Five Bestselling Travel Memoirs Box Set

by Twead, Victoria

  As Miguel passed by on his tractor, Lorna for some strange reason started to do a little dance on the log. A little over-excited at the prospect of going out maybe? When she finished laughing and dancing, she made to move again and found that she couldn’t: she had lost her nerve completely. I was laughing at her, thinking she was joking, but she was stuck. Miguel came over to be her knight in shining armour, stepped on the log, and took her hand guiding her to the safety of the river bank. How embarrassing!

  At least now we were able to go out and enjoy our day away from the countryside. However, as with all things Lorna and Alan, it did not go according to plan. Unused to driving the big lump of a pickup truck we had borrowed, I misjudged a pothole in the road caused by the heavy rain, and caught it hard. “BANG!” went the tyre, and I momentarily lost control of the car. I pulled over to the side of the road to discover a great tear in the tyre. We were stuck, about five kilometres from home, and more from town. There was a spare tyre but the tools were missing to do the job.

  Guess who we had to call? Yep, you bet, Keith again. Keith came out with his tools and changed the tyre for us, but we had lost so much time we just decided to go back home and have some lunch. What a fab Christmas this was turning out to be.

  As we headed into January there was still no let-up in the rain, and we were feeling pretty depressed about life in general. Even the birth of Eduardo, Bermuda’s first cria with us, did little to brighten our spirits. He was strong and healthy and all went well, but with the lack of sunlight he did have a slight Vitamin D deficiency, thus making him walk in an unusual manner for a few weeks. However the problem was easily solved with some Vitamin D paste we were able to administer.

  Of course, we live with electricity powered only by solar energy so, during that winter, when there was no sun, we had no power. We managed to have a little during daylight hours, but we usually used up our supply by about midnight. We were reading by candlelight and going to bed early. Plus, we were also unable to do any washing so we were wearing the same clothes for days on end, providing we could keep them dry. If they got wet, they went into a pile in the corner. We just hoped one day soon the sun would come out.

  Up until now, I had been true to my word and the dogs we had rescued were outside dogs, and only our ageing Geri was allowed the privilege of sleeping in the apartment. This, however, changed one day when the time came for the boys, Arthur and Carlos (although not Miliko, due to his mouth problems), to have the snip. We decided it would better for Manuel to come to the house, and we could do them both together. Arthur was now so big and strong, it was impossible to get him into the car due to his travel sickness. We collected Manuel, but were surprised to see he had no-one with him; we were expecting someone to assist him with the castrations. It turned out, that person was going to be me.

  After giving Arthur his pre-anaesthetic, he started to stumble around after a few minutes, and it was time to give him the second injection. When he was fast asleep we heaved him up onto the table, and Manuel told me to hold Arthur’s legs apart, as wide as possible. As Manuel made the cut with his scalpel I suppressed the urge to cringe, but I couldn’t look away. It was like a car crash. Slowly Manuel popped out the testicles, one by one, made the necessary cuts and then discarded them in a plastic bag. After being stitched back up, Arthur was laid on the ground, and then it was the turn of Carlos.

  The same procedure, although Carlos was much easier to manoeuvre around, and soon I had collected four testicles in a plastic bin liner. I put them on the side to deal with later, and went out to take Manuel home. We had decided that the boys could recover inside for the night, then they would have to go back to living outside the following day.

  However, after two days of being back outside, Carlos’s little ball-bag started to swell. He had caught an infection and he needed to be kept inside. That first night that we let him in, he just sat in the corner, looking at us, not believing that he was allowed to be there. Every time we stood up, he went to the door expecting to be let out. Eventually after a few hours of nervously sitting upright, we began to see him tire and his eyes began to droop. He was unable to allow himself to relax so he just slept for that first evening standing up. Every so often he would catch his head dropping, and then he would wake himself up again.

