Some cafes open at eight. These contain hikers. Other types of tourists
don't show up until ten.
Swallows chirp and dash about, sunlight
reflects from white walls. Last day in a beach town.
Today I walk with long pants for a change. It's hotter but sand stays out of boots.
There are small beaches, some with pebbles, some with sand. Water and foam struggle between the rocks. Storks and fishermen balance on cliffs. Especially bloodthirsty-looking beetles are on the move.
A long sandy beach begins, I move over there. Change clothes behind a hill of sand and continue in bikini and barefoot, hoping to find a nice place to swim. Somehow it happens that I walk by all suitable places and suddenly there are pebbles. Waves move there and fro with the sound of clashing stones. They also come closer and closer. The sandy stretch narrows. I'm wary of the waves knowing that it's the same ocean that took away Chinese and German people in Iceland. Chinese take-away. I climb up the dune which is a challenging enterprise. Find a trail that after some time merges with the Rota Vicentina. Next few kilometers I continue in the same outfit, walking barefoot over hot sand full of stones and sharp particles of plants. Sand also stays out of boots that way. The beach ends and it seems smarter to get dressed. No more suitable places for swimming before accommodation and then is one right in front of the door.
I don't walk quite to Porto Covo where the Fisherman’s trail officially begins. A few kilometers before it is a feast called refugium. The owner of the establishment hasn't heard of the trail that goes through his backyard. From then on I chill inside and outside, finish the book, doze off, look at the sea. Let sea-breeze and flies into the room. No need to walk to the sea, no need to walk anywhere. Don't have to do anything.
Tomorrow I reconnect from here to the Historical Way that continues then for two more days.
Today I walk with long pants for a change. It's hotter but sand stays out of boots.
There are small beaches, some with pebbles, some with sand. Water and foam struggle between the rocks. Storks and fishermen balance on cliffs. Especially bloodthirsty-looking beetles are on the move.
A long sandy beach begins, I move over there. Change clothes behind a hill of sand and continue in bikini and barefoot, hoping to find a nice place to swim. Somehow it happens that I walk by all suitable places and suddenly there are pebbles. Waves move there and fro with the sound of clashing stones. They also come closer and closer. The sandy stretch narrows. I'm wary of the waves knowing that it's the same ocean that took away Chinese and German people in Iceland. Chinese take-away. I climb up the dune which is a challenging enterprise. Find a trail that after some time merges with the Rota Vicentina. Next few kilometers I continue in the same outfit, walking barefoot over hot sand full of stones and sharp particles of plants. Sand also stays out of boots that way. The beach ends and it seems smarter to get dressed. No more suitable places for swimming before accommodation and then is one right in front of the door.
I don't walk quite to Porto Covo where the Fisherman’s trail officially begins. A few kilometers before it is a feast called refugium. The owner of the establishment hasn't heard of the trail that goes through his backyard. From then on I chill inside and outside, finish the book, doze off, look at the sea. Let sea-breeze and flies into the room. No need to walk to the sea, no need to walk anywhere. Don't have to do anything.
Tomorrow I reconnect from here to the Historical Way that continues then for two more days.
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