Foz

At nine o' clock yesterday evening, it was still not quite dark. The bars around the harbour still busy with couples of all ages. There was a lot of kissing going on, perhaps Sunday night in Spain, is 'on a promise night', or it may well have been, singles night in Puerto de Vega, looking at some of the 'odd' couples. In the street, a few older women were chatting, catching the last gossip of the day.

Today we travelled for about an hour, stopping at a supermarket, in fact two supermarkets, next to each other, (suddenly they appear like buses), Our main purchase, courgettes, which we hadn't manage to buy the other day. Frustrating really, knowing that in our garden back home, they were probably a plenty.

Whilst in the shop, we marvelled at the huge display of hams, a common site here.

Our stop for tonight is the aire at Foz, right on the edge of the water. We stayed here last year.

Not long after we arrived, a huge British registered R.V. (recreational vehicle) arrived. It seemed really over the top, and looked ridiculous, but we could appreciate that if you were intending to spend the winter months in Portugal or the south of Spain, it would certainly be home from home.

After lunch, John set up his fishing rod, and in no time caught one of the large grey mullet of around 2. 5 Kg swimming in the shallow water. We didn't eat it though, as they have a tendency to feed around sewage outlet pipes.

Foz has a very large beach, with bright, white sand, which despite there being only a few people on the beach, was peppered with the footprints of the weekend visitors. Angela took a walk out right to the other side of the bay, and around the headland, where the sands ended and the rugged, rocky coastline began.

Back at Marge, we talked with Wendy and Mark, an English couple now living in North Wales, and then cooked up a very nice pork stir fry.

Pork is very cheap here, and the pack we bought a few days ago will easily last us three meals. Just before we headed out for our evening walk, a man came along dropping leaflets under the windscreen wipers of the vans, advertising a nearby campsite. He stopped to speak to Angela, reeling of the facilities available, mentioning three times about the showers. Bit of a cheek, we couldn't have looked that unkempt, we'd just showered in Marge.

As we walked out into the fading evening light, a large fishing boat sailed out of the harbour. It had six crew members on board, so let's hope they haul in a large catch tonight, to be able to pay the wage bill.

A very early version of our own van arrived in the late afternoon.

Puerto de Vega

Today we opted for a more leisurely day, travelling a few miles to the coastal town of Luarca, where we parked in the seafront car park. Shortly after negotiating the van in to a space, the Policia Local appeared, pulling their car in next to Marge. Yes, Marge, they were nice looking young men, but their message was, "you can't park your van here, it is to long". Being nice helpful officers, they directed us to some alternative parking on the edge of the town, where we set off on foot, armed with a camembert cheese, tomatoes, and grapes. All we needed was bread, which we found nearby at a small supermarket. After a short Spanish lesson in how to pronounce the particular loaf we required we bid a cheery "addios".

We walked to the harbour, where we sat to eat our vittles.

As usual, the local seagulls joined us, one in particular was particularly attention seeking, screeching, until the tiniest morsel was given to it. Meanwhile down below, on one of the pontoons, another gull was tucking in to a tasty fish head, nice!

For three hours we walked around the harbour, sea wall and town. In the Medieval times, Luarca was a whaling port, and then benefited from trading with the Americans. Now it is an important fishing port for tuna.

Even though we were weary, we decided to move a few miles along the coast to Puerto de Vega, where we have a nice spot for the night by the sea wall. We have Dutch people to one side of us, and French to the other. After a quick caffeine boost to revitalise us, we took yet another walk around yet another town and harbour.

We stopped to watch the fishermen, their rods straining as the fish bit, in some cases, to be released back into their salty haven as they were reeled in. In the harbour the grey mullet lumbered through the dark green water, scavenging for any small morsel, a film of oil from the boats, floating above them. The bars were busy, lively with conversation and laughter.

Amongst them, stood a statue of the fisherman's wife, displaying a large bosom us ladies would be proud of!

We are enjoying visiting the towns along the north coast of Spain. We think a lot of people do not realise what a beautiful area it is. The Asturias region, where we are now, reminds us of Devon.

Tomorrow, we will move just a little further on. We have come to appreciate, the luxury of our age, is not the possessions we gather, but time, time to take a step back from the humdrum of daily life, and realise there is a big wide world out there waiting for you.

San Juan de la Arena

As darkness fell yesterday evening, we walked to the port.

On the way back stopping on the way back to photograph a bronze statue of a fish wife, with her basket of fish.

Across the bay, the lights in the apartments were a checker board of light.

We left early this morning, the beach quiet, too early for the nubile young women from the previous day to display their wares. Nothing wrong with that, our Marge would have said. If you've got it flaunt it!

