The Journey Pt. 34 – Jibbing Gibraltar

Hi from here – which is nearly there.

All good ends produce a new beginning and our new beginning looms. Our days of lassitude are coming to an end; our days of novel enterprise look nascent anew.

Since my last missive we have popped to the peak at Gib, rocked the rock and aped the apes. We careered through caves, toured tunnels, and looked crookedly over the strait. The sun shone, the beer was bubbly and the coffee milky. The ice-cream was malty. How lovely.

The day began with a sunrise over the rock and a weird, sleek, supersonic yacht that silently glided past us with no sail. Some said it was Jacque Cousteau’s son’s boat, some said Abramovich’s. It was certainly extravagant.

We headed off for a up the rock but the cable car was out so we grabbed a ride. First stop was the caves – hollowed out by the British to place cannon to repel Napoleon, natural caves (though not on the scale of Halong Bay) all dripping with stalactites, stalagmites, water and coloured light with cavernous amphitheatre (for which you probably needed an umbrella).

Then it was off to the peak with its views across to Africa and a meeting with the apes. They were being fed and were frisky but seemed to enjoy posing.

We ambled back down the high street, eating our ice-cream and enjoying the warmth, to the square which was preparing a big performance. But it was too late. We had to depart. That’s the thing about ships – they have a strict schedule.