Day 1: Lisbon - Mafra - Encarnacão - Ribamar - Praia da Areia Branca 93 km
On an evening in April Marco Duiker and I were recalling memories of old bicycle
trips in my living room while enjoying a glass of wine. After a few glasses of wine
more we had booked a return flight to Portugal. It would be a short trip. Both
Marco and I had almost filled our calendars completely with other holiday or
travel plans later in the year, but we could both create a free week for this bike
tour. On May 21, 2016 we would fly to Lisbon in the early morning. Ten days later
on May 30th late in the evening we would fly back to the Netherlands from Porto.
A few weeks later, we find ourselves at Lisbon airport. After fixating the pedals,
adjusting the handlebars and the saddle and have inflating the tires, we are ready
start. We have decided not to cycle to downtown Lisbon. Marco does not like cities,
so instead we find ourselves moving to the north, out of the city. Using our GPS
receivers we meander on small roads that bypass the great highways. Even
before leaving Lisbon, we have to deal with extremely steep climbs. Sweat is gushing
all over my face and that is not because of the heat. The sky is semi-overcast and
the mercury level is below twenty degrees Celsius.
We are suddenly confronted by an ultra steep cobblestone descent. I estimate that the
gradient is at least 30%. I hesitate for a while. Do not you fall over your bike on
descents as steep as this one? Hey I had descended steeper ones than this one in the past
and I know that it is perfectly possible to go down here. I am just not ccustomed anymore
after ten months in Holland. Then I let my bike go down. Two minutes later, both Marco
and I are down below safe. We find ourselves in a shabby suburb. There is nobody
outside. Yet people are indeed living here. The only thing that gives color to this
urban world of pale gray concrete flats and flaking asphalt are the clothes and
sheets that are hanging out the windows. We imagine ourselves in the suburbs of an
African metropolis, but we are really in Europe here.
Slowly we are passing through the suburbs of Lisbon and eventually we reach a zone
of little cities that are semi-connected to Lisbon. We are on a road with heavy
traffic. Not ideal, but at least we are cycling out of the urban zone of Lisbon.
Ever growing green zones are separating the suburbs now. Relieved we can breathe
again. Finally we are out of the greater Lisbon area and we are riding over a
small, quiet road that leads up through a pleasant green hills. About half an hour
we are cycling up and down over the hills, until we suddenly stand before an unexpected
ravine.
A river with small waterfalls leads downward among emerald green slopes. A hiking
trail follows the valley. Marco and I want to go this direction anyway and we decide
to give it a shot. A few kilometers we go down over the walking path, until the gorges
are over and the valley opens. The road also becomes wider and a little later we cycle
over smooth asphalt again and a minute later we reach the first village. Here we
can climb back equally steep in order to compensate for all altimeters which we
have lost. A new descent brings us into the provincial town of Mafra.
Mafra is a pleasant town with a huge palace with basilica and monastery built in.
Or maybe I should state that Mafra is a palace with a small town. The area of the
palace is perhaps bigger than the area of the city that goes with it. According to the stories
the monastery was built to offset the sexual excesses of King João V.
In a terrace in front of the palace / cathedral / monastery complex we are having
a lunch break. After all the climbing, we have earned some culinary excesses too.
Marco and I are cycling with very little luggage this trip. We do not carry a tent and
we do not have cooking equipment either. Marco has increasingly developed himself into
a mountain biker and he therefore prefers to travel as light as possible. He has developed
an ingenious design to pack the bicycle as narrow as possiblee. A part of his luggage
is hanging under the steering wheel. Another part hangs suspended under the saddle until
right above the rear wheel. His bike is just as wide with luggage as it would have been
without. He is well-equipped for every single track that comes on his way. Furthermore,
Marco wants to keep his bike as light as possible. And so he limits himself to pack only
the absolute minimum and the absolutely lightest. And so the bicycle pump is Inimini small
and the handle of the toothbrush is cut off. We only have to wait for the invention of
light-weight water to fill the bottles.
