Arrival in Santander

Over the past 18 months we have planned our road trip to West Africa in meticulous detail; the personnel, the route, the logistics, the provisions, the medical equipment required, the necessary vaccinations, visas, insurance, and above all, the vehicles in which we will be spending most of the next three weeks. It has been an often tortuous process - purchasing them, having them properly serviced and then having one of the radiators blow only a few days prior to departure and the finger-biting period in which we were not sure if it would be repaired in time. On the first day after we had docked in Santander against the picturesque backdrop of the snow-capped Pyrenees, we set off on our 4,000 mile journey. At the very first roundabout, I repeat, the first roundabout, I and Malvena watched aghast as Nick, who was leading the way, drove himself and Ben the wrong way round it narrowly avoiding complete disaster almost before we had started.
Having negotiated the oncoming traffic, we set off on the correct side of the road for as far as we could get through Spain. We were approaching a small town just north of Seville as night began to fall. There were no campsites to be found. The resulting first night in a field will be the subject of my next blog.