Bolueta

I had a spew. Feel better now so might try finishing this unlogged blog. It tasted like chocolate, which was a change from Parmesan or off milk. Jimmy was impressed when I blew bits of carrot out my nose afterwards. I was impressed I didn’t get run over as I hurriedly crossed to the bushy side of the road and hurled round one ahead of me into some innocent shrubbery. Charlie, who routinely cruises in second position behind me, and who is used to my frequent calls of “stopping”, was impressed that I altered the call correctly and then missed my shoes.
We’re cruising west along the Atlantic coast now. Lou is swimming at every opportunity- an activity most locals seem to have given up on this time of year. The beaches are actually pretty nice.
The Basques love putting lots of x’s and z’s in their words, so though we’re passed through half a dozen beautiful seaside towns we can barely name them. Our bums and legs are getting pretty used to spending all day on a bike now , so we often pass through places with barely a pause. Not to say we don’t still stop a hundred times each day for food or a photo or to fix something or change clothes or grab a coffee etc etc . Or spew. Accomodation has been a pleasant blend of top class sneaky camps and seaside hotels. The one we’re in now, a late call that trumped the beachside DIY camp with my top and bottom frailties, has a kind of underwater theme going on, and a bike storage room so well decorated that it puts most people’s dining halls to shame. All for $200, breakfast for 4 incluido.
Last night we camped high on a grassy hill in front of some ruins, about a stone’s throw off the Camino, with a panorama over the Atlantic below us. The boys cooked up the pasta for us in the fading light, which never really finished fading because of the glow coming back to us from nearby Bilbao.Read more