Portugal bound, we followed the scenic coast of northern Spain. It was like the Shire with rolling green pastures and lush nature.
Tripadvisors recommended Playa de las Catedrales, a beach of unique rock formations which sounded amazing, it was the opposite. The tide was high so most of the beach was cut off and a ton of tourists armed with selfie sticks hung about like fruit flys. This was bizarre as it's literally in the agricultural butt end of nowhere. Visiting at low tide might have been different.
We'd heard San Vicente de la Barquera was a worthwhile stop and no sooner had we arrived we found a field to park up at dusk with no problems. Finally having left the parking prohibited Basque Country this end of Spain seemed easy breezy to live in a camper van.
The Playa de Merón beach break was welcoming, uncrowded and fun plus the scenery was bliss. We were fond of our laid back find and could of stayed longer with the other campers.
The next day we drove many sweltering hours along the coast through some hick empty towns. Even our stop off for a refreshing sea swim resulted in a too close for comfort nudist following us about... We were the only three people on the beach.
We arrived at Santiago de Compostella. The town is OLD and buzzing with dusty shell adorned multinational tourists. As the grand finale of an epic pilgrimage, emotions ran high for many here. Local news teams lit up haloed charity runners, devout Christians burst into tears on arrival and weary people shared tales as they rendezvous with their pack.
The place is bustling, a pick pockets paradise, complete with one stag do on mega phones. The cathedrals requires a pilgrims passport (aka entry fee) and smells strongly of musty pee so we decided to skip it for a Galician dinner. After a night sleeping in a church garden style carpark for a mere €7 we were excited to head off for Portugal.