They say that travel by air is most prone to accident just after take off and when coming into land. In between, once you’re up and above the clouds all is good.
It’s a bit like that for us too. Although no chance of Beastie falling out of the sky. Many sites, especially those based in town are often in the weirdest of places. Missy leads us into streets and back-alleys that we would never usually venture down. Standard procedure for take off is overseen by Mrs S. Ensuring we clear all ground based obstacles and assisting and aiding any navigational miscommunications. Once on the open road we switch into auto-pilot mode.
Today is no different. Later we’re crossing borders again. We haven’t really given Portugal our best shot. With less than two weeks in this beautiful country, it’s probably fair to say it hasn’t given us its best shot either. Time now dictates our movements. We continue north and back into Spain. But not before Portugal gives us something to remember her by.
With yesterday’s ‘adventure’ ride into Porto still fresh in our minds we should have realised immediately that Missy’s instruction to “Turn Right” was not right. Mary-Ann checks the virtual map on her lap. Seems it is right. Even though we’re now bouncing into a village on cobbles. Missy is like our Nanny. We rely on her for our every move. She blinks, we blink. She laughs, we laugh. She leads, we follow. She’s turning us into quite a Nanny-State.
Everyone needs a catch-phrase, don’t they? Something that they get known for. Mine is fast becoming “I say old chap. Pardon me, but surely there’s been some mistake old boy” (I’m paraphrasing here). The wider than we need street, soon narrows into a narrower than we need street. The virtual map encourages us forwards. Now we have no choice. Hope for the best. Fear the worse. Worse it is. The village street runs out. We end up at a cross roads. Beastie is brought to a halt. We’re in a bit of a pickle. Going crackers. “I say old boy. Pass the port”
At this point our options are:
- Continue forwards across a cabbage patch.
- Turn left into a newly seeded field.
- Turn right down a dirt track.
- Do a 180 before anyone notices.
We opt for number four of course. Our lucky number! We exit the village with no harm done to man, woman or Beastie. Vow never again to go anywhere near a cobbled street in Portugal.
Our Spanish over-nighter at Baiona-a-Guarda is pitch perfect. Manicured and maintained. An Atlantic view. A glass of sangria. A sunny spot.
It even has its own small private beach.
