I spent most of the night getting in and out of the truck with the shits so I was feeling pretty rough when we drove down to the port to catch the ferry. We had a bit of a run-in with an officious wop customs jerk and ended up missing the 9:30 sailing by 2 minutes so we parked up to wait for the 1:00 PM sailing.

Once on board the ferry, we found a comfy seat each and settled in. The crossing of the Straits of Gibraltar was quite rough but not too bad and no-one was seasick. It was pouring with rain and blowing a strong wind as we crossed the fabled straits, with long lines of container ships passing us on their way out into the Atlantic. The Rock¹ passed with just the merest glimpse through the murk then we were into the quiet waters of Algeciras Bay. We had arrived in Europe, and Africa was once again a distant continent: a part of our memories.

Customs were minimal as we disembarked and we drove up the Costa del Sol, now wet and dismal, its hordes of package tourists long gone and the resorts closed and shuttered.

¹The Rock of Gibraltar
² The Costa del Sol is, famously, a destination for English holidaymakers: somewhat tacky and often lampooned,

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