Day 72. Sunday 18 May.

Another slow day planned. After 10 weeks we are finding that changing beds regularly – mattresses, pillows, coverings – means that sleep is somewhat compromised. We’ve had soft beds, hard beds, small pillows, too few pillows, big pillows, heavy blankets, doonas, creaky beds, high beds, low beds…..aching backs, hips, legs…..

The local cows wear bells and the sound is gently melodic. There are no permanent fences: string or tape between sticks seems enough to mark their grazing patches. A brief special moment as two gents herded some cattle past our little place with the tinkling of cow bells. We were getting ready to leave and were  too slow to get a pic (not least because we’d both left our mobiles locked inside) but in departing 10 minutes later in the car we came into a bit of chaos. One cow and calf had sidetracked into a paddock on our left and were being redirected by the herder carrying a stick; two others had left the group and were racing down the road straight at us in a panic, stopping just in front of the car and, maybe after hearing the shouts of the herder, then turning back. The herder waved at us to go away, as though it was our fault! Or was he shouting at the cows? Did they listen? We did. We reversed, not wanting to have to explain to Peugeot about how cows had hit us.

A walk on a ‘wild beach’ Playa de Vega, had been recommended by Monica and was only about 5 km away by road. Parked near a fancy-looking restaurant which was open but strangely empty on a sunny Sunday and walked down to the beach.

As we stepped from the smooth rocks onto the sand T slid off a smooth one and took a tumble, her left hip landing heavily on an underlying rock. Nothing broken, but shaken and a big bruise probably on the way. 

Walked along in one direction, then on the turn around came to a stream flowing into the sea, so opted to head inland to cross over a bridge. Needless to say we were ultra-cautious in getting back over the rocks!

No great views on the beach, putting aside the lady of a certain age passing us completely au natural, swinging in the breeze. There were a few blokes in that state later, but far enough away that our sensibilities weren’t offended. And it was cool, so quite likely that it would have been a small issue. A few hardy folk in wetsuits enjoyed the small waves on bodyboards (about our wave size too).

Returning to the foreshore track we said ‘ola’ to a couple walking towards us with packs and T asked if there were on the Camino: they were. We chatted for a while until they had to get moving to finish the 20 km target today, having had a late start to visit a cueva. They have been doing a 2500 km Camino for five years, in stages, this being the last. They can do up to 40 km per day, or adjust it to suit conditions, weariness, other activities etc – like today. They don’t book ahead: go to booking.com each morning to find somewhere for that night. They weren’t young – probably in their 60s (suppose that is young, relatively!) We have seen lots of Camino walkers, of all ages, at various times and as we talked a young man strode past with a very big pack: the walkers we were chatting with had quite modest ones. To farewell us, another cow contentedly chewed her cud, with her bell gently ringing. And the fancy restaurant was still almost empty.

We dropped in to Ribadestrella hoping for some fish for dinner: no luck, but resupplied some other needs. As we were about to depart T noticed a young woman, with a big pack and a baguette,  sitting on a bench on the esplanade, shoes off resting her feet ; both were bandaged around the heels and toes. Ouch! T struck up a conversation and offered sympathy but she insisted things were improving; she’d had a few rest days and tonight’s bed was only 5 km away – she is Finnish, on the Camino by herself.

Dinner. Cork screw Pasta, with aubergine, zucchini, red capsicum, red onion, garlic, mussel sauce, and herbs & spices.

And as we head to bed, a thunderstorm is brewing and heading our way. Cow bells replaced by thunder claps!