Sitting back in the apartment, drinking tea with the guys, how much better does it get? Surf outside the door, pool looking like some David Hockney painting, and outside it the cheeky little harbour we so admired last time we came, with the waves breaking throughout the entrance onto the perfect sandy beach… And we went windsurfing today as well! Can't believe it.
The usual stupidy early start - alarm went off at 4.30 because I was too incompetent to set it for 5.00 last night. Everything went well, smooth sailing, organised… M4 busy but progressing, M25 good too, until we got to the M23 turnoff - some muppet had spun his Mondeo and was blocking the sliproad. However, it cleared in time, and we made it to the terminal on the bus, to see Juan, Gen, Rog and Dunc standing at the front of the checkin queue, holding a place for us. Marv.
The first hurdle - checkin man claims we haven't paid for pre-selected seats - wrong. Fortunately, Duncan had printed out the invoice - phew!! We got seated, with Jen sat separately but close-ish, and luggage checked, but headed immediately to the customer service desk, in the hope of recovering our £90 so we could get free beers all week. No chance, but we did get the seats completely as requested. Result.
Easy flight, crowded, no legroom, slight stress about whether we'd ordered meals or not, but they arrived, and were welcome. Lots of talk about allotments! Good view of Lanzarote as we flew south, looks incredibly dry. As we neared CV it was clearly very windy below, lots of white horses. Excitement mounts…
The wind and sun hit us as we left the plane for the bus - suddenly I felt overdressed! We had to queue for a visa (€25 each, thank you sir), but unlike last time once you got the visa the guy also did the immigration thing, so we were straight through to the lengthy bag wait. We'd had the pilot say that the plane had been delayed taking off because some of the bags had gone to the wrong flight, which maybe accounted for mine arriving immediately and Juan's taking a very long time, but who knows? Taxis were waiting, helpful chaps, we piled into two, rolled up at Porto Antigo in Santa Maria, but not apparently the right place. Up to Porto Antigo II, nope… then had I read the instructions properly we'd have already made it to the middle way, the shop that deals and caretakes. Stroll back to Porto Antigo (dragging luggage on cobbles) but what a nice nice place!
Last time on our first evening we'd walked past the little mini-harbour before having our first beer at the Papaia Deli-Cafe, right on the sea and pounded by surf. Looked idyllic, I would have loved to be staying there. Well, now I am!
No time for that though, the guys all want to hit the surf, so it's pull the gear together, a bit of sun slap, t-shirt, shorts, flip-flops (thanks for bringing mine from Dusseldorf Juan!) and walk up the beach to the Angulo station. Of course, I get delayed waiting for the caretaker lady to do the beds, and Team Keen hammer up to the first place you see, the German station, and get involved in a lengthy conversation about spots, conditions etc. before discovering a) they've never heard of the UK customers b) there's no chance of getting out for 1/2 hour, dammit!! Zis is not a train station!!
Fortunately Goran, the Angulo manager, has no such problems, and appears happy to let 5 manic Brits (honorary Gen, ok??) take his gear out for 30 mins on trust. Rapid change on the beach, arse flapping in the fairly stiff breeze, 92l Angulo SuperGu, 5- something (1 or 2, maybe 4??) and it's into the water… Rocky in places, and the breeze drops off horribly in front of the station, because of the houses and stuff, so I fall off but manage to recover things without being too embarrassingly crap.
And so we spend 30 minutes chasing around the large swell rolling into the point - hard to go down the line, because the point and hence break is upwind, but who's complaining? Better than Langstone Harbour in 7 deg… I manage to drop in on a kite surfer, rather naughtily because I did see him but didn't think he was that committed to the wave, I certainly wasn't!
Back to station, friendly chat with Goran who gives us at least 10% discount for 5 weeks of hire, a huge litre of beer, lots of excited chat about the possibilities of the week, and we're all starving. Showers (good shower!), fresh clothes, Duncan's staying in cos he's tired, then into town, only a few minutes walk. This is really the spot. Struggle with cash machine 1 - why won't it display the "get money" option? The lady behind us looks at it - "no money!". Right. Ok. Fortunately cash machine II does the business, and we head for the pizza place we saw on the way, recommended as it is by me and Gen. I'm having the folded over jobbie, a Calzone and another beer. And we need bread and milk for tomorrow, so I head out into the balmy evening, and scour the town for an open shop with these items. The bakery is still open, so I get a few rolls, and then up the other end finally recognise that milk is UHT and comes in boxes, not plastic bottles. Job done. People don't like the huge notes from the cash machine though.
Excellent pizza! Not mystic, merely marv, which is good enough. Stuffed. We take Jen's remaining half away for snacks or whatever, and pass Victor Fernandes, who's on the cover of Roger's Boards and is PWA champion or something, on the way out. Cool. And then I realise I've left the breakfast behind and run back to rescue it from under the table, raising a laugh from the assembled eaters.
