The End of the World is Running Out of Cider

28/11/17-29/11/17

The forecast for the 28th was rain, so we didn’t make many plans except for a spot of grocery shopping. It was a mega two supermarket shop. Lidl for the bargains and stuff we know that they sell (i.e. cheddar cheese) and Intermarche for their baked goods and French cider. Paul, being almost exclusively a cider drinker, has had some interesting experiences in Portugal with Somersby and Strongbow – so called – cider. He was very excited when he saw these British brands in the supermarkets, but disappointed to find that it wasn’t really cider especially as he went a bit mad and bought 24 bottles. Instead it is a mixture of cider, apple juice and apple flavouring and tastes like an apple alco-pop. Luckily Intermarche sells the french stuff which passes muster and I’m sure we’ll find some british brands for vastly inflated prices when we get down to the ex-pat territory of the Algarve.

After stocking the cupboards we decided to take a quick trip to Cabo da Roca, the headland that is the most westerly point in mainland Europe. We approached along busy roads and drove into the carpark only to drive out again, narrowly avoiding the hordes of tourists. We parked for a cuppa on a layby to the side of the road and watched coaches arriving and leaving with great regularity. It’s obviously a popular day out from Lisbon. The Romans believed that this was the end of the world.

Although we’d fancied the walking from Cabo da Roca, we didn’t fancy the company of the tourists so we pushed on further south to Cabo Espichel. Another headland but much quieter this time although it seems to have more going for it than just geography. The church of Nossa Senhora do Cabo has been a place of pilgrimage and still has the dormitories for pilgrims lining the approach, although they are now boarded up. There is also a chapel lined with Azulejos – the blue and while tiles  that Portugal is famous for – depicting the story behind the dedication of the church, although it was locked when we were there and we had to peer through the bars on the door.   

The church of Nossa Senhora do Cabo and the pilgrims accommodation
This tiny chapel was beautifully decorated inside with azueljos

The skies were a deep grey by now and rain was threatening. We decided not to venture too far from Bertie and sure enough the rain began to descend heavily almost straight away. We watched as the car park in front of us turned into a small pond and water ran in rivulets down Bertie’s sides and then down the carpark eroding channels in the clay. It was an afternoon for a bit of TV and web surfing.

The following day the rain had passed and we went for a walk around the headland, following a marked route to the south, passing the lighthouse and taking us to a ruined 17th century (we think) fort where a rusted pillar would have once held a warning beacon. 

Lighthouse at Cabo Espichel
We clambered around on this ruined fort which gave us good views out to the south

 

On the coast below the fort was this emplacement, including a rusted post for a warning beacon. These days it looks like someone uses it as a fishing spot.

From the fort we cut across the headland, passing half built villas, maybe from the 80s which were now derelict. Building materials were scattered around and Paul identified a few asbestos tiles – nice. 

Half completed buildings, there must have been a dozen of these in various states of completion.

On the north side of the headland we joined another marked route that followed the northern coast to the Pedra da Mua – the footsteps of the dinosaurs. The coast here is made of many layers of sedimentary rocks and several steps of dinosaur footprints have been found. The only ones we could make out were those that tracked up the cliff opposite the viewpoint, although there are others we couldn’t find them and I would recommend looking on the internet for some pointers before going rather than afterwards! These footprints form part of the legend of the area with stories that the Virgin Mary rode a giant mule out of the sea and up to the headland.

Can you make them out?
Eroded paths, channels have been scoured by rain waters through the soft sandstone

 At the end of the walk we investigated another building, this was part of the water supply and laundry area for the church and pilgrim buildings and an aqueduct can be seen near the road that leads to the headland.

Laundry, water supply and now there is a rustic campsite within the walls to the right of the picture (summer only)

Because of the previous day’s rain the walk had been extremely muddy, we both felt a couple of inches taller with the amount of claggy sediment that was clinging to the bottom of our boots. Despite our best endeavours this mud got everywhere. 

 

 

 

Guincho Beach

26/11/17-27/11/17

Next we drove to Foz do Lizandro, intending to stop there for the evening. We parked up on the clifftop and walked down steps to the beach where the Rio Lizandro enters the ocean. The waves washing up the beach were coming from two directions, making interesting swirling patterns where they met. There was plenty of surf and surfers out to sea but towards the beach the waters were calmer, protected by a sandbank. We decided to go in the water, less a swim and more of a float as we allowed ourselves to be churned around in the currents created by waves washing over the sandbank.

