As my ship glided past in the night, I strained to see the mighty British rock guarding the entrance to the Mediterranean. Darkness swallowed it and we sailed on to Cadiz. This time in Spain, I would not only see Gibraltar, or Gib as the locals affectionately call it, I would climb it.
Image via Wikipedia A chance to speak English and the evocative power of the Rock of Gibraltar drew us to the tiny British outpost. The town itself crowds itself on the western slope of the giant rock. To get in, we had to go through British customs--more a formality than an actual inspection. We then walked across the airport landing strip and entered the town.
Image via Wikipedia We took a cable car to the top. Here we stopped of a can of Coca Cola light and walked out onto the patio to catch a glimpse of the formidable rock. The sign out of the cafeteria said no food was allowed beyond that point. Of course that referred to food--not our drink. I brought my freshly opened, expensive can of Coke out onto the patio and placed it on the binoculars pedestal and pointed my camera.
Before I realized it, a Barbary ape with her baby snatched my soda, ran to a clear space in the middle and took a sip. It turned out she didn't like Diet Coke and left the can and me not knowing if I should laugh or scream at losing my soda. Didn't those apes know they were supposed to be living halfway down the mountain?
The views were breathtaking. Neil and I explored the top, walked down, saw hundreds of apes and incredible views. We walked and walked and walked and walked. Came to a dead end, backtracked and walked some more.
At Casemates Square we ate fish and chips, then wandered back across the landing strip and back into Spain. A delightful, British day.