clairedavieswriter

Exciting news, folks. See that over there? That’ll be Spain. And Bernard finally got to have a paddle, in the river Minho that marks the international border

So does that mean you’ve finished Portugal? I hear you ask. Very nearly, but not quite. The most northerly point of the country is still a day’s ride away – yellow dot marks the spot

With any luck, it will be as glorious as today. As you might guess from the clouds, we got a little damp once or twice. However, the theme of the day was not the weather but the views

Guillaume treated us to a beautiful quiet route, through fertile land growing vines and maize. It was the first time we’d seen these traditional-style grain stores – in Galicia they call them hórreos

Every homestead had its own patch of vegetables and most had a lemon tree, which – as we’ve seen throughout Portugal – was always laden with fruit. Don’t they ever pick them?

Obviously, it was all going too well. At Guillaume’s instruction, we turned off a smoothly tarmacked road, swooped downhill, turned a corner and found this little beauty

We asked a woman walking towards us if the cobbles continued for long. She nodded, and with a shrug and a sympathetic smile added, ‘Calçada portuguesa’ – Portuguese roads.
No thanks to Guillaume, and at great risk to our calf muscles, after half a mile of this, we heaved the lads back up to the tarmacked road via a different route. Which did at least reward us with another view

Highlights today included the lovely little town of Ponte de Lima, which we learned is the oldest ‘vila’, or chartered town, in Portugal, dating back to 1125. As its name suggests, it sits beside a bridge over the river Lima

The town’s stone edged and white painted buildings were typical of those we’d passed on the way there

Its narrow streets offered attractive views round every corner

And the medieval bridge provided a great backdrop for today’s sandes do queijo (shame about the riverbank car park)

Speaking of backdrops, the 10 kilometre climb after lunch

Yielded a cracking backdrop for Jon’s afternoon tea. The snack itself would win no awards: Portugal’s version of a croissant (a dense and doughy brioche in an alarming shade of yellow) filled with slices of cheese pilfered from breakfast. But never mind the pastry, look at the view!

We enjoyed sharing much of our route today with a stream of mostly silent and contemplative lone pilgrims, following the familiar blue and yellow signs

But this was the best sign of all

As we prepare for our last day of riding in Portugal, I leave you with our discovery of the day: that the word for cobblestone in Portuguese is ‘paralelepípedo’. Now that’s silly enough to put a smile on anyone’s face