  After that incident, once Carlos was recovered, we had to allow all the dogs to sleep inside, so sometimes we end up with all five dogs sleeping on two sofas. When Blue decides it is her time to get up on the sofa, all the other dogs have a look of fear in their eyes, and run for cover. A few months later we came across the discarded bag of testicles, thankfully sealed. It had completely slipped my mind.

  The rain continued until March, and when it finally stopped we had had about three months of practically non-stop precipitation, enough to last us a lifetime, and exactly the kind of weather we had moved here to escape from.

  Although it was probably the worst winter either Lorna or I had ever experienced, in a funny way we learnt a lot about ourselves, and really started to appreciate our way of life here. Okay, so the roof was leaking and we had to mop, so what? If we had to go to bed at 10 o’clock, and read for an hour before the power ran out, we dealt with it. People have often said to us that they don’t think they could live the way we do but I can’t imagine it any other way now. We are both healthy, and take pleasure from simple things like walking the dogs on a fresh spring morning, watching the alpacas pronking (when an alpaca gets excited and runs around jumping and leaping in the air, it is called ‘pronking’) in the evening.

  In summer, we might go to town and sit in the park until the early hours of the morning having a drink and a bite to eat and enjoying the cool breeze. Our lives in the UK were so driven by work and ‘must-haves’ that it is easy to forget the important things.

  I can’t believe we have managed to convince the people to let us sleep in their house with them. We have even managed to claim a big sofa for ourselves. To be honest sometimes I could live without the little limpy one, he never stops. He is always jumping in my face, or running around in circles, then going to annoy the others, and just when I think I’ve got some peace and quiet he comes back again. The only time he ever really sleeps is at night, when all the lights go out, then, at least he is quiet.

  I’m a bit fed up with this bloody rain though, we don’t even get to go out for our walks, all we do is shelter in the dry all day. Sometimes, just for something to do, I run up and down, barking at the cats and the birds in the sky, I don’t want to catch them, I’m just shouting at them because it’s fun.

  Arthur

  32 Spit Attack

  Animal count: Five dogs, two feral cats, two chickens, six alpacas (Cassandra, Lily, Bermuda, Rafa, Galaxy and Eduardo). Sadly we lost Mary-Belle on the only day during that winter when there was no rain. We woke up one day to find it bitterly cold, with a grey sky hanging on the horizon. After an hour or so, to our surprise, snow began to fall, so we went out to photograph the palm tree and olive trees covered in snow, and sadly found that Mary-Belle had died in the night. We had to bury her in her pen. It was a very sad day.

  One of the most amazing qualities about alpacas is their amazing mothering instinct. A mother will protect her baby from predators or threats from within the herd or outside. There have been documented reports of alpaca mothers actually killing foxes that have strayed into fields with cria. An alpaca will also give off a shrill alarm call to warn the rest of the herd if they see something that could be a threat to the group. It sounds like a very loud whistle or even a type of scream.

  Little Eduardo was starting to grow up now. Thankfully, the rain had finished and finally he was able to get out into the sun, and therefore increase his Vitamin D intake to help his development.

  One day we were feeding the alpacas. Eduardo was just starting to want to nibble on the alpaca food, so we had taken to leaving a small amount in the bucket in which we carried the food around to the girls. We had had no problems, but on one occasi
on he lifted his head up sharply, and propelled the bucket about 15 feet away and it landed with a thump, scaring the girls.

  At the time we laughed, but the following day he tried the same manoeuvre, but this time the handle of the bucket caught on the back of his head and slipped over his neck. Bermuda panicked immediately, letting out an extreme alarm call, seemingly aimed directly at Lorna and I. She obviously thought the bucket was something trying to harm her baby and became visibly distressed. We needed to get the bucket from Eduardo’s head as soon as possible!

  “Stay there, don’t let them past, and I’ll grab him and whip the bucket off,” I said to Lorna. We always fed them in a corner of the paddock so it was, in theory, easy to pen them in.

