clairedavieswriter

Team Bernard reached an exciting milestone today. When we last crossed this river two weeks ago, just north of Cáceres, it was the Tajo. But a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then.

When we left our cosy cabin in the early morning chill, the only water we had to worry about was coming from misdirected sprinklers

Out on the albufeira, all was quiet, save for some boisterous herons roosting in the pine tree at the water’s edge.

For the rest of the ride, the scenery wasn’t much to write home about

Though the wild flowers were pretty, and I’m a sucker for fluffy clouds in a blue sky

It was not a difficult ride, and Guillaume clearly decided he should spice things up a bit.
Long-standing followers of my cycling adventures will be familiar with the antics of my grumpy Gallic guide. Cyclists will know him as the Garmin. Most of the time, he’s clever, reliable and adaptable. But sometimes, his behaviour is just baffling. Today was a case in point. We were riding happily north on the N2 (the dark grey line on Guillaume’s screen), when he told us to pull a screeching u-turn and head south east.

This made no sense geographically, and even less in terms of terrain. I mean, really Guillaume, why would you leave good tarmac for this (you can just about discern the track between the trees):

Fortunately, I know him well enough now to foil most of his dastardly schemes. But I’d love to know where he gets his ideas from. And anyway, we didn’t need him to distract us: there was plenty of entertainment to be found in the villages we passed. Given today was Sunday, this one seemed a good place to be

And to a Spanish speaker, this one seemed to be telling Jon to have a rest:

But not for long

While this one ranks as strangest village name so far. Perhaps water all year round was what the dam builders promised them before drowning the valley?

Like in the Cantabrian mountains, we refrained from picking mushrooms (or asparagus, or other wild products) – word of the day: cogumelos

But we continued to wonder what hunters might be after: these signs are everywhere, but we’ve not seen a single deer since we set out, and no game birds aside from a few partridge. I guess potential targets have learned to keep well hidden

Other highlights of the day included a bar called the Pelican which displayed this friendly homemade milestone on the wall

And served a novel version of carrot cake:

Speaking of culinary discoveries, I was delighted to learn that Portugal has its own version of Lea and Perrin’s famous condiment. The label reads “English Sauce”

Though we had no need of any with our delicious vegetarian bolognaise at the Abrantes Intermarché, where we ate our Sunday lunch alongside most of the town, it would seem. There was even a balcony

Tonight and tomorrow we’re about a kilometre from the centre of Abrantes, in a part of town that a developer might say has a lot of potential – a description that, from our limited observations, seems to apply to a surprising amount of Portuguese real estate.

In the circumstances, it must take quite a bold vision to create the kind of place we’re staying in (one of three in a row), and the owner told us they have plans to expand further. We wished them luck. Hands up who’ll give them a good review…

Luckily, we’ve got two nights to enjoy it. Legs permitting (it’s up a steep hill) we plan to visit the old town of Abrantes tomorrow. Stay tuned folks, for fascinating historical facts (or just more photos of food).