I have not kept up well with these developments. I have a trekking bike without suspension
and I am carrying wide panniers. Although I am much lighter packed than usual and I am
cycling without bags and I do not carry a tent on top of my rear carrier this time,
but with the two bags that I do carry me and my bike are still almost as wide as a car.
Today we want to reach the Youth Hostel of Praia da Areia Branca. After two hours of cycling
we reach the coast. The sea is crushing against the cliffs below us. A hiking trail leads right
above these cliffs. Marco is crossing excited over the winding sand trail. I am following.
With my narrow tyres I frequently sink deep inside the semi-soft sands, but in the end I
I manage to find myself a way forward.
Suddenly I have another problem. My rear brake does not work anymore. That meabs the
brake does not function any more and neither does the adjustment mechanism. It seems
that my hydraulic rear brakes no longer function once the pads are worn halfway or
further. The only solution is a temporary one: I replace one of the pads for a new one
and let the other be. Two new ones are not possible, as I cannot adjust the brake.
The repair is sufficient, at least for the time being, but I am not assured that
the rear brake will continue to function. An annoying risk as I will not be able to
do anything about it this trip.
We reach Praia de Areia Branca and we find the youth hostel. In the local
seafood restaurant we enjoy the fresh catch. Rarely have I eaten such tasty fish.
An excellent vinho verde, a fresh sweet white wine from young grapes, makes the
feast complete.
Day 2: Praia da Areia Branca - Ribafria - Óbidos - Matoeira - Turquel - São Bento - São Mamede - Fátima 102 km
Yesterday was a gray day, but today we are welcomed by an exuberant morning
sun. We cycle through rolling hill scenery in the direction of Óbidos. After
two hours we see the castle walls of the medieval town on a hill on the other side
of a wide valley. The road leads with a wide arc to the hill with the small town on top.
An unpaved road is goes up the hill right against the face of the hill. I have to lean
forward over the handlebars to avoid tumbling backwards. The wheel is slipping away
at times. The climb is short though and soon we are on top.
Óbidos is a vintage tourist trap. The walled medieval town with its
pure white houses and white church is polished and pimped up with luxury four-star
hotels and pousadas. The town is not too far from Lisbon and is therefore easily
accessible. In addition, the little town is a good base to explore the nearby
larger towns of Tomar, Alcobaça or Fátima.
So it is not surprising that more people have come up with the idea to visit
the kitschy town. The main street is packed with tourists. The side streets are
a lot quieter though and in the other streets there is nobody and silence reigns
supremely. And the dirt road along the river has not seen a sign of life for a long
time. Although? After a few kilometers we face an iron fence with lots of barbed wire.
The main road far above the river is subject to extensive road repair works and dynamite
blowings. But not today because it is Sunday now. We decide to us push our bikes
through the bushes and carry the bikes across the fence. After a few minutes we
have crossed the hurdle. The second hurdle is even more difficult. We climb up a
slope of loose, freshly bloated boulders up to the thoroughfare. Walking over the loose
stones on our slippery click pedals with a bicycle in the hand is kind of a struggle,
which we have to repeat with the panniers. After fifteen minutes we are up with all our
stuff and we have succeeded the final hurdle. A fence on the other side is a piece of cake.
We have passed successfully and we can continue to travel.
After an hour or two zigzagging over small, steep roads we reach the village Turquel,
where we have lunch. We have already climbed a lot of altimeters but the biggest
climb is yet to come. A few hundred meters the road leads up to the Serra dos
Candeeiros. The road is getting steeper and steeper and even in the lowest gear
I almost do not manage to keep the pedals going. The descent takes us in a beautiful
valley. A new climb lies on the opposite mountain range, which is also called the
Serra dos Candeeiros. They may have the same name, but to me these are absolutely two
distinct mountain ranges.
Again, the road leads up steeply. This time the road is even more beautiful. A
small unpaved road leads through pristine flower fields and along rural groves. Atop
we reach a paved road again. We are on a small plateau with expansive pastures
where shepherds graze their flocks of sheep. The low sun throws the landscape in a
glowing light. It is as if time stands still. Unfortunately, this is not the
case and the sun sinks ever closer to the horizon. We are late and there is
no time for melancholy reflections.