  As I approached Eduardo, Bermuda gave the loudest, shrillest cry I have ever heard, and she was aiming it right at me. She then directed a large spit directly towards me. I managed to turn around quickly and take it full on my back.

  “Phew, that was a close one,” I laughed to Lorna.

  It is a common misconception that alpacas spit: they rarely spit at humans, unless agitated, but they will spit at each other if tussling or fighting over food. The ‘spit’ is actually the contents of their stomach. Alpacas are ruminants, and they chew their food over and over, much like goats and sheep, and because this is what comes out when they spit, it smells terrible.

  I took a step back and had a rethink.

  “What do you think?” I asked Lorna.

  “Well, we need to get it off, Bermuda is getting really upset.”

  “Okay, I guess I’ll try again.”

  This time, I made a grab for Eduardo, knowing that if I could just get hold of him I could get the bucket off him in a matter of seconds.

  “Watch out!” Lorna called, but it was too late.

  Bermuda made her attack, charging right at me from outside my line of vision, spitting for all she was worth, the green bile coming out of her mouth in rapid, machine gun like shots. It hit me directly in the chest followed swiftly by a shot in the face, right across my nose and mouth. I tried to run, but Bermuda was in the zone and she took up the chase.

  “Do something!” I shouted to Lorna in frustration. There I was running around the paddock being chased by Bermuda, and she was just standing there watching, feeling helpless, although (I’m sure) stifling a little snigger.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Distract her maybe. Ugh, it’s disgusting. Aaargghhh!”

  I was trying to get away, but as I ran she followed, continuing the barrage of foul-smelling spit. Eventually I managed to clamber over the gate and get away. Bermuda was standing there, just staring at me, like a bull stares down a matador; her nostrils were flared and she was breathing hard. I was covered from head to toe in the most putrid gunk imaginable. She really must have dredged up every last bit of it from the pit of all of her stomachs. It was enough to make me retch.

  “Okay, any ideas now?” I asked from the other side of the gate.

  “Well, let’s just give them five minutes to calm down. It’s only a bucket, it won’t hurt him,” Lorna suggested while I tried to scrape off some of the spit.

  After a few minutes, watching from a distance, with Bermuda seeming calmer, Lorna suggested going to get some more food to take her mind off of me grabbing Eduardo. It was a great idea and, as soon as she had her head in the bucket, I was able to grab Eduardo, remove the bucket and make my escape.

  “Oh my God, you absolutely stink. I think you’d better go and get in the shower - you look like you have been gunged on Noel Edmonds.” Lorna was definitely laughing at me now.

  Standing there dripping in that foul-smelling concoction, I had no choice but to agree, and trudged off, chalking up another victory to the animals.

  This morning was sooo much fun. Mum was having a right go at the man who brings us food every day. I don’t really know what happened, I was eating my food, and then my food thing went around my neck, but Mum got very angry. I was okay, but she was shouting at the man, and every time he tried to come close to me, she ran at him. Then she started spitting at him, and he was running but she wouldn’t let him get away. She was so mad, and he was shouting, but I don’t understand human.

  When she calmed down, the lady gave us some food, and the man grabbed me and took off my food thing from around my neck. He didn’t hurt me and Mum didn’t shout at him anymore. When the people had gone, I had a little run around with my cousin, and then went to sleep. I’ve had a lovely day!

  Eduardo

  33 Foal Play

  As much as we like our neighbour Ramon, we do not always agree with his animal management techniques. He has a number of horses and they are forever escaping from his land, as his fencing is inadequate. They push the gate open and roam around the countryside, looking for nice, fresh grazing.

  One of the ways Spanish farmers try and combat this, and I am sure it happens elsewhere, is to do something called ‘hobbling’. They use a piece of rope connected to two ankle cuffs which is supposed to stop the horse from being able to run and jump, meaning they can only take tiny steps, or jump with both front feet at the same time. This is not something we like to see, but sadly we have become accustomed to seeing it here.

