clairedavieswriter

According to our hotel manager in Sertã, most people who ride Portugal from end-to-end travel north to south, ending in Faro, ‘because it’s easier that way’. Aside from a boost to our egos, this news also gave us a perfect excuse to feed ourselves up at supper time. It’s fair to say that in Sertã’s traditional cuisine, no part of the sheep, pig or goat is wasted. Speaking as a necessarily lapsed vegetarian, the maranha and bucho were delicious.

And Jon’s fried game sausage tasted much better than it looked

Our other reason for eating well was the prospect of another demanding day, which would see us climb from 200m to nearly 800m above sea level.

Happily, the somewhat schizophrenic N2 reverted today from the main road we experienced yesterday to a quiet rural lane, thanks to a motorway that siphoned off all the traffic. Once again, we came across some curious village names. With our rudimentary Portuguese, this one sounded like ‘An Excuse for a Marriage’’

And to a Spanish speaker, this one sounded rather stubborn

Forestry continued to shape the landscape, and not just for logging

Pine resin has clearly played an important role in the local economy over the years. This village had erected a memorial to those who tapped ‘the blood of the pines’

But when it came to eucalyptus plantations, it seemed not everyone was so happy

Highlights today included the dramatic descent to the Barragem do Cabril

Which, from our point of view, even with the climb back up the other side, was infinitely preferable to either the 17th century bridge far below us, or its modern motorway successor, soaring above

There was indeed a lot of climbing, but we were sustained by our daily sandes de queijo (procured from the hotel breakfast buffet by invitation: the attendant even brought us a bag to put them in and pressed two bananas into my hand ‘for your journey’). If you ever visit Sertã, we recommend the Hotel Larverde

A guardian angel, or Our Lady of Safe Travels

Ensured that, despite the threatening clouds, rain held off on the way up

And the views were – well, just look at them

With handy signs like these, I couldn’t lose my domestique

And nothing beats the feeling of reaching the top

Unfortunately, our weather luck turned a few minutes later. The 12 kilometre, 7%+ descent on a twisting road in freezing rain was not an experience I would like to repeat in a hurry. But it was nothing that couldn’t be cured by a hot shower. Or a stodgy local delicacy. Tigelada (tee-dzjel-arda) in case you’re wondering – an eggy, custardy, sugary, cinnamonny delight, just the thing for reviving tired legs.