The Rock of Gibraltar

The Rock of Gibraltar towers with its near vertical rock face over the ocean. It is known in legend as one of the Pillars of Hercules. The other pillar stands in Morocco, a mere image reflected south, to stand guard as the gate between the Mediterranean Sea and the beginning of the end of the earth, the vast Atlantic.

They hardly even glanced at our passports (they didn't even open them up), as we crossed the boarder from Spain to Great Brittan. We walked across Gibraltar's personal air strip to get into a town. English menu's advertised Fish 'n' Chips, there were old-fashioned red telephone booths, the policemen had funny hats, prices were quoted in pounds and pence, and some cars even had steering wheels on the wrong side. Children passing by whined in English accents, 'But mum...' as mother's scolded them back for being so 'cheeky.'I kept feeling like I was in a movie or something and people were putting on the accent as an act.

We rode a cable car up to the top of mountain. It was windy and the ridge of the limestone monolith rather narrow. As soon as we got off, the famed Barbary Apes of Gibraltar abounded. (They are the only wild primates left in Europe.) They had absolutely no fear of humans, though they were sneaky little buggers and I feared that they would come attack my back pack at any moment. Though there were signs all over warning about ape bites and fines for touching the wild animals, tourist-toting-taxi drivers would play with the creatures and even set them on your shoulder. The one on Dana's head decided to do some preening of her hair.




We walked down from the top of the mountain zigzagging our way from the south and north tip and back again. The 360 views of the Europe, Africa, Atlantic, and Mediterranean were breathtaking, as were the steep climbs.

We also climbed into St. Michael's Cave. This grotto of moist stalactites and stalagmites was legend to be the gates to Hades. As I looked down into the black abyss in the corner of the cave, it wouldn't take much to convince me that it truly was bottomless. Another legend said that it was the portal to an underground tunnel to Africa and that's how the monkey's came to live on the rock. (What those two legends say about their views of Africa...I shiver to think). They turned part of the cave into a concert hall and hold shows here. (How cool is that?)

On the other side of the mountain were 30 miles of siege tunnels blasted into the rock so that the British could fire cannons at the attacking French and Spanish who held them under siege for a couple years in the 18th century. (Gibraltar, I read, is still a sore spot for Spain...). These tunnels also came to play in WWII, but I forget how. The rock is clearly just a military stronghold. At one time it could have controlled who entered and exited the Mediterranean Sea, but these days it seems to be left over stubborn pride in the British Empire and perhaps a place for some soldiers to train (we saw some camo-clad men trudging up the hill with machine guns and the works).

The weekend was a whirlwind of travel. Between countries, and bus rides, boat trips and boarder crossing, and a time schedule that was always too rushed and involved running to your destination. We went to Morocco for a half day on Sunday...but that's another whole box of Pandoras.