I kept riding this wave closer and closer to the rocks. It then formed a wedge and left me hanging high up at this rocky wall. The bit I was holding on to already toppled. Below me an abyss, drained from all water. Solely rocks and boulders. I could not hold on to the wall for much longer. I gave in and let go. I fell. Surprisingly very slowly, landing smoothly on my feet. I woke up with my pulse racing. The morning sun shone through the plastic window, bathing the interior of the van in a mellow light and reminding me that it's all good. Chilly it was. Only 5 °C last night.
Galicia reminded me that it was still January. When we arrived a few nights ago, we entered this most remote part of the Spanish north shore passing through dark woodlands, ghost-like fog patches suddenly appearing in the beam of the headlights. For the last kilometres I just followed the signs to Cabo Ortegal in the very north of Galicia where we slept right next to the lighthouse. For some minutes I sat with my back against the sack of dog food just gazing at the rotating light. Thinking nothing, wanting nothing.
The next day we went discovering a handful of beaches in the Northwest. And I had to learn that bigger is not always better. Or in other words, that when there's some decent movement going on out at sea, it's not necessarily the best idea heading for a surf at a swell magnet. Trying to duckdive a wave that was unloading on the beach of Valdovino, the lip hit my calf with so much furiousity that it felt as someone proper smacked it with a baseball bat.
Our second night we spent again at a lighthouse, this time in the West at Cabo Prior. That particular night would hold an adventure of the kind I only know from these kids' story tapes. At about midnight I took Djinga for a late walk up the hill. Just in case, I had taken my torch with me. Soon, a mysterious stone entrance at the side of the path caught my interest and we followed the narrow corridor behind it, only seeing what the torch light would illuminate. Musty air around us, remnants of earlier visitiors here and there in what now seemed like an abondoned and derelict concrete settlement. Behind every corner there could have been somebody. I was so alert that the slightest noise would have made me jump out of my skin. I was relieved having Djinga with me. She'd surely sense any presence before I'd scare myself to death! We entered another building and turning around a corner, there were these long stairs leading into the deep, where they seemed to meet another corridor. I had enough and left it at that. Not at midnight.
The next morning we discovered bunkers and investigated every niche of what must have been a defence work in war times, not without taking loads of photos of course! What difference a bit of daylight makes. Anyway, there was not much keeping us there and we continued to San Xurxo, a beach facing north, promising to be perfect with these fresh southerly winds. It looked awesome. Poseidon was flexing his muscles and sent some sizey beasts into the bay, the spray of their blown off tops bickering down that it stung like needles in my face.
For the days after the wind was forecast to turn north so I tried to locate a spot facing south / south-west which at the same time would not be too much of a detour on our route to Portugal. La Lanzada seemed to be the pick. aAlthough I found only average waves on this long, sandy stretch, as we were almost about to leave we encountered another beach further south: Montalvo.
It wasn't mapped in any of my guides but seemed to be the spot in the area. Tubey, offshore and busy. It was here where I made friends with locals for the first time on this trip. First of all José aka. Spiderman who actually introduced me to everyone else, including Jorge the local surf photographer who was so stoked about the two old analogue cameras! A busy line-up can be amazing fun if all your friends are there and we had a really good time. After one day I felt like I had already lived there for a season or so. This is how we got stuck there for as long as the waves were good and just went off the radar for a while. José gave me a bottle of the wine he produces locally and invited me for coffee, Tonio who ownes the local surf bar "Kannion" was generous with pinchos and snacks and Jorge surprised me with a fresh coffee and croissant on the morning we left. Unbelievable.