A slow slog

The fact that yesterday was the longest day passed us by but, in terms of seeming to be the longest day, today is likely to ‘take the biscuit’. We have a brisk wind on the nose and we are motoring into a lumpy sea which keeps knocking us back. We are not likely to reach our destination, Figueira da Foz until late evening by which time, the ebb will make our entry laboured. Oh well.

Dave left us this morning, flying back from Porto Airport but it is worth mentioning one anecdote of our stay in Porto. We were sat in a bar and the German people on the next table asked if we were sailors (why I don’t know) Dave and Mike were really chuffed that they were ‘mistaken for sailors’, their words! In actual fact, over the course of the week, Dave and Mike became very useful around the yacht and certainly qualified as ‘sailors’.

Lunch time and we are plodding south down the coast on around the 20m contour. The coast seems to be one long beach with sand dunes behind, no other punctuation. What a contrast to the scenery of Galicia with the stunning cliffs and Rias.

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