Tuesday was planned to be a beach day as the forecast was good and in these parts that actually counts for something. True to the forecast’s word we woke to a perfect day. The strong winds of yesterday had blown all the cobwebs off the surrounding hill tops to give us a crystal clear sky and the glorious rich light that has pulled painters to this part of the world for centuries past.
Pale little worms that we are however, we seriously could not spend a whole day in the sun. So we took it easy, a bit like yesterday really and finally surfaced about 11.30. Peanut spent the morning reliving 61 hours of Jack Reacher’s life, while I remained engrossed in Lucy Foley’s fascinating first novel. We breakfasted leisurely soaking in the sounds of the port just below us, boat engines burbling, the half hearted flutters of flags chasing the little wind they could find and hose pipes gently washing down boat decks.
We got our gear together packed a picnic with cheese crackers and some drinks in the cool bag and we set of to Gigaro. First port of call was the beach shop where I managed to get myself a new hat that frankly I’m delighted with as previously hats I tried had been every variety of not right – too big, too small, too high, wrong brim and so on. It takes a lot to compliment my face! Then to the food shop to buy some extras to go with the goodies we already had. Just some apple puffs and fruit.
All was good until we went into the boot en route to the beach and discovered we had left the picnic behind. Not best pleased with our ever increasing dotage we returned to the shop for some more food. 20 minutes later sitting on the beach munching warm chicken thighs with the most delicious crusty fresh bread and our oversight didn’t seem so bad!
The beach is a people watcher’s paradise and neither of us could settle to read. First the wind was back keeping the skies piercingly clear and blue and whipping the sea into a grand avalanche of irresistible waves that pounded the beach unceasingly. This created endless entertainment as we watched swimmers jump the waves and surfers ride them. Blow up surfboards were de rigeur and young men flexed their muscles as they pumped on huge manual inflators to turn their flaccid vinyl into a rock hard phallus fit for Neptune to ride the waves on.
Satiated by the sights around me I lay down and closed my eyes. The bright sun turned the inside of my eyelids into a blank canvas of the purest blood red orange I have ever seen. Often with my eyes floaters roam in this domain spoiling the purity of colour but not today, and I soaked in the view the inside of my eyelids gave me with simple delight.
Peanut pulled me into the real world and asked me to come with her while she battled the waves. I was envious. My PIC line in my arm had to be kept dry and free from infection, I couldn’t battle nature, I could only watch. Peanut ran into the water. She was transformed into an innocent ten year old, her delight written all across her face as she gambolled through the waves. A strong wave bumped her back and she wobbled nervously. Then her beaming smile broke past the edges of her ears and she jumped right back at the next wave, willing it to fight her. The wind was blowing in my eyes and tears poured down my face as a result – or was this just emotion? The joy of the simple pleasure unfolding before my eyes.
I moved in closer for some photos and felt the sea wash up to my waist. I could sense it’s power and I was wrapped up in the power of nature. Today it had come to play with us, entertain and amuse us, showing us the barest flick of what it is capable of and I felt then an overwhelming sense of humility, as I stared down these powerful waves. Playing.
The beach entertainment rolled on. Next, I was snatched away from the wondrous blood red canvas of my eyes by the sight of a huge wild boar that had come down off the hills to snort in my ear not two feet away but luckily behind a small wooden fence. Gulp! A small wooden fence! Crowds gathered around us photographing the wild boar, who by now should be viral on Facebook. I was pleased to see the hoards, I felt that my chances of being the first one to be eaten by the wild boar had now reduced!
The Wild Boar became yesterday’s news to be replaced by the headline “Unexploded Bomb Found on Gigaro Beach”. On investigation this was not quite the case. Remember the blissful beach days of yesteryear when a snooze was impossible due to the relentless phut phut phut as bat and ballers strive to make their rallies last long enough to ensure that the phut shot into every sleeping corner of your mind, well now the Germans have marched onto the beach armed with more than their towels. Now they bring inflated grenades with fins on the back similar in shape to the bombs dropped by the infamous Stuka bombers of the Second World War. They throw these at each other and yes the fins scream and holler the sound of death that evoked such terror 75 years ago. Boy I have never needed a Drone and a Hellfire more in my life!
Eventually the Blitzkrieg ended as the bombers bored of bombing each other and my sanguine world returned. Content we headed back to our apartment to prepare for our next adventure.
We filled the MINI with petrol on the way home and after a shower and an odd dinner of cheese and biscuits and anything else still in the apartment that needed eating we packed a case.