San Javier, low season

I decided not to sit at home any longer and to finally go somewhere. Somewhere close and somewhere I could go to and back without a map. San Javier seemed like a perfect place, with its 40-odd km distance from Murcia and its proximity to both the Mediterranean and Mar Menor. I packed some water and some food and off I went.

When I was on the bus, the moment I dreaded most, which was getting off it at the right time, didn’t come thanks to two nice little ladies sitting next to me who told me where I should get off. When I did, the town looked pretty abandoned, with only a few cars passing by every once in a while. No people but surprisingly, there were some goats right by the road. “Wild country. Seriously.” I only thought, shaking my head in disbelief, and I kept on going. I tried to follow the bus line, since a not very exact map with marked bus stops was the only point of reference I had. Anyway, I walked for quite some time before I got to the beach of Mar Menor. Again, hardly anyone there, palm trees, the sun and the warm water. Yet, I didn’t have this “oh-my-God-it’s-so-beautiful-in-here feeling”. Maybe because it wasn’t that beautiful after all or maybe because I’ve seen my share of beautiful views and now it will be difficult to top them. What surprised me was the fact that if there were any people, they were either British or German pensioners. That’s some way to spend holidays – the sun, peace and quiet. It that really all you need? I’ll have to wait till I’m 70 to check that.

Anyway, Mar Menor didn’t sweep me off my feet and I wanted to see the real thing, that is the Mediterranean, so I walked and walked and… well, walked. When I thought that instead of going in the direction of the Sea I was walking along the sandspit called “La Manga” which separates Mar Menor from the Mediterranean, I saw a road sign “Las playas del Mar Mediterráneo” or something like that. The funny part in it was that ten minutes before that I was thinking that they wouldn’t be the Spanish if they did place a sign like that. This is what I call a positive disappointment. The result of that was even more walking and I was running out of my water supply dramatically fast. There were no people walking, no shops open, no shops at all actually, no bus stops to follow and no signs.

I didn’t know where I was but I wasn’t desperate enough to turn back. Finally I saw a sign informing me that I could get to the beach in question by either walking for 4 kilometres more along the road or for 6 kilometres more across the nature reserve of “Las Salinas y arenales de San Pedro de Pinatar”. I like nature and all, but given the fact that it was hot and very smelly from the salty waters of the reserve, the map warned tourists about muddy areas and I was wearing sandals, and given the fact that I’d most probably end up alone with some birds I didn’t know and other slimy animals I wasn’t looking forward to meet, I decided to take a raincheck on the Salinas. After 40 minutes I finally saw the Mediterranean. I didn’t smell it though; maybe because there was no breeze to carry the salty, fishy, iodine smell of the sea, or maybe because it doesn’t have that kind of smell. Still no water to be found (I mean sweet water) and 35 degrees with little shadow.

Lying on El Mojón beach for almost an hour turned out to be hardly bearable. I never was very keen on doing nothing. No book to read, no-one to talk to; time didn’t actually fly there.  The water in the sea was warm; this temperature in Poland in high season is something we can enjoy very rarely. Feeling that my quest for this day was over, I headed for the closes bus stop, which, after analysing their complicated bus timetable, turned out to be San Pedro bus station. Another 4 km walk. This time, due to the scorching sun, I became reduced to two things: water and shadow. The two things I couldn’t get at that moment and I knew I wouldn’t get for the next 30 minutes or so. It is not true that it’s hottest at noon. Noon was pretty crisp in comparison to the heat the air was permeated with at half past three. And why the hell couldn’t the shadow fall on the sidewalk and not on the road???

When I reached the bus station I felt accomplishment but I was parched and, since I had still some time left, I thought I’d look for some water and surprisingly, it took me only 10 minutes to find a supermarket that didn’t close for siesta. Orange juice was extremely tasty.

Upon arriving home, I discovered that my back and my face, forehead included, were kind of red but who cares. I went there alone, I managed to get back, I had a 15 km long walk. Generally a nice day. I think Cartagena will be next.