We’re hugging the northern coastline of Spain. Galicia and Asturias regions. On our way towards France and the promise of heat. A goodbye hug. One that gets a little too close for someone’s comfort.
We’d been expecting to find many more Spanish coastal coves like this. It’s taken nearly a whole lap. It’s so sad. This isn’t today’s destination. Just a lunchtime break. We park up route-side. Go stretch our legs. We can smell the sea. Can’t see it. Follow our noses. Come across this one of five beaches that run parallel to this section of today’s journey, just east of Ribadeo. Mental and written note made. “Must re-visit”. Still 100K plus to go. So we do.
Feeling not too disappointed, our site just outside Cudillero offers more of the same. “It’s a less than 2K walk.” says the lady on reception. I check the Wikiloc satellite route. It’s all road. Includes an acute dog-leg. However, there looks to be an off road short cut that will save us loads of time. We start from the man on the left. His viewpoint shows us what we’re aiming for.
We venture forth. At first all looks good. A little steep. Nothing more.
Then not so good. A little coaxing and Mary-Ann is over the water jump.
Then we enter the cliff-side section. Isn’t Mrs S doing well? We’re now way past the point of no return.
At this point I sift out a suitable thwacking aid. A Little John pole. Something I can create a trail with. A trail that will look and feel passable to Mary-Ann. Thorns, brambles, nettles, weeds and unfortunately wild flowers come under the thwack. It’s now very slow going. After thirty minutes the track turns to face our destination. It’s still a long way off and now not in sight. We’re still a long way up.
The trail virtually runs out. There’s no machete to hand. My pole not really man enough. I turn as green as our jungle, get mad – like the Hulk on a hitting spree. At some points it’s over my head. I don’t let on that I’m wondering if we are too. Will we end up at a dead end. Would another of Mary-Ann’s mottos be revealed?
The final fifty metres brings us out just the right side of a small stream.
A walk across the beach as the tide comes in and a Cornetto round off the adventure nicely.
No prizes for guessing which route we took back to camp . . .