Lessons from Turre, Alfaix and El PInar

I woke up well before dawn this morning, got up and completed my daily routine early. Rather than languish, I determined to get out into the countryside and take advantage of morning light rather than afternoon light for a change. I drove to the village of Turre via Mojácar Pueblo, inland on the south side of the coastal plain flanked on three sides by jagged sierras I cannot yet identify, and intersected by rivers, chiefly rio Aguas and rio Antas, running down into Mojácar and Vera Playas, respectively.

The area around Turre has been settled for the past three thousand years, though the present village dates from the sixteenth century re-settlement of people after the reconquista. The village rises up the hillside from the plain, with a Mudejár style parish church from that era on a promontory at the heart of the old village. 

Since Mojácar became a holiday destination, and benefited from the influx of expat settlers, Turre is a neighbouring rural village that has grown significantly with the building of new urbanizaciónes in response to demand. 

At 3,300 inhabitants, there are 50% more people living here now than twenty years ago. The number has dropped by several hundred due to the impact of recession on expats. It's hard to imagine how Turre looked when Mojácar was being regenerated in the 60's and 70's. Turre's main street is composed of unremarkable functional modern buildings, easy to drive through and forget. The main and tree shaded Plaza de la Constitución and church are on the uphill side. The choice and shape of the large evergreen trees in the Plaza, is the same as those outside Málaga's bullring on the Paseo de Reding, offering cool shade all year round.

From Turre, I drove further west inland, on the road to Los Galliardos and uphill to Bedar. In between these small towns, the road crosses a handsome mid 20th century brick bridge over the rio Antas, which flows down a valley through a gorge to reach the plain.

Up above the valley from here a few kilometres away is the self styled Pueblito de Alfaix, a modern urbanización, in the traditional style of an Andalucian pueblo . There may have been an old hamlet there of this name, but if so it wasn't that evident, as modern houses in their own grounds were what could be seen when driving through. The camino rural twice crossed over a wide cutting in the landscape, the trackbed of the AVE high speed line from Almeria to Murcia. It remains incomplete as funding for the tracks and other infrastructure ran out during the recession, as it has done in other places along the Corridor Mediterraneo. It's a sad outcome from near sighted economic planning.

After my brief diversion through Alfaix, I drove past Los Galliardos up to Bedar, where I spent an afternoon last year. Bedar is a post-industrial regenerated village which has seen an expansion of its housing stock on surrounding hillsides. On the way there is a signpost for El Pinar, a place I had heard mention of, but not visited last year. I took this road, which wound upwards through a narrow valley into a large modern urbanización, spread across its upper slopes and hilltops, offering great views of the coastal plain and sierras from on high. 

Sections of the development, I noticed, were incomplete, roads and basic services installed in otherwise virgin land, the structural framework of houses yet to be built. Either demand dried up, or investment funds, but the aesthetic impact on the environment would not be something the neighbours invested in when they purchased.

As I walked around, looking for a vantage point from which to take photos, I was greeted twice by men of my own age, in English. It seemed to me like an extensive expat colony, built in a beautiful exclusive area from scratch. Few social amenities, if any. A life entirely dependent on visits by car to nearby towns. A cooler climate, and as I said, great views, but only as long as someone remains independent, healthy and mobile. It's one way of 'living the dream', I guess.

This little excursion was valuable in helping me to join the dots in terms of local geography. I talk of the coastal plain. It's not all flat in between the enclosing sierras. There are sizeable crinkles in this level landscape, due to its underlying of volcanic activity. Now at least I know where the rio Aguas emerges and descends into the plain, ending up, just a few hundred metres from where I stay. In addition its a lesson in housing economics Spanish style. Given the UK Chancellor's latest budget drive to build 300 thousand homes a year, it made me wonder how aware his team is of what can go wrong.

