Mission-Erde-Entdecken
Travel Diary
Back to overviewSpain (20 October – 27 December 2025)
This section summarises an entire leg of our journey through Spain. As summer drew to a close and the colder days began to set in, we had to decide: should we head to the south-west or the south-east? A glance at the weather map and the temperatures in early October made the decision for us.
Spain
A different kind of camping
From Alicante, our journey continued southwards, along the Río Segura. A medium-sized campsite north of Guardamar del Segura was our home for two days and gave us the chance to spend a few hours on the beach every day. With temperatures just under 20 °C, the days were still wonderfully warm, whilst the nights were already dropping below 10 °C – a first sign that winter was approaching. Unfortunately, during our stay, the irrigation channels running parallel to the Río Segura were being dug up and cleaned out again. Large construction machinery was working all day and sometimes even at night. This meant that a longer stay was out of the question for us.
Wild camping
Flamingos
We’d actually had our eye on a lovely little campsite a few kilometres further south – but when we got there, we found the gates locked. It’s worth noting that there’s a constant demand for pitches in this region, and many operators could easily run their sites all year round. Nevertheless, numerous campsites close at the end of the season, as soon as the summer business is over. The ‘winterers’ are then left to fend for themselves – and often end up walking themselves ragged. As we were desperate to see flamingos again, we tried our luck at the nearby salt lakes and nature reserves. But here, a familiar problem reared its head once more: it’s difficult to find a parking space in nature reserves with a motorhome. It seems that previous ‘generations’ of campers have left their mark – wild camping, littering, blocked paths – and so barriers have been erected or access made difficult in many places. Sometimes there is simply a plain ‘No Entry’ sign making it clear that overnight stays are not welcome. Eventually, we got lucky and found a spot to park not far from a cemetery (Cementerio de la Manta). From there, we went for a walk along the southern edge of the Laguna de la Mata. In the late afternoon, we decided to spend the night there and strolled over to the eastern side of the lagoon to watch the sunset. The flamingos rewarded us with their elegant presence, and we were able to take some wonderful photos. The night, however, began rather late – and was far from relaxing. Apparently, campers were not welcome at this spot, as three carloads of young adults set up camp just a metre away from us, turned up the music system loud and partied boisterously. The spacious car park would easily have offered room for everyone to coexist peacefully, but consideration was in short supply here.
Murcia
provincial capital
After a day of wild camping, it’s nice to top up the water, empty the waste water and have a safe place to stay for the night. After another campsite turned out to be a mistake – and didn’t even have drinking water – we finally found a small town campsite in the east of the provincial capital, Murcia. We’d wanted to visit the city anyway, so it worked out perfectly. Getting there by Uber was quick and hassle-free: 7 euros in, 7 euros out – it couldn’t be more convenient.
Sierra Espuna
A small gorge
From there, the route took us to the western edge of the Sierra Espuña, to the Estrecho de la Arboleja car park, from where a small path leads through a narrow gorge. As it happened, some friends of ours were also in the area with their camper van, so we met up there on the spur of the moment and hiked together through the impressive rocky landscape. A magnificent sunset with intense shades of red and orange heralded a completely silent and dark night. However, the icy wind caused temperatures to drop to single figures – not quite what one imagines when thinking of spending the winter in Spain. A gentle wake-up call to move on towards Andalusia.
Southern Spain
The country
Off to Cabo de Gata. The motorway journey was quite different from what one is used to in Germany. Although it’s called an ‘Autovía’, you shouldn’t expect to make the same progress in the same amount of time. The route takes you along winding stretches, has some noticeable bumps in places and allows for much lower speeds. Especially in a motorhome, you’ll find it more relaxing to take your time here – but the landscape more than makes up for it in every way.
A bit of sunshine
Cabo de Gata
Anyone wondering where Spain’s fruit and vegetables are grown – and what this vast production area actually looks like – will find the answers here (Figures 3 and 4 above). Entire swathes of countryside are dominated by endless rows of white plastic greenhouses. The fields glisten and sparkle in the sun: plastic as far as the eye can see. On the roads, you see many migrant workers from North Africa – some walk for miles along the country lanes, others cover the distances on electric scooters. The sight of these seemingly endless plantations gave us pause for thought. We wondered whether locally grown fruit and vegetables might not be a far better choice – and whether, in winter, we shouldn’t simply do without tomatoes, cucumbers and the like, rather than consuming products from intensively farmed plastic landscapes. Eventually, we found a quiet spot near Las Negras. An almost deserted bay gave us a few carefree days – sea, light, tranquillity and a touch of authenticity, which we are constantly seeking on this journey.
