How many Spaniards fit into a Zodiac?

La Corūna (A Corūna to the Galicians in whose part of Spain this splendid city is) was the ideal place to recover from the rigours (or not) of a Biscay crossing. Great little restaurants - this one specialising in cured Spanish meats with an excellent line in Rioja,

places to visit by bike, such as this mock menhir, one of several with peep holes cut in to admire the view,

and of course the great and wonderful Torre de Hércules, begun by the Romans, which is the oldest functioning lighthouse in the world.

From A Corūna, one can also take a 30 minute train ride to the ancient cathedral city of Santiago de Compostela. We went on a Sunday, along with several hundred or thousand other tourists, but unfortunately train times did not allow us to attend a service. The main altar is blindingly gold.

I preferred the more modest side chapels, one with a beautiful carved roof,

and another with an impressive carved stone archway leading into it.

Despite being unable to attend a cathedral service, we did have time to sample the local cooking - sardines and Spanish omelette - in a pavement café.

Monday 22/6/15, a beautiful hot sunny day, was spent re-provisioning, searching the town by bike and locating a chandlery (not self-service and lack of the lingo prevented any purchases) and generally preparing for our voyage further South. Tuesday dawned but gone was the hot sun; loud fog horns early in the harbour warned that thick fog had taken its place! Although all our reading told of fog, clouds and mist in this part of Spain, we were unprepared for this setback. But Fearless Follyfin and her crew, determined not to be deterred and supported by RADAR and AIS, slipped her mooring at the first hint of the fog lifting, about 3 hours behind schedule. Fog cleared about 3 hours later and all was well except there was very little wind to sail by. Very frustrating! We cleared past Cabo Villano, the point protecting the Ria de Camarinas in which our next port of call is situated,

arriving in the delightful harbour of Muxia (pronounced 'Mugia' with a soft g) at about 21:00.

It would have been nice to stay a couple of days but Cape Finisterre and the Costa del Morte (the death coast) as it is known, awaited us on the next leg, and preferring to round that particular piece of land in fine weather, we pressed on to the Ria de Muros the next day. Finisterre did not look too threatening when we passed it - this is the southern tip -

but I for one heaved a sigh of relief to see it go behind. We rested a day in Muros, another delightful Galician fishing port, before setting out again yesterday, Friday, to the Galicia Atlantic National Parks consisting of four groups of islands just off the coast north of Baiona. We are now anchored off the east side of the Isla Ons, which protects the Ria de Pontevedra from the west. The extensive bureaucracy involved in applying for permission to anchor off any of these islands is well worth it. All peace and tranquillity on a Friday evening ... until the weekend ferries started to arrive this Saturday morning. Having been the only boat anchored off the beautiful beach last night, today we were joined by several yachts and small RIBs and motor launches. Thankfully, at the time of writing, they have all left except for one other British yacht which arrived in late afternoon. Peace again, except for the birds.

And now to the title for this post, what you, dear reader, have been wondering about ... two charter yachts, one with young men and the other with young women on board, arrived this morning and anchored either side of us. Of course they got together!