As the sun was setting, I walked up to the rio Aguas bridge to check out the evening bird life and for the first time in my stay instead of the usual half dozen Egrets, there were about a hundred of them roosting in the cane groves along the banks of the charco nearest the beach. Ninety per cent roost on the north side and ten percent on the south just as they did last year from October onwards, I recall. It's curious, and I wonder what the reason is for this occupational pattern. Is it something to do with the specific habitat of the kinds of fish, invertebrates and insects they feed on, I wonder?
   

  

Brief excursion to Águilas

Apart from shopping cooking and house-keeeping I seemed to have spent all my spare time Monday and today writing and editing documents for CBS as it faces a political challenge from opportunists who think they have better ideas about running a long term sustainable communications system, but have little experience at doing so. Defending the enterprise has to be done, but it is such a waste of time. It's typical of what happens today when everyone does what is right in their own eyes, and believes in their own untried expertise. 

Today's world is being swamped by so called 'disruptive ideas and technologies promoted as game changers. These come and go, proving themselves by virtue of their usability and robustness, but competitiveness and the contention that often surrounds innovation can drain creative energy and effort, just as when the world faces colossal unsolved problems requiring maximum collaboration. Pollution, climate change, food water, shelter and employment for more than seven billion people can only be coped with successfully by collective action, pooling resources and ideas for common solutions.

Anyway, this afternoon a made an effort to get out to go and visit somewhere I'd not been before. I drove north 40km along the coast road beyond Palomares and Villaricos across the border to Murcia Province, and the ancient fishing port town of Águilas, which was trading its salted fish around the Mediterranean in Roman times. Now, it's mainly a holiday resort, with its coastal plain given over to horticulture, in a neat colourful patchwork of well managed fields. The coastal road network is of high quality, as it needs to be, to take huge amounts of vegetables for local consumption or export shipping at container ports, notably Almeria.

On the A7107 coast road from Vera Playa to Águilas through sierra foothills, are remnants of the area's industrial past. Villages along the route preserve the tall brick chimneys of ore smelters, as a monument to another age. The rounded hills are devoid of trees, covered with bushes, few palms, as surfaces drain rapidly. The scars of two centuries of industrial exploitation of the environment seem to have been repaired or healed quite well.

In the 18th and 19th centuries Águilas port was one of Spain's busiest with exportation of minerals and esparto. Its development with other places in the north of Almeria Province, was encouraged by British entrepreneurs. The town is five times the population of Mojácar, with many fine beaches either side of it, on what's called the Costa Calida. The town itself is mainly modern and built up with narrow streets and slow traffic controlled by sets of lights at every junction and pedestrian crossing. The air must get very polluted in the holiday season when the population expands many times over. 

There was probably far more of interest about the town than my first impressions gave me. I didn't stop long, driving just as far as the port. It's dominated by a high rocky promontory on which stands an 18th coastal watch tower in a fortified enclosure, the Castillo de San Juan de las Águilas. An earlier 16th century watch tower was destroyed by Berber pirates active along the coast at that time, and the enclosure seems to have been added when it was re-built. I took a few photos there, then mindful of the approach of darkness, headed back into the setting sun, using the by-pass road to escape the reverse journey through town.

I should have made an effort to get out earlier in the day. Time just seems to slip away from me.
   

Remembrance Sunday

The Ermita de San Pascual de Baylon was full to overflowing for this morning's Eucharist with act of Remembrance, altogether about a hundred people. We started at 10.45, and reached the appointed hour just as we finished singing Abide with Me before the Gospel reading. I'd have been less tense if we'd had a shorter hymn at that point, as singing it in full can drag and lose a minute or two, causing some old soldiers to inspect their watches.

As a locum priest, you take things as you find them. Left to my own devices I wouldn't have integrated the Act of Remembrance into the Eucharistic Ministry of the Word, but kept it as a stand-alone ceremony before Mass, as a number of people turn up for the ceremony and leave straight after, rather than stay for the full service. In fact, that was what I'd expected, or forgotten from last year! Presented with a printed order of service minutes beforehand, I had think on my feet too quickly for comfort. And, it didn't help that I'd slept badly and didn't feel as if I was on my best form. Anyway, by the time I preached, the adrenalin generated by an audience started working its magic.

