May 30-June 1 Inland Portugal
We said goodbye to the coastal headwinds and headed east, inland. We also bid farewell to English-speakers and cooling ocean mist. The country roads continued to be a complete treat with hardly any traffic. Here is a store without any identifying signage. John tried to order an Americano café. But what worked on the coast was meant with blank stares here. Later, we stopped at the village hang for a bite. I just wanted an ice cream which I could point to. John pointed to the “special” on the board, hoping it was a sandwich. What came was an enormous plate piled high with various forms of cooked pig and cow, regional sausages, rutabaga or turnips, potatoes, cabbage, etc. It was enough for 4 touring cyclists. Then, they brought an identical plate for me- yikes! All I could say, literally, was “Obrigada” (thank you).
While we enjoyed the narrow roads seemingly built just for us, we did not loose the hills!! Portugal’s geology, perhaps more than the rest of the Iberian peninsula, is replete with folds and belts in all directions. There was no escaping the slopes until we got to the higher planes of Spain
I walk my bike up the steeper sections. Even John did a few times (but didn’t allow me to photograph it).
The temperatures climbed as much as we did. This combination did not bode well for John who has a history of bonking in hot temperatures. The day we climbed 4,500 feet in 40 miles, it was 36 C/98 F. We needed the nuuns (thank you Marcia!) and energy chews (thank you David!) and stopped for every bit of shade for a rest. But his body was shutting down. At last, we made it to our destination of Vila de REI on the National 2. I immediately purchased a large bottle of cold water to pour on him. The pizza, beer, and hotel room helped to revive him but he needed some rest days.
The next day we did a slow 12 miles north on the N2. It had a decent shoulder and not bad traffic, but it was still a highway and when there were cars, they sped past us. As a whole, the drivers are more courteous than in the US, but I make an exception for Beemers, who are ubiquitously aggressive.
After an afternoon in Serta, and still recovering, we grabbed an Uber to a campground outside of town. Bruno, our super friendly driver, took us to Praia fluvial Bostilem, a river beach, and sweet swimming hole. The campground was free and had power, water and Wi-Fi. Perhaps best of all, luxurious shade. It turns out we had been riding through land scorched by fire 3 years ago. Shade has been almost nonexistent.
We planned to stay just one night at Bostilem. It’s isolated location at the bottom of a big sunny hill made us just want to hang out in the shade longer and swim while we planned our next move. We were out of food. Lucky for us, some of our campground mates were a group of high-spirited, good-natured young women from Lisbon who offered to buy us food on one of there town trips. Thanks Ivandra and her tribe! Further demonstration of the magnanimous nature of the people in this country. That night, Bruno showed up unexpectedly with Jade, his expressive girlfriend and wine. We sat around the Flintstone-style table, nodding and gabbing like old friends, but only understanding 20% of what was said. He offered to come back tomorrow and take us to the nearby city Castelo Branco. And just like that, our plans changed.
There were 5-6 campsites filled as it was the weekend after Corpus Cristo holiday. After a day, and despite language barriers, they felt like family, and we, the adopted orphans. As we waited at the table for Bruno the next day, Marie and Andre brought us a cold bottle of Portuguese wine, a mound of fresh caught and steamed crawfish from the stream, a thick slab of T-bone steak that spilled over the plate, napkins and cups. What an extra pleasant surprise to receive such hospitality in the middle of nowhere. Love the Portuguese sense of community.
