Following on from our newfound ridge success, we set our sights on the biggest objective in the Costa Blanca- the Bernia ridge. A twisty drive up jangled the nerves a little, but we were up early and first on the ridge the following morning. Bethan suggested that we begin not roped-up, and I agreed, given that the walk up had been at least as exposed as this first section. When we reached the first bolts, we started simul climbing (including a cheeky ‘simmul abseil’) and were making quick progress. The whole thing went without a hitch, we were able to each correct the occasional route-finding mistake from the other (editorial note, Sam seemed unable to identify the red dots that mark the way), and we only pitched out the 10m ‘hard bit’ in the middle. We returned to the van elated, our ridge fears vanquished and even feeling like it hadn’t been enough of a challenge.

The next day saw perceived peril from a very un-mountainous setting… The chosen rest-day beach was innocuous enough, though a cool-looking island floated temptingly 500m offshore. Now, I preface this part of the blog with the following: every time I leave the van without Bethan, whether it be for a walk, run, or anything else, I tell her exactly what I’m doing, how long I should be and at what point she’s allowed to get worried. I say this because this time, through sheer stupidity, I did not. Having made sure I could star float in the salty Med without effort, that I could tread water for as long as I was happy with and that swimming was not as tiring as I had feared, I made for the island. The water was shallow and with my cheap new Decathlon goggles I could swim down to the seabed and saw some cool wildlife, fish, seaweed, more fish. The water was crystal clear. I took my time, experimenting with different strokes I remembered learning so many years ago in the local pool. Occasionally I looked back, seeing Bethan reading on the beach. I reached the island without issue, and sat on a little beach for a while, enjoying the sun and reflecting that I’d like to do more swimming.

After a little while I made my way back, slowly, stopping every so often to float and look up at the sky, feeling the tiny wavelets lapping at my ears…. bliss. I reached the beach and strolled back to the van to discover Bethan in a somewhat less blissful mood, violently sobbing and on the phone to the coastguard. We’ve been quite big on lesson-learning throughout our time in Remy. Needless to say, quite a few were learned that day; allow me to share, though most are pretty obvious. Letting others know what you’re doing is a very easy way of increasing the chance of getting rescued if you get into trouble. It also stops them worrying. Additionally, any risk-management you may have done yourself is worth running past someone else. These are things we all already know but perhaps it’s well to be reminded. Something it seems not everyone knows: call 112 on any phone in almost any country and you will be put through to the local emergency services. This is the case even if you don’t have a SIM card, let alone one that doesn’t work abroad, and even sometimes when you have ‘no signal’. (Editorial note – thinking your boyfriend had potentially drowned = not fun!!!).

On a lighter note, we then drove up to the base of Puig Campana to climb Espolon Central (HS, 4c)­. This was a fantastic route, with amazing positions, though the long ‘via ferrata’ followed by lots of steep scree which constituted the descent was certainly the crux. Bethan, once again, earning her nickname of Bambi. It was nice to finally get back to placing gear enroute too and I even managed to free a very stuck purple cam for a nice bit of crag bounty.

Finally, the journey to our final location of the trip was upon us. Following, a short stopover in Almeria to visit Amy and Richard which included Tapas and a few rounds of Uno, we headed to El Chorro. We managed to find our most luxurious parking spot yet – right next to the bins, although the view and proximity to climbing more than made up for it. Here we met up with sport climber extraordinaire Becky, whom we introduced to her first multipitch ever, the fantastic Lluvia del Asteroides (8 pitches of 5c). We spent relaxed days sport climbing, and met up with mega-wads Alex and Hannah, who treated us to a lovely dinner at their Air B&B – nice for some eh? We also made good use of their shower before the long journey home.

This time, the journey home was very different, spread over 5 relaxed days rather than 22 hours! The weather seemed to have just turned as we headed north. Good timing. The beautiful Spanish landscapes, with planes and gorges and nothing to see for miles gave way to the hilly north, and the driving rain. In typical us fashion there were a few minor hiccups, not least Remy receiving his first major injury with a massive stone chip on the windscreen (great….). Then there was Rouen – the French city Remy is forbidden from travelling through and difficult to bypass. Various navigational apps faced difficulties – they either could not figure out how to bypass Rouen, provided a very long detour or a route with a ferry (not sure why Waze kept recommending that!!!). In the end we went semi old fashioned and manually found a route past Rouen. And, in case you were wondering, French tolls still reside at the number one spot for biggest nuisance of the whole trip!

Overall, the whole drive back to Blighty was rather bittersweet and melancholy. These past few months have been a wonderful delight.

Off belay,

Sam, Bethan and Remy.

Bethan here, I made a promise to Elizabeth that if she shared one of her wonderful poems in the CUMC bulletin I would upload a poem to this blog. Well Elizabeth upheld her end of the bargin with this lovely UKC feature and my attempts at poetry are as dull as reading some kind of mannual. Having said that, I am not about to break a promise, and after some gentle peer pressure here is my silly little poem….

Our life in the van.

Come live in a van my boyfriend once said,
There will be beautiful vistas right from the bed,
And we will be free as the birds up ahead,
Our life in the van.

Come live in a van social media entices,
Instagram, tiktok, a million devices
Showing perfectly curated slices
Of people’s life in a van.

So, you’re living in a van my friends reply,
I’m jealous follows and then a sigh,
As they wish us goodbye
And good luck for life in the van.

And so now I call van home,
Peeing behind bushes, illness prone,
Dirt tracks out in the unknown,
That’s our life in the van.

So many mosquitoes, a most awful sight,
Flies buzzing and buzzing mid-flight,
Never relenting, harassing all night.
Our life in the van.

Another night in a parking lot I pout,
Motorway traffic, youths running about,
Caravaners and crickets, here’s another shout
The bedtime lullaby of our life in a van.

No respite from relenting heat,
Not showered in days – smelly feet,
Moody and out of anything to eat.
So why then continue with this life in a van?

For the moments that steal our breath away,
Dizzyingly, mesmerising, more than I can relay.
A desolate mountain passage, a perfect day.
These are numerous in our life in a van.

Roaming so far and wide,
Across flatlands and up the mountainside,
From forests to beaches, taking them all in our stride.  
We’ve seen so many places in our life in a van.

Up on a peak with so much to see,
Chamoix dancing across the scree,
And we’re back down in time for tea.
Our beautiful life in the van.

Then there is my partner in crime,
Adventures and fun,  yet another climb,
Happiness, laughter the most wonderful time.
Thank you, Sam, for our life in the van.