Sneaky Camping

By definition, sneaky camping is staying along the track or roadside without the permission of the landowner or local authority. So, for me, the mission is to find a suitable spot, flat enough for the tent and concealed from the eyes of anyone passing by. Once this is established, the bikes and gear have to be moved off the road and into seclusion without being observed. Because it is obvious to anyone who sees you that you are looking to camp sneakily, and if they happened to be of evil intent, they could take advantage of us.

So, all this is in my mind as we search for the ideal site, add to this the rapid approach of nighfall and a cycling amigo who only has a couple of k´s left in her legs and the pressure begins to come on.

Our first night out on the road from Fraca, where we got off the train from Barcelona, and on a backroad to the famous Costa Brava, it was drizzling rain and getting cold, Val was riding shotgun and I was on the lookout for that ideal site when unexpectedly we came to a main road. Val thought we´d missed a couple of likely sites and things did not look too promising. Crossing the main road into a small ancient village we came across a bike trail and soon we found an ideal site where we spent a night in total peace and quiet, getting back on the road without upsetting any of the locals.

The next nght, having ´´done the Costa Brava¨ we climbed out of the town via a very steep road and found ourselves in a National Park area, signs all over the place saying no camping and one that I thought meant no ´bivvy´ camping as well, (this later proved to be an open tin can with a line through it, discouraging littering). Eventually we found a side track with plenty of trees and cover, and as the night was mild we decided to bivvy camp without the tent.

We´d been there an hour or so, and had tea well under way when the sound of a vehicle stopping close by and door slamming put (me) on high alert. Shortly, throught the trees I could make out a person scouting from side to side with a stick in one hand, looking intently at the ground, poking things every so often with the stick.
´´He´s following our tracks¨ I said to Val and indeed he was on the path we had made. Advancing and still peering intently at the ground he was only 15 metres away without seeing us when I decided to reveal ourselves.
´´Hola´´ I said (my only word of Spanish at this point), he looked around for the voice,
´´Hello¨ I said to alert him of the presence of Gringos (thats what the Tom Mix comics called the likes of us anyway)
´´Hola´´ he said unconcernedly and continued on his prodding, searching way. For the next half hour or more he moseyed around, not searching for sneaky campers but for little gems of wild flowers and herbs that were growing in wild profusion under our feet.