27 April 2001 - Gibraltar

The predicted rain hasn't materialised, and apart from a light haze the weather is perfect. I dropped the bike off at the tyre place and walked back into town. Georgeous Spanish businesswomen in suits buzzed here and there on scooters, and pink Brits milled around the pubs. I caught the cable car up to the top of the Rock, and sat for a while enjoying the view back over Spain. A solitary ape created mayhem by pursuing diners at the cafe with Hanibal Lecter-like ruthlessness. It spotted my chocolate bar and lolloped over to me, allowing me to take some photos from no more than fifty centimetres away. The seagulls also picniked on leftovers, then went back to soaring on the updrafts created by the rock.

I left the cafe and walked along the ridge to O'Hara's Battery, which has stunning views over the Straits to Morocco. The Battery was officially closed, but on the Rock it's hard to tell the difference between open and closed. I descended to St. Michael's Cave, which is well worth a visit. There are basically two caverns, with wonderful rock formations, and backlit crevices and crannies. The second cavern was fitted out as an auditorium with tiered seating, and would provide an incredible venue. Obviously I can't vouch for the acoustics, so it may be more suited to plays, probably murder mysteries.

I wandered from the caves, through the ape colony, to the Siege Tunnels, which were closed due to an electricty blackout. As alternative entertainment I watched as a couple of apes took apart a tourist's car faster than a bunch of Scousers on speed. Just below the tunnels is the Moorish castle, where not only are the public allowed in, but there has been an attempt to provide some historical background to the visit. Considering that the Rock is such an obvious tourist attraction, there is remarkably little signing and tourist information.

I walked down off of the Rock and collected my bike, back on it's road tyres. I rode around to the far side of the penninsula to Europa Point, the last bit of Gibraltar before Africa. In true English style there's a tourist shop there, proclaiming "Most Cheapness!" as the main reason for shopping there. Having been inside I suggest they change their byline to "Most Tackiness!", much closer to the truth.

Back at the hostel I chatted to one of the other residents, a young doctor just back from living in Australia, and here in Gibraltar as a locum for a few months. A fellow biker, his R80GS was still in a warehouse down under, and he was keen to find out about the costs involved with getting into Morocco. We also talked about the Big Trip, which he thought was about a year off for him, although he was daunted by the necessary paperwork.

In the late afternoon I discovered where the "pretty" people hang out. I was sitting on a bench in Casemates Square, watching the world go by, and I noticed that two corner cafes were becoming increasingly populated with insurance types, in sharp suits and even sharper sunglasses. Accompanying them were smartly dressed young women sipping on straight glasses of Pims. Gradually the throng increased, until a big smart black car, bearing the numberplate "G1", glided across the square to stop by my bench. An aide and driver quickly got out and opened the doors for the couple in the rear seats, who were ushered into the cafe very efficiently. I don't know how Gibraltar is run, but I'm guessing these two were close to, if not at, the top of the "establishment". Hundred kilogram doormen in black bow ties materialised, and the select few migrated indoors. I continued to soak up the late afternoon sun on my bench in the square.