5th February 2015

Breakfasted promptly at 7:45 am, we then headed on deck to see where in the world we’d drifted overnight. The ship was gingerly easing itself alongside the dock in La Coruña, all under cover of darkness, a rather stealthy approach for such a massive vessel.

By the time we’d wrangled ourselves into “mildly miserable” weather gear (forecast: a brisk 9°C with a side of showers), disembarked, and stepped into daylight, it was just gone 9 am, and wouldn’t you know it, the day looked almost pleasant. Hopes tentatively raised, we wandered through the passenger terminal, fully expecting a city map to magically appear. Alas, not a single one in sight! So, we’d be navigating with the ship’s version, a map of legendary ambiguity, practically inviting us to get lost.

We set off along the port road, cameras in hand, to capture the famed “Crystal City” façade La Coruña is so proud of. Sunlight glinting off row upon row of glass-fronted buildings, an Instagram dream! Photos snapped, we meandered over to a lovely little harbour park, seized the chance for a few shots of our mighty ship, and then continued following the path to the harbour’s historic fortifications.

This fort was, in its day, a thorn in the side of none other than Sir Francis Drake, who sailed up in a huff to take revenge after that little Armada episode. But he hadn’t counted on the local heroine, María Pita, who famously led the charge against him and sent him packing, her statues and portraits now dotted all over town in triumph. A classic “away game” challenge for Drake, but given our hefty home win, we can’t feel too sorry for him, after all, history says we took the series!

The fort itself is superbly preserved and well worth a visit. Inside, exhibits lay out the site’s history, stretching right back to Roman days and beyond. Our tour included an unexpected entourage of teenage students and their teachers, whose collective decibel level kept things lively. But credit where it’s due: the minute the teacher paused to impart some historical wisdom, the whole crowd fell silent and listened intently, a true show of classroom discipline, if ever there was one!

We moved on and found General John Moore’s grave in a small, picturesque garden. He was in charge of a 30 000-strong contingent of British troops and was being chased by Napoleon with 80 000 soldiers. Like Dunkirk, he managed to evacuate the majority of his men onto ships and back to England with the loss of only 900 men and himself. His wish was to be buried where he fell, and he was.

We moved across the road to the Military Museum. Another must-visit place, especially for those who enjoy militaria, it has a superb collection of pistols and rifles, with General Moore’s battle depicted in little toy soldiers. It brought out the little boy in me. I would have loved to play with them, though probably in my scenario, ‘Boney’ would be the one legging it home.

The sun was getting a little fierce, so we ambled down to the shore to catch the cooling breeze before climbing up into the town to visit the oldest church in the area and a place of pilgrimage, even to this day. There was not a lot to see inside, though I found that quite refreshing, as I am about bombed out with glittering, elaborate Spanish and Portuguese Catholic churches! Somewhere in there were the sacred bones of some saint, but we didn’t find them. Appropriately, there was a rather contented dog sitting outside.

Ignoring the many churches scattered invitingly about, we instead took to wandering the cobbled streets of La Coruña, happily getting lost among the pleasant lanes. We dipped in and out of little shops, narrowly avoiding a brief shower that appeared just long enough to keep us on our toes, only to vanish and give way to sunshine again, a rather theatrical bit of weather.

We eventually ambled our way to the far side of the port, took a well-earned breather, and then strolled back via streets we hadn’t yet explored. When we finally found ourselves parallel to the ship, we decided to call it a day and hopped back on board. It was precisely 2 pm, a remarkably punctual end to our leisurely loop around La Coruña!

Lunch was a leisurely affair in the Plaza, and then it was back down the gangplank for a quick pit stop at the port shop, as Sue had a last-minute shopping list of elusive items she hadn’t managed to find in town. Mission accomplished, we returned to the ship, armed with our books, and settled into the Atrium, equipped with a beer and a cocktail, a fine way to wait out departure. We stayed put as the ship slowly drifted away from the dock, watching the ancient Lighthouse of Hercules glide past, bidding us farewell as we pointed towards the increasingly choppy waters of the Bay of Biscay.

On our southbound journey, the Bay had been a smooth operator, barely registering. This time, though, I suspected we’d get a taste of its notorious “other side.” Knowing we’d have a full sea day tomorrow, Sue and I wisely retreated to the cabin as soon as the last stretch of coast slipped beneath the horizon, claiming a few well-deserved zzz’s.

Later, we dressed casually for dinner and both opted for the Marco Pierre special, a solid choice, as it turned out. The evening’s entertainment featured the Irish comedian again, who was as hilarious as ever. I was laughing so hard at one point, I feared for my ribs. By the time we headed back to the cabin after midnight, we could feel the sea beginning to flex its muscles… a gentle reminder that our Bay of Biscay encore was just getting started.