San Vicente de Baroquera was our next destination so we could meet up with the Giffins before they left. In advance I would like to apologise unreservedly for breaking the handle off their campervan after having being poured a ridiculously strong bourbon and coke.
The north coast was more populated than we had imagined though had the look of Ireland about it. Green rolling hills littered with old stone farmhouses, cows with bells and of course the ubiquitous blue icecream menu which was always a popular "I spy" item.
We holed up in a bungalow next to the beach. Nice white sand and surf but it was pretty chilly in the water, even for a south coaster. A nice relaxing place though.
On an expedition to the old town bridge Scotty returned with the news that there were oysters and mussels in their thousands and they were accessable at low tide. So armed with a bucket and blunt rocks we headed across the mudflats (with the kids in clean clothes of course) to do some hunter gathering and returned muddy but proud as punch with the harvest.
The oysters were big and creamy, much like a large Sydney rock. I think we said at the time "best ever".
The groans and pale faces eminating from the handleless campervan the next morning told the story. Just around the bend of the river was Spains largest plutonium plant and the oysters were mutants...or so we thought between stomach cramps and delerium. Luckily I only ate 4, Scotts mate ate 20 or more and then drove off to France.
Hope he's still alive...
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