“It’s cloudy” he said.
“Let’s go for a walk” he said.
I thought he meant the little loop I’d created, down to the seafront and back up again, possibly popping into one of the little cafes mid route for refreshments and a bit of people watching, no. He had different plans. I wanted something sedate and relaxing, he opted for turning me into a mountain goat and testing the strength of my summer sandals.
Our apartment block overlooks a huge nature reserve. This is where he wanted to spend the afternoon. Not to worry, Lucas, who owned the apartment told us it was a pleasant 20 minute walk to the lighthouse and if we came back along the coastal path, that part of the walk was 40 minutes at the most. You’d have thought by now, that at my age I would have realised when a man tells you the size of something, they always get it wrong. Normally though, they over estimate.
Off we plod on the dusty path, peppered with dog shit, obviously a dog walk for at least one lazy dog owner. The path wasn’t too bad underfoot, the occasional stone that threatened to twist my ankle but I managed to evade the little blighters. Rain had been forecast, but with three or four different forecasts for the area, we decided to keep going, at least it would be warm rain. It seems that the weather forecasts were a little bit like Lucas, they hadn’t a clue what they were talking about. By the time we reached the lighthouse, the sun had parted the clouds, a bit like Moses with the waves and sweat was pouring down our faces.
A little bit of time was spent at the lighthouse, admiring the rocky coast, with waves crashing against the rocks, in reality, I used the excuse of taking photos trying to cool down in the shade of the lighthouse. The beautiful cream that I’ve applied to my face every morning since I was 13, was pumping it’s way out of my pores and into my eyes making them sting like Billy-O. Trying to wipe it away with my T-shirt, I now had smears of Oil of Ugly, sweat and suncream on my black vest, oh the glamour.
Off we trotted down the rocks by the side of the lighthouse, him commenting on how funny it was that the paths were almost golden whilst the terrain around us was black. The golden path down the rocks took us to a secluded cove, the tide was in and crashing against the rocks. Back up we go, me hanging on to the rocks and his hand on the big bits, I’ve only got little legs and I’m known for not being able to stand steady at the best of times.
Back onto the other yellow brick road, the one that forks right instead of left. In front of us, possibly why he chose the left path first, rocks, rising up, not too high but enough to make me have to hang on for stability with my hands. Sweat, once again is making my eyes smart, by the time the path returns in it’s rocky state. Pulling a bobble from my bum bag I scrape my curls up in an attempt at trying to stay cooler. The sun beats down and I’m informed that the coastline is beautiful as he stomps on ahead. I can’t look at the beauty of our surroundings as I’m too busy concentrating on my foot placement.
People start to appear heading towards us clad in summer dresses and flip flops. Inside I’m gloating as I know the trials and tribulations ahead of them. It’s Sunday, a day of rest for the locals, a party of about 10 appear in the side of the cliff, complete with tables chairs and bbqs, heaven only knows how they got it all there. Since the lighthouse the path really has been quite challenging.
The end of the walk is in sight, well about 10 minutes away, but we can see the end. Looking down it looks like I’ve caught the sun, turns out it’s dust clinging to the sun cream I’d slapped on about 2 hours earlier.
Back on tarmac and ahead of us looms 5 staircases up to our apartment, I’m done!
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