8/8 DAY 11: LA COSTA VERDE

The Italian cyclists were gone this morning before I awoke. I climbed out of my tent at 9 and decided to take the day off. I wanted to enjoy the Costa Verde. It's not solely a bike trip I'm doing. It's a comedy of errors and a holiday. Sometimes you've got to stop and smell the roses. I'm meeting cyclists more ambitious than myself and it's only natural to measure up. The non-cyclists I've talked to are impressed with what I'm doing. I wish I was doing the whole island, but I insist upon seeing and doing everything I want along the way. I want to see all of the out of the way places, and believe in taking time off to read or swim or just lie in my hammock. I would need another week to encircle the island at this pace.

It's really windy here. I guess that explains the huge sand dunes. It's some kind of local variant of the Mistral. It was a nice cool breeze up in the mountains yesterday. Here on the coast the temperature is always in flux. I had to wear a jacket last evening, but in the middle of the night I awoke in a sweat. I had to open up the tent. The wind had completely stopped. During the day the wind is so strong that I've had to reinforce my tent to prevent it from blowing away or complete collapse. I had to stake down the corners and anchor them with rocks. On the side facing the wind, I've had to rig lines attached to another stake and stone anchor. Inside the tent I rigged a flexible support using a bungie cord and duct tape. I'm disappointed with this tent. The inside ties that are supposed to secure the poles in place have all fallen off. This tent was last used for a very rainy camping trip in the Adirondikes. The water dissolved much of the interior work. I suppose I could turn the tent into the wind, but then it wouldn't fit into the rather suburban campground plan. Plus, I enjoy the challenge.

This afternoon I almost drowned. I made my pilgrimage down to the beach, Piscinas, to test the water. As mentioned, it was particularly windy and the breakers were big, even by Atlantic Ocean standards. Only two people were in the water, and they were only up to their knees. The red flag at the lifeguard station might have been an indicator, but no one yelled or whistled in my direction as I headed out into the surf. The water temperature was perfect and the sea floor was smooth sand. I had to really swim hard to get out to the breakers. It reminded me of the movie Castaway, and the impossibility he faced getting past a certain point. Once I got out there though, I realized how huge the waves were. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I swear they were twelve foot swells. I had no idea this sea could muster up so much fury. I was terrified, and I wanted to get back. At this point the waves were crashing down on me and I was getting tumbled around and having to hold my breath. I was starting to take on water and I started to panic. I was hoping those two boys playing soccer on shore whom I think were lifeguards would swim out and rescue me. But what would that look like to all the people on the beach? I had to get myself back. So I swam hard and tried not to panic, but kept getting tumbled and kept taking on water. Finally I was able to touch the sandy bottom again with my feet. With further great difficulty I got myself back to shore. I tried to compose myself as I walked over to my bike and pulled out my towel. That scared the hell out of me!

There were big puffy clouds in the sky this evening as the sun set with tremendous purples and oranges. I headed up to the rustic and charming restaurant, which contrasted the dusty campground. The staff here is friendly, and the food and prices are good.