Yesterday while looking out over the beach, I detected some vague white spots, then a few more and finally a smear of them.  Got out the binoculars and made out a cloud of more than a hundred OPTIMIST class dinghies racing like mad ten kilometers north of the nearest shelter in the big swells and stiff wind of the open Atlantic Ocean.

 There were large craft positioned at anchor as turn markers and these little boogers were just hammering away on that big ocean, rising poised for an instant on the crests and then disappearing completely in the troughs. They are only about half again as big as a bathtub and these had to have been True Sailors of the first rank and while they are children now, they are surely destined to be voyagers. It’s still fashionable to run a mild mixture of Vasco da Gamma blood in these parts.

Viana do Castelo completely satisfies my need for a diverse and ever-changing working waterfront.  There are tugs and fish-boats, tankers and dredges, a good sized shipyard, two yacht basins and beaches both inside and outside the jetty.  Off to the south is one of the storied international competition wind-surfing beaches and it is almost always covered with parachute-shaped kites whipping up and down the beach.  This little port is as visually interesting as any I’ve seen and then when one turns and looks inland at the town, it is all white-washed and red-tiled-roofed.  This is a treasure I am quite grateful to have found.