We were due to dock in Bilbao at 08:00 local time. The ship's eateries opened at 06:45 local time. By 07:15 local time I'd shamefully eaten about half my own bodyweight in ship-eatery breakfast buffet.
I would have eaten even more but at about 07:10 local time the homogeneous fat, white, middle-aged supercar / hypercar drivers also descended upon the particular eatery I was in and rather tainted things. They were loud, boorish and one in particular seemed utterly unable to speak his native tongue without inserting some or other version of the F-word between every other word he ineloquently spoke.
I confess I sort of wished he might gently back his Maserati / Porsche / Alpine / Zonda / McLaren / Ascari into some or other random Spanish ditch. Fair to say the fat etc drivers utterly dominated and sullied things and I had to move tables and then leave earlier than I'd have wished in order to assist with anger management issues. What fantastic ambassadors for our broken nation.
Once docked and decanted I was yet again pulled out of the departing vehicle queue for a 'random' border-control check. The officer that made the ungainly entry on this occasion was all scowl and officialdom and did leave rubbery / greasy boot marks all over the truck's floor. I figure that customs and immigration procurement departments worldwide must have a very long contract with suppliers of this uniquely disagreeable footwear.
Anyway, the officer commenced his thing but - as is nearly always the case in these circumstances - very quickly dropped his bristly countenance and replaced it with one of pleasant surprise before engaging in a multitude of very much non-border-control type questions like how and when I built the thing, how much it cost, what was the fuel consumption like, and how much were the tyres. Good job they rarely ask how much lash I'm carrying.
I'd be totally happy with the ubiquitous prejudice, were it not for the bloody boots.
And so, I'm in Spain (again). The day began heavily trafficked, wet, cold and miserable, but within 15 minutes or so I'd cleared the sprawl of Bilbao and settled into some very quiet upland back roads that I could bumble along relatively unmolested, whilst all the while looking for wildlife and hoping to chance upon a UK-registered hypercar stuck in a ditch.
I didn't, but I did have some excellent casual bird sightings. Without trying - and within a couple of hours - I'd seen white storks, red kites, crested larks, corn buntings, swallows, house martins and a hoopoe. The landscapes were also very agreeable with mixture of gorges, crashing rivers, rugged escarpments and upland plains.
Come late afternoon I'd parked up at a location I know and was blessed with a definite uptick in the weather. The place is a crumbling lock flight on the disused Canal de Castilla (pic) and is a fascinating cultural heritage spot. I've banged on about it in a previous travelogue.
From here I've been for a run and had a couple of hours with the bins. Though teeming with life I've seen no rarities, though I have spotted black redstart, violet carpenter bee and heard my first cuckoo.
This post was composed at 21:00 on Tuesday 25th March from my intended overnighting spot N 42.16377°, W 04.53230° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:42.16377%2C-04.53230