Yes, I thought that might get your attention.
But first [he said, losing 10 points for beginning not just a sentence but a paragraph with a conjunction, in true modern BBC fashion], we began with “a result” [back to the BBC and its sports commentators]. We have the honour of having to complete the accursed British Passenger Locator Form for our return home. It is apparently to be discarded but not in time for us. The concern over having to do it is a bit of distraction for the duration of a trip – at least, for us it is. I’d had a glitch attempting it last November to return from Jalón. Happily, 4G being commonplace on Lanzarote, we managed to get it done successfully on our mobile phones with little trouble.
Flushed with PLF success and with a weight off our minds, we were driven to the outskirts of Guatiza, actually to a filling station. Very picturesque! 😀 Here we began heading for the east coast. It was not the most scintillating of routes. (The wide angle phone lens has done something interesting to the horizon.)
Hitting the coast, we encountered a collection of disused salt pans. Unfortunately for me somebody was flying a kite above them in the now familiar Lanzarote wind. That was it, it was earworm time. I now had to suffer a mental rendition of “let’s go fly a kite, up to the highest height …” ♫ for the remaining 10 kms or so heading northwards along the coast. Arghhh! Thank you very much.
What we were heading for northwards along the coastal path (“let’s go fly a kite …” ♫) was Arrieta where Francine and I had already lunched during our solo driving around. To get there, however, we had to negotiate the debateable delights of a coastal nudist colony. As we approached, we followed a pair of buttocks towards the colony. Once in the colony, a gentleman approached us with his buttocks planted firmly on a bicycle seat. Well, rather you than me, mush. (“Let’s go fly a kite …” ♫) Now there’s a bicycle I wouldn’t want to borrow for a quick spin into town. Discretion being the better part of valour, we decided not to point our cameras at the naturists, not even those on bikes.
The only other spot of variation (“let’s go fly a kite …” ♫) along this rather unvarying coastal path was a couple of now disused fishing shacks. I’m beginning to spot a pattern. The Cornish coastal path wins hands down.
We hadn’t had any climbing of note but the walk had felt like a bit of a monotonous slog, despite the undoubted interest of passing through a nudist colony. We finally reached Arrieta with visions of beer drifting before my eyes. (“Let’s go fly a kite …” ♫) OK, I’ll have another beer since I’m not driving and since it is, after all, Turia.
Our bus called in to The Cactus Garden for a brief visit on the way back to home base. This was yet another creation of … yes, you guessed it, César Manrique. What would Lanzarote be without him? Since Francine and I had already visited this on our solo jaunts, I stayed outside with another traveller to chew the fat while Francine went in again.
OK legs, you can stop now.
(“Let’s go fly a kite …” ♫)