Lagos no ocurrió

This weekend is what the Spanish call an acueducto, a really hell-of-a long weekend, it is obviously referring to the Roman aquaducts that went for miles across Europe. I don't work Fridays and Monday is a holiday. I expect there will be lots of acueductos in the coming year. Due to the closeness of most things in Europe, you can travel almost whereever you desire in a 4-day weekend, money permitting, which mine does not.

The plan was to go to Lagos, Portugal to redeem the one hour of beach experience I have in my life. Better yet I wanted to camp on the beach, because it is cooler and cheap to free depending on the legality of your beach camping. Augusto, my flatmate, Siân (pronoucned Shawn, I was expecting someone oriental when I read the name, but it is Welsh) and Catherine, fellow Auxiliares, and I set out a little late Friday night due to some Latin American timing. We planned on not going straight to Lagos, 2.5hrs, but to take our time and hit a beach in Huelva, only 1.5hrs.

Well the group wasn't particularly outdoorsy and Augusto talked the others into renting a cabin, rather than squeezing everyone in my 2 person tent...I was a bit peeved because I had confidence in my tent's abilities to hold more than the recommended load and I wanted to sleep on the beach...I decided they can have their cabin and I will pay my share, but I am going to sleep on the beach. (the exerience of this weekend started to shed light on my only-child attributes, more later)

We had started the trip knowing that the whole weekend called for rain, but decided what the hell, in four days there is bound to be spots of sunshine and bliss.

After dinner we went down to the beach, it was night and cloudy but the moon was faintly illuminating everything. Augusto brought his bottle of wine and a guitar. There we sat, sea shells at our feet (I have to write very illustratively because I never had a chance to take photos) and we drank some wine, played some songs and told jokes, and by we I of course mean them more than me. I was predictably quite removed from the socializing because I was more interested in watching the waves and the storm in the distance over the water. (I used to feel shame about not being very sociable but have since come to enjoy it about myself and take advantage of it)

A few drops of rain scared us into the tent and the others got bored and tried brain storming what to do next, more jokes, truth or dare, but again I wasn't really a participant, I wanted them to just be quiet so that I could at least listen to the waves if I couldn't see them. It was also during this time that I started reflecting on why the company was not adding to the experience but detracting and that I wished I had just come alone. I remember traveling in Granada and having plenty of fun on my own and other travelers asking if I preferred to travel alone. Yes, I think I do, but, it is more obvious now that it is only my greedy only-child self that doesn't want to compromise and do what others want to do. I had previously been prideful for enjoying traveling alone, and the strength I thought it showed, however, at that moment I was realizing that it was also rooted in my stubbornness, and selfishness...not something to be proud of.

After the rain settled a bit more the others said goodnight and went back to the cabin. I wandered the beach a little bit alone, at peace...and at the same time I was ecstatic, I was having a wonderful time running along the shore running away from the surf when it came in and then chasing it back where it belongs, only to retreat and run away when it came back (alot like the little dog who picks fights with bigger dogs, but cowers when the big dogs show their teeth). It was peaceful, amazing, and terrifying at the same time. I don't know if fear of the sea is something everyone feels or if it is just the first few visits, but seeing that huge span and water, and thinking about the depths it goes to, and the things that live there...not to mention it being nighttime and not a pretty blue horizon, but only black water to be seen, and bolts and lighting in the distance, it was quite menacing...but maybe I'm just a Kansan.

Do you think if we had evolved into sea creatures instead, coming to shore from the opposite end would have the same affect? That seeing all that dry rugged expansive terrain would put our stomachs in knots?...I don't.

So I went back to the tent and lay down to go to sleep to the waves. My eyes had probably been shut for 10-15 minutes, and the black of my eye lids were being more frequently interrupted by flashes. I poked my head out the door to check it out. The gray horizon that I remembered from before was gone, and a blacker one was in its place. The lightning was clearer and I heard thunder for the first time that evening. I jogged my memory about lightning saftey from Camp Eagle and JBU classes. It is kind of fuzzy, I remembered that hills are like instant death and to stay clear of trees, but wide open flat beaches never came up...or at least I didn't think it would be relevant. Well, there was high ground above me where the water had not erroded, so it was more likely to strike there, but I was in a tent with metal poles, so I debated whether they were aluminum(which should be safe), or something else that lightning is better friends with. I decided to observe it for a bit, I couldn't tell if it was coming very fast or not. Then I thought it was best to pray about it. I didn't want to abandon camp so easily, but I also didn't want pride to keep me there, and then be found struck by lightning, drenched, drowned, and prideful on the beach the next day. Well, when I opened my eyes and found that that nasty blackness which was a small portion on the horizon was filling most of my vision(and I am not a long prayer, so it was coming fast), and I decided to pack my things. Thirty seconds into packing my things and a giant wind came and started pushing my tent sideways, so I decided to pick up the pace. The wind felt like gale force, not that I really have the experience to know what that is, but it was really kicking my ass. Here I go into panic mode and decided not to bother packing my things. I ran outside and pulled the steaks, though only found 5/6. I zipped the tent shut and grabbed the whole mess fully assembled and started halling down the beach. Running down a stormy beach is one thing, but running down a stormy beach with all of your things in your tent and the rain-fly still attached (which acts like a giant pairasail) and gale force winds is something entirely different. I got to the stairs and attempted going up them, but my tent kept getting snagged. I finally, get it undone and had to open the big iron gate. It would have been really great if it needed to be opened with the wind and not against it...but it wasn't so. I continued up the trail. When running with your tent in the dark in a panic up a trail you have only come down and never reascended, it is REALLY easy to run past the trail to your campgrounds. So on I ran to the abandoned restaurant that only runs during high season, luckily we had driven by it that night and I knew where the campgrounds were from that spot. I made it to our triangle shaped cabin and knocked on the door. Catherine opening it and the tent and I slipped through about as easily as a baby passing through a birth canal, and just as slippery too...(i know that imagery like that is not necessary, but like I said, I wasn't able to take pictures...)

Inside I explained the aforementioned story and crawled into the attic of the triangle were my bed was waiting. Yes, in the end I ended up sleeping in the comfort of the cabin, but anyone who has seen the cover of the "Perfect Storm" would have done the same.

The next morning I got out of bed and ran straight to the beach (i was already wearing my trunks from the night before, because I planned on doing the same from the tent on the beach). To the beach I ran, it was still gray and cold and cloudy and a little drizzle too but I was going to the swim in the ocean for the second time ever. (the first time was cold and gray and cloudy too, but I live on a peninsula now, and dammit, I will have my comeuppance) First, I ran to the sight of the camp, easy to find because fortunately we had littered our wine bottle from earlier. I palmed through the sand until I found tent steak number 6. I put it in a cluster of clam shells I decided I had to have and went into the water...not to far in, mostly just to the shelf where the waves fall over themselves and let them batter me around a bit. (I had forgotten how salty salt water is....)

After that we packed our things and went to town to talk over the trip and drink cafe con leche. I am writing now from Sevilla because we decided to turn around and use the acueducto for rest and relaxation. Lagos, Portugal can wait until a sunny weekend, and I think I will be going with people who don't mind being beach bandits and sleeping wherever it is free.