I have a flat. I do not have time to repair now and I only replace the tube for
a new one. We carry on cycling through the high hills and hop from the east to
the west sides of the divide and back again. We continue riding another hour
of climbing and descending and hopping east and west of the ridge, before we finally
begin the final descent. Slowly we are reaching more densely populated areas.
Settlements become villages and villages become tiny towns and late in the evening
we finally reach the city of Fatima. We find a simple guesthouse and we are still
in time to eat. We walk inside the first restaurant that we see. We do not expect much
for a restaurant in this town that houses so many guests, but we are pleasantly surprised.
The bacalhao is excellent. A fitting reward for the hard work that we have carried
out today.
Day 3: Fátima - Bairro - Tomar - Ferreira do Zêzere - Sertã 93 km
In 1917, Mary appeared in an oak tree to the shepherd children Lucia and her cousins.
Mary came with a promise. Within about five months later she would come back. To
the same place. Five months later, there were 70,000 people, waiting for the return
of Mary. And five months later Mary indeed appeared, as was being witnessed by a
significant part of the crowd. Now she revealed three prophecies, that were testified
by Lucia as the only from the crowd. None of these prophecies mentioned the appearance
of the Lonely Cyclist, yet Marco Duiker and the Lonely Cyclist are on the holy ground
of the square of Fatima more than 99 years after the first Mary Apparition on the square. The
65-meter basilica pales into insignificance when compared with the huge space of the
square. Two female penitents are crawling on their knees across the square. Apart from
the penitents, there are not too many people here this morning. If we had been here
two weeks earlier, we would have been here exactly 99 years after the first Apparition
Mary and we would have seen different scenes.
Cycling at times means suffering. Even though we do not crawl on our knees over
the square, I am hurting from a nasty knee injury as we are cycling through the hills
towards the little town of Tomar. I am amazed because I usually do not ever suffer
from injuries while cycling. And certainly not from knee injuries. A large part of the
route follows a gravel road through a beautiful pastoral landscape. We are passing
abandoned farming villages and we are riding through fields full of blooming flowers.
Cycling on the road to Tomar, the injury worsens considerably. I am riding slow
and I am trying to suppress the pain. The last part of the road to to Tomar is paved
again and from that moment I have less pain. Finally we reach Tomar, where we drink
coffee in front of the São João Baptista Church in the center of the old city.
During the afternoon I have a lot more pain in my knee. Cycling eastwards the hills
are getting higher. We are climbing and descending all the time and especially the
last forty kilometers to Sertã we encounter many short, steep climbs. On
the flatter parts I am cycling slowly with a high cadence to minimize the pressure
on the knee. On the steep climbs there is no way to avoid pressure on the knee,
even in the lowest gear. With a high cadence I am having less problems and therefore
I am relatively fast on the way up. Marco does not understand anything about my
highly varying velocity. On the flat parts he has to waiting all the time but if
the road goes up, I am going like the fire brigade. I must admit that it must seem
odd, but as this way of riding hurts less, it seems like the best way to keep myself
on track.
We reach the town of Sertã. The town will not win any national beauty contest prizes
in comparison with other Portuguese cities, but the most important things are taken
care of. We find a great little hotel and the receptionist refers us to a fine restaurant
at the bus station.
Day 4: Sertã - Várzea dos Cavaleiros - Oleiros 41 km
When we get up, it is cloudy and chilly. It amazes me that it is still dry. We intend on
riding an obscure route through the mountains of the Serra de Olvelos in the direction
of Oleiros. Even before we really begin to climb, it is raining already. Not very hard,
but it does not looks like there will be a change for the good today.
In Várzea dos Cavaleiros we really start to climb. It is a beautiful and uniformly steep
ascent. Because the climb is not too steep, I am experiencing less problems with my knee
than yesterday. We gain altitude quickly and after a short while we are riding into
the clouds. The rain intensity is being cranked up in the meantime. Marco is not
a fan of rain and cold weather and certainly of the combination of the two. Going up
I do not mind that it rains and that it is cold, but now we have started the long
descent, I find out that my brakes do not perform well with the large quantities
of rainwater that are flowing over the road. Furthermore I fear that the rear brake
will fail again completely like on the first day.
