The break day was good for me; I recover quickly. It’s supposed to be stupid on the sea outside, here on land it’s wonderful: late summer sun, cheerful people (but not overcrowded, on the contrary, they here are already mourning the summer, while I have the feeling of being on the road in the longest summer of my life).
So I decide to cover a longer distance again, to drive far ‘down’ to Portugal as I did back then from England to France, and to visit an insignificant, at least to me unknown little place (and to avoid a theoretically existing Corona quarantine).
No sooner said than done. If they wanted to intercept me, let them do so at sea. After all, I am easy to track (as seen in the English Channel). Otherwise, I want to have my peace and reduce contacts with the authorities to a minimum.
Figueira da Foz is quiet, pretty, and only at the casino (!), which should not be so insignificant, and which tries to show off with its brightly lit façade, there is a lot of coming and going. – To celebrate the day, I treat myself to a tender tuna steak in a pub highly recommended by all those asked at the harbour. And here, too, I’m not alone for long; when a new, unfamiliar, special-looking boat docks, the whole area soon knows about it.
Tired, well-fed and extremely satisfied, I stroll back to the ArgoFram, climb into my tent cabin and fall wearily into my generous bed.