clairedavieswriter

Fortunately for our legs, today’s ride was about as different to yesterday’s as it could have been. Yes, we still started on the N2, with its avenues of eucalyptus…

And miles of scrub either side, dotted with stunted oak trees.

But the hills had vanished – this was the view this afternoon, looking back the way we’d come. We could see the high ground lurking on the horizon, looking annoyingly innocuous for all the effort it had demanded yesterday.

Today, when the road undulated, it was in a good way – our wheels often gathering enough speed on the downs to carry us up the ups. We made such good time that we reached our destination before two o’clock, having ridden through only an hour or so of the fiercest heat.

Highlights today included the other half (about 200m) of Almodôvar’s cycling infrastructure. On the way we passed two municipal workers sweeping off leaves, who looked astonished to see cyclists on their cycle path.

It amused us that storks had set up home on the ‘roof’ of this one dimensional house that the town of Castro Verde had erected as a welcome sign

Speaking of houses, we’ve noticed a lot of empty and abandoned properties, many of which are for sale, both in towns and in the countryside. This one looked like a bargain, but it needed a bit of work

In Castro Verde, we crossed paths with another pilgrimage route to Santiago

Which reminds me that yesterday, as we pedalled uphill out of Faro, we met a young South African walking down, carrying a large backpack. Given there was no pavement or hard shoulder, he’d sensibly tucked a high viz jacket into his chest straps to catch drivers’ attention. But that seemed to be the full extent of his preparations. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked. ‘Not really sure,’ he replied with a smile. I tried a different tack. ‘Where have you come from?’ He half turned, waved a hand vaguely behind him and said ‘Somewhere back there.’ It’s a degree of spontaneity I can only dream of. But I did wonder how he managed for food.
We had no such concerns today, thanks to the cafe in Castro Verde, where, confusingly for our attempts at Portuguese, the staff spoke to each other in Italian. So today’s sanduiche were actually panini. We were chased from our first picnic site in the tiny village of Sao Joao de los Negrilhos by an elderly dog, who took particular exception to Jon. Perhaps his socks were overdue a wash? No locals complained when, a few minutes later, we alighted upon a bench in the shade of an orange tree

My final highlight was down to Guillaume. At this point I should mention that, in our admittedly brief experience, the manner with which Portuguese drivers treat cyclists compares poorly to that of their Spanish counterparts. We’ve had more close passes in two days than in the entire trip through Spain. And judging by our spell on a dead straight undulating road this morning, they also take a distinctly optimistic approach to overtaking on the brow of hills. After a couple of hours of this, we weren’t unhappy when Guillaume suggested a quieter alternative to the N2, which also came with added colour

Tomorrow looks set to be a bit harder than today, so we’re concentrating all our efforts on rest, recovery – oh, and a spot of research. I’m hoping the wine label isn’t a promise of things to come