Another moving day today and for some puzzling reason I had a bad feeling about it, something that had happened once before when my anxiety had proven to be unfounded. It’s not strong enough to be called Foreboding, it’s just a kind of Presentiment which leaves me uncomfortable and worried. But today it was right!

With everything safely packed away for the hundredth time, I got into the Audi to move it round and hitch up with the Magic Caravan. Except that I reversed into a fixed metal bin. Crunch! Mary confirmed my suspicions that all was not well with the rear of the car and my own inspection revealed some serious scratches to the paintwork and a misplaced bumper section. I did however manage to knock the panel back into place once I realized it was plastic and not metal, checking to ensure that nothing was touching the exhaust pipes or the rear wheel. Annoyed as well as relieved we drove off.

70 kilometres of autovia later we passed the town of Zamora then took a national two-way road for another 50 kilometres through very scenic hills and valleys, taking us back onto another autovia heading west. We pulled off the main road soon afterwards and entered a narrow, twisting road which would lead to our campsite for the night 10 kilometres in the direction of a popular lake. When we got there the reception was closed with a note telling us to just go in and choose a place.

Once through the barrier, we spotted two or three tents before a steep path took us down to the bottom of an incline where a dozen caravans were parked. That was the problem. They were parked up long-term and none was inhabited. So we were alone again, this time in the middle of a huge forest in a part of Galicia we knew nothing about. My presentiment just kept nagging at me. To relieve the tension we both went to the loo. In midstream I made a decision.

When Mary came out, I had the engine running and the car was pointed back up the slope. We were leaving. When I said I just had a bad feeling about this place Mary agreed with a sigh of relief. We sped away, not daring to look back. Just before we found the autovia again we stopped at a restaurant and had a late lunch, knowing we needed something inside to keep us going on a journey we hadn’t planned.

With a combination of Victoria’s extensive list of campsites and Google’s reviews of the ones she showed us (Mary did this in the front passenger seat with the laptop on her knee and the dongle grasping a signal whenever it could), we finally chose a site 120 kilometres further on in a wee town called Alleriz about the same distance from Santiago de Compostela.

By this time I was feeling more optimistic and certain we would find this site suitable for an overnight stay. And so it proved. Maybe a wee bit off the beaten track, the site was nonetheless picturesque and well-equipped with perhaps the best toilets we’ve met so far. For company we had two French couples on a tour of the hills of Galicia in jeeps and in the grounds, roaming free not 50 metres away, were two of the cutest Shetland ponies you ever did see. This was not an ACSI site so no cheap rates, but at 20 Euro per night we were not complaining.

Once settled in, we discovered to our absolute joy that the dongle was lightning fast  here, given the lack of Wi-Fi on the site, so good in fact that we were able to have perfect Skype calls to several of the family. In particular I was able to see Ben running his parents into the ground (that’s my boy!) and chat to George and Fiona. Once again the day had ended well despite my strange feeling that there were problems ahead, a scratched car and an unwelcoming campsite.

I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow.