I’ve always loved Catalan Bay with its beautiful colourful little houses and village church in fact when I wrote about it earlier (see 2:21) I also said it was my favourite beach; I think it’s always nicer when a beach is in a cove and small enough for me to walk from end to end, there’s a sort of sheltered homely feel about it.  

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(Sheila, Carol in hat and Joe settling down on the beach).

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But it’s not just the appearance I’ve always loved about Catalan Bay its also it’s mystique; of all the times I’ve been there and walked around the little village or up the steps between the residences to the main road I’ve never yet met a local. It reminds me of a fascinating village in Devon called Clovelly which is made up of the most delightfully unique little houses all built on this hill but because the roads are too thin for vehicles the only way to get about is either by donkeys or shanks’ pony – and I’ve never met a local there either?!

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Stepping out of the taxi at Catalan Bay was fascinating for all of us; me for obvious reasons, Carol out of curiosity (and the fact she loves the beach on a warm day) and Sheila and Joe because this was their first trip to Gibraltar and so had never been to Catalan Bay before. As a group of friends we’d been on many a soirée together including to Crete, India, Gambia and Wales but Gibraltar was a new experience in terms of a holiday and (because it was me who secretly planned the trip) I was very keen that they all enjoyed themselves and had a good time. So far I was getting the impression they were loving the Rock and so was keeping my fingers crossed.

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As Carol and Sheila led the way up a very empty beach deciding where base camp was to be to be Joe and I followed, happy to slob wherever the ladies chose. Eventually they picked a place very near where all of the eateries were so that they wouldn’t have far to walk come lunchtime; to be honest I wouldn’t have minded where they plonked themselves because after having a dip I was was off on walkabout to explore the neighbourhood.

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For a time I lay on the beach with the group soaking up the ambience and admiring the views. Looking outward to sea was a very nautical experience for me, seeing so many ships out there on the horizon; it took me back to 1974 when I left Gibraltar for the very first time. I was serving aboard HMS Scylla and as we headed south for Cape Town we naturally had to cross the equator. Enshrined in Royal Navy tradition is the mandatory ‘Crossing the Line Ceremony’ which ensured all young sailors going over the equator for the first time received their dunking. It was very much a ‘right of passage’ which some say was even recorded on a young matelots official documents. Seeing the merchant ships and tankers out there on the horizon I wondered if they had any similar tradition.

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(My ‘Crossing the Line Ceremony’ 1974)

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At some point I realised I was starting to bake alive (under the warm Gibraltar sun) and decided to go check out that big rock and take the plunge which is when I found out that the beautifully jade blue waters of Catalan Bay were freezing! It made me think of those crazy eccentrics who all run into this water every Boxing Day to wash their Christmas dinners down – mad as a box of frogs or what! Toe by toe it must have taken me fifteen minutes to get into the water but then finally when I did I turned to face the village and saw exactly what I loved about it.

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