It’s far too easy to create and then mount our own treadmill. Hop on board the fast train. Stay on track, with intentions to step down at every station for a look-see. It’s what we’re good at.
With promises made to each other to make this more of a relaxing trip we decide to apply the brakes. Instead, jump aboard the slow train. Two half days of travel see us go no where soon.
First stop at Camping Playa del Regaton, near Loreda, is preceded by a supermarket shop. After pitching up, a short beachside walk, then a late afternoon and evening of rolling thunder, is followed by a night of torrential rain. It’s an unusual site with every pitch covered with a dense canopy from spotty barked Plane trees. Barely taller than Beastie, when he’s on tippy toes. The effect at ground level feels almost Amazonian, creating a dark, dingy, damp, humid atmosphere. All we need are a few swinging monkeys for the scene to be set. No need for any rain dances. If we stay here too long, we’re liable to grow some thick bottom lips. So we don’t. One night of overhead drumming enough.
This morning we dawdle over the short distance into Cantabria and its capital Santander, for a two night stay at Cabo Mayor Camping. A nearby cliffside walk reveals a fabulous sheltered cove hiding the wonderful Playa de Mataleñas. A must visit, weather permitting. It doesn’t!
Back at camp, I have the fab pool dished up all to myself, and like the good little fishy that I am, I go swim-about. . .
. . . twenty minutes later . . . and for the next seventeen hours, it did this . . .