Sea stories under the sun...

We are back in Leixoes, and hurricane Ophelia has passed on... There were some magnificent waves, hurling themselves against the jagged rocks here and inspiring many stunning photos and videos. People arrived with their cameras and waited for the moments when the huge rollers broke, foaming white and rolling shorewards. I have one such photo as my screen saver: wet rocks in the foreground and tumbling white foam splattering onto the sand's edge.
One of my favourite pix shows the two restaurant cats who came down to see if there were any fish being tossed out of the wild waves: this is specially for my sister and Tilla, who are cat rescuers.

They soon returned, fishless, to the restaurant, where the next day I saw them lying in cattish abandon, soaking in the sun.
This stretch of beach forms part of our daily walk; it is a constant delight, in mist, drizzle or brilliant sunlight. On our walk we sometimes stop at an excellent Padaria (one of the many bakers and maker of delicious cakey delicacies) and treat ourselves to a hot chocolate, thick and rich, that needs to be spooned from the cup. Memories of Torino, and before that, of Madrid. It is definitely NOT cocoa...
Today we had a prisoners' adventure, when we found ourselves locked outside on the quayside. We were with the seagulls, behind a high spiked fence:

Seagulls free; us imprisoned, or rather, ex-prisoned. The drivers of the van in the photo on the left had driven off and locked the gate, while we were walking onwards towards the end of the quay.
The fence was too high to climb over. We did spy some distant figures and I yelled "OLA!" with all my acting training at voice projection. But to no avail, too much crashing waves and screaming seagulls.
David decided to walk right to the end of the quay (in the distance in this photo) where we had noticed some old stone steps leading down to the pontoon (where Stroemhella lay moored).
Happily, oh serendipity, a young man in his rubber dingy came motoring round the end of the quay and David called out to him for help. We soon found out he was French, had arrived with his young family, and he it was who owned the broken boom lying on the pontoon beside our boat.
With his help we cautiously descended the stone steps, leapt onto our pontoon, and home was in sight. We chatted to our rescuer, who had come round in his dingy to discuss what to do with his broken boom.  We practised our French and thanked him heartily for his help and David provided him with some useful tips.

Above: Two seagulls wondering whether to risk a dive...

I think this one is asleep; it's a juvenile seagull, hence his speckled feathers. I find the young ones handsomer than the adults. Could be said of many species...
We have established a very pleasant routine here in the marina. And while the weather stays kind, we mingle inside and outdoors, rejoicing in the vast sky and the endless sea...

 Sunset over the Atlantic...