Living miles away from the ‘seaside’, as we used to, there was always two important signs that would suddenly set the internal bells of excitement ringing, the nearer we got to the coast. A glimpse of the sea. The sound of seagulls.
Thirty plus years of living less than ten minutes from the beach, has still not dampened that excitement. Despite the sea being out of sight. The seagulls that swoop and play above our back garden are a constant delight. On a windy day, they take to the sky to show off. Acrobatically ‘sky-lark’ around. Like a noisy gang of teenage boys. Just having fun. Masterfully controlling their flight. Miniscule feather light adjustments magically react to every contortion of air currents blown their way.
Day 14 – Friday the fifteenth. Mary-Ann’s birthday. Our four hour traverse west finds us pitching up for a three night sojourn at Camping Penarronda and it’s wonderful massive beach.
There’s no time to lose. The sun is visible! We can hear the roar of the waves. We don costumes. Apply lotion. Gather towels and sponge-bob mats. Leg it. Go park next to the sea. Attach ourselves to the sand, like a couple of bathing barnacles. Eager for some balmy heat. Ten minutes later we go barmy, as the sun disappears from the day. Undeterred, and determined, we laze for a cloud covered hour. Then walk the beach giving Mr S a good excuse to get in a couple of dips.
Our late arrival on site, partly due to a Masymas Supermarket shop. The fresh fish display is extraordinary. We pick up a couple of cut to order chunky tuna steaks at €14 per kg!!!
By 6pm the heavens let it be known that they are in charge. Thunder and lightning flashes compete with torrential rain. Our noisy neighbours for the next sixteen hours.
Day 15 – The rain eases and stops around 10am. We plan an 8K coastal walk that takes in part of the Camino Way.
We end the afternoon with a virtual repeat of yesterday, sea-side. Well, almost. The sea has done a runner. It’s gone out. Virtually doubled the size of the beach. The sun has ‘gone out’ too. So it ends as a grey day – again.
Day 16 – Today starts as another repeat performance. But in the opposite direction. Looking back, the tide is still out to sea.
3K into the walk, Mr S decides on a detour. Curious to search out a secret, or deserted cove. We drop down almost to sea level. Take a more interesting route.
We think we have this area all to ourselves. But then, as we reach the next small cove that’s Mexota Beach, we’re greeted with pink and brown flashes of human flesh. Hanging and dangling. It’s one of two small and very secluded ‘nudist’ spots. A young athletic looking man strides past us. Pacing out his morning constitutional. Draws a toe-line in the sand. Then full frontals us as he does a touch and turn. I avert my eyes. Can’t speak for Mrs S.
With clothes still in place, and cap firmly on, we cross over onto the massive and more discreet Serantes Beach. On the lookout for a picnic seat.
At this point, we do our own touch and turn . . .
Back at base Mrs S fills the remaining grey hours under cover playing Quordle. Her newly found fascination. Mr S takes off his cap, scratches head and makes his next international chess move.
Our last night at this lovely watering hole, feels and sounds just that. A noisy night of gale force howling winds and torrential rain, do their best to drown out any thoughts of sleep. By morning it’s all blown over and the now calm blue heavens looks serenely down, shrugs it’s shoulders at the rising sun, as if to say “What? What did I do?”