Canillas de Albaida, another of the typical Andalucian pueblo blancos is at almost 600m in the hills just inland from the Mediterranean coast at Nerja, itself a few km east of Malaga. The ‘hills’ rise to 2,066m at Sierra de Tejeda, so would really be classed as mountains if it weren’t for the fact that this height is almost unnoticed in Spain.
We stayed at the village’s fantastic ‘compound’ for camper vans and motorhomes. It’s at the top of the village, is a big flat area with small pebbles and the toilet block with hot water and showers is just below at the hard play area. Fast Wifi is provided and the cost is €10 per night.
This is the huge gate at the entrance. It’s totally over engineered because it is too big!
It’s starting to get properly hot now.
When we arrived, Chris was there in his T5, waiting to finalise the purchase of a property in the middle of the village. He’s been waiting for a few weeks. The English owner told him ‘I’m nipping back to England and I should be back in early June”.
Chris has a story but it’s straightforward, as is his campervan and few bits around it like his bike.
In a corner there was an altogether different story based on an aging VW Passat estate which was was covered in ‘stuff’. There was a huge sunshade, two rigid solar panels, a roof tent, a toilet tent and loads of other stuff, plus a guy who spent the whole afternoon wandering around with the towelling version of a Djellaba.
There were two women with him and at least four dogs. The two women were also in various stages of not wearing much but the weather was kind.
Why do you only ever hear the names of dogs that aren’t under control? Mayo was one of their four dogs, apparently picked up as strays as they travel around. They caused havoc with two dogs in two motorhomes but at night all was quiet. The dogs all slept in the boot of the car but whether the three people all climbed into the roof tent, I’ll never know.
In the morning the car, dogs and people drove off leaving most of the kit behind. Unfortunately we went for a walk and didn’t get back for sometime and when we did the whole pitch was clear.
How did they fit everything in?
We walked to the village during the second evening and at the first bar heard the sound of an English pub quiz. Avoiding this we chose another bar for beer and tapas but still everyone there was English.
I think we have found where our countrymen come to live. Certainly there are many villas in good condition and most people we met as we walked from our village to the next, on a convenient GR path said “hello” rather than “hola”.
The walk along the terraces took us through the shade of olive trees some were laden with black olives that fell as the branches were brushed. It was confusing until we realised that these are last year’s crop, for some reason left untouched. The new fruit is only just appearing as tiny little white blobs.
There are trees with thick waxy leaves which we think must be avocado although no fruit is obvious and some vines.
This is the next village, Cómpeta which is bigger and has plenty of ‘for sale’ signs in English.
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