Flying over Eli Creek, you can see the tour buses and 4x4s gathered at the mouth of the creek. It gives an indication of the size of the sand dunes. It’s a wild island, constantly changing with the shifts of the sands, and, as it was on my first trip 18 years ago, instantly captivating.
Doing a really good job of pretending not to be there, the critter stood stock still and stared straight ahead. It was obviously scared and wishing internally for me to disappear.
I had my first vermouth Cal Pep, a perfect example of an old-fashioned bodega where a little oak barrel at the end of the bar has a spigot ready to dispense ‘vermut’. Although Pep doesn’t sleep upstairs anymore, it certainly feels like a place that hasn’t changed in years, just added more layers of dust and old posters to the dark wooden walls.
There’s a real sense of calm when canoeing. Especially if you’re in a quiet backwater with little to break silence but the tip of an oar breaking through the surface of the water and the consequent drips and dribbles from the paddle on the arc.
Taken on a rainy, cloudy day in Catalonia, I love how the bright redness of the poppies manages to shine in the image despite the darkness. The poem Wild Poppies by Marion McCready is an ode to their colour and describes them wonderfully.