After our swim we lazed on the beach drying out and warming up, but the sky was starting to cloud over which drove us back to Bertie. We looked at the local area and decided we might as well move on. We ended up at Praia Guincho, another surfer’s beach where campervans and motorhomes were parked up for the evening. When we got there in late afternoon the sea was still full of the black dots of surfers taking advantage of as much light as possible before they gave up for the day, it seemed fully dark to me by the time the last few were walking up the beach.

The usual Portuguese fishing spot. This isn’t Paul fishing, he prefers to get closer to the sea

Paul had been sussing out the cliffs to the north of Guincho and thought he might have some fishing spots, so we took a random walk along the coast that soon met a signposted route, so we followed it until we reached the promontory that Paul was aiming for. Here we followed fishermen’s paths down to the sea. The coast was south facing and slightly more sheltered from the ocean swells, but there were still big waves washing up and causing Paul to jump back every now and again. Paul fished (unsuccessfully) while I relaxed on the rocks reading. 

The coastline north of Guincho beach, taken from Paul’s fishing spot

Occasionally I would have a little clamber about on the rocks to see what was around. Down at the edge of the water were mussels and gooseneck barnacles. The mussels were too small to gather and I think that the gathering of gooseneck barnacles (known locally as percebes, expensive, delicious and slightly odd looking) is probably regulated, so I decided against it – that, and they were too difficult to prise from the rocks by hand.

Percebes hidden between the rocks. Called gooseneck barnacles because it was once believed that they were the larvae of the Barnacle Goose

We stayed a Guincho again that night, it had a relaxed atmosphere, but we knew that rain was due the following day and we would need to find some services too.    

Peniche

25/11/17

Peniche is a town on a small headland that sticks out from the west coast of Portugal just north of Lisbon. It’s known for it’s great surf, and because it has coast facing in many directions it’s usually possible to surf here regardless of wind direction. Not that this was why we were here, but there were plenty of surfers around and also a lot of Portuguese motorhomes here for the weekend.

We drove along the north side of the peninsular, stopping at Intermarche for a quick restock and taking note of the motorhome facilities in their car park, then taking a look at a few parking spots. The one we had liked the look of on google turned out to have no motorhome/campervan signs all over it so we drove on out to Cabo Carvoeiro lighthouse.

We decided to take a walk around the headland, following tracks around the south coast until we got to the Fortazela and harbour area where we wandered through narrow streets of tiled houses and apartments, lived in and busy. Restaurants lined the harbours edge and were full of people out for their Saturday lunch.

Peniche Fortezela – closed for lunch when we walked by

From the harbour we followed an inlet north, this cuts across the middle of the peninsular making it almost an island, the town walls hug the western edge of the water and an industrial estate is on the less picturesque east side. We crossed the main road to the northern coast where we stopped to watch surfers before following the cliffs back to Bertie. Along the way we noticed that fishing spots were marked with yellow fish symbols on white posts, these fishing spots often clung precariously to the side of the cliffs, down steps onto small platforms that looked like they might have been built by the fishermen. Some were already slipping down the cliff or undercut by the sea.

A marker post for one of the many fishing spots along the cliffs
Collapsing steps down to what was once a fishing spot

The rock of the peninsular is heavily weathered limestone forming odd and beautiful karst formations with limestone pavements, deep crevices and sea stacks.

Limestone pavement, looking towards the chapel of Igreja de Nossa Senhora dos Remédios
Eroded and undercut, the cliffs of the south coast

This was a nice place to spend the day and set the tone for the next few days as we followed the coast, the fishermen, and the surfers, south. 

What Happened to My Christmas Spirit?

 

Sitting here in Bertie, waiting for my curry to finish cooking I’m wondering what happened to my Christmas Spirit.

Christmas is an odd time of year, but I love it. I don’t have a particular affinity for the day itself, it’s too soon over and done, but the whole season is magical.

I love the build up, the way that nights draw in and the lights slowly go up in homes and across towns. I relish the cold weather, forcing us to bundle up and wear chunky knitwear, thick socks and boots. I love the generally positive vibe, making people more optimistic, giving and thoughtful about others. I enjoy the entry to the party season, knowing that everyone is looking for an opportunity to turn their everyday into an event with sparkles and glitter.  

