the new Gothic clock tower, 113 feet high, on the site of Wallace's tower (so called because the Scottish hero was imprisoned here); it supports a statue of Wallace, by Thom. 'We'll sing auld Coila's plains and fells, Her moors red brown wi' heather bells, Her banksand braes, her dens and dells, Where glorious Wallace Aft bore the gree, as story tells, Frae Southron billies. At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood, But boils up in a spring-time flood! Oft have our fearless fathers strode, By Wallace' side, Still pressing onward, red-wat shod, Or glorious died.' - Burns." A stop off at friendly Dalmellington; "On the river Doon, in the midst of a rich mineral country. Close by are an ancient earth-work and several cairns. Loch Doon, through which the river Doon runs, will well repay a visit. It is six miles long by about one in breadth, and full of fine trout. On an island stands Balloch Castle, deserving notice, from the fact of its being built with freestone, and there being no quarry within eight mile, and the intervening distance rough, mountainous, and without road." You may well fancy a visit slightly further afield, lets go to Glasow shall we; "Old Glasgow, with all its dirt and discomfort, the swarming wretchedness and filth of the celebrated 'Saltmarket, the 'Goose Dubs', the 'Gallowgate', and the 'Cowcaddens' are well worthy of a visit, if it were only to see how quaint, and even picturesque, in misery, are the haunts of the poor population of one of the richest cities in the world; consequently the traveller should not omit to take a glance at these places and the Wynds, which will be sufficient." Actually I think Glasgow can wait a century or so before a visit! Although the smaller stations such as Parton or Moniaive do not get a mention, I find Bradshaws colourful descriptions of other familiar towns and villages quite fascinating. Such a shame that so many of these rail networks were uprooted and destroyed in the favour of road haulage. The draw for tourists today would be huge if they remained in active use, not to mention the industrial benefits. The routes would have allowed safe passage of timber for example, thus removing dangerously proportioned lorries from our small roadways. I believe that these tourism guides may have received coverage on BBC television a few years back. May be worth a watch, the books are certainly an entertaining read for anyone interested in local history. By Ben Ade Quite literally with this latest camp, but the time has also come for the tour of Morocco to end. We have been in the country for 2 months now and thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience. To be part of such a different culture for this time has been amazingly refreshing, a world apart from the modern and materialistic lifestyle of Europeans. Although the couple of months here have also left us looking forward to some aspects of European life; Pork products (bacon, salami, chops, sausages, ham, etc.,etc., mmmmm) as pork is forbidden in Islamic countries, beer would also have been nice on occasion but again this is a dry country so not a whiff of alcohol for the duration, finally real toilets will be a simple joy to see once again. The Moroccans huge and varied list of skilful trades unfortunately does not include quality WC plumbing or design. The month of Ramadan is also now in full flow, I keep forgetting and accidentally offering tea or food to people we meet, which they politely decline. This religious event happens annually with the dates changing slightly each year. No food, drink, smoking or sex may be partaken throughout the hours of sunrise to sunset. Although quite obviously tired, they manage to keep a real good humour throughout the day, joking about longing for the sun to go down. One guy enjoyed listing all the different things he is going to eat and drink at sundown, it may have been in Arabic but I got the general idea and was left with a mental image of him happily passed out on a mountain of food! On our final couple of nights camping outside Tangier, at the end of a road as pictured, we met a great new friend called Abdul. This guy lived in a nearby village with his family and spent a lot of time with us during our days here, in-between his usual daily work commitments. Helping in ways such as showing us a secret drinking water well, hidden in the bushes nearby, along with insisting on refilling our water tanks himself. His way of getting through Ramadan was to nap frequently throughout the day. Although he spoke no English, we still had many long conversations with a good degree of understanding. His friendly chat and cheerful face will be missed, along with all the other heart warming people we made connections with throughout this country. Whether it be mint tea with nomads, shooting the breeze with camel herders, meals with mountain Berbere families or just shared evenings with the many like minded individuals out exploring the world. Spain now calls for our return from across the Mediterranean ocean, goodbye Morocco, hopefully see you again one day. |