A Rock & a Hard Traipse

Since we were close and also due to the fascination factor, we thought we may as well spend a few days in Gibraltar. A piece of merry, old England stuck on the end of Spain. The Spanish want the Brits out, the Brits don’t seem to mind one way or another, but the local Gibraltarians(?) want to remain British. A very strange little place.

We caught a bus to the town of La Linea. This town acts as a border post of sorts. The immigration between Spain and Gibraltar consists of a long road, smack bang in the middle of which lies an airstrip. Huge jets land and takeoff and it is a bizarre state of affairs having to wait while a commercial plane takes off before you can continue your walk into Gibraltar proper! The town of Gibraltar is like any other town in Britain, it really is quite strange. English banks, fish and chip shops, English pubs with English beers, even English pounds are used. It was a very pleasant feeling to be able to sit in a proper pub and watch a bit of English soccer for a few hours. I even considered staying and getting a job for a while. The barmaid was quite nice as well! Everywhere you look though, there are banners and flags stating the obvious wishes of the locals to remain under British rule. I got the distinct impression the local folk didn’t want anything to do with the Spanish government – and quite a lot of the inhabitants were of Spanish origin!

Huge jets land and takeoff and it is a bizarre state of affairs having to wait while a commercial plane takes off before you can continue your walk into Gibraltar proper!

Since the first day had been written off (far too much time spent in the little pub we found) we thought that the second day had better be a bit more productive. First stop was the old cemetery, where it is rumoured a fair few soldiers of Trafalgar fame are buried. I could only find one however. After a quick drink stop we then took the long, high road to the top of The Rock. It was a bit of a climb but the views back over the town and the Spanish coast were brilliant. We even came across the famous Rock apes, indigenous little monkeys found only on Gibraltar. They were very laid back and didn’t seem to give a damn we were there. Fair enough. Continuing our march up the Rock we eventually made the summit. It was cold and misty, but the 360 degree view afforded us was worth every aching muscle. Amazing. You could even see as far as Morocco once the cloud lifted. I had considered catching a ferry over to Africa (quite a few backpackers from the hostel were going over) but I thought it best to leave that for another day!

Traipsing back we made our way to the other side of the Rock where we discovered the war tunnels, cut deep into the rock hundreds of years ago. The Rock was well and truly a fortress in those days and the tour of the tunnels was very informative. They were even used during WWII to try and keep the German U boats from leaving or entering the Straits. By this time the knees were beginning to complain so I thought it best to rest up at the nearest pub. Pete didn’t complain and we spent the rest of the afternoon drinking English ales and talking about how great Gibraltar was. I love the place.