Wind. The day started with wind. Lots of it. So much
that the surf was being held back before crashing on the shore with a much louder
thump than usual. The top of the waves was being blown back offshore and sand
was being taken from the beach and thrown offshore, too. In fact we saw a
waterspout arise from the surface not far off the shore and as quickly as it rose
it disappeared in front of our eyes. Very spectacular. There were even locals stopping
to look at the tallest palms as they were bent over further than looked secure.
They waved about a lot but they’re still there. It was very windy and cool.
Only 10C so I was double shirted, coated and woolly hatted for the initial brisker
than normal walk to town. We’d have been quicker but for the escalator service engineer
in the park. I took his photo but he was too busy to smile.
A trip by electric, then by diesel and finally by diesel
electric sees us about 12k north. Another place we’ve never been to. Getting
out of the station the first thing we saw was a mobility scooter but it was
driven responsibly. It was driven to a parking slot where a pair of fairly
recent, but not new, Jags were parked. Down the road and a shop was using
wicker baskets as lampshades. Further down the road the “beach” was stones. We
both said “Budleigh” simultaneously!
This place is a bit Budleighesque in other ways, too.
The shops are a bit upmarket but not so upmarket that they have upmarket labels
and prices. Many rather more tasteful shops than we’ve seen thus far. Lots of
fashion shops and art galleries selling “art”, some better than others but none
really hitting the spot, as it were. The fashion stuff was pretty in a plain
way made to look exclusive by subtle lighting, perhaps they just have similar
problems to us, but uncrowded shop fronts and less well lit interiors staffed
by the obligatory laptop user sat behind a desk just out of the line of sight
when passing in the street gave it a relaxed ambience.
The seafront reminded us of it, too. A few more
strollers than here but impeccably attired and accessorised, lots of Germans,
Dutch and English. Not an uncovered vest in sight, very few shorts and if there
were any tattoos they weren’t on display. A pretty unremarkable foreshore for
which the inhabitants ought to be grateful otherwise they’d probably be
wallowing in the shadows of high rise hotels, too. Fortunately they haven’t yet
managed to ruin their town which is topped by a very beautiful twin domed
iglesia in Plaza d’iglesia, naturally. You can see it from most places but
getting to it is an experience that I’d go for again. Steps, hundreds of them,
wind, zigzag, turn and twist their way from where we were to where we wanted to
get. Looking down in places it’s like an Escher drawing for real.
As far as “Old Towns” I have known this was, by far, the
most interesting on many levels! Very understated, nothing out of place, not
that there was room to put things out of place in but names were on ceramics
that were in keeping, a “blue plaque” wasn’t, instead it was a painting
explaining who, what and when. Every time you look around there’s vistas
between the houses which are either sea, sky or mountain.
It’s clean, too. Everywhere else that we’ve been has visited
by so called graffiti artists. Artists do their own inspired work but it seems
to me that every graffiti artist apart from Banksy merely copies the style of
every other one. The concrete in London and every other place is disfigured in
exactly the same manner as it is here only here most of it despoils white
painted walls. It’s such a shame, I guess that all it shows is that there is
nothing new under the sun and that violence to walls is just that; only here
they have an excuse for poor English spelling.
The Old Town maze was pretty clear of dog dirt as well
which made a pleasant change and after an hour or so I had begun to pay less
attention to where I put my feet than I have done for a while. What a beautiful
place to wander around. Simply stunning on a windy day but by the time we’d got
to the top the clouds had long gone and it was warm. From the vantage point that the height
provided the grotesque fangs of Voldemort were clearly visible to the south, to
the north a rock like that of Gibraltar, or so I’m told but to the east lay a
harbour that had to be, briefly, explored. Unlike the one here that’s a working
harbour with a marina you feel this was a marina that allowed a working harbour
some space.
A trimaran tender for the offshore fish farm, smaller
than the one off here by quite a bit, was just unloading amid acres of bags of fish
food and further along the quay were boats moored fast. Closer inspection
showed that many had smaller, 20’ or so, tenders heaved up slips on their
transoms, each festooned with lights. Arc lights, tungsten lights with huge
bulbs in multiple arrays, hiabs and haulers everywhere. Masses of gear,
mountains of it. The decks of the parent boats were stuffed with fine mesh nets
under old tarpaulins down their port sides and hundreds of wooden boxes made of
thin timber laths stapled together to starboard. Seiners and the lights would
indicate that they work at night. I’m so clever, sometimes!
It’s not wise to loiter about fishing boats so a return
to town was in order. We stopped at a Dutchman’s cafe/bar because he had a lovely
painting of a SmitLLoyd salvage tug in heavy weather on the wall which made him
alright by me. Unfortunately he served me the smallest of small glasses with
more much foam than fizz so I didn’t feel as well disposed toward him when I
left as when I arrived. It’ll be no hardship to never go there again and he’ll
not miss my custom, I’m sure. But, if you’re passing he’s by the marina and called (edit: no names on blogs, I should have known better.oooops) and flies a Dutch flag outside. He's got a set of Beken of Cowes J-class yacht prints outside his privado, too. His toasted sandwiches were
pretty poor though!
Three modes of transport again, about 20 minutes on each
to get back by which time the afternoon was spent and so was I. It was a relief
to sit and sip on the balcony. The wind’s still blowing a hooly but without the
strength it had earlier and I think the temperature has plummeted from the 16
we saw earlier. Nearer 12 now and that means 10 or less later. Thankfully, it’s
dry but I’d like a calm day tomorrow, please.
Photo 19. A highly superior Old Town, stepped in
history.
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