Walking the Lighthouse Way Day 2

 

The next day we were up and out earlyish, and taken in a taxi by a new taxi driver back to Ninons beach. It was a sunny day but the shadows were still cool. Our first port of call was back to look for the clouded yellows that we'd missed the day before, but their place was still in shadow, and it was far too early, so we set off on our day's adventure.

Before arriving at the lighthouse the day before, there had been a long uphill section, and although I'd put caution and surviving front and centre for most of the first day, on that uphill section we caught up to other walkers. Something snapped into place on the way up, it's just where I'm strongest, and we passed a fair flock of folk. Having done so, it would have been embarrassing to slacken off and allow ourselves to get caught, so without really quite realising it, I'd been doing a spot of racing. At the time it had seemed fine, and invigorating to feel like a contender, rather than an old crock. (My new normal)  On this second day, however, it became clear to me that I'd made an effort the day before. I had stiff hips and my legs were tired and I could feel that I'd been working. It was a much shorter day but I was feeling it by the end of the day. The photos bring back some of the places we went to but I'd be lying if I pretended I had a coherent narrative of where we were. I think that after Ninons beach we went unexpectedly into a lovely woods where we heard but could not see a wood-pecker - and I was a bit disappointed when the route took us out of the woods and back onto the coast. There were cliff-top walks. Eventually we came to another lighthouse, after which there was two or three flattish miles on the road into the next town. 

Meanwhile my feet were complaining. Let's have some photos.

and some more

and some more

and some more

Peter was insistent that I put his hand in for scale but the thing is, he's got big hands. That was a mahoosive old slug there.

I don't think we asked the lighthouse anything that day.

After the lighthouse it's a few miles on the road. Unless a Swallowtail swishes past in which case you dive into neck deep ferns and stumble around.

Peter kept telling me vague stories about what he and Nick did. Or what he thought they might have done. I asked him how far to our next "home base" and he really had no idea, or where it was. He said "it might be that" pointing at some town about 10 miles away in the distance. There was no way in hell it was that.  Then some yellow butterflies came by and he went into a trance. I was standing at a fork in the road saying "left or right?" and there was no answer. It wasn't that I didn't want to use my E-trex but every time I got it out Peter seemed to think I was casting aspersions on his Suunto route and would go in the huff. I fired it up now, anyway, and it told me what Peter could not, his interface having frozen. Go right. 

My feet were damn sore, and the next day was billed to be a long one. We hadn't eaten for hours and didn't have any food with us and the supermercado was closed so although, when we finally got there,  the apartment was spacious, even having a kitchen; we didn't have anything to cook. I had some lovely tap water and then I tried to have a bath but the hot water went off.

Eventually we went out to the same cafe Peter and Nick had gone to and had a mad feeding frenzy which I think must have been needed. And beer. Beer was needed.