Forget all I said. The first Finisterre morning is a cloudy one. Crap.
Just kidding. Not about the clouds, but it's really not that much of a disappointment. A little, but I guess one can always think of the current climate in Finland. And suddenly +15 degrees centigrade with a chance of showers doesn't feel that bad anymore. I decide to get myself going with a morning run after a light breakfast. Johannes and Kari are just getting out of bed as I head out jogging on the seaside walkway towards Playa Blanca. It may not be perfect tanning weather, but it's sublime for a run. Can't help thinking about the sleet back home in my shorts and t-shirt, happily sweating my ass off as the Atlantic Ocean keeps me company.
Overlooking the shoreline and the beaches are a number of almost identical looking small hotels. I come across some pretty disappointed looking holiday folks wrapped up in their windbreakers. After about four kilometers, it's time to turn back. Didn't quite make it to the village, but the 7-8 km roundtrip is definitely starting to do it for me. And I am suddenly consumed by the idea of relaxing my aching muscles in the hot tub.
As I make it back, Johannes (normally so calm and laid back) is fuming. Nothing seems to be going right putting together the equipment, and in an encouraging manner Mr. Laiho lets us know that it doesn't seem likely we will be able to do much recording at all. In addition, the fuses keep popping. And then it starts to rain.
It's pouring down outside. Kari is chilling out on the couch, picking some pretty somber sounds out of his acoustic guitar. Things could look more promising.