After two days on Valencia, we moved to Cromane (pronounced "Crumb-orn".) This is where my wife's father was born and bred. It's an unspoilt fishing village, where my wife's cousin John Joe still makes a living from the sea.
This photo shows The Phantom looking rather nervous. I'm not a great lover of boats, and had just been handed a set of waders to put on which looked like they had come straight out of the costume locker for the film "The Perfect Storm".
This is JJ's oyster barge, with my better half looking cool for'ard.
Early morning light over the oyster beds...
This is John Joe, hefting a sack of oysters. We were standing way out at sea. The oyster beds are only uncovered at low tide, for a couple of hours morning and evening, two weeks out of four.
We were out to do some quality control. This is the contents of one bag...
I soon started to relax when I realised that we had an oyster knife on board. After all, there's only one real way to do quality control on an oyster. Eating it. I will never eat an oyster any fresher than those I ate, standing in the Atlantic that morning.
And this is A Happy Phantom, with two kilos of mussels and two dozen spanking fresh oysters for that night's supper. I'm afraid I didn't get any photographs that night, we were too busy eating!