1 December 2025
The Alhambra
The Alhambra is one of those places where history, art and architecture come together in a unique way. For us, this building was far more than just a tourist attraction – it was a deeply moving experience.
The delicate stucco work, the calligraphic bands, the geometric patterns and the harmonious proportions of the rooms bear witness to a virtually inexhaustible creativity and masterful crafts-manship.
Every courtyard, every column, every ornament tells a story, and you feel as though you are walking through a living work of art whose beauty has remained intact for centuries.
This makes the photos we managed to take there all the more remarkable. They are the result of patient waiting and precise timing, for even in the so-called off-season, the Alhambra is anything but empty. Streams of people move through the palaces, often in narrow corridors, and it is not uncommon for a veritable race to break out over who can capture a particular angle first.
Led by their guides, groups inch their way forward metre by metre, and sometimes it takes a surprisingly long time before you’re even allowed to turn the next corner. At moments like these, you realise that you’re visiting a World Heritage Site that attracts visitors from all over the world.
That is precisely why the quiet moments we were able to experience there feel so special: those rare moments when a courtyard seems almost empty, the light falls softly on the ornamentation, and the history of this place becomes tangible.
It is these fleeting moments that capture the magic of the Alhambra for us – and that make our photographs so precious, despite all the effort involved.
What particularly fascinates us about the history of the Alhambra is this visible transition between two worlds – the Moorish and the Christian – which can still be felt everywhere today. For centuries, the Alhambra was the magnificent seat of the Nasrids, the last Muslim dynasty on the Iberian Peninsula.
The exquisite architecture, the finely crafted ornamentation and the clean lines all stem from a single principle: beauty arises not from ostentation, but from harmony and proportion. That is precisely what makes this place so unique.
The reconquest of Granada in 1492 by the Catholic Monarchs marked the beginning of a new chapter, and we find this tension between preservation and change particularly fascinating. Much was preserved – fortunately – but some things were also transformed or reinterpreted.
The Palace of Charles V is a good example of this: a Renaissance building situated in the heart of a Moorish complex, deliberately placed there to symbolise Christian rule and European power. And yet today it does not stand out as a foreign element, but rather as another layer of history, illustrating how cultures succeed one another, clash and ultimately merge.
This is the second time we have observed this phenomenon, for example at the mosque in Pécs, Hungary. There, too, a mosque was converted into a church, and yet today people are open about this history. It is recognised that history does not consist of clearly distinct chapters, but rather of transitions, breaks and deve-lopments.
It is precisely this honesty in dealing with one’s own past that makes such places so valuable – they not only tell us what happened, but also how societies deal with their heritage.
4 December
Off to Gibraltar
The Alhambra was an extraordinary highlight of our trip – a place steeped in history and quiet contemplation. Having deliberately brought this part of our journey to a close, we continued our drive towards Gibraltar. On the way, it became clear that we didn’t want to stay; we saw an area that didn’t appeal to us. Dirty beaches, residential areas populated almost exclusively by expats, and a landscape that seemed barren and existed almost entirely in various shades of brown. We stopped only to break up the journey and moved on immediately. It was never a wistful farewell, but a very deliberate move on. Gibraltar was our clear destination. At the same time, we felt how arduous it is to cover long distances on the roads of Andalusia in a motorhome weighing around four tonnes. Winding sections, changing road surfaces and a pace that rarely came close to German standards made this leg of the journey exhausting. And yet there was something honest about this very slowness. It forced us to be patient, sparked conversations and sharpened our focus on what really mattered: being on the road, together, with a clear destination in mind.
8–9 December
Just before Gibraltar
The days just before Gibraltar felt like a pause. We were already very close, and yet the famous Rock remained hidden at first. The weather changed, as did the visibility, and we spent this time observing rather than ticking things off a list. It was precisely this stopover that had its own value. With no set programme and no pressure to meet expectations, there was space for conversation, for the sea, for the wind – and for the boys’ anticipation, as they had long since filed Gibraltar away in their minds as an adventure. Looking back, it was a peaceful start that grounded us. ‘The Rock’ (Gibraltar) is on the left of the picture, beneath the paraglider.
