Day Three. The Rain in Spain.

Straight across Spain, from France to Portugal. Bayonne-San Sebastian-Vitoria-Burgos-Valladolid-Salamanca-Guarda-Castelo Branco.

The first bit, through the foothills of the Atlantic Pyrreanees Pyreenes Pyreeneas mountains, was spectacular, but unfortunately we were driving through wind, rain and fog, which spoilt the view a bit. I thought the rain in Spain fell mainly on the plains, but not so because the sun came out and the drive across the vast and largely featureless expanses of Central Spain was long, hot and dry. 

We stopped halfway across at a two-pump petrol station to fill up with diesel. I had just been thinking how swimmingly well everything was going when I heard Richard exclaim 'OH MY GOD!' (drama queen) from behind the Landrover. Turns out that the lockable screw-off petrol tank cap was still balanced on a pump in a random garage 400 miles behind us in the middle of France. 

Before I could start panicking about the possible consequences of travelling across Europe in all sorts of extreme weather conditions with a full tank of diesel with no lid on it, Rich had gone into the tiny petrol station booth, tumbleweed rolling by, to look for a solution. Turns out they sold petrol caps and the first one he picked up fit perfectly. It was a short-lived disaster. 

By 5pm we crossed the border into Portugal, and almost instantly the scenery changed from huge flat expanses of agricultural land, to green forested rolling hills and valleys. Was tempting to carry on to our destination near Òbidos but couldn't because of (a) the dodgy caravan electrics making driving in the dark inadvisable, and (b) the rental property we kind of organised won't be available until tomorrow, so we stopped at a services in Abrantes and kind of slept, sandwiched between two articulated lorries. 

Last (short) leg of the journey tomorrow. Other than being a bit tired and smelly, it's been a bit of doddle really. Can't imagine WHAT all the fuss was about. 

Miles driven: 558

Craps in Landrover: 2

Craps in Caravan: 1

Wees: can't even bear to think about it.