The walk to the shower block this morning was the walk of shame - we had overslept. 09:40 or a bit later was the time we set out for a scrub up. There was no excuse other than I had failed to set the alarm clock.
Once scrubbed up and fed I checked the bikes over, pumped the tyres up and then we were ready for a nice little ride out of town towards the community of Oropesa del Mar, about four miles northeast along a disused railway track.
It was rather cool first thing and so we took thin fleeces, the SLR camera and a spanner because I had adjusted my saddle a few days ago, and needed a means to make alterations should I have got it wrong.
Off we went, starting just down the road from the campsite, passing behind the site and towards the edge of town. We went through numerous short tunnels and were never far from the sea crashing against the rocks.
We were taking it nice and steady, however 'Lycraman' was riding both past, and towards us at stupid speeds. If they had collided with one of the equally stupid Spanish walking in the cycle track rather than their marked dedicated footpath there would have been serious harm done.
We passed a number of potential picnic spots along the way which we will bear in mind for the future.
Thanks to Google Maps I was able to ascertain that immediately after passing through the tunnel which is about a quarter of a mile long we would arrive above Oropesa's Marina, and there it was. A couple of photos later we were back on the cycle track making our way towards the town.
On our arrival we locked both bikes together, and to, the cycle rack before going for a look around. We walked around the headland to what looked like the classier side of town before cutting through the side streets back to where we had started from. We fancied a beer and decided to sit ourselves down at one of the restaurants on the seafront. We deliberately picked a quiet one as it was lunch time and we didn't want a busy establishment getting 'attitood' towards us for only wanting a beer. After some problems with the waiter understanding the Spanish for beer we eventually got two of them followed by a plate of chips (none of that tapas foreign muck for us).
We had arrived here by bike, but behind us must have followed two members of the 'Deutschland Indecisives Camping Klub' presumably by taxi. First they took a good look at the table attached to ours, then they looked at tables within the open front of the building rather than out on the pavement, then they disappeared. Then after a while they reappeared. First they checked the tables indoors, then they sat at one outside, then they couldn't make their minds up whether to sit at that one or the one right next to it, then eventually they decided not to stop at all, got up and went and sat at a table at the adjoining restaurant - get that butterfly net ready!
The two small beers and a plate of chips to share came to €9. Who says the Spanish are stupid?
It was an easier ride back towards Benicassim as the locals were either having lunch or a lie down.
On our arrival back at camp I emptied the loo. The cheap floor cleaning liquid I put in it had done a cracking job. Having emptied it I gave the loo another slug of it.
I had left some of yesterdays washing and ironing out to air a bit more whilst we were out. Yesterday our Dutch neighbours had kindly offered us the use of their spin dryer. It seems they buy one second hand every year before coming down here, use and abuse it and then donate it to another camper before setting off for home. That seems like a good idea to me.
Today though belonged to 'Herman wif der Husky'. As he stuck the final piece of 'jigsaw' to the lower edges of his motorhome I gave him a clap and he took a bow. I took a few photographs and asked if he was now going to cover the back of the vehicle. 'Nine, Nine' was his answer (or was it 'Eight Eight'). We had a bit of a chat and that was that. He probably didn't understand a word I said, and I understood only one which he uttered, but it goes to show that we can communicate between ourselves if we have a mind to, and we both had a laugh at the same time.
Then I went to the office to pick up next week's schedule for entertainment and events. Whilst there I asked them about the excursion we had booked to Fanzara, basically what's there and why are we going. It seems that the village is famous for its street art. Local unemployed plus ex-prisoners turn up and decorate the exteriors of the houses in the town by invitation. "Well" I said, "We have the same thing in England but after they have painted our houses with graffiti, we send them to prison". "No, No" says the young lady behind the desk, "This is legal". So we shall see, at least it will be a day out.
This evening The Chef and I enjoyed another Sunday Roast down at the campsite restaurant. Not without its problem of course. When I asked if they had the Sunday Roast, the waiter thought about it then said "No". "Oh" says I, surprised. Then he thought about it and replied that oh yes today was Sunday wasn't it so yes they had it. Right on the money that lad.
Tomorrow may entail a ride in to town so that I can get the gears on my bike looked at and maybe a bit of shopping. Who knows, life's just too damned exciting for my liking.