Not another one?

Thursday 23rd May

Not only are there Fozzes in Portugal there are also Fozzes in Spain too! Today we have found the small coastal town of Foz that sits just inside the Galician border with Asturia. We cycled into the town from the campsite which was a couple of kilometres or so to the west, along a great cycle path. Spain, like France, seems to have invested heavily in creating good tracks for cyclists and walkers. This was well paved, if a little rough for a dog carriage, and well signposted. The track followed yet another beautiful coastline of little beaches and rocky outcrops and down into the town.

How pretty is that little beach?

The town, apart from its name, was nothing special and amazingly quiet. We have been surprised at how quiet everywhere has been. Even in Spain it seems that high season is only July and August and touristy places only really come alive for those frenetic two months of the year. 

We cycled out to the end of the breakwater to get a different perspective on the town and then found a place where we could heck it out from the bottom of a glass, but no, it was still quiet and ‘ordinary’.

As we left the bar the wind had got up and it was now whipping up white horses on the sea and blowing very hard in our faces. It was a testing uphill ride back as the chariots are not the most streamlined of trailers. As I have said before, Alf doesn’t like this method of travelling, he doesn’t relax and stands up the whole time he is in it. Rio, on the other hand, loves it and lies down immediately and has to be coaxed out. Alf standing up makes the chariot very top heavy and just as we were turning broadside on to the wind, we were hit by a particularly vicious gust that blew the trailer over! Fortunately, there was no harm done, Alf was no more shaken than normal and there was only a small scuff to the material on the top corner.

Later that evening I went on a ride to try and find the remains of a Celtic settlement that was supposed to be nearby, I couldn’t find it, but I did spot my first apple trees growing in an orchard. This was a sign that we were getting close to the famous cider making area of Asturias.

Just a church, a house and an orchard!

After supper we retired to the very pleasant campsite bar for the free Wi-Fi and a game of cribbage, where I am pleased to say I made up for my disappointing first attempt at bridge a couple of nights ago.

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