March 28 & 29: At Baiona & onto Vigo

My over-riding impression of the last 2 days has been their blueness: the ocean, the sky and the calm weather making them, and the land, feel like a smoothed whole. The path has comprised long stretches of “yellow brick road” – a shared bicycle/pedestrian lane at the side of the coast road, surfaced in an attractive sandy-yellow that echoes the beaches. Baiona itself is dominated by the sweep of its wide (blue) harbour, even as the castle loom large, your views from the walls are of sea and sky (blue).

The Parador is such a lovely place to just be. It has an understated timelessness that is very inhabitable. We had a splendid breakfast of local cheeses, meats (for Carey), tomato jam, quince, fruits and, finally, Santiago cake (a delicious, moist almond tart), with a steaming pot of coffee. Heaven!

We strolled round the promontory, joining locals on what seemed to be a regular “morning constitutional”. We pottered on the beach, picking shells. We strolled through the old town, which was full of tabernas. They claimed the narrow streets (and also the wider squares) with tables, barrels and parasols, and were full of people drinking large glasses of wine in the small, shady spaces between the stone buildings.

We are, again, enjoying our room, with the window open onto the grounds, quiet in the sunshine, sharing a glass of Tempranillo Rioja (from the supermarket).

Today was a long one, over 30km, and, for a coastal stage, a lot of climbing (315m gained, or 40 flights of stairs, so my watch tells me). Fortunately, our hotel in Vigo has a basement bar/restaurant, so we headed directly there for lunch and a cold beer, both very welcome.

Today was another day of blueness. The temperature rose to 20 degrees C which made the sea more cobalt and turquoise. The air was full of small green birds competing in acts of strength, which to us seems only like filling the air with song. It was a day of promenades and sand. Being a Saturday, it was full of people strolling, playing, enjoying a glass of wine, or a coffee, at one of the cafés on the sea wall. The Eucalyptus and Cyprus provide shade, themselves full of squabbling magpies. We both kept sighing – just breathing out a sense of too much good-stuff. We both nodded at this and that, silently saying to each other, this is what a truly good life is made of.

I worry about finances, purpose, but, also, this is what I love to do. Perhaps this is what I should spend the rest of my time doing. Could that be possible?

I’ve written 2 poems in these long blue days, my first in 2025. With the blogs, my podcasts, I have repurposed my writing impulse into trying to find words to exactly replicate my thought, rather than to give the impression of my impressions. I want to be clearly understood, but, I’m grateful a little poetry is back.