At the end of the service, Val the Treasurer came to the front and read the formal announcement of the name of the coming new Chaplain, Canon Vincent Oram, currently working in St Alban's diocese, although his ministry began in the Anglican Province of the Church of South Africa, back in the time of apartheid. He's been in rural ministry there and in UK, and won't have any problem adjusting to a ministry involving long drive times for himself and his several flocks. It was for me a satisfying thing to be here when the announcement was made, having met him briefly just after I arrived for duty. I may never pass this way again, and look at my many photo albums of the region with nostalgia, but to have been here to help prepare the way for his arrival is a pleasure of its own.

I joined sixty members of the RBL Branch for lunch at the Bella Vista restaurant after church, but nearly came un-stuck. I arrived at the restaurant, same one as last year, thinking I was only just about on time, and the place was empty apart from three waiters waiting for something to happen. I could see no welcome to the RBL panel in the foyer, and thought I'd made a mistake about the venue. I was too dumbstruck to enquire, went back to the car and tried calling the organiser to check what I'd done wrong. No answer. So, I drove back to the apartment, unable to figure out what Id done wrong. Half an hour later, my call was returned. I was at the right venue, only half an hour early! If there were any diners present, or organisers, they were in a back bar, and not making any noise. I felt such a fool, but jumped in the car, and returned, saying Grace only ten minutes later than proposed. What an idiot!

After an enjoyable meal in pleasant company, I made my excuses and left, to be sure I was ready on time for the drive to Aljambra for Evensong. As I made my way up the Almanzora Valley, the setting sun was just above the horizon, right in my eyes, and slowing me down somewhat, but I was there a quarter of an hour before time, just enough to get organised with Duncan leading the office, and me preaching and baptizing. There were thirty of us present, almost full, and baby Tallia Sophia's three siblings were there taking part, along with parents, godparents and friends. It was a delightful finale to my Aljambra sojourn, and there were some warm and kind words of farewell to send me off into the night, back to base in Mojácar after an eventful day.

 

Armistice observed in Mojácar

As I wasn't assigned any special duties this morning I walked to Mojácar Playa's Parque Comercial to join with other members of the local Royal British Legion Branch for the Armistice Day two minute silence. There's a large patio with tables open on one side, enclosed by shops and restaurants, where people can sit to eat and drink. In one corner Mick and Chris had established a poppy sales stall, and there was a public address system, as on this special occasion a local British singer known as Lady Ellen volunteered to sing popular songs of the two World Wars after the ceremony. She's well known and popular, after living and working here for thirty years. She'd come to boost the poppy selling last Saturday also, but was sabotaged by wind and torrential rain. Today however, the sun shone, and it was twenty five degrees, the other face of autumn on the Costa Almeria.

As well as fundraising, Mojácar Branch of the RBL is active socially, with evenings of entertainment and dinners, attracting 60-70 people at a time, regular residents and seasonal visitors. With a fair number of ex-service personnel among expatriates, the Branch's welfare section finds plenty to do in supporting older people. It's impressive, and has good links through some key personnel with the Chaplaincy, perhaps even strong than in many British parishes.

With two sermons to prepare for tomorrow, I spent the afternoon finishing off one and writing the second one, joining the theme of Remembrance Sunday with Baptism, since there's a Christening at Aljambra at Evensong. I'm looking forward to it, although it'll be my final service there, and time for my first farewell, as Evensong takes place on the second and last Sundays of the month, whether that's a fourth Sunday, or in this month fifth, and I'll be leaving for home before then.

 

Glimpses of Murcia's hinterland

Another early start, going north up the A7 autovia to rendezvous at a service station outside Puerto Lumbrera with David and Cath for a trip into the hinterland of Murcia. We drove up to Lorca, then turned north west, heading for Totana, although we weren't headed for the town itself, but for the Sanctuary of St Eulalia in the foothills of the Sierra Espuña. Saint Who? You may be wondering.

