As the early afternoon torpor settles, we turn on a coastal road. Our gaze plunges into striking ravines. The road seems to go down to the shore. At the end, under ever-present winds, we see a rocky coastline, steep, inhospitable, rugged. White foam strikes the shore. A church, looking like it was built yesterday, stands in this moon-like setting. It is so isolated that it must be a church for intergalactic pilgrims. Another road calls us.