Anthony has a touch of the mountain goats in his DNA we suspect, but when he pointed to the top of the exposed rock shelf on top of the hill overlooking the port and expressed his desire to climb it today, we felt compelled to accompany him. Besides, we like it here and it gave us an excuse to stay another day.
By the time we got our collective acts together it was not quite late enough for lunch but since it’s always time for hot chips, before setting out we made a brief stop at the “Palais d’la Frite”, a van so small that the proprietor sits in the carpark peeling his spuds and chopping them into chip sized bits before plunging them into his secret boiling grease which renders them perfect for pre-climb fortification.
“Climb” is quite possibly a slight exaggeration for a walk up a hill, even if it was a bit steep and shaley at times through the forest, and one could hardly complain about the weather. There was just enough difficulty in the journey to make us feel vastly more satisfied with the view than those who had travelled all but the last few metres by car, but it is strange how no difficulty at all is present on the downward journey. It’s enough to almost make one feel slightly ashamed of all that puffing on the way up!
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