I met two couples today in the camp site. A retired couple and I struck up a conversation waiting for the bus into Valencia and met again in the camp bar later on the day where they, like I, were dealing with their IT matters and emails etc. David (I think) and Brenda were from Plymouth (although Brenda was and ‘Essex girl’ from Snaresbrook / Woodford Green, close to my later boyhood home.
As we chatted and commented on the gale force winds (almost) battering the trees outside they mentioned they had a 32 foot yacht which they often raced across the Bay of Biscay. We compared my Sydney to Hobart experience. As they left we neither thought to swap contact details. Was I crazy? A couple with a 32 ft yacht who were always happy to have friends join them as crew and I didn’t exchange contact details with them. I chastised myself for this oversight all the way to Benirrama the next day and will hit my head against the wall tonight.
They were also kind enough to pass me two novels after I mentioned I had nothing to read and had even forgotten my standby book of Daily Telegraph cryptic crossword puzzles.
The other couple were Uni students hitch hiking from London to Marrakesh for charity. He was from (somewhere in) Devon and she from Bury St Edmunds. I liked their pluck but not their level of personal security awareness. Maybe I’m too paranoid. I thought later I should have got a photo of them (if only for the missing person files) but forgot given my several distraction, including thoughts of my first bike hike in bad conditions.
That night there was a deluge that flooded the campsite but my tent proved up to the mark. There must have been a lightning strike very very close - I thought I smelted burning (another camper?) and discovered the circuit blown in my rear bike flasher – the lightning turned in on but nothing would turn it off short of removing the batteries.
As it turned out the weather had almost cleared by the morning so I had my first longish bike hike ahead.
