We collected Eddie and Bernice from the airport and drove straight to Benidorm, a place I have only ever been to once before. Within a few days we had watched an eclipse from the wrong side of a police cordon, been turned away from more campsites than I care to count, and then Lyndsay flew back into Valencia just as a thunderstorm arrived. She certainly brought the weather with her.
Where we stopped
Camping Villasol, Benidorm (2 nights): This was the most highly recommended site when I put a post out on Facebook, and about 60 percent of the votes were for it alone. They had one pitch left, number 611, and the sun shade over it was too low for the van. It was tied in with the neighbouring one, so we untied a couple of corners and folded it back. It was a tight squeeze, and I may have put a small scratch on the awning cover, which I am sure Richard at PPF Protect can buff out. The Spaniards all tried to direct me in. I prefer to do these things on my own.
Two nights for the four of us and the van came to 136 euros, which is good value for a big site like this. The shower blocks were lovely and the chalets in the sculpted gardens looked fantastic. The pool was very busy and the water a little murky, which is the only downside. The restaurant overlooking it looked great and I wish we had tried it. Benidorm is a 15 to 20 minute walk away, which makes it very handy.
A camper park on the coast (1 night): More on this below, because getting there was the story.
A camper park near Valencia (1 night): A lovely welcome, and a lady on reception who walked us through a well-marked map of the buses and what to see in the old town. Three showers, toilets, a disabled room and a laundry at 3 euros a wash.
Benidorm: an eclipse, a strip and a very good paella
Eddie had a great idea for the first evening. The solar eclipse fell at sunset, so the higher we were, the better, and there is a big rock with a cross on it overlooking Benidorm. We grabbed an Uber, but the police had blocked the road. We missed the peak while we hunted for somewhere to stand, but we still saw it go almost fully dark. Eclipse ticked off.
Then we walked the strip. Lyndsay never wanted to come, and walking down it reminded us of Blackpool. Not my scene, but hilarious to look at. The touts all shout “free shots”, and I still do not understand how that works as a business, so tell us in the comments if you do. It is for stag dos and nights out with the lads, not families.
The next day was Altea, which so many of you had recommended. Uber quoted 23 or 24 euros, but Eddie found a local app called Pide Taxi, and when we asked reception to order one it was 17 euros. George found one of those shops full of random things and left with two rubber ducks at 2 euros each and a remote-control poo, because of course he did. Lunch was a chicken and chorizo paella, probably the best we have ever had, from a restaurant with thousands of 4.8-star reviews on Google. We caught the once-an-hour tram back with minutes to spare. The old town is more me than the strip, and George agreed.
The day nobody would have us
I let Eddie choose the next site. We did a big shop at Aldi first, because the car park at the little Lidl was too tiny for the van. That is where the size of the motorhome limits us more than campsites do.
Eddie picked Kiko Park, about an hour up the coast. It looked cracking and had won an award for the best campsite restaurant in Spain, but at 9 euros a night plus electricity per kilowatt we reckoned it would come to 120 or 130. Another site we visited five or six years ago was full, and not nearly as helpful this time. At Ohana Beach they had room but no electric pitches, 20 euros plus 5 for each person over two, and we needed the air con running. The reason everywhere was full turned out to be a dance festival in the next town, with Tiesto and Carl Cox playing until six or seven in the morning.
One site had lovely pitches under the trees, but they were far too low for the van. This is a much taller van than our last one and I was not going to damage it. Eddie made a good point: imagine booking somewhere like that and then finding you cannot get on.
We settled for a basic camper park with a tiny pool, a beach five minutes away and 4 amps of electricity. George hooked us up and I pulled just over 800 watts. The supply kept tripping, even at 3 amps, and the owner gave me my 5 euros back, which was lovely of him. We had the air con on all night and woke at 44 percent.
People ask why we do not just wild camp. In a Spanish summer you get moved on, and I would rather not be moved on at midnight or fined. We have only had two bad days like this, and it happens at the peak of the season. We make it up as we go along.
Valencia, a public holiday and the storm
Next was a camper park outside Valencia, with a 6 amp supply (I tripped it at 10) and a bus 150 metres across the road. It was the Assumption of Mary, a public holiday. The Gothic Silk Exchange is normally paid but was free, a good find by Eddie, but a tower we wanted to see was closed, and so was the basilica. We had lunch in bocadillos for just over 30 pounds for the four of us, plus an extra beer for me. It was 35 degrees, and we tried an ice cream shop that claimed to be the best in Spain, at 5.50 euros for one scoop and 7 for two. George found a record shop, and he is obsessed with vinyl, so we all agreed it was the coolest shop ever.
Lyndsay had spent her week in the UK, where Harry and Millie both did incredibly well in their A levels and got into their first-choice universities. Back at the camper park, her plane was late, and then the sky changed. The wind got up and I realised the awning would catch it like a sail, so I got it in, then spotted others about to go and helped with them. Eddie and George joined in, Eddie shirtless and not remotely prepared. A massive lightning strike landed about 100 metres away, and then the rain came down properly. We desperately needed it, and so did the UK.
Lyndsay messaged to say she had landed but was stuck on the plane because the airbridge would not attach in the weather. Then another message: she had scuffed the car a bit. Not serious. When she finally arrived, the story came out. She had put the flight time in her calendar an hour out, and Google adjusted it again, so she left home an hour early. The flight was late, the airport car park tag would not work, and getting out involved a high kerb, a ticket and climbing out of the passenger side because the car was too close to open the door. It took an hour and a half to drive eight minutes. We were just glad she was here.
Questions people ask
How much did Camping Villasol cost? We paid 136 euros for two nights for four people and the van. It is a big site with a busy pool, and I thought it good value.
Can you just turn up at a Spanish campsite in peak season? You can try, as we did, but it is not guaranteed. On our worst day, almost everywhere was full or had no electric pitches, partly because of a dance festival up the road. We found somewhere, but have a backup in mind.
Is the Benidorm strip family friendly? Not in our view. It is fun to walk down once, but we preferred the old town, and so did George.
Watch the full video to see the eclipse, the paella, the day nobody would have us, and Lyndsay’s very stormy arrival.
Watch the full video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFeWIhdWknI