The following day I walked in the opposite direction up a hill and along some country lanes. If you replace the eucalypts in the dandenongs with birch and oak then it would be quite similar. I'm not a horticulturalist or agriculturalist or any sort of culturalist for that matter, I do know beetroot when I see it however and that was beetroot growing through the cracks in the sidewalk. There was a little isolated spot that people used to offload their crap instead of disposing of it properly, people do shit in their own backyard here also.
After a very long and tiring walk it was good to get back for some lunch. There was a small matter of booking a bus ticket and getting some food on the way. It is actually very relieving to talk to someone with no English skills whatsoever because it puts the onus on me to speak Spanish. Finding the bus stop was easy and after a brief conversation with a local and the application of the very useful “habla mas lento pro favor” I found the ticket office just around the corner. A brief stop at the most magnificent delicatessen for some rice, mushrooms and bread and a cheap bottle of red it was back to the hostel. On the way back there was a hardware shop with a cork screw that fits onto a drill, when I get home I'm going to get one of them, I could fit it to my air drill and keep my compressor in the kitchen.
A new pair of poms had arrived in my absence; Kiera from Devon and Mim from Nottingham. It was disappointing that kiera wasn't chewing on a piece of straw and wearing an old straw hat, I though everyone in Devon did that. They were wwoofing which stands for World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. According to http://www.wwoof.org/
“In return for volunteer help, WWOOF hosts offer food, accommodation and opportunities to learn about organic lifestyles”
Cheap farm labour by the sounds of it, in the USA they call them Mexicans.
Kiera had an issue with her rear bike brake so after lunch I went out to take a look, my conclusion was it needed a new cable so Kiera had to take it to the bike shop. I then set out on another walk in the opposite direction from the morning stroll. I did notice what looked like a light house on top of a hill on the peninsula to the west of the old town. The walk was very steep past the rich houses along a road that did not really cater for pedestrians. At the top was a fairground of sorts, the cloud was very low and the park was not operating. They still charged me 1 euro 80 to get in, why I'm not sure, I suppose if it keeps the gate keeper in employment then I don't mind paying.
Walking around a deserted amusement park in low lying cloud is a very eerie thing to do. I half expected a clown to come out chasing me with a chainsaw whilst laughing uncontrollably, the fact that it was a bit of a disappointment when one didn't made me question my sanity somewhat. There were some ruins at the bottom of the cliff that looked like they had a track leading down to them. I walked along the road in the general direction of the ruins and found there was another entry gate at the other end of the park. After another difficult conversation with the other gatekeeper who assured me that San Sebastian was down that road I felt safe to take that course of action. If she was wrong of course I would have had to pay another 1.80 to backtrack.
About 1 km down the road I found the track to the ruins, it was a goat track at best and made me wish I had proper hiking boots if only for the grip. It took only 10 minutes of walking to the site, it would have been only 5 if the goat track had some grip; it appeared to be a landing harbour for row boats but I could not find anything on google, and if google doesn't know then who does? Walking back up the goat track was just as treacherous but in the end I managed both directions without mishap.
Kiera got her bike fixed and it was the brake cable, I love being right. Some cheese and cheap red wine and back to the pub to watch Real Madrid v Lyon. I had a 7.40 bus trip to Vallodolid the next morning so it was a very easy night.
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