21 to 23-Dec-24 A Coruna, Spain, to Porto, Portugal

Another dismal day. Low cloud. Heavy rain. Flipping cold. Slightly cheered that when wanting to pay for my morning brews in hotel breakfast room waitress says, “It’s OK…it’s only coffee.” More cheer when I realise they’ve already brought car to reception from the overnight offsite parking. Saves getting wet. A Coruna known for the Tower of Hercules. Roman lighthouse built in the 1^st century. And the second tallest in Spain.

But as it’s chucking it down. You can’t see much of it.

Nearing Cape Finisterre see plenty of people walking the Camino Way. That well known Pilgrimage Path. Culminating in Santiago del Compostela.

At Cape Finisterre for my own little pilgrimage. Finisterre meaning the end of the world.

On 13 June 1943, my Great Uncle, Flying Officer Leonard Lee, was the Captain of Sunderland flying boat DV967. With a crew of 10. As part of 228 Squadron Coastal Command. Attacking German U-boats.

On this particular mission they were about 300 miles north west of Cape Finisterre. The U-boat they were attacking was U-564. Which had sailed from the Bordeaux submarine base I was at a week or so ago. As they were attacking it they were themselves being attacked by the U-boat. Which succeeded in shooting them down. None survived.

They had managed to damage the U-boat but not sink it. Which was completed by a further RAF attack the following day.

He trained at Carberry, near Brandon, in Manitoba, Canada. Which is why some of the crew were Canadians. One of which was Vincent Goldstone. Who was from the Brandon area. We are still in touch with Vincent Goldstone’s niece. We’ll call her Miss Brandon. As she’s reading this blog too!

So this blog post is in memory of these brave men:

Flying Officer Bertrand Leonard Lee

Flying Officer Desmond Fairfax Hill

Pilot Officer George Lough

Flying Officer Alfred Keith McDougall RCAF

Flying Officer Robert Jasper Agur RCAF

Sergeant Vincent Murray Goldstone RCAF

Sergeant Robert Alexander Shaw RCAF

Sergeant Richard Evelyn Joseph Smith

Sergeant James Watt Fraser

Sergeant Andrew Carmichael

Sergeant Dewi Davies

Having being directed to a car park space I had already spotted at Cape Finisterre by what I think to be a car parking attendant he later approaches. Thinking he wants me to pay for a ticket. He’s not a parking attendant. It’s a ‘pilgrim’ begging for money. Who is quickly told to clear off. I’m all heart.

As you will see from the photos below…not the clearest day. And I struggle to make out the lighthouse in the mist and rain.

But clamber down the rocks beneath and look out to sea. Well look out to a bank of mist and cloud and rain. And pay my respects to those brave men. Quite a poignant moment. I’d only ever known my Great Uncle through a small black and white photograph on Great Aunt’s sideboard. Taken in Nottingham’s Market Square. Just before being deployed.

My Great Uncle died the day before his second wedding anniversary and my Great Aunt never remarried.

Lest we forget.

Continuing the pilgrimage theme overnight at Santiago de Compostela. Rain, rain, rain all the way. I’d assumed Santiago de Compostela was a small church town. Like Walsingham perhaps. But it’s actually quite large and the new town is pretty grubby. Fortunately staying at the Hotel Altair at the entrance to the old town (https://www.altairhotel.net/en). Unfortunately, it lacks any heating. It is freezing. Electric radiator has to be wheeled in to heat the room. Unfortunately, it’s a weekend and laundry service is not available. Fortunately, there’s a public laundry nearby. Unfortunately, that too is freezing cold. So spend an hour shivering with my manflu waiting for jumper and clothes to be washed and dried. The joys of being on the road. Fortunately, beat the mid afternoon rush. As my drying cycle nears the end a load of young woman enter the launderette with bags of washing. There’s now a lack of machines and dryers for the many who are now waiting. Glad I got in before that lot.

Having now got room to the status of ‘not freezing cold’ decide to switch off heater during the night. There’s no need for heat now. Manflu has taken a turn. Somewhat feverish during the night. Whole body is on fire. It feels as though I’ve been possessed. Jeez. Not a pleasant night. But hope it’s a sign the manflu is being purged.

Cold and wet Sunday in Santiago seeing the Santa run. Hundreds of runners pounding the cobbles. Impressive Cathedral. Silently does it as I pootle around the pews full of people praying. Well. Apart from my walking boots going. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. At every footstep.

Final day of driving and arrive at Vigo airport to drop hire car off. No Hertz in attendance. Only a key drop. Later receive an email with a bill for EUR800 for ‘damaged wheels’. But some months later have still not been charged. Fingers crossed.

The only reason for coming to Vigo is to catch the train to Porto and resume rail travel. It’s an early departure to Portugal. And a poxy three carriage commuter train. Economy class only. Thankfully it’s only half full so can stretch across the seats. And only just over 2hrs.

And finally.

After the rain in Spain.

Some blue sky.

And sun.

And not freezing cold.