After the descent follows a new climb. Lower than the first climb and after forty-five
minutes we reach the pass. Another descent follows and we reach the town of Oleiros.
We are climbing up over a little cobbled road. Hellish injections of pain are raging
through my knee. In the small center we find a fine restaurant, where half the town
seems to have gathered. The restaurant has a no nonsense atmosphere and has a very
nice atmosphere. The space is cozy and noisy and the older waitresses are running
up and down with large plates of meat and fish and salad through the narrow gaps between
the tables. The meals are simple and excellent. We eventually settle at twelve euro for
three courses including drinks.
Day 5: Oleiros - Sarzedas - Castelo Branco - Idanha a Nova 92 km
Initially we were planning to ride straight north to the Serra de Estrela, the
highest mountain range in Portugal. Because the weather is bad these days and predictions
for the next few days are even worse, we decide to maximize our chances for a little bit
of sun and therefore we are cycling east towards Beira Baixa on the border with Spain.
The area lies behind the hills and ridges of Portugal and is thus considerably drier
than the rest of North and Central Portugal. Riding east means that we have to cross
the Serra de Alvelos one more time. Unlike yesterday it is still dry as we approach
the ridge. In several small climbs we slowly gain altitude, so that the real climb
to the pass is an easy affair. The sky is overcast when we arrive at the summit,
but it is raining no more than an occasional drop. We aee the gently sloping hills
of Beira Baixa looming before and far below us in the distance. We go down, on a long
descent towards the sun.
After the descent we ride through a gently rolling landscape. Around lunch time we reach
Castelo Branco, the largest city of Beira Baixa. The city has beautiful and atmospheric
areas, but the large numbers of uniform concrete highrises make sure that the balance
bends towards the disadvantage of the povincial town.
From Castelo Branco we continue riding east, in the direction of the Spanish border.
We find ourselves clearly in drier landscapes now. For the first time we are cycling
in landscapes where the usual green shades are complemented with yellow patches. Every
now and then the sun is shining. The landscape is continuously improving as we are
progressing. The grasslands are dotted with thousands of flowers. The country is
used extensively for livestock. Other parts seem to be in use no longer.
Beira Baixa is a wonderful cycling area. The weathered landscape is full of character.
Large boulders are strewn across the country. Occasionally small rocks rise up above
the surrounding landscape. The distance between villages are further than in other
regions of Portugal, but there are still plenty of small roads, which cut through
the landscape to connect these villages. Marco is a mountain biker and therefore
we usually opt for the many tiny roads and single tracks.
Because we are riding through relatively easy terrain since we have left Castelo Branco,
I had good hopes that my knee injury would get a chace to recover, but unfortunately
that proves not the case. I am having a new problem as well. My pedal is making
creaking noises. I feel how the pedal is attached to the crank. There is a little slack,
just what I thought. It amazes me that the small clearance is resulting in such
creaking noises. Anyway, I need to find a bike shop tomorrow.
We reach Idanha-a-Nova, a pretty village on a hill above the surrounding landscape.
We look for the hostel and we find it eventually. After having settled, we explore
the village. We walk through the small, winding streets and climb to the top of
the hill, where we have beautiful views over the pockmarked landscape. Then it is
time to eat. We find a small restaurant with a terrace at the edge of the village.
A Flemish woman comes around and joins us. Loes is running a cooperative company
that produce organic seeds with a few likeminded souls. Against all odds, she has
left her job and her friends in Belgium and has emigrated to the periphery of
Portugal. The move can be considered as swimming against the stream, as there are
many Portuguese who have left their homeland to settle in the wealthier northern
EU countries. She explains that she is well taken care of by the local, mostly
older population, although the aid is not always asked for. So she gets unsolicited
advice on how long the beans must be cooked or how the laundry should be dried.
The advices are not always appreciated by the independent spirit of Loes and thus
there is still room for further integration in the future.