11 December
First attempt
Our first attempt to really experience Gibraltar didn’t fail because of poor planning, but because of the weather. The mountain was shrouded in thick clouds. No views, no Barbary macaques, no Skywalk, no suspension bridge – the Upper Rock was practically invisible. Of course we were there; of course we walked around, looked about and gave it a go. But it soon became clear: this wasn’t a representative impression. Instead of disappointment, what remained above all was acceptance. Travelling also means accepting things as they are. It was clear to us that we would return – under better conditions.
13 December
Sevilla
Seville was not just a cultural detour for us, but a deliberate choice. Whilst persistent rain was forecast for the south – around the Sureuropa campsite and La Línea – Seville promised stable weather that weekend with temperatures around 20 degrees. That alone made the change of location a sensible option. Yet it soon became clear that Seville was far more than just a meteorological fallback. After the coast, wind and clouds, a city full of structure, history and rhythm opened up before us. Warm light fell upon ancient stone, and layers of history became visible in almost every street. We made our way through the city on foot, without haste. Seville is not a place to be consumed – it unfolds slowly. Narrow alleyways, a calm, unhurried bustle and many small, pleasant shops shaped our impression of the city. It was the first Spanish city on our journey that we had consciously made a mental note to visit again. In the courtyards, in the play of light and shadow and in the sound of the language, it became clear that Seville rewards those who take their time. For us, it was a day that lived less on individual sights than on atmosphere – and on the right decision to escape the rain.
17 December
Second attempt
On our second attempt, Gibraltar revealed a completely different side to itself. Clear skies, bright light and unobstructed views immediately made it clear just how much this place depends on the weather. Suddenly, the paths, viewpoints and vistas came together to form a harmonious whole. The Barbary macaques provided moments of wonder and laughter for the boys as we stopped again and again at the viewpoints. The view across the Strait of Gibraltar to Africa made geography tangible – and history palpable. Here, continents, interests and stories converge within a very small space.
19 December
Tarifa – Surf spot
In Tarifa, we spent the night outside the town centre at a car park specifically designated for campervans. Campervans are banned from the town centre – presumably partly because many have gone overboard in the past. The rule seems strict, but it is understandable and ensures that the town itself remains free of congestion. Tarifa struck us as a pleasant, compact town with a rhythm all of its own. The proximity to Africa is clearly palpable here: in the light, in the wind, in the way everything feels a little different than further north. Tarifa feels like an outpost of the African continent – organised in a European way, but atmospherically already on the other side of the Strait of Gibraltar. The wind dictated the day. It drove the clouds before it, shaped the waves and dictated people’s movements. At the surf spot, it was less about the perfect picture and more about the experience itself: salty air, constant gusts and the feeling of standing in a place where transitions are not theoretical, but lived out every day.
Camping Reflection
Reality in winter
During this trip, it became clear to us that Spain is no longer a quiet insider’s tip in winter, but a highly popular destination for campers from all over Europe – particularly from Germany. Many spend the winter here for several weeks or months, drawn by mild temperatures, plenty of sunshine and a comparatively good camping infrastructure, especially along the central and southern coasts. However, this popularity has its downsides. In many regions, campsites and designated pitches are heavily booked even outside the traditional peak season. Finding a free pitch on the spur of the moment is often difficult. We found that a lot of time is wasted – not only searching for a suitable campsite, but also waiting and hoping that there actually still is a pitch available for us. It soon became clear: it is not enough to have just one destination in mind. If you want to travel in a relaxed manner, you should ideally have two alternatives planned in advance. Otherwise, a day’s journey can quickly turn into a tiring odyssey in search of a parking space, which has little to do with freedom or ease. This oversaturation also explains why many towns are taking an increasingly restrictive approach towards motorhomes. Parking and overnight stay bans are no longer the exception, but often the response to years of overuse. What becomes particularly clear here is that these restrictions no longer apply solely to city centres or tourist hotspots, but across the board to virtually all types of car parks. Even for a simple weekly shop, one effectively has to actively disregard prohibition signs. Motorhomes are also officially unwelcome in the car parks of mainstream supermarkets such as ALDI, LIDL & Co. This unnecessarily complicates everyday life. Things that should be taken for granted – shopping, stopping briefly, stocking up – find themselves in a grey area between tolerance and prohibition. For us, this experience has now become part of the reality of camping in Spain. It is part of the same equation as sun, wind and sea – yet it fundamentally alters the very essence of camping. The sense of freedom, simplicity and ease that we came to know, particularly in the Baltic states, is largely lost here. Against this backdrop, a return trip to Spain in a campervan is now virtually out of the question for us.
