On the way, we stopped at Cueva de la Pileta and had our minds blown. For real. It's a cave that was discovered in 1905 containing drawings that date back 30,000 years ago. Let me say that again. 30,000 years ago. That's an unfathomable amount of time. Investigators posit the cave was inhabited from 30,000 years - 4000 years ago, which makes it significant within the canon of really, really, old things.
Our guide (who was the great granddaughter of the man who discovered the cave) led the group through via kerosene lamp, showing us the living quarters, fresh water supply, and cave art along the way, and even a 70 m drop where human and animal remains were found (investigators speculate they may have been sacrificed). It was absolutely incredible. Again, I say, mind-blowing. Seriously.
You can't take pictures in the cave (because the flash would damage the drawings) so this was taken in the entrance.
After that, we headed onto Tarifa, but with a few kinks along the way. Val (again, Val was the name we christened our GPS navigator) had been acting strangely all day. Taking us on unnecessary loops back and forth across the highway, inviting us to turn onto roads that didn't exist, etc. At first we were sympathetic. After all, there are a lot of roads in the world and surely new ones are being built and old ones are being destroyed at a rate that even a computer cannot keep up with.
But our sympathy for Val disappeared entirely when we arrived in Tarifa.
Admittedly Tarifa was different than we imagined. For one, this "seaside" town was in fact, way, way up on a hillside. I had a hard time imagining anyone describing this as the place where people take the ferry over to Morocco and wondered why anyone would even associate those far off beaches in the distance with this town. Yet Val insisted that we had in fact "arrived at our destination." Usually I like to verify the street signs with Val's screen but in this town, I had trouble finding any street signs, like anywhere. Weird.
It was Sunday. Sundays are notoriously sleepy in Spain meaning most of the town is closed, so I had trouble finding someplace open to ask about directions. Eventually we caught up with someone walking their dog and when we asked for directions and pointed to our Lonely Planet map he informed us that we were in Facina, not Tarifa. Ohhhhhh...
Val was still insisting that we were in front of our hotel (in someways I have to admit I admire her steadfast conviction in the face of utter global positioning failure), but Shane and I were both angry at her. No more excuses for Val. We were 15 km away from Tarifa and she had misled us.
I punished Val by putting her on "mute" (read: GPS strangulation) and kicking her down by my feet where my stinky socks were that I had peeled off after caving earlier that day.
We drove on to Tarifa the old fashioned way after that - following road signs - and arrived grumpy, tired, and about an hour later than scheduled.
Eventually after convalescing briefly in our room, we headed out to the beach (the real Tarifa is actually seaside and we did see the ferry to Morocco).
We swam in Mediterranean side and the Atlantic side, enjoyed the breathtaking views of North Africa a scant 14 km away, and wandered through the old Islamic town.
Regrettably, we did not venture over to Morocco because the schedule didn't allow, but it's now on the "to do" list for future travels.
Tarifa, is the wind capital of Europe.
Me on the Atlantic side.
Shane on the Mediterranean side, (excuse the big water spot on the lens).
Climbing up a ruin.
Relaxing, mid-climb.
View of Morroco.
I love the idea of being at a junction. Where Atlantic meets Mediterranean, where Europe meets Africa.
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