Eulalia was a young teenage girl of the Barcelona region, who was killed for her faith in 303 AD during the persecutions of Diocletian, like St Agnes and St Cecilia in Rome, and St Agatha in Sicily. Devotion to her memory spread through Spain, especially in Murcia, where she became the patron Saint of the town of Totana in the middle ages. A monastic sanctuary was established in her honour in 1574, and has been a place of pilgrimage since then.

Before visiting the sanctuary, we drove up above the village of Aledo, perched along the edge of an escarpment overlooking the Valle Guadalentín to a hilltop hosting a ten metre tall image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, looking east across the plain towards the sea 50km away. From here there are wonderful views in every direction, including the monastery in the valley below. At night, the statue is illuminated and visible from the A7 autovia, 20km away, if you know where to look.

From the mountain top we descended to the monastery in the valley. No monks there these days. Not enough to go around! The sixteenth century building hospitality complex can house scores of visitors in a range of appropriate accommodations adapted for twentieth century use. The extensive grounds are laid out with trees that provide shade for many visitors. There was just a school party of a few dozen there when we arrived. I imagine it gets much busier when inhabitants of Totana and the wider region arrive at fiesta times.

The nave walls of the sanctuary church are decorated with 17th century frescos illustrating Gospel stories of the life of Christ, and a few of his saints. Their style and colour are characteristically early counter reformation Spanish, somehow managing to appear sober and vivid at the same time. The roof timbers reflect Mudéjar style carpentry and construction, and there's a small organ in the seventeenth century style, though whether it's a restored original or a more recent imitation is impossible to tell from a distance. The whole has been faithfully and superbly restored. It's a hidden treasure, well worth a visit for anyone who wants to get an impression of how a western church may have looked in the days when didactic visual art was the norm for catechesis.

From here, we drove high up on narrow winding roads into the pine forests of the Sierra Espuña, up to the 1,200m mark where the source of the rio Espuña is to be found for those willing to walk and find it. The summit is another 300m higher up. From here we descended to the visitor centre, which turned out to be quite a revelation, dedicated in honour of Ricardo Cordoníu, a 19th century man born in Cartagena in 1846, who was an early pioneer in environmental conservation, known as 'El Apostol de Arbol'. Early on in his engineering career, he saw the relationship between catastrophic autumnal flooding and deforestation, and devoted the rest of his life to the replacement of trees all over the hills and valleys of the Sierra Espuña, right up to where the tree line once was.

Centuries of increasing timber harvesting without replacement had destroyed a balanced natural environment and its ancient ecosystems. As a result of twenty years effort, the upper slopes and valleys of the Sierra Espuña were restored, along with its extraordinary bio-diversity. The entire area is now a unique designated regional national park. It was just wonderful to pass through forests of Mediterranean pine and oak, set against the diverse colouration of soil and rocks, and amazing to think that all this rich landscape could have remained barren and unstable, if it were not for the insight, determination and leadership of one local nature loving man.

We had lunch on the terrace in a small village restaurant at El Berro la Parra, where I had sopa de mariscos and emperador, for me a royal treat. Then we drove out of the Nature Reserve, and headed north and then west to Caravaca del la Cruz, our final destination of the day. It's an town which dates back more than a millennium, whose significance rests on a story about the conversion of a Moorish prince through a heavenly revelation of the cross, during a celebration of Mass, centuries before the reconquista. Subsequently, the town acquired a relic of the True Cross and became a reputed place of pilgrimage, identified by the unique iconographic symbolism of the cross, similar to the cross of La Lorraine, which pilgrims take away as a souvenir.

The sanctuary of the True Cross is a 16th century church within the precincts of the eleventh century moorish castle on the promontory overlooking the town. It's one of five places in the world where the Catholic celebration of Jubilee is observed once every seven years instead of every forty nine years - 2017 happens to be a Jubilee year, so the town and castle are decked in festive attire. In the church a recording of the recitation of the rosary runs continuously. The cloister has a canopy to shelter several hundred white garden chairs, for the use of overflow congregations on big fiestas, and in a corner of the castle courtyard are stacks of hundreds of chairs, retained, just in case. It's a place geared up to welcome visitors to worship on festival days, in an impressive way.

