Quashing with the washing
As mentioned a couple of blog posts ago, we had secured an amazing camping pitch overlooking the sea and beaches below our campsite, Cala Llevado in Spain. We were positioned right at the end of the upper terrace with pitches below us gradually descending down the cliff. There was no danger of our view being obscured by the arrival of another motorhome because the small terrace next to ours wasn't a pitch - it was access to a small path.
We quickly discovered that with all the pitches with views taken, new arrivals were eyeing up this non pitch and it wasn't long before a family maneuvered their van into the space. Taking no chances they'd stay there Tony was quick on his feet telling the driver, as he emerged from the front seat, that that was not a camping pitch. 'It's a corridor,' I explained, hoping the French for corridor was similar.
We quickly discovered that with all the pitches with views taken, new arrivals were eyeing up this non pitch and it wasn't long before a family maneuvered their van into the space. Taking no chances they'd stay there Tony was quick on his feet telling the driver, as he emerged from the front seat, that that was not a camping pitch. 'It's a corridor,' I explained, hoping the French for corridor was similar.
The man nodded as if he'd understood but the family walked back towards reception as though they'd get their way. Five minutes later they'd obviously not been able to book and pay for the non-existent pitch between D7 and D8 as they got in the van and moved it somewhere else.
I decided we'd take no further chances in losing our view and strung a washing line right across the road access to the plot. Two t-shirts and a tea towel hung up to 'dry' deterred many, many new arrivals as they marched down the hill with their maps in hand.
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