Cleaning

This morning I woke in the dusty yurt to the sound of some strange snuffling outside. I thought maybe Buzzel was creeping around in the bushes. Fortunately it was only some leftover cows and a bull. They were mocking us with their presence. Still, it was better than having that crackpot lurking around while we slept.

The mornings here are cold, wet and very windy. Yesterday I was awoken by a dramatic thunder and lightning spectacle. It's no wonder there are so many wind turbines. I've never seen so many. In every direction the surrounding mountains are crowned with lines of the giant white machines. There are hundreds. The famous "Levante" wind is a force to be reckoned with and it often results in the weather changing instantaneously.

The rain is also remarkable. It seems the wind whips it up from the Strait of Gibraltar and then violently dumps it straight back down again when it reaches the higher ground. Step outside for a moment and you're immediately saturated. I can see the sense in creating that barn kitchen. At the moment, it's yet another task just trying to scramble some eggs without everything turning into rain soup.

Today we were kept busy checking the tyres and various levels of Buzzel's BMW, then cleaning the interior. Spraying air to loosen the dirt then vacuuming it up was moderately successful, but I think filth is permanently imprinted into everything here at a cellular level.

A power cut resulted in us having to fire up the gas-powered back-up generator. Eventually the rain stopped so we finished with the car and busied ourselves with the joyful task of cleaning up what the cows had left behind. The aftermath soiling the path.