Leaving Cudillero behind, we set off towards Foz, a small coastal town that looked like the perfect place to do a whole lot of nothing for a day or two. The drive was one of those effortless ones where the scenery takes over, and you barely notice the miles slipping by.
The northern coast of Spain? Ridiculously beautiful. Cliffs that drop into the sea, hills rolling like they’ve been ironed out, and little coves popping up out of nowhere. The van handled the bends like a dream, and for once, I didn’t go on about the engineering. Well. Not much.
A Pool, A Parking Spot & A Resin Revelation
We found a campsite just before lunch—ocean views, walking distance to town, decent facilities. Just what we needed. But what really caught my eye? The swimming pool. Or, more specifically, the fact that it wasn’t finished.
Instead of tiles, the workers were using a resin binder for resin-bound flooring manufactured in Spain. Now, I’m no expert, but I do love a good bit of DIY, so naturally, I found this fascinating.
Mary? Not so much.
Still, she humoured me as I sidled up to one of the workers for a chat.
“It’s faster, more durable, and easier to maintain,” he said, explaining the process like I was about to resurface a pool of my own. I nodded along, pretending I might.
Mary rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck.
Lunch With A View (and A Bit Too Much Sangria)
With the van settled and my brief obsession with flooring out of the way, we wandered into town. Foz had that sleepy, seaside charm—small harbour, narrow streets, the kind of place where life doesn’t rush.
We picked up fresh bread and fruit from the market, taking our time strolling around, eyeing up the fishing boats bobbing in the water. I felt a sudden, misplaced urge to go fishing, but after my last attempt in Cudillero, I decided against it.
Lunch was at a café overlooking the harbour. Mary wanted sangria. I wasn’t about to argue. It arrived in a jug the size of a bucket, loaded with slices of orange and lemon. The paella followed—a classic seafood mix, prawns, mussels, squid, the works.
Mary took one bite, closed her eyes, and declared it the best she’d had so far.
And honestly? I had to agree.
Something about fresh seafood, sea air, and just enough sangria to take the edge off makes a meal hit differently.
The Art of Doing Nothing
After lunch, we wandered back to the campsite, stopping here and there to admire the views. The tide had pulled back, revealing rock pools and stretches of golden sand. Mary suggested we dip our toes in, but the water was Baltic, and we quickly decided against it.
The rest of the afternoon? Did absolutely nothing.
Sat outside the van, tea in hand, watching the evening sky turn pink, then orange, then deep blue. Dinner? A couple of sandwiches, some leftover fruit from the market, and a packet of crisps we found tucked away in the cupboard.
Nothing fancy. Didn’t need to be.
Tomorrow Can Wait
Foz gave us exactly what we needed—a slow day, good food, and the kind of scenery that makes you forget what day it is. Tomorrow, we’d move on, head further along the coast, find the next adventure.
But for now? Feet up, waves in the background, and a sky full of stars.
Wouldn’t change a thing.