What is it about boats in a harbour that is so appealing?
After yesterday's hellish nine hour walk in the pouring rain and whipping wind, today's at only 17 miles on a grey but rainless (though it did threaten) day was a trifle. It did have challenges of a different sort. Right at the beginning, it was not clear wether to walk on top of a huge pile of stones along the beach or through a field alongside. First I tried some of one and then the other. Neither seemed right. Finally I opted for the stones and felt quite proud of myself when I saw that there was no exit from the abandoned field. Pride doth cometh before the fall because I could not figure out where to escape the miserable stones. The path was weaving around elsewhere, and I had to meet it. I came to a swiftly flowing river. I swear it was a river and it could not be crossed. Espying a bridge, I climbed some cliffs—don't ask how—then trespassed (not the first time) climbing over a metal gate, one of those huge ones, and finally scaled a wall (not very high, but a little hard on the tuchas), and, voila! I met the path. Now, I may be conflating a few misadventures here, but every action narrated was, in fact, executed.
Have I mentioned that except for when it rains my hair is looking quite miserable? But because the greater orb to light the day is so rarely manifesting its presence, HAT, the great disguiser, is not needed. Oh, and I am not exactly tearing though the sunscreen. But in just a couple of days it will be August, and doubtless the entire weather system will change.
Great sight of the day was this waterfall:
At the base of which was a frothy, meringue-like collection of foam floating about:
And the little wooden bridge that allows one to safely cross:
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