Then there is time. Time off work and time to do things. It’s an easy time (in my line of work anyway) to have a long break, with so many bank holidays one week’s allowance turns into two weeks of holiday. And it’s not a holiday where I go away to forget about it all, but a holiday where I focus on home and hearth. This is when my oven gets cleaned (an annual event – sorry Nan). This is when I have time to entertain friends and family. This is when I cook dishes that take hours to prepare. This is when I get to see the people I have not managed to cross paths with for the rest of the year.    

So what’s happened this year? We’re sitting here and thinking about our friends in Exmouth who are enjoying the annual Christmas meal and Secret Santa; we’re not there and can only vicariously enjoy the photos and comments. I’m trying to motivate myself to purchase presents online for niece and nephews that I wont see opened. I want to buy decorations for Bertie but cant bring myself to do it. I’m just not feeling Christmassy

I put it down it the following things:

  1. People. We’re too far away from the people that matter to us, the people we’re used to spending Christmas with. It doesn’t feel the same without friends and family.
  2. Weather. I’m swimming in the sea and walking and cycling and enjoying sunshine and finding it all very surreal. Where is the icy cold, the rain, wind and (ok it rarely happens, but there’s always the possibility) snow?
  3. Lack of preparation. I don’t know why, but I didn’t pack any Christmas decorations for Bertie. Christmas seemed so far away when we left and I think I might have been in denial.

So, I cannot sit here and complain about it (after this post anyway), I have decided that I will have to do something to invoke my Christmas spirit, I will conjure it up with the singing of carols and Christmas tunes. I will festoon Bertie with decorations. I will make plans for a Christmas dinner. I might even clean Bertie’s oven, just to get in the mood.  

Hopefully in a few days you will see some evidence that the Christmas spirit has finally be summoned to Bertie. 

The Obidos Lagoon

24/11/17

We were staying at a large paid aire at Foz do Arelho. This area of parking nestled between the coast and the Óbidos lagoon and was very busy with motorhomes. Because we didn’t want electricity we managed to nab a spot on the front looking out over the lagoon, an unforeseen advantage of solar panels.

After all the rain the previous day the weather had improved and we decided to go on a bike ride. We thought we would try to cycle around the lagoon. We knew we couldn’t make it a circular route as the lagoon is not completely separated from the ocean, but we could do a horseshoe there and back again. There are cycle routes down each side of the lagoon and it didn’t seem like it would be too difficult to join them together.

Looking towards the village of Foz do Arelho

Joining them together was a bit of an adventure as we tried to head down tracks rather than roads. We didn’t manage it on the way out but on the way back we found it easier to track the edge of the lagoon most of the way, including one narrow path that we followed along the lagoon shore. At one point we encountered a herd of goats and sheep; the herder whistled and they moved aside and let us through – very well trained!

The lagoon was very attractive, we saw loads of wetland birds as we cycled around including pale pink flamingos sitting on a sand bar. Having to join the different cycle routes together meant we cycled through a village, crossed farmlands and navigated through a vineyard giving us a bit of variety of terrain. The previous day’s rain left us mud spattered with the claggy white clay of the tracks. 

Collapsing bridge across one of the streams feeding the lagoon

We liked our outlook enough to cough up for another night at this aire before moving on. We spent the late afternoon watching the goings on on the lagoon. As well as the usual fishermen on the shore or out on boats there were a number of people who were snorkelling. We didn’t know what they were collecting but they towed buckets buoyed up by rubber rings and obviously were collecting something edible. One of them swam up to the shore in front of us with his haul but we couldn’t work out what it was.  

Sunsetcolours from our parking spot

Underground, Overground

 23/11/17

We spent the night of 22nd parked at Batalha in preparation for a visit to Batalha Monastery. We wanted to visit one monastery while we were in Portugal and it was a pretty random decision that bought us here of all the monasteries we had flagged as possibilities.

Batalha means ‘Battle’; the monastery was built by King João I to give thanks to the Virgin Mary for victory in battle over the Castilians in 1385. For many this was the deciding point in establishing Portugal as a country, distinct from Spain, and so the monastery has a special place in the Portuguese people’s regard. 

