Gibraltar

La Linea was hot despite the wind coming in from the Strait. Off Yuma’s starboard quarter as we moored up the Rock of Gibraltar loomed large under a bright and relentlessly blue sky.

It was enticing to get out and climb up there to say the least but first settle in and besides, we had a bit of life maintenance to do.

Legal stuff

We had stopped here primarily to get some paperwork sorted in a country with a similar legal system to Australia’s (something which, in the end, proved incorrect and ultimately unnecessary) and so our first task was to visit a few legal folk and get some papers witnessed.

So, out came our trusty Brompton bikes, and off we pedalled towards Gibraltar; through the Spanish and UK border controls (only getting snapped at once), across the airstrip, and into the chaos that is the touristy part of Gibraltar.

Here we locked up our bikes on the only bike rack we found anywhere in the territory, and spent a hot and pointless morning looking for the appropriate folk to witness our paperwork. All but futile in the end, but it did serve as a good introduction to the old business district which is quite quaint, and we did get to meet some very friendly and helpful folk.

Touristy things

Legal work not achieved, we then ventured further afield checking out an old cemetery or two, some relictual defensive wall gates, the relictual defensive walls themselves, and a botanical garden, before ending our day with a decidedly average steak and ale pie (David) at an ‘English’ pub.

The thinking had been that with the ‘English’ theme of Gibraltar that this might be a good opportunity to sample a good pie. Not really.

Climbing the Rock

The next day we gave in to the allure of climbing up, around, and in the Rock. Again, it was a blazingly hot day. This made for rather fine heat-hazed views over Gibraltar, La Linea and Africa and, with steep climbs comprising much of the walking on the Rock, it also made for a very thirsty day.

The Gibraltar tunnels

Thirsty, yes, but it was a good day. We first went up to visit the Moorish Castle. Built in 1160ish, they waited until we visited to close it for renovations – it’s a conspiracy! Castle only seen from the road, we headed on to the tunnels.

These were excavated primarily during the Great Siege (1779-1783), when Spanish and French forces tried to relieve the British of their possession of Gibraltar and during World War 2. Others were apparently dug at other times but these are not open to the public.

These tunnels are enormous complexes which provided the original builders with protection and superb firing positions for artillery and light weapons. Today they provide the visitor with some welcome relief from the heat along with an insight into the defensive soul and history of the territory itself.

The first of the firing positions were originally established after one set of tunnellers lost their way and accidentally popped out into the open on a cliff face. Looking out over their enemy’s camp they realised they had just found the perfect position for their guns.

Having lingered in the tunnels, and enjoyed a bit of lunch at one spot where we could look out to the east, we continued our climb up to the summit.

The walk was steep but otherwise easy enough and worked its way through low scrub broken by rock slabs and the occasional defensive wall. On a couple of occasions stone steps from times gone by crossed the track, coming straight and steeply up the slope. We gave thanks that we weren’t climbing those tracks.

The summit

The summit ridgeline of the Rock is home to a string of military establishments; a modern radar and surveillance setup belonging to the RAF, a few old forts, gun emplacements and watch points.

We had a cold drink in the restaurant at the cableway terminal (yes, we could have done this the easy way) and watched the macaques (the first we’d seen in Gibraltar) steal things from careless Chinese influencer types who were filming influencer type things, mostly themselves and their wind tousled hair.

We then headed along the ridgeline, checked out a few macaques and gun emplacements before taking a very steep and winding goat track, the Mediterranean Steps, down the, yes, Mediterranean side of the rock.

Here at last we got a bit of shade and suddenly began to see a few birds flitting through the scrub. On a rocky slab we came across a pair of gorgeous Barbary partridges, Alectoris barbara, of which, despite being given ample opportunity to do better, I took some rather average photos.

Neanderthaler caves

Further along we got to visit a couple of the caves in which excavations have uncovered evidence of occupation by Neanderthals and early modern humans. These caves are short, open and largely underwhelming except for the knowledge that people have used them for roughly 120,000 years and from a time when rather than looking out over blue water they would have looked out over a broad expanse of dry Mediterranean scrub. I always find this sort of contrast so intriguing.

Our walk then took us back up the slopes of the rock and around its southern end before climbing (again) up its western slopes to skirt the edge of the settlement and then slipping down into the town itself.

Hot and tired after a long day in the sun we searched for a restaurant an ended up eating an outstandingly good Moroccan meal.

The rest of our time was spent poking around and doing a bit of provisioning in both La Linea and Gibraltar in preparation for heading further east along the Spanish coast.

Our impressions

So, Gibraltar, perched on a steep, scrubby and baking rock, and caught between the industrial port and sprawl of La Linea, the simmering waters of the Strait and the distant hazy blue mountains of Africa. What are our impressions of this tiny enclave of faux-Englishness? So glad you asked.

It is a bit of a funny place and, like Hong Kong before the handover, it feels like a compressed deceit – English in name, power and history only. In Gibraltar’s case, its soul seems far more deeply imbued with a Spanish derived culture and identity. The border controls exemplified this perfectly, where neither the British nor the Spanish side really seems to know (or be bothered with) why and what they were checking, and appeared to be just going through the motions. Each time we crossed we had to follow different lanes, show different types of paperwork, or no paperwork at all, or simply got yelled at by someone for whatever reason.

In shops and offices, some people talk to each other in rapid fire Spanish but address you (the obvious tourist) in plummy English accents before reverting back to their colleagues and Spanish while others struggle with English and are very happy when you switch to Spanish. Elsewhere in the settlement it is the sounds and flavours of Morrocco that greet you, wafting out from subterranean restaurants or tiny, over-flowing grocery stores. While in the evenings a trickle of Jewish men and boys sporting fedoras and clutching books hurry along Engineer lane to the Abudurham synagogue.

With all these different cultural influences the Englishness of Gibraltar seems to reside primarily in the historical military sites and the statues and busts of noteworthy general this or forgotten governor that, erected to their memory by their descendants for the apparent benefit of the pigeons and gulls. It can also be found in the voices of the wealthier (?) residents (and the majority of the tourists) and in the modern artifacts like the coppers’ helmets and the red phonebooths. And, of course, it pretends to reside in the ‘English’ pubs and countless fish and chip shops.

Our summary

To this casual observer, though it is a bustling settlement, Gibraltar seemed to lack any real purpose of its own. Its history and its sense of itself seems to be built around a seemingly endless involvement in military engagements, some of it its own and some a borrowed reflection of battles and glory in other places. The memorials are to a Great Siege and to lesser sieges, to fleets that left for far flung naval battles, and to the protection of valued sea routes in recent wars. The sights are forts, tunnels, batteries, emplacements, protective walls and watchpoints. The attractions are nightclubs, pubs and casinos. The industry is largely non-productive, i.e. military, financial (tax avoidance?), shipping, and tourism. Funny place. I am sure that to Gibraltarians it is home and richly imbued with all that that entails but I found it interesting but without any deep attraction.

That said, the fantastic Moroccan food was good enough to go back for but then I guess there is also Morocco for that.