5hrs 36 mins. Yawn - predictably consistent.

A day of near perfect foot placement from Hugh. This would be fabulous if only it were always in the correct direction. Laughing initially at his gag as he turned right down the road south on exiting the car, we disconsolately let out some flares to alert him and he executed a neat 180 degree Guardsman's turn; continuing north. Such is his bonhomie I think he could have ended up again in Lisbon with a large grin. Possibly on his own in this regard but this is to his credit.

So this is the day we reached Spain. Our sports therapist is Spanish; a fact of which I've been painfully aware for the last few days, squealing like a hamster caught under a matador's heel (no decent analogy available, apologies) about the delights of tostada, boccadillos, Fernando Alonso, and real coffee. I googled famous naval victories of 1588 and left it at that.

We travelled tantalisingly just south of the Spanish/Portuguese border which runs along the middle of a large estuary - Rio Mino in Spain and Rio Minho in Portugal. A bit of imagination wouldn't go amiss - hardly the Channel and La Manche but never mind. Eventually we crossed into Spain, accompanied by more yelps from my left. The only dampener was that we really should have bought a case of white port before entering Espana. Schoolboy, utter schoolboy.

Our route then took us up to Baiona, a very attractive seaside town and we stayed in a fine hotel. The proprietor had befriended Hugh on Facebook, which was a mild concern but he turned out to be a decent chap. With a wife, more importantly. Here we met a local journalist; a sort of Hemingway figure who knew the King of Spain (and now Hugh) and who between drinking shots of 100 Piper whisky took down our hero's story. I don't speak Spanish and nor he English but we had the sort of convivial exchange that blokes do; gestures crossing the linguistic divide, in the mutual knowledge that we'd be talking bollocks even if we did understand each other. Still I hope there's a good yarn about Hugh in the local rag. The barmaids rushed to get photographed with H so this is all finally paying off in that respect.

I should say as a parting shot that we all liked Portugal very much. Dramatic coastline and great value fish and wine. From what we saw a real agrarian economy in many parts, small holdings, real if fragmented farming communities. A paucity of insight I agree but such is the lot of the constant traveller, a slave to 3 star hotels without seeing much else. I can see the sympathy ebbing.