Statue of King Joao I

The church is free to visit but some of the other buildings require a ticket, after a bit of a search we found the tickets being sold at the back of the church and started our exploration. The building is beautiful with highly ornate stonework in parts, although the church interior was surprisingly stark. The contrast in styles apparently being due to King João’s wife – Philippa of Lancaster – inviting British architects to contribute to the design. We liked the chapterhouse with it’s vaulted ceiling which houses the Portuguese tomb of the unknown soldier, attended at all times by military personnel, the two cloisters, very different in style and the unfinished chapels with their ornate stonework left open to the sky and pigeons.

The Royal Cloister with attractive gothic screens

The ornate stonework of the unfinished chapels

After exploring the monastery we ventured further inland to Mira de Aire. This town is in a Natural Park area of limestone rocks, gorges and caves. We found our parking spot up near the sports complex at the top of the town after another sat nav disagreement (this time it tried to take us straight up a cobbled alley to the top of the town when there was a perfectly sensible road that cut uphill on a more gentle gradient) and wandered down into the town to visit the Grutas Mira de Aire, one of a few tourist cave systems in the area. We bought our tickets and waited for the tour with a handful of people only for a large school party to arrive. The sound of 40 eleven year olds having a good time was an assault to our ears. We crossed our fingers that they would be giving the kids a different tour but it was not to be. With apologies they lumped us in with half of the class. We watched a documentary about the geology of the area (they obviously didn’t believe in dumbing down) which was interesting when we could read the subtitles, but guesswork when showing white subtitles on a limestone background. Then we went down to view the caves, the guide providing commentary in both English and Portuguese.  The part of the cave system on display was vertical, so we descended lots of steps (there was a lift at the end to take us back to the surface) it was well decorated with stalactites, stalagmites, curtains and flowstone. Despite the fact that this is a tourist attraction, has some fairly garish lighting, and water is pumped through during dry periods we still enjoyed viewing the impressive natural decorations. 

Limestone curtain formation – ‘The Organ’
Some of the many stalactites in the cave

We left the caves, walking back uphill to Bertie. The skies were dark with cloud and the first spots of rain started to fall. It quickly got heavier and Paul decided that he wanted to escape the rain rather than stay for the night. We drove back down to the coast in heavier and heavier rain with occasional flashes of lightening. As we approached the coast we got stuck behind a car doing about 15mph, not sure whether he was scared of the dark, worried about the rain or just drunk, we kept our distance until they slowed to a complete stop halfway round a roundabout. We gingerly edged past them and down to our parking spot.          

Portugal’s Silver Coast

21/11/17 – 22/11/17

We had a moment of deja vu as we approached our next destination of Sao Pedro do Moel. This is Portugal’s Silver Coast and had some striking similarities to France’s Cote d’Argent; long sandy beaches, big waves for surfing and dunes backed by pine forest. We drove to a parking spot on the coast just north of Sao Pedro where we had a view from the cliffs with the lighthouse to the south and a long golden beach to the north.

This area had seen significant forest fires this year and we drove through large swathes of burned forest where the sand and ash and dead trees created a starkly monochrome scene of desolation.

The black and white of a burned forest

We took a walk along the cliffs and then down onto the beach, watching fishermen casting into the surf and exploring the lagoon created where the river pooled behind a sandbank. The wind was blowing strongly although the skies were blue and people were wrapped up against the chill.

Cliffs slowly slipping into the sea

The following morning we got on our bikes and followed the bike track north. The road was long and straight, passing coastal resorts that had shut down for the winter, few people seemed to live in these towns where most of the shops and cafes were boarded up waiting for next years tourist season. We sat on the beach in one location watching the sea and were alerted to a pod of dolphins by large numbers of gannets, cormorants and gulls swirling around and diving for the fish that were being driven to the surface. There was life here, but not much human activity. 

The river at Praia de Vieira

Paiva Walkways, the Ultimate in Garden Decking

19/11/17 – 20/11/17

When we moved into our house in Exmouth I remember Paul installing decking in the back garden – decking steps from the backdoor, decking over the crazy-paved patio, and more decking steps down to the lawn. A fun project for Paul. For a while it seemed as though we had the whole of the local timber yard in our garden.

These memories came back to me as we approached the Passadiços do Paiva, our next destination. This walk up the gorge of the Rio Paiva takes place mostly on timber steps and walkways that cling to the sides of the gorge allowing people to walk the length of the gorge from Areinho to Espiunca. 