As the sun began to set, we made our way back down to Lorca, and then along the A7 to Puerto Lumbrera for me to get my car, and drive the last three quarters of an hour back to Mojácar. It was a long day's travel, but so worthwhile, discovering the remarkably green face of the neighbouring Murcia Province. There's so much more to see that's different! My photos are here

Sunday birding extra

This Sunday, the last in Trinity, or Bible Sunday, or Church Dedication Sunday, take your pick. After a good ten hours slumber, I drove out to celebrate the Eucharist with the Llanos congregation, fifty odd people, as I wasn't surprised that there was confusion around the choice of readings that were intended for use, due to a last minute change, not in my control. 

The Revised Common Lectionary as authorised by the Church of England, and broadcasted by its marvellous web app, provides for all three of options for use on this day. Making the decision and informing others about which set of readings to use is not straightforward. It relies on everyone getting and reading emails in the event of any changes occurring between different congregations and preachers. The complexity of the lectionary doesn't help everyone to keep up to speed. 

We're already messed about too much by having Continuous and Related streams of Old Testament readings to decide upon, let alone completely different sets of readings to choose from. It makes me long for earlier times and simpler schemes, much as I rejoice at the variety of scripture to reflect and preach on in the course of the year. Tolerance of so many choices speaks of committees unable to agree a clear set of objectives for each learning event for given Sundays of the year. The power politics of old fashioned churchmanship seems to be there somewhere in the background, plus we also have to cope with more Sundays designated as days of prayer showcasing special church social and missionary concerns. 

Do we need all this as a given of arranging liturgy? Are our ecclesial overlords experimenting with a 'Let the market decide' long term strategy? Given that next Sunday could be observed as Reformation Sunday, given that Tuesday is the 500th anniversary of Luther's 95 Theses, perhaps it  isn't such a bad time to ask the question. We've had forty years of liturgical enrichment on top of earlier reforms, so the basic regular diet of worship is now more complex than it need be, just as it was in pre-reformation times, occasioning radical revision and creative innovation. 

After church, I drove back, making a deviation to discover the town of Huercal Overa, in the sierras to the east of the A7 autovia, near the provincial border with Murcia. It's a town that sprawls over a plateau overlooking the Almanzora valley, having outgrown its ancient centre. I didn't find much there to encourage me to explore in detail, so I was soon heading back to Mojácar for lunch.

Later in the afternoon, I drove over to Villaricos, and discovered a large lake situated to the north and west of the watercourse of the rio Almanzora. Back in history, this might have been an ox-bow lake, but there is what looks like a 25m high spoil heap offshore, suggesting that in times past it had been quarried for gravel. But no longer. The westernmost end is elevated, and water gives way to salt flats, with all the interesting wildlife this harbours. The shallower end to the east hosts a variety of aquatic wildfowl, ducks, herons and egrets, even a grey coloured flamingo, a fairly recent arrival following storms. Grey coloured, because the local ecosysten doesn't contain the tiny shrimps which form the flamingo staple diet, and afford the unique colouration of its plumage. I was there too early to see returning hosts of egrets returning to roost I was told of yesterday . The ones I snapped on lake islands were those with no need to commute to feed for whatever reason, I guess.

From there, I drove to Vera Playa, parked the car and walked a couple of kilometres along the beach to Laguna Pueblo, where the rio Almanzora becomes a somewhat larger charco than the one in Mojácar, where it reaches the sea, extending back a couple of kilometres inland, surrounded by tall reed beds full of watland birds of every kind. Another amazing place, not far from Mojácar! The sun was starting to set when I reached here, so there wasn't much time to explore. So glad to have discovered it, however. I will return.

   

Birding update

The usual Saturday routine today, finishing and printing my Sunday sermon, a walk to Mercadona for a few items of grocery, a walk up to the bridge over the charco to see if there any new birds are to be seen. There were three egrets visible again. I think this is a nuclear family which has settled here rather than wherever else these birds make a home in this region.

