The 263 mile journey from remote Ossa De Montiel to Malaga was expected to be easy, little did I know there would be thunder storms the whole way, making the Spanish roads like ice skating rinks, often loosing the back end to diesel spills left by many tractors working the vine fields (my wifes wine supply). Peaking the final hill to sunny Malaga, the sea was in view and I let out a loud ‘Yessiii, Hola Malaga’ and grinned widely. With the tent pitched, I alarmingly noticed the signs dotted about which read ‘Prohibido Banador’ I decided to walk down to the naturist beach and was embarrassed to have to walk through the restaurant to access it. To my disappointment the beach was empty! 5 clothed jet ski riders approached, so i dived for cover in the Palm forest and got lost. ‘Africa here I come!’