The walkways are in Arouca geopark, an area of Portugal that is designated a Geopark by UNESCO who use this designation to promote the management and development of sites of geological interest. We started by visiting Arouca itself, a pleasant town inland from Porto with motorhome parking and services in the main carpark. We had a walk around the town; it was Sunday and everywhere was busy with visitors, there was a small farmers market in the park but the main attraction was the monastery (I suppose we would call it a convent as it was home to nuns rather than monks, but I think the term Mosteiro is used interchangeably) with it’s sacred art museum. We popped into the tourist office and spoke to a lovely lady who gave us lots of information about walking in the area and warned us off a couple of the paths where signposting had been damaged by forest fires. She sold us tickets for the walkways (you can also buy them online or at the start of the walk)  – at €1 each it seemed to be good value. 

We had intended to stay the night in Arouca but she suggested we could drive up to the parking for the Paiva walkways and stay there if we wanted to. She advised that with an autocaravana we should park at the Areinho end where there was a large unpaved parking area where it looked like someone had sheered off the top of a hill. There is also some parking down the track that leads to the official start of the walk but it was a narrow road and we couldn’t see how much parking there was so gave it a miss – when we walked down the next day we realised that we could have parked there easily but the track down had no passing places so not an option for a busy day.

Off we toddled, mild sat nav frustration this time as the sat nav didn’t want to allow us to leave Arouca by the main route, there is a 3.5 tonne limit on some roads which was the cause of confusion to the poor thing. We ignored it’s instructions for long enough to get out of town and then found our way easily to the car park where a couple of campervans were already in situ. We watched people returning to their cars at the end of the day, many returning in taxis from the other end of the walk.

Looking down on the Areinho road bridge across the Paiva river.

The next morning it was 5ºC in the van. Much warmer in the snug of our bedroom, but the coldest morning we had experienced so far and only our bladders provided motivation to get out of bed. We slowly warmed up as we prepared a lunch and flasks for our walk. From the car park it was a steady downhill to the official start of the walkway before heading across the main road and straight away tackling the hardest part of the walk – a series of staircases leading up to the top of the gorge. We wondered how people didn’t just avoid purchasing tickets as there are no barriers to stop anyone from accessing the paths, but at the top of the walkway they had cunningly placed the first ticket inspection point. There was another inspection point at the far end of the walk and also a park warden wandering about at the mid-point so you weren’t going to get away with it.  

The stairs wind up the side of the gorge giving plenty of opportunities for photos (and catching your breath)

The sun was shining and the initial climb up all those steps was very warm, but straight away we were going down an equal number of steps into the gorge and there the low November sun was often obscured by the cliffs, providing welcome shade with a bit too much contrast for good photos. We wound our way along the paths through a landscape that switched many times between dry rocky slopes and shaded forest that looked very British with autumn colours, ferns and mosses. Birds and butterflies flitted over the water, we saw plenty of yellow wagtails and a dipper playing in the water, easy to spot with it’s distinctive wide white bib. At one point we saw a European mantis sitting on a step, as cool – and as green – as a cucumber.

European Mantis watching us from the walkway

The Paiva gorge is well known for it’s white water but this year has been so dry that the river’s flow was placid and the rocks that would normally create the rapids were exposed and dry. Boards along the walk pointed out geological features which were easy to see with the river so low. 

Roughly half way the walkways are crossed by a couple of other trails, here there is a suspension bridge; an opportunity to look down on the river from a bouncing and swaying vantage point (not a compulsory part of the walkway). There were also toilets half way, a welcome opportunity as leaving the path for a wee was going to be a bit tricky. 

Suspension bridge, enjoyably springy

Along the way Paul enjoyed pointing out the way that the walkways had been constructed, the clever bolts that were used to anchor the timbers to the rock and the bits of joinery that had been well put together to cope with odd angles. Not just any old garden decking!

We got to the Espiunca end, 8km later, in just over two hours, taxis were waiting for the weary but we turned around and made our way back, taking a bit more time to stop and look around. Despite it being a Monday in November there were a good number of other people on the walkways, I can imagine that in the height of summer it could get quite frustrating and feel like a conveyor belt (I assume they limit the numbers through the ticketing system), but also you could take time to stop by the river and have a paddle or a swim; the November water was far too cold for us. In all it took us 5 hours with plenty of rest stops and photo opportunities. The trudge back up the dusty tracks to the carpark was probably the hardest part of the day.  