On the bridge tonight were a couple about my age toting big long lens DSLR cameras, espying the waters. Eventually we got around to chatting. They were birders visiting from the USA, following any local avian intel they could find on the internet. They told me about the salinas near Villaricos, the other side of Garrucha, which was the current major overnight roosting place for flocks of egrets I'd seen here this time last year. It's the site where others have told me flamingos can be seen. That tripmsounds like it;s worth the effort to make. It's only ten kilometres away. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. The clocks go back, and I'm determined to take advantage of this and get a really long night's rest.

   

Pueblo rendezvous

Late this afternoon I made the hour long walk on back lanes up to Mojácar Pueblo past citrous grenadine and fig trees in orchards at the foot of the hill on which the pueblo is perched. The aroma is enchanting. I had a rendezvous with Don Miguel, the Parish Priest to make arrangements for the bi-lingual ecumenical service of Nine Lessons and Carols, scheduled for the first Monday of Advent, just after I leave. It's an event that's happened here for over twenty years, and is popular with locals and expats alike.

When I arrived at the church. he was sitting at the front, with a small group of women, playing the guitar and singing in a lovely tenor voice. Then the women sang something they knew, and discussed a little, as if they were working on a common song repertoire. I wondered what they were preparing for. Eventually he summoned me to join him in the sacristy, and then we worked on confirming the order of service and which language the readings would be in.

Don Miguel spoke a little English but was happy to let me work with him in Spanish, putting up with my faults and vocabulary lapses. It was a delightful experience with much laughter, plus the pleasure of being on the job with a ministerial colleague, and although the uphill climb had been quite taxing, I felt I had a spring in my step on the return journey.

Clare flies back to the UK from Arizona tonight. I was glad to catch her and Kath briefly on Skype before they set out for the airport, and wish them godspeed before the ten hour flight and then four hour trips back to Cardiff and Kenilworth. They've had a wonderful two weeks with Rachel and Jasmine. It'll be reassuring to have them back within a few hours flying time.

   

The spice of life

A quiet, uneventful start to the week apart from visits to the bridge over the charco, spotting a couple of herons, well they may be a pair, but they tend to stay well apart from each other once breeding is over. There's just one egret out there again, the other two I saw seem to have quit. What's happened to the hundreds I saw last year? I wonder.

Today I phoned Fr Miguel the local parish priest, to confirm with him a date for the ecumenical carol service which happens a week after I leave here. I'll go to the Wednesday evening Mass in the parish church at Mojácar pueblo this week, and meet him properly. It'll give me an opportunity to exercise my Duo Lingo Spanish.

I had an email confirming an earlier request to do locum duty in Málaga during Lent and Holy Week. So that's January in Montreux, home for February, then Málaga for March and April. It will mean living there for the period of remarkable religious processional events, not just commuting in for a few hours at a time, as I did in 2014 from Fuengirola. It interests me greatly to see how the city continues to go about daily life, welcoming hosts of tourists as well as those who make what is in effect a pilgrimage there to participate in the cermonies. For balancing normality, I'll have the variety of three Anglican Chaplaincy congregations to minister to, at what is my favourite season of the Christian year.

When I think of the places I've done locum duties in Spain, what makes this enjoyable is that within a chaplaincy, congregations aren't clones of each other. Each has a different history as well as different context. Liturgy used will be much the same, but each gathering for worship expresses itself uniquely, and as a priest one has to develop a particular relationship with each. Variety is the spice of life!

Another walk to Garrucha this evening. A new large bulk carrier is loading in port, called Yeoman Bank, registered in Liberia. It's unusual among big ships I've noticed here, described by the Marine Traffic ship database as a 'Self Discharging Bulk Carrier' which explains the distinctive superstructure attached to its bow section. As it's currently loading, this is not in use, and is displaced high above the water, away from the loading quay.