  Often the horses have over-developed flanks from the extra work they have to do to move around. We often see Ramon’s horses congregate outside our fence; they seem to like to come and visit the alpacas and often can be seen nose to nose with one of the boys.

  One day in the spring, there were some workmen at the bottom of the track. I was watching them from the window, to see what they were doing.

  “Lorna,” I called, “It’s a bit weird, but I think one of the workmen has got a baby horse with him! Come and see.”

  Lorna came over to the window. “Hmm, I think you’re right. I’m going to ask if I can take a photo.” Lorna loves baby animals.

  “No, let’s get the dogs walked first, then I’ll come down with you.”

  So we walked the dogs and, on our return, grabbed the camera and went out to ask the workmen if we could take a photo of the foal.

  As we reached them, we could see the workmen trying to push the foal away from them, as she was getting in their way. We tried to ask if she was theirs, but they didn’t seem to want anything to do with her.

  “I wonder where she’s from then?” Lorna said to me.

  “I don’t know, maybe I should go and look for the horses, see if they’ve escaped. Wait here with her, and make sure she is okay.”

  I went off to look, but after 15 minutes of wandering around the campo there was no sign.

  “Maybe we should take her up to the house and I can phone Manuel, and see if he knows what to do,” I said.

  So I went up to the house, leaving Lorna with a bottle of water, trying to coax the little foal up to the house.

  Five minutes later, I was walking back down the hill, only to see Lorna sitting on the ground with the foal’s head on her lap. My first thought was, “Oh shit, she’s died.”

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  “She’s exhausted,” Lorna said. “She’s just gone to sleep. What did Manuel say?”

  “He is going to phone Ramon, and ask him,” I replied.

  “I’m worried about her, she seems very weak.”

  After a few minutes, we woke the foal up, gave her some more water and helped her to her feet. She seemed to get a second wind and we made good progress up the hill and managed to get her into the stable. The phone rang. It was Manuel. It was a short call.

  “Manuel says that Ramon has a mare due to birth any day, so he is going to come and see her, then he will bring the mare here. He said maybe we can keep them in the stable for the night. I said that would be fine,” I told Lorna.

  When Ramon arrived, he was really pleased to see the foal, firstly still alive, and secondly a filly. He tried to explain to us that the mother was a first-time mum, so probably panicked, didn’t know what to do and ju
st left the foal behind. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened had they been fenced-in securely. He went off to go and collect the mare and returned maybe an hour later, sweating profusely from the trek across the olive groves.

  He managed to get her into the stable, with a little cajoling, and she was reunited with the foal. We gave her some oats and a bucket of water, and left them for a few hours, while Ramon promised to check back on them later. We checked on them ourselves about once an hour, and were delighted to see the foal feeding from Mum; we hoped we had saved her life. Ramon popped back and was also pleased to see the foal feeding. He gave the mare some more food and water and said he would be up at some point in the morning to take them back to his farm. We went to bed that night with a warm, positive feeling, really thinking we had done something good.

  The next morning, I was up first and went out to check on the foal. I was expecting to see a healthy mother and daughter but sadly, it wasn’t to be. When I got there, the foal had died. I had to go back in and tell Lorna. She was truly devastated, but we had truly done all we could. We think that probably the foal just didn’t get the first milk in time and, by the time she did finally feed, it was too late for her. It was a real blow. I telephoned Manuel and told him Ramon would need to come and collect the body as soon as possible because we couldn’t really do anything while she was still there.

  We still see the mare around when the horses escape, and no doubt she will be pregnant again and having another foal in the springtime next year. We will keep our fingers crossed that this time, she will know what to do (and of course that she will do it at home).

  34 Can’t Get Enough of Your Love

  By now Rafa was getting bigger and was starting to show signs of adolescence. However, we didn’t want to rush into separating him from Cassandra and the other girls too quickly, as we had no ‘playmates’ for him to live with. One day, we looked out of the window to see Rafa, sitting astride his mother, orgling away (’orgling’ is the sound an alpaca makes during mating).