Tag Archives: mediterranean steps challenge

3:8 (2016) Day 1. “Alan wake up! You’re doing the Med Steps.

15 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by in Gibraltar, Memoirs of Gibraltar, travel, tripadvisor

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Our first evening ended with night caps in the hotel bar by the pool which was accessed by a sort of flyover walkway; you went through a door from the lounge, up some stairs and then across the street via a glass walkway before descending some more stairs into the bar which was situated in the Bristol’s own private walled garden. That routine would become a regular one throughout the week as a sort of last stop oasis whenever we got back from wherever we’d been. Eventually by the time I ‘hit the sack’ on that first night I was totally cream-crackered. Next thing I knew it was morning!

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I’m not especially good first thing in the morning; my eyes have a tendency of waking up long before my body which always needs a really hot shower to get the old muscles and bones moving. Some of that is about age and arthritis but some of it is also about being someone who totally loves bed, particularly when I wake up in the mornings. Sometimes it can take me a while to drift off at night (because of discomfort/pain in my shoulder) but then (what I find criminal) when I wake up in the morning is that I’m at my absolute most comfortable as though I’ve mounded into the mattress and (although I have a great reluctance to move) I have to get out.

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“Alan! Wake up! You’re doing the Med Steps Challenge today. Alan!!”. 

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After being unceremoniously evicted from my nice warm bed onto the floor it crossed my mind that for a slim woman, thirteen days older than me, she still packed a clout though looking up at the ceiling the penny slowly began to drop – ‘YES!’. After months of looking at that poster above my desk at work – (that one taken from up the Rock with loads of sunshine beaming down) – I was FINALLY going to climb the MedStepsChallenge TODAY!
“Don’t think you’re going anywhere without a good breakfast in your belly first and don’t forget to take your water” Carol continued.

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Breakfast at the Bristol was a simple help-yourself affair with toast, cereal, fruit and yogurts which suited me really well because traditionally I don’t eat much till lunchtime. However to keep the peace I managed to rammed down a couple of slices of toast followed by a tea and a coffee and just as I was digesting it all the reception lady called over to me that my taxi had arrived. Carol, Sheila and Joe had decided to spend the morning relaxing and sun-bathing by the pool and so as I departed they all bid me farewell and good luck with the kind of look on their faces that suggested I was as mad as a box of frogs; relatively speaking I think they would all rather have stuck pins in their eyes than climb Gibraltar although by the same token they all knew how much it meant to me.


Sitting in the taxi as it wound its way up to Jews Gate was about as good as it could get for me; even a lottery win would have faded into boring compared to that. Passing so many familiar places was such a reassuring experience and seeing new developments was so exciting too – particularly because I thought the ‘modern’ blended in so well with the ‘old’. Seeing so many new high rises reminded me of Hong Kong which (like Gibraltar) only had one development choice and that too was upwards. My initial feeling was a sort of positive fascination with the hope that most of the Old Town hadn’t been touched.


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Ten minutes after leaving the Bristol we arrived at Jews Gate where the crowds were a-gathering and some discerning climbers had already set off on their first lap. As I got out of the taxi and morphed into one of the crowd I felt a total sense of belonging.


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3:3 (2016) I wasn’t counting down the years anymore. I was counting down the days.

07 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by in Gibraltar, Memoirs of Gibraltar, travel, tripadvisor

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Over the months leading up to our holiday in Gibraltar Carol naturally did spend time checking out on the internet all about the Rock – and in particular the Bristol Hotel. There’s a school of thought (which is probably true) that men are hopeless at things like booking hotels because they’d sleep in a doss house if necessary where women are a little more discerning. As it turned out when Carol had closely scrutinised the Bristol Hotel (which I had booked) I sensed the odd note of approval coming through. But that wasn’t to say she was going to like the changes that had occurred on the Rock; it wouldn’t be until our journey home that I found that out. 
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Also in the months running up to May I noticed lots of phone calls happening between Carol and Sheila (as they discussed their ever-nearing holiday) and sensed a certain amount of excitement building up; we’d all been on many a foreign together, some of which didn’t score anyway near 10/10, but Sheila was sounding very positive and it was starting to rub off a bit on Carol. I caught occasional conversations going on which were starting to sound the business: Carol would say “Yes, and because the hotel is in the middle of town Joe will be able to go walkabout if he wants on days when we just want to sit around the pool”to which Sheila nod approvingly. What was also starting to sound positive was Carol becoming curious and openly asking me things like ‘I wonder if Princess Silks is still there?’.

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In my world I didn’t need any inspiration at all (as you’ve no doubt gathered) but that has never stopped me keeping up to date with Gibraltar news and events on a daily basis which is how I found out that the second annual Mediterranean Steps Challenge event was happening on the 14 May (the day after our arrival). 


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The MedSteps Challenge is a charity event raising money for Cancer Relief in Gibraltar and when I told Carol about it her reaction was swift: ‘Oh you must do that, it’s got your name all over it’. From that point on I had the poster above my office desk to remind me daily not only that I was finally going back to Gibraltar but also that the very day after I arrived I would be at the top of the Rock with the warmth of the sun on me as I looked down on familiar places. 

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The only thing better than looking forward to that was to actually do it. Even just recalling it all in these memoirs is taking me back to the excitement I began to feel in anticipating returning to the Rock. If readers feel any of that excitement as they read I’m happy to share it. Finally I’d arrived at a point when I wasn’t counting down the years anymore, I wasn’t counting the months anymore; in fact I wasn’t even counting down the weeks anymore. I was counting down days. 

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