Day 6: Idanha a Nova - Idanha a Velha - Monsanto - Bemposta - Vale de Prazeres - Fundão - Covilhã 99 km
According to Loes the nearby lake must be very beautiful. But, she said in a subordinate
clause, she did not know for sure whether there actually is a road. The road is
actually there on our digital map data and therefore we are heading towards the lake.
The road to the lake is remarkably well and soon we reach the reservoir. From here
the road has changed into a dirt road. The road is quite pockmarked and apparently
there have not been any cars here for a very long time. For cyclists the road is
good enough though. Until the pockmarked road is suddenly replaced by two completely
overgrown single tracks that are flooded. Marco manages with great difficulty to cycle
through the mud. For me there is no possibility to get through because my luggage is
fixed on the sides of the bicycle and therefore the whole unit is too wide. The only
thing to do for me is to walk through the muddy waters of one single track and push
the bike on the other singletrack. A hell of a job because of the high scrubs that
effectively block the bike.
After having overcome this passage, a new challenge awaits. The road before us is running
straight into the lake. The water level is so high that the road is inundated. The road
is missing for some two hundred meters. We can see the road continue on the other side of
the lake. We have to cycle through the lake to reach the other side.
After the lake crossing we are dealing with a 'normal' road for a little while, but it
does not take too long. After two minutes there is no road anymore. A small shelf
over a river is supposed to be a bridge; it is the last thing that looks like a footpath.
On the rocky slope on the other side we cannot discern anything that looks like a
footpath either. What shall we do? Go back? We both do not want to go back. And
so we push our bikes across the 'bridge' to the other side of the river. On a slope
with rocky passages We climb up. I am going up first with my panniers to go down again
for the bicycle. With one bike in the one hand and using the other hand for balance or
for fixing me against the rocks I am able to overcome the passage. From now on the
terrain is a bit easier. With the panniers on the bike again I am pushing my bike up
over the steep grassy slope. Marco is already above, where he waits against a fence.
"We can not go further."
"Over there we can move the fence."
Just in time I see a place where we can release a piece of the fence from the ground.
We push our bikes out and continue to push our bikes. Soon we are faced with a new
fence. This time we are lucky. The fence has a small opening and behind the gate
we reach a decent dirt road and a few minutes later we cycle over a fresh piece of
asphalt.
We reach the idyllic village of Idanha-a-Velha, the most beautiful town that we have
seen so far in Portugal, beautifully situated on the banks of a river. We cycle over
the cobblestones through the village. On the church nestles a stork couple. After
Idanha we are moving in the direction of Monsanto. The village of Monsanto is
spectacularly perched on a weathered rocky hill. On the top of the hill is an imposing
castle. The village lies just below the summit. The hill protrudes far above the
surrounding landscape and is a landmark in the vast periphery. Over a slightly
overgrown footpath we climb the last two hundred meters up to the village.
Monsanto consists of typical old stone houses with red roofs. Unique are the
large round boulders that lie scattered in the village. Because the blocks
were too large to remove the houses around and between the boulders are
built.
After a long pause and lunch at Monsanto, we saddle our bikes in the early afternoon.
Finally we are cycling in the direction of the Serra de Estrela, the highest mountain
range in Portugal. In between lie sixty kilometers of rolling hills and at the end two
major hill ranges.
My knee is even worse than the last days. The pain is continuous and intense so that
my appreciation of cycling for the first time in my life has dropped to zero.
We are cycling through beautiful landscapes on quiet roads. Although the outside
circumstances are very good, I am looking forward to the end. On top of that: it
only looks worse for the foreseeable future. In the four days that we have until
the return flight we still have to cover a lot of mileage, largely in mountainous
or very mountainous terrain. The next days will be a lot more difficult than the
days before.
My knee is getting worse as we stand at the foot of the main ridge today. A dull,
wide road leads in several kilometers to the pass. The road is steep and not
very even. By pedaling in an ultra-high frequency, I am able to minimize the pain.
We descend to the town of Fundão, where I hope to find a bicycle shop where
I might replace the pedal. There are no less than three bicycle shops in the small town,
but they are all closed. We continue to go to Covilhão, the largest city
of the region, at the foot of the Serra de Estrela. The center of the town is not
at the foot of the Serra de Estrela but on the lower slopes of the mountain ridge.
