24th July 2022
We left on another sunny day, heading back the way we had come. Our plan was to try a campsite we had identified almost exactly at the point we reached the coast. We stopped at a supermarket a couple of miles away to restock for the last few days, then drove the last few minutes to the campsite.
On arrival at Camping Las Arenas, we were met by scenes of chaos. Vans, caravans and cars were clogging up the entrance, and two staff (neither of whom spoke any English) were directing people in such a way that the chaos was exacerbated. Taking a small strip of paper with the number 23 (which we still don’t understand!) we parked, and Lindsey headed in to reception in the hope that we might get lucky with a space. As it turned out, there was plenty of space in a large, sprawling site. We were free to choose our pitch, with no boundary markers or pitch numbers. The electric boxes were locked (presumably to stop tentists stealing electric), and someone on a quad bike came and connected us up. We had chosen a pitch with a sea view and no shade, in the knowledge that the next couple of days would be cloudy.
It is worth noting that on both this site and the previous one the British were extemely thin on the ground. The majority of campers are Spanish, with a reasonable number of German and Dutch, and some French and Belgian. Presumably, most of the Brits head to the Med. The site itself had a swimming pool, access to two beaches (a rocky cove fronting to the sea and a sandy beach on a river). Neither beach was particularly suitable for swimming or paddle-boarding. The facilities were generally a little better than the previous site, although both compared favourably with French sites we have stayed at in the past.