For reasons unknown, the ship database shows correctly that it is currently berthed in Garrucha, but the Garrucha Port section of the Marine Traffic website shows no trace of its visit. This website is vast and complex. Keeping it up to date must be a nightmare, and not everything can be automatically sync'd. It's amazing we have such information resources anyway.

    

Liturgical karaoke

A warm and bright Sunday for the twenty minute drive to the Ermita de San Pascual de Baylon to celebrate the Eucharist and preach for a congregation of four dozen. We had no organist, but for the first time a new digital hymn reproduction system to use. I would have preferred to lead singing unaccompanied, being aware of the many pitfalls of recorded music, but agreed to go along with the proposal, having made a few adjustments to some hymn settings before we began. I guess people have to learn for themselves the challenge they take on, when they let themselves be led by a machine, however thoughtfully designed.

Instead of an organist accompanying a congregation, and adjusting to the variable pace of singing, a congregation must follow the music if they can. One can vary the speed and the pitch on modern equipment, use a musical introduction or not, but it's not straightforward. It works best with simple metrical hymns. Anything syncopated is a nightmare. In any singing group, people will have different ideas of rhythm and phrasing. Singing together coherently in a congregation can be learned with even modest musical leadership. Doing so from scratch, as happened this morning, was a hit and miss affair. Singing together with recorded music needs to be taught. It doesn't help if the music isn't audible to singers at the back. Operating the device, and how adjustments can be made to fit the natural pace of the congregation needs to be learned. It's not the quick easy solution I imagine it's marketed to be. But, with good will and good humour, we survived.

After lunch and a siesta, I walked along the coast road, eight kilometres to Garrucha and back. I needed the exercise after several days of relative inertia. On the way out from the charco bridge, I saw three egrets, two more than last Tuesday's sighting. I wonder if more will return, or if this is a stray family separated from the huge flock which was roosting here at night this time last year? 

I enjoyed the convivial buzz of people out walking along the Paseo de Malecon, as the sun was setting. It's a more compact town than Mojácar, and the walk along the sea front promenade is the most natural one to take for socialising during the paseo. 

Settling in

I promised myself a early walk to the nearby nature reserve lake, but no sooner than I'd got up, I had a phone call from John at Collyfer, one of the region's Funeral Directors, about a funeral in Arboleas Thanatorium next Monday. This will involve a bereavement visit to an outlying village a couple of kilometres from Arboleas, itself a forty minute drive from Mojacar. I tried ringing later on but only got the family's answering machine.

Then, after breakfast I had an hour long catch-up Skype chat with Archdeacon Geoff, filling me in on various items of news, and sounding me out for ideas about a fresh approach to a couple of outstanding issues. That's the benefit of having known each other for twenty five years, since we first worked together.

I decided to go shopping for fruit and veg before making lunch, but it was beyond lunchtime when I got around to walking rather than driving to Mercadona, for the exercise. By the time's I'd cooked, it was nearly tea time, but it didn't matter, as I have no routine established at the moment. Somehow, the evening slipped by as well. 

By the time 'The Archers' was over, it was already dark, and I took off for the beach to take photos of the Harvest full moon rising about the waters, albeit half an hour late. Then I walked up to the road bridge over the nature reserve. In the moonlight could see that it has now a different shape than it had last year. Torrential winter rain breached and carried away the reeds and bushes that colonised the shore line sand bar, but I couldn't see in the dark whether or not the breach led to open water. I'll find that out tomorrow.

  

Getting ready to travel again

There's been a lot to do this past couple of days, as well as pack my bags ready for my next tour of locum duty in Mojácar. I started yesterday with a hypertension review at the GP surgery, then with a haircut from Stavros my favourite joke telling hairdresser. After lunch, I visited our Osteomyologist Kay, for a back treatment. It was necessary, despite a fair reduction in discomfort these past few days. It's the unseen impact a fall can inflict on bone structure you have to consider, without the necessary corrective measures it can leave you vulnerable, and less flexible than is desirable. I then walked into town to do some banking, and made a visit to the CBS RadioNet office for a catch up session with Ashley and Julie, as CBS set about recruiting a new business crime reduction manager. Needless to say, I was late home for supper.