And so we have to climb another two hundred meters over roughly laid cobblestones.
Again I have to swallow the pain, until we finally reach the center, where we find
a nice hotel, idyllically situated near the city park, opposite a church.
Day 7: Covilhã - Manteigas - Folgosinho - Fornos de Algodres 76 km
The bike shops are open today. Therefore we must, however, go down. The bicycle dealer
feels the connection of the pedal to the crank. That is good enough, he concludes.
But the problem is the connection of the crank to the crankshaft. So I need a new
crank. The problem can be resolved temporarily by simply fixing the crank. Within
a few seconds my bicycle is roadworthy again. I could and should have resolved this
myself. Then I think of something else. If there was so much slack sat in the crank,
might that have caused the injury to my knee?
I can test that right away. A 1,600 meter high pass lies before us, right across the
highest part of the Serra de Estrela. We are cycling over the same cobblestones as
last night, we up on the streets of Covilhã. For now, the test results are fine.
I am riding pretty fine and virtually painless. As we leave the town after half an hour,
we have already climbed three hundred meters. We are riding over smooth asphalt.
The road is quite a big one, continuously flanked by a thick crash barrier, which
largely blocks the views down. But the grade of the road is pretty continuous. With
a lot of curves we zigzag furter up. We gain altimeters quickly. And best of all,
I must conclude that my knee remains good. The injury was indeed caused by the crank
and so I could easily have prevented all these problems. But that is the past. Here
and now the pain is gone and that is what matters. Surprisingly easy we arrive at the
top of the pass, where dark clouds have gathered.
The climb might not be the nicest one around, but the pass is magnificent. It is the
place where the only glacial valley of Portugal goes down towards Manteigas. We will
soon descend through this valley. First I take some pictures of the breathtaking
surroundings. Nearby is the highest mountain of Portugal, which is just under two
thousand meter high. The top is hidden from view by jet-black clouds. Purple heather
vegetation provides some welcome color to the atmospheric shades of gray of the
landscape of rocks and stones and the overcast sky. Marco feels cold and is already
on his way down. After silently enjoying a few minutes of the dark melancholic beauty
of the landscape, I also begin with the descent.
The descent is magnificent. In a straight line the valley is leading down towards
Manteigas, a thousand meter below. There are almost no curves and it is easily possible
to break speed records here. That would be a great pity, because then I would not
enjoy this beautiful rugged area here.
During the descent I see the rain behind us coming over the ridge. It will cetainly
take an hour at least for the showers to overtake us, but for the afternoon this
proves a bad forecast.
We reach the mountain town of Manteigas, where we have lunch in a pleasant little
restaurant. It is remarkably cold and we cool down considerably further on the terrace.
After lunch we go further immediately to warm us up again. We may have crossed the
highest mountain ridge of the Serra de Estrela, we still have about one or two ridges
to cross to reach the other side of the Serra. And that is where we should be. And
so we are climbing again. The long-awaited rain has finally overtaken us. It does
not rain it really pours. Through the lashing rain we cycle up to the pass and through
the lashing rain we descend. And down again... the sun shines. Only five minutes ago
the weather looked extremely bleak, but we are surprised by a haven of light that
pours down througha crack between the black skies. For a small moment we enjoy the
atmosphere of pure peace.
From the valley floor we have to rise again. Over a nice little road we cycle up through
yellow heather bushes. The ascent is a new highlight today. During the climb we
enjoy the break between the showers. As we reach the pass, the showers pick up again
like they have always been there. But we are lucky that we could have taken full
advantage of the rain break.
In the pouring rain we descend to the plains far below. Halfway the descent we pass through
the beautiful village of Folgosinhos. We descend further and eventually we reach the plains.
From there we cycle through hilly terrain to Fornos de Algodres. There we finally find
accommodation in a large hotel on top of a ridge. Just in time we are inside before
a new relentless storm erupts.
Day 8: Fornos de Algodres - Vila Nova de Paiva - Tarouca 70 km
Yesterday we had a lot of rain showers, but the weather forecasts for today are even
worse. