Sunshine! Streaming through the slats of the house, filtering through the mesh of my mosquito net. And very welcome it is too. Bread and fish arrive, and by the time I’ve showered about four people are cleaning our windows and the housekeeper is halfway through the washing up.

We spend the morning on the beach, reading under the shade of palm trees. I’ve started reading Atonement. Around lunchtime we head back to the house for food, and prepare to drive over to Tofo for our ride. We’re due at 3:45pm, and we leave around 3:20 with Nick at the wheel for the first time. Unfortunately we seem to get stuck almost immediately – perhaps because the sand has been churned up and is particularly soft. A few more attempts and we’re over but we’re now running a bit late. We arrive at about 3:55, just in time to saddle up and get going for 4pm. I’m with Voelker, taking a slightly longer route than the others so we can go a bit faster, while Nick and a Sweedish couple are with one of the workers taking a shorter route at a slightly slower pace.

The route starts by going straight out onto the beach – where we ride through the surf for about 200 metres, until we get to a section of long flat hard sand at low tide. Voelker says we’re going to go ‘for a run’, which I hope means a gentle canter but actually means a full fledged gallop and has me trying to concentrate on riding properly while desperaely resisting the urge to just grab onto something and hold on for dear life.

The ride goes on for around an hour and a half, taking in the beach, dunes, palm plantations, villages with donkeys, pigs and lambs wandering around, and summits with views stretching across from Tofo to Barra. At one point we ride through some land Voelker reveals is his – bought last year and waiting for him to save enough money to build his house. Crossing to the other side I see why this is a perfect spot – it’s balanced on the edge of a step hill with views across acres of marshland to palms in the distance, and the sun is starting to set behind them. Who wouldn’t want to build a house here. Mind you. at the moment you can only reach it by horse, though you can get within about 100 metres with a very tough 4×4.

After the ride we give the Sweedes a lift back to Fatima’s Nest, and drive back to Barra with Nick at the wheel. Nick hits less potholes than I do, but with him driving the car seems to veer without warning towards whichever side of the road has the most trees, rocks or other dangerous obstacles.

In the evening I realise, tediously, that I’ve been sunburnt badly. Again. Despite not having been in the sun without a hat on all day. Dinner is calamari bought earlier in the day from the fishermen that visit the house. We have far too much for ourselves so we do an extra plate for Vasco, our night watchman. He has no English, and the only words I’ve heard him utter so far are ‘torch’ and ‘change’, the latter reserved for when the torch battery runs out and he wants us to give him the other torch.

Nick opens the window and calls his name. Vasco appears – barely visible until he’s right in front of you, seems to appraise the situation and slowly takes the plate of food offered, nods slightly and walks off. Nick indicates that he can use the table on the deck to eat, but this fails to distract Vasco from his retreat back to his hideaway under the decking.

Towards the end of the day the power starts to flicker on and off again.