Freewheeling: Rambling in Spain: BOOK III

Having journeyed together on bikes clear from northern Italy, south to Sicily and west across Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco, the two vagabonds Pike and Emery have separated under mysterious and ominous circumstances. Sans bike, sans Pike, Emery now enters Spain on the ferry boat the Andalucia, aboard which he meets Rita, a lovely surprise acquaintance of the now missing person, Pike. The two rent a car and drive up the Costa del Sol the Sunshine Coast -- to San Roque, a lovely Andalusian village with a beautiful old city center and steep streets, whitewashed courtyards, and balconies full of flowers. They drove on to Estepona, the legendary Salduba, the Muslim Estebbuna, from which they again could see the heights of Gibraltar and still further mountains of North Africa. Estepona shone white against the sparkling blue sea. The paint used on the houses was made from the surrounding limestone mountains. The old town was a maze of cobbled steep, narrow streets, squares, and patios past hotels, restaurants, cafes, tapas bars, shops, and bodegas wine cellars. They came to a wide promenade lined in palm trees garlanded with flowers. Eventually they land in the town of Benala de Guadix in the eastern part of the Province of Granada, where the people literally lived under the ground. In the Barrio Santiago region of the Sierra Nevada were over two thousand Guadixian-style cave homes. In downtown Guadix, signs pointed to the "Barrio Troglodyte" the cave district. The region was famous, not surprisingly, for its hand-crafted earthenware, sold roadside for miles around. They go to Valencia, the city of Spain's national hero, El Cid, and "the homeplace of Paella," and on to Sagunto, where everyone was out for a siesta, it seemed out of town for the siesta. Do you think were the first people ever to visit Sagunto? Rita ventured, puzzled. The two went down to the Port and the Playa de Malvasur. But there was nobody else there not a soul. Emery and Rita walked northward and stopped at Canet de Berenguer on the Rac de Mar Beach, a beautiful beach with still finer sand and more dunes. A light chill fell with the dusk. The two sat on the beach wrapped in blankets and watched the lights go on up and down the coast, then retreated for the night. When Emery was sure Rita was asleep, he ventured out alone to have another look at the moon and stars and constellations. It seemed to him that he'd sat down on the perfect spot. Unhurried winds swept by as through a corridor, whistling. The oceans gentle lapping came in, then back out, all up and down the shore. It was mid-January when Emery and Rita took the Metro to the Madrid airport. Pike was flying in from Bostons Logan Airport on a direct Delta Airlines flight. Emery cried when he saw him Pike looked happy. Rita gasped. The not so long ago emaciated Pike had put some weight back on. His cheeks were almost plump. His clothes were neat and tidy. He looked good. He had his heavy, hairy golden coat over his arm, and only a light pack on his back. On Pike's head was a big new smooth and golden Stetson cowboy hat. When he lifted it and waved it at them, they saw hed gone a little bald. Pike called to them. "Is it really you, Emery? Rita, is it really you?"