Mush

My hotel room in Fisterra was at the garret level, and included an openable skylight.

On Friday I went to Mar de Fora, the beach on the ocean side of the cape.

What I have NOT missed about being by the ocean is the ambient clamminess that turns you into a frog (or in Galicia, a newt) even on days that are clear and cool.

Fisterra is quite small, but still manages to be quite hilly and contain its own labyrinths.

I had enough yarn to move on to Muxía.

Thanks for making sure I didn’t miss the signpost, buddy.

Making sure nothing untoward happens.

First glimpse of Muxia down the road. This was a real relief, because some critical point was passed during this walk and my feet were in horrible shape for the vast majority of it.

Garbage gang protecting its turf.

A little worn gentility.

This is normal, right?