We could see why the walk had won tourism awards, it was well maintained with information boards, toilets and cafes but most importantly it was in a beautiful and interesting location. If you’re a decking fan then that would be the icing on the cake!

 

Port, Porto, Portugal!

 

17/11/17 – 18/11/17

On the morning of the 17th we woke up in the aire at Esposende, looked around and decided that we would move on. Sometimes we just don’t feel enthused by somewhere and, possibly because the aire was at the back of the town behind the bus station, or possibly because we’d just got back from somewhere we’d found really inspiring, Esposende just wasn’t doing it for us. How ungrateful do we feel given that the community have provided free facilities for us motorhomers!

After assuaging our guilt by doing some local food shopping we moved on to our next stop – Porto, or actually a campsite outside of Porto in Canidelo. We had decided against staying at one of the motorhome parking areas in Porto due to reports of thievery, although it’s often difficult to determine what is scaremongering. Anyway the campsite gave us an opportunity to do some washing although it’s showers were lukewarm at best which was a disappointment.    

As I’ve said before, we’re not the biggest fans of cities and in Portugal we had decided that, of the two biggest cities, we would visit Porto rather than Lisbon because I’d been to Lisbon before (and loved it by the way – definitely worth visiting). Porto also gave us the opportunity to drink an alcoholic beverage we agree on – Port. Usually we have opposed tastes in drinks, Paul likes cider – I think it tastes of bile (I’m sure you can imagine the teenage activities that led to this view) – I like wine, Paul thinks it tastes of vinegar. I drink beer, Paul doesn’t. I drink gin, Paul drinks vodka. Anyway, we both agree on port, although we don’t usually drink it except at Christmas.

We booked ourselves into Calem – one of the many port wine cellars in Porto – to do a tasting. It was €10 to taste two ports and €15 to taste 3 different ports, so we paid €25 to taste 5 between us. We visited their small museum, which was quite interesting especially the bit where you get to try to identify different component scents of port and wine, then we were taken through a short tour of the wine cellars with some background info about the port making process before the tasting. Unfortunately they did mess up in their organisation a little, so it took some effort to actually get to taste the ports we had paid for. I think some people who hadn’t paid for the three port option just plonked themselves down in front of them and started drinking! But as our guide just disappeared and left us to it when we got to the tasting we had to hunt someone down and explain. Despite this the glasses of port were generous and slipped down our throats with sweet viscosity, leaving me feeling a little squiffy.

We had booked our port tasting for mid afternoon, knowing that we might not feel like doing much afterwards. So our morning had been taken up with our bus journey into Porto and wandering around the streets looking at various historic buildings. Paul doesn’t like aimless wandering so I always try to be prepared with a few things to aim for. The streets of Porto had a lived in and slightly down at heel feeling, with high end shops selling designer goods cheek by jowl with shops selling cheap clothes and groceries, alongside empty buildings. It must reflect the economics of property ownership in the capital, apparently the more wealthy citizens of Porto have moved out into the suburbs leaving the property market in the centre of the city depressed and many property owners without the incentive to renovate or restore.

The whole of the city centre is a UNESCO world heritage site and the reason for this was particularly obvious in the wide squares flanked by historic monuments and when walking along the Ribeira – the waterfront on the Douro river with it’s attractive buildings housing (mostly) cafes and restaurants. We had our lunch at a restaurant on Ribeira’s quay side, sitting in the sun, soaking up the atmosphere and watching street musicians arguing over their turf and the throngs of tourists passing by. 

After lunch, full of food and unwilling to walk up the steps, we caught the funicular to the top of the Ponte Dom Luis I, a bridge designed by Eiffel which has a pedestrian crossing on lower and higher levels. The lower bridge is shared with cars and buses, the higher bridge shared with trams. From the top of the bridge we could see the city of Porto arrayed along the steep northern bank of the river. On the south bank we could see the logos of many well known port brands, Cockburns, Sandemans and Taylors amongst others. The south bank is the town (now a suburb of Porto) of Vila Nova de Gaia and after our port tasting we walked several miles along this bank of the river back to our campsite at Canidelo where the Douro meets the sea. On the way we wondered at the number of buildings which were decrepit and abandoned in what seemed like prime riverside locations, one with goats roaming in and out of the empty doorways.

We got back to our campsite ready for a good night’s sleep before we moved on again.