Malaga – Ronda – El Palmar de Vejer – Jerez de la Frontera – Seville: 246 km (of cycling)

A mere 10 kilometres of cycling takes me to a parking spot just outside of Malaga. It’s a short ride but an exciting one. Not because of the road or the scenery, because of the destination. I’m meeting Marous today. We’ve been following each other’s journeys online and seen us getting closer and closer to one another. She’s travelling in an old-timer Mercedes Hanomag. A beauty of a van. I’ve never seen it before, but once I make my way to our meeting point a loud engine approaches me from the behind. A green and white little wagon that looks way cuter then it sounds is high on my heels, Marous smiling behind the wheel, arm out the window waving. This is going to be fun. It’s also going to be an experiment. We haven’t seen each other for about two years. And now we’re spending a couple of days together in a tiny space. Yet, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be OK!

Marous is a Spainofile. She lived in both Madrid and Valencia, walked the Camino de Santiago and just generally enjoys Spain, almost obsessively. Her Spanish is quite impressive too. Great company for a road trip in Spain! We load all my stuff in the van and set off for Ronda. The ride is intensely beautiful; the mountains grey, the sky blue, the forests green. Still, I’m happy being in the van today, the uphill gradients are horrifying. Ronda is cute. A little mountain town with steep streets and white houses that seem stacked on top of one another. Its main attraction; an old high bridge. I like when towns have only one, and not a super impressive thing to visit. They remain cute and untouched by the big masses.

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After tapas in Ronda, we drive towards today’s camp. We find the perfect spot. It overlooks a lake that flows around a mountain. Nobody else is parked here. As we get ready for the night, I marvel at all of van-life’s luxuries. Multiple plates, an actual mattress, ambient lighting, two chairs, a table even, electricity, a spice rack, a coffee grinder. Compared to my small tent and minimal space, this feels like glamping. To be fair, Marous has done everything to make this little camper feel like a home. It’s filled with plants, books, pillows and blankets, and wouldn’t look out of place is a Wes Anderson movie. During dinner the sun subsides behind the mountain into the lake.

The next morning, we hike down the mountain into an incredible abyss that leads into an immense cave. What once must have been a thundering river, is now a quiet stream. The sounds of the birds echo from every direction, water percolates from the rocks, just as the plants do, growing in every direction. Some hang down towards the river, others growing up to the sun. It’s like descending into another, untouched natural world, with the cave at the end that’ll take us to a different reality altogether.

Back at the van, Marous lets (read; makes) me drive. I’m a little nervous. This old little car comes with some special guidance. In the corners it feels more like a boat than it does a car, so do the buttons on the dashboard. But soon enough I get the hang of it. I love driving, and in this machine even more. It looks so good people wave at us as we pass by, we get given priority everywhere, and the bus leaves a trail of smiles. Today is a long day in the car. But we chat our way through it, singing along with the music that is on full volume to transcend the sound of the blaring engine. We reach a surfer’s paradise with a strip of sun whitened weathered wooden bars that overlook the shoreline. That night the hard wind both wiggles us asleep, and wakes us up all the same.

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Marous needs to work for two days. A true digital nomad befitting, she has WiFi in the camper. I’ll get back on the bike. We’d both like to do this again and arrange to see each other in a couple of days near Sevilla. First stop, Jerez, after having lunch in Cadiz. My ride to Jerez is unremarkable, except from the bridge that I cross to get out of Cadiz. I’m risking my life because I don’t want to add another 30 km to my ride. I see the no-bikes-sign but decide to ignore it. Heavy traffic passes me on high speed. I try to stay on the narrow lane on the side, but the bridge is high and the strong winds at the top send me flying into the car lane. After a scary 5 kilometres I get to the other side unharmed, but definitely shaken up.

The road to Sevilla is even more unremarkable. Flat farmer roads. Loads of gravel, still fun to be out. I stay three days in Sevilla. It’s not the worst place to wait for somebody to pick you up with their classic camper. Beautiful and romantic place. Narrow, winding streets, white sheets from the balconies. I stroll around, admire the gothic architecture, endlessly enjoying how people spend their lives outside on the streets.

The weather is slowly turning. From the occasional sunny day in-between the rainy ones, it’s now the other way around. Summer is coming back. And with that I realise that I’m nearing a year away. I’ve seen the tourists leave Croatia, now I see them coming back in Spain. My trip is getting circular.