Today I had another visit to the School of Optometry to collect my new driving glasses, delivered in record time, since my appointment last Friday. It's a pleasure to go there as the team are so pleasant to deal with and superbly organised. Dealing with eyesight issues is a delicate and sensitive affair requiring a great deal of close contact with clients, and much reassurance. This certainly is a centre of excellence Cardiff can be proud of.

It's surprising how many small things escape attention when packing to go away for any length of time. I locked and strapped up my case three times during the evening, as I kept on thinking of things I needed to take with me. This time around I have to take a Windows laptop with me, as there isn't a machine available in the Chaplain's residence. I never go anywhere without my Chromebook, but I'm reluctant to rely on its wireless only network printing routine, it case I have problems with it. Apart from annoying issues with legacy printer drivers, devices running Windows 10 generally hook up to a printer easily and quickly. I took a Windows laptop last year, and will take it again this time around. For the sake of keeping my cabin bag weight down, however, I decided not to take my DSLR camera kit, which is a pity.

I bought a small light Acer Windows 10 device last year, to take with me on occasions like this, but had to give it to Kath to take with her to the USA, as Rhiannon's laptop was not fit for purpose when she brought it to me at the weekend. It's running fine now after a Windows re-install, so Clare can return it for Rhiannon to use when she goes up to Kenilworth to Kath's for the start of their Arizona trip next week. Altogether my case and hand baggage weigh twenty kilos, well within the allowance, and as much as I want to manage, while my back gently recovers for yesterday's vital therapy.

Sunday morning arrival

I was unable to benefit from an extra hour's sleep, and woke before dawn, as I have been doing lately. By the time I'd prayed and breakfasted, I was ready to leave for church but still an hour early. I heard a ship's siren sounding, something I've not so far noticed here, so I walked to the Rio Aguas bridge and then beyond to investigate. One of the large bulk carriers was on its final approach to Puerto Garrucha, in the company of two tugs. I watched the nearly 30,000 tonne ship being helped to dock stern first at the quay where gypsum is loaded, and got some pleasing photos. Later, the maritime traffic website told me the ship is called 'Kure Harbour', that it docked three hours ahead of schedule after a voyage from Morocco. The tugs, Nueve Chaparro and Guapo C are Garrucha based, and the website records their comings and goings regularly.

As I walked back over the bridge, I spotted a Great Heron standing in a prominent location up river, and took some photographs. It's the first I've seen here.

Then, off to the Ermita San Pascual for the Eucharist. As this is an autumnal holiday weekend for local people, the roads were a little busier than usual. It's quite noticeable because the speed limit along the coast road is 40kph, with plenty of speed bumps. Drivers don't negotiate these bumps in a uniform way - some are businesslike about it at 40kph, whilst others slow down considerably, and that inhibits the traffic flow even further. I remember people saying how the 20 minute journey time to the Ermita can double, if not more, on summer holiday Sundays, and now I've seen the contrast between Sundays, I understand why.

There were fifty people in church, and my Bible Sunday repeat sermon was only the same in parts, as there are options in the lectionary, and this week's readings were different from last. After the service, I was invited to lunch by Peter and Angela along with a friend of theirs at an Indian restaurant in Vera Playa. It was an enjoyable surprise. The food was good, and so was the company. I could have done with a siesta went I returned but somehow it didn't happen. 

I spent a long time talking with Clare on WhatsApp, as she was watching Rhiannon bake and decorate Hallowe'en cup cakes. For a short while it was impossible to sustain the call connection, no matter which internet app I tried. No idea why, but every now and then it seems to happen, regardless of the device I use, or the country I'm in. Amazing it works as well as it does, and how much better now that it was just 5-10 years ago. It's just inconvenient if it doesn't always work for no reason. But, it does reveal just how dependent it's possible to become on the perpetual availability and reliability of this means of communication.