Pantin Beach

This morning, the lighthouse was playing hide and seek with the sea mist. John spent some time talking to 'Patricia of the pants', and it transpired, the small world that it is, that she used to teach at a school in Thame, a town just ten minutes away from where we live. Small world. 

Our main job today was to find a ferretaria, no not a ferret shop, but a hardware store, as we were a little worried about our camping gas situation. So after some research on the internet, we drove to nearby Ortigueira, where there were two such shops. After some searching and enquiring we found them, and result, we are now fully replenished with a spare cylinder, and it was cheaper than we pay in France. Win, win.

Afterwards, we found a nice spot by the harbour to have our lunch, and thought we may stay there overnight.

But after a walk around the town, which was a little run down, we decided against it. But before we left, John spotted that the disabled toilet behind us had a wet room, which had just be cleaned. Since we have been in Spain, we have been impressed at just how clean the facilities are kept.

So, as it was our shower day, we indulged ourselves. The trouble is, we will want more of the same on Friday, fingers crossed. 

Having become used to nights spent by the sea, we headed a few miles west to Pantin Beach, where we are now parked above the beach. Our view, a wide expanse of cream sand, with the green, blue Sea nibbling at its edges. We are once again in surf land. Their is a nice mix of people here. Young surfers, alongside us older, adventurous people.

There is a Welsh man and his two sons in front of us, in a very interesting Mercedes van, caravan conversion. The man, John, asked us if we'd like to join him surfing at eight thirty in the morning. We made our excuses, but thanked him.  Also here, are a Dutch couple that we got talking to two days ago at Foz.

This evening, we walked down to the waters edge, there were still a few surfers in the water, making the most of the last of the day light. The wind was strong, but not cold, but walking on the soft sand was hard going, a work out in itself. Now, darkness has fallen, and the beach and sea area is a dark abyss.

The lights from the nearby village punctuate the hillside, and look very pretty. As the wind rocks Marge, we can hear the waves breaking on the shore. After so many perfect night stops, the pressure is on to find another one tomorrow.