What a great day. And it's all worked out, and everyone is happy, and I don't have to worry any more! Night, all.
The usual stupidy early start - alarm went off at 4.30 because I was too incompetent to set it for 5.00 last night. Everything went well, smooth sailing, organised… M4 busy but progressing, M25 good too, until we got to the M23 turnoff - some muppet had spun his Mondeo and was blocking the sliproad. However, it cleared in time, and we made it to the terminal on the bus, to see Juan, Gen, Rog and Dunc standing at the front of the checkin queue, holding a place for us. Marv.
The first hurdle - checkin man claims we haven't paid for pre-selected seats - wrong. Fortunately, Duncan had printed out the invoice - phew!! We got seated, with Jen sat separately but close-ish, and luggage checked, but headed immediately to the customer service desk, in the hope of recovering our £90 so we could get free beers all week. No chance, but we did get the seats completely as requested. Result.
Easy flight, crowded, no legroom, slight stress about whether we'd ordered meals or not, but they arrived, and were welcome. Lots of talk about allotments! Good view of Lanzarote as we flew south, looks incredibly dry. As we neared CV it was clearly very windy below, lots of white horses. Excitement mounts…
The wind and sun hit us as we left the plane for the bus - suddenly I felt overdressed! We had to queue for a visa (€25 each, thank you sir), but unlike last time once you got the visa the guy also did the immigration thing, so we were straight through to the lengthy bag wait. We'd had the pilot say that the plane had been delayed taking off because some of the bags had gone to the wrong flight, which maybe accounted for mine arriving immediately and Juan's taking a very long time, but who knows? Taxis were waiting, helpful chaps, we piled into two, rolled up at Porto Antigo in Santa Maria, but not apparently the right place. Up to Porto Antigo II, nope… then had I read the instructions properly we'd have already made it to the middle way, the shop that deals and caretakes. Stroll back to Porto Antigo (dragging luggage on cobbles) but what a nice nice place!
Last time on our first evening we'd walked past the little mini-harbour before having our first beer at the Papaia Deli-Cafe, right on the sea and pounded by surf. Looked idyllic, I would have loved to be staying there. Well, now I am!
No time for that though, the guys all want to hit the surf, so it's pull the gear together, a bit of sun slap, t-shirt, shorts, flip-flops (thanks for bringing mine from Dusseldorf Juan!) and walk up the beach to the Angulo station. Of course, I get delayed waiting for the caretaker lady to do the beds, and Team Keen hammer up to the first place you see, the German station, and get involved in a lengthy conversation about spots, conditions etc. before discovering a) they've never heard of the UK customers b) there's no chance of getting out for 1/2 hour, dammit!! Zis is not a train station!!
Fortunately Goran, the Angulo manager, has no such problems, and appears happy to let 5 manic Brits (honorary Gen, ok??) take his gear out for 30 mins on trust. Rapid change on the beach, arse flapping in the fairly stiff breeze, 92l Angulo SuperGu, 5- something (1 or 2, maybe 4??) and it's into the water… Rocky in places, and the breeze drops off horribly in front of the station, because of the houses and stuff, so I fall off but manage to recover things without being too embarrassingly crap.
And so we spend 30 minutes chasing around the large swell rolling into the point - hard to go down the line, because the point and hence break is upwind, but who's complaining? Better than Langstone Harbour in 7 deg… I manage to drop in on a kite surfer, rather naughtily because I did see him but didn't think he was that committed to the wave, I certainly wasn't!
Back to station, friendly chat with Goran who gives us at least 10% discount for 5 weeks of hire, a huge litre of beer, lots of excited chat about the possibilities of the week, and we're all starving. Showers (good shower!), fresh clothes, Duncan's staying in cos he's tired, then into town, only a few minutes walk. This is really the spot. Struggle with cash machine 1 - why won't it display the "get money" option? The lady behind us looks at it - "no money!". Right. Ok. Fortunately cash machine II does the business, and we head for the pizza place we saw on the way, recommended as it is by me and Gen. I'm having the folded over jobbie, a Calzone and another beer. And we need bread and milk for tomorrow, so I head out into the balmy evening, and scour the town for an open shop with these items. The bakery is still open, so I get a few rolls, and then up the other end finally recognise that milk is UHT and comes in boxes, not plastic bottles. Job done. People don't like the huge notes from the cash machine though.
Excellent pizza! Not mystic, merely marv, which is good enough. Stuffed. We take Jen's remaining half away for snacks or whatever, and pass Victor Fernandes, who's on the cover of Roger's Boards and is PWA champion or something, on the way out. Cool. And then I realise I've left the breakfast behind and run back to rescue it from under the table, raising a laugh from the assembled eaters.
What a great day. And it's all worked out, and everyone is happy, and I don't have to worry any more! Night, all.
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