The weather was warm but with a strong south westerly wind. We walked along the beach to the port two miles away, the wind was behind us which kept us cool enough but we were tired and thirsty when we arrived, only to find it was an industrial port with no restaurants or cafes. After inspecting the fishing fleet we shared a “taxi” back to town with six others. This was a truck with an open back, the floor was covered with spilled ice and it smelt strongly of fish. We all climbed onto the back and stood holding tightly to the rails as the vehicle sped towards the town. It was like a funfair ride, up and down hills and around tight corners.and after fifteen minutes we were back in town, glad to still be alive.
The town had a fish market with adjacent outdoor restaurants, cooking fish, including sardines, on charcoal grills, but we ate at the campsite restaurant. We had an octopus tagine and the next day for lunch a delicious paella with chicken and seafood. These meals cost little more than £5 a head including a salad starter and a coffee, no wine of course.
The wind had abated the following day and, although the temperature was about 25 degrees, it felt much warmer and we managed a dip in the sea. The waves were strong enough to bowl you over so we didn’t venture more than chest deep but it was great fun surfing in on a wave and being unceremoniously dumped in the sandy shallows.
We looked around the three campsites in the town and we were the only British people there; most visitors were French, then German and Dutch, plus the occasional Belgium and Swiss.