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As soon as we awoke this morning I jumped in She's rucksack, snuggled up for the day. I could hear them two cussing as they paddled on muddy paths and roads with lorries soaking them through. 12 miserable kilometres crawled like bedraggled rats into a pension, all I can say is it is dry, everything including me is sopping wet. Three pathetic ...
A brisk walk took us to the high point of Vigo. The Castro complex at the top of the hill overlooking the Ria de Vigo.
The views are great and you can imagine the great sea battles of yesteryear with canon balls being shot at the galleons below.
There is also the remains of where ...
... Jimmy suddenly got energetic, either the Mexican compliments or overdose of ibuprofen and set off at an alarming pace. Me and She meandered along, playing with the Salamanders and picking conkers, the usual madness. With every intention of having a short walk we found nothing open until Padron, where we booked in a 3:30 foot sore and weary not to mention sopping ...
On the way to the bus station, the heavens opened and Galician rain fell. When it rains in Galicia, it really rains! I was wearing a rain jacket but my legs were soon saturated.
At the bus station, there was a little shop selling trousers and jeans for €5 and so I quickly tried on a pair and bought them as a spare in case I get caught out for a third time in Vigo.
... players. (I heard we lost today. Too bad). The view across the estuary is mind blowing. At the top, I do a little jig - very very proud of myself. The rest of the road is peanuts in comparison - the downhill is quite wet and slippery, but again beautiful. Ancient stone walls covered in thick moss, trees invaded with ivy and ferns, stream trickling faster than I can walk, little bridges. And birds excuberantly thankful for the rain. The forest is washed clean, the green ...