Just a quick update on the blog to follow. It’s Monday morning (6th) and I am writing this, in the sunshine, at Camping Portuondo, a campsite in Mundaka near Bilbao. We leave here today and go into France; at least I hope we do, because the entry road to the site is extremely steep and narrow. Piggy and I are both praying that Doris will have enough oomph to get up to the top!

Yesterday we took the excellent local bus into Bilbao to ‘do’ the Guggenheim; which was nice, if a trifle disappointing. Anyway, that’s our culture bit done. On with the next bit.

It’s Friday evening, (3rd) and we have got to the haven (despite two very loud bangs from the garage across the way) of a Spanish Aire, just south of the Picos de Europa. Have driven today from Astorga, the town of the indestructible Loaf, across the Cordillera Cantambrica.

I warn you; I could run out of adjectives now. East of Leon we climbed up over 1600 metres; out of valleys green and springlike to snowy peaks and towering rocks. The stones, first brilliant green with lichen, through all the stages, to huge snowdrifts lying in every crevasse were awesomely, fantastically overpowering. Wow factor times what you will.

I think we have given our hearts a good test today; as we have negotiated the screwdriver bends, up and down; and Pete has managed to restrain himself from taking his eyes off the road as huge raptors soar in the peaks around. The villages west of Potes were luxurious looking country residences; everything spick and span; but from then on, going south east, the villages suddenly fell into disrepair and potholes appeared in the road; something to do with the Basque thing? We do not know.

And yesterday, as we drove out of Portugal it was straight into the Serra de la Cabrere Baja. rolling hills covered in purple and pink heath; all perfectly enjoyable on a fine example of new Spanish road building.

Then across the plateau to Astorga; even more raptors and acres of conifer and poplars interspersed in tracts of wild heath. We saw a Montigue’s Harrier, who flew alongside Doris as we bowled along at a steady 30 miles an hour; a deserted road I hasten to add, in both directions.

So here we are; and tomorrow we are on our way to visit Bilbao; finally, after missing out for the last two visits to Spain. More of this later.