We all had a terrible night’ys sleep in the hotel room. The air was warm and muggy, and the air conditioner wasn’t effective. We’d have been better off in the van.
Clare went in the morning to get the van’s door handle fixed: she speaks some Spanish and I none. The repair came to just under 135 Euros, but we pay nothing, it’s a warranty repair. Happy.
Very nice drive along the north coast, up to 2000 feet in thick mist over some hills, then suddenly into glorious sunshine. Clare, Ben and Jack slept most of the way to Santiago de Compostela where we stopped so that Amarillo could complete her pilgrimage and we could pay our respects to the late Saint James’ remains, taken from the Holy Land to Iberia by angels, encased in rock, then removed by mortals to Santiago de Compostela. I was pleasantly surprised by the city: I feared it would be like the religious theme park of Lourdes, but it was a genuinely bueatiful town, filled with back packing pilgrims of all nations. We tried to go into the cathedral, but despite dogs not being on the list of about 20 items banned from the shrine, Meg was not welcome. So I photographed Jack outside while Clare snuck Ben into a local restaurant for a pee.
We arrived at the campsite soon after six, and were tucking into Spaghetti Bolognese by eight. A lovely campsite, but pool closed.