We planned to stop off at Ribadesella to visit the caves, which both our guide books advertised as free entry. But upon arriving there, this turned out not to be, so we continued onwards towards Gijon, hoping to find a supermarket. We don't know why, but here in Spain, they seem very few and far between. As we motored along the ring road, we saw a Lidl sign, illuminated like a beacon, calling to us. But we were heading away from it, so we stopped abruptly on a garage forecourt and hastily asked Google for directions back to it. Fresh fruit and vegetables now replenished, along with a few bottles of red wine, at a special offer price of eighty five cents, (and it 'aint half bad), we continued on our way to the lighthouse at Cabo Penas.

John worked here forty years ago, and was keen to return to the area. The afternoon temperature was around 30c, as we walked along the path by the lighthouse above the threatening rocks and swirling sea below.

The path took us through a carpet of heather, most of it having gone over, but we did come across one clump that displayed its purple flowers, of which a few small insects were savouring.

The last few miles of today's journey took us up hill and around some hairy, hair pin bends, but Marge was undeterred after her trip to Italy, and sailed around them confidentially. Not so much the case as we approached tonight's stop, the sat nav decided to take us down a short cut to the beach. Oh dear! We'd like to say sorry to the Spanish man who had to back up a hundred metres so we could come through.

This evening, After darkness fell, we walked up to the town. At nine thirty, families were just sitting down to eat, the children looking a little bleary eyed. Today has been a strange day, the 'must find a supermarket', dominating it. Hopefully tomorrow, we be more relaxing and enjoyable.

Comillas

Last night, a band of orange across the sky signalled the sun was setting.

We walked to the end of the road to the tourist bus terminal, passing one of the hostels for the walkers of the Camino de Santiago.

Outside the hostel there was a vending machine, unlike any found in England. How do you fancy chorizo sausage, Iberico ham, anchovies and cheese? Don't worry sweet lovers, the token bags of Haribo's were available as well.

This morning we discovered Marge was still leaking in her bathroom, so the sink was removed again. Unfortunately, the problem will probably have to wait until we return to England to be rectified, so in the mean time we have a towel in place to deal with the leakage.

Today we have moved just a few miles along the coast to the seaside resort of Comillas. It has two wonderful, sandy beaches, and an old town with rough cobbled streets and arcaded mansions. Many years ago the town was a favourite holiday destination for the aristocracy from Madrid and Barcelona. Despite the heat, we walked out this afternoon up the hill to the Pope's University, which has not been used since 1964, and is now maintained and opened to the public by the people of Comillas.

Above Palace Sobrellano

Above Gaudi's El Capricho

Then a walk back down the hill to the Gothic Palace Sobrellano, and Gaudi's El Capricho. We had enjoyed looking around, and we thought the contrast of the sun drenched beaches and architecture of the town, was a gorgeous mix. Hot and tired, we returned to Marge, who'd we left parked by the beach, our home for the night along with many other vans.

Later, after our evening meal, we will take a short walk out around the corner to the port, where the rusting hulls of the fishing boats, wait for their call to sea. Meanwhile a well deserved glass of wine whilst typing the blog, the view, across the bay, the sun glittering on the blue of the sea. What's not to like?

Tonight we will fall asleep listening to the rolling waves as they fall on to the shoreline, and we are sure, they will also be our early alarm call in the morning.

Santillana Del Mar

Just after nine last night, we could smell the mouthwatering aromas of cooking, wafting across from the nearby homes. Then a short walk out into the warm air, meeting just an elderly couple, with whom we exchanged a buenas noches.

This morning a pretty vista greeted us. The early sun, lit the fir tree clad mountains, the sky above, a washed blue. The caramel sand waited patiently for the sun to creep across it. Our journey today took us past Bilbao, the traffic heavy near the port. There were lots of English vehicles around, so we presumed the car ferry from England had not long arrived.

After lunch, we stopped at a beautiful cove at Galizano. It was both quiet and idyllic, with only a smattering of sunbathers. The rocks to the sides, rose above, eucalyptus trees perched precariously of them, towering up through the giant pampas grasses that sat with them. We stayed for an hour, walking out onto the rocks, and then laying on the warm fine sand, allowing it to mould around our bodies.

Tonight we are staying at Santillana Del Mar, which is on the Santiago walking route. The aire is at the top of the town, with views across the surrounding countryside.

We stayed here last year, so we know how interesting the nearby town is. We will take a walk down into it in the morning, for a quick look around before we leave. We will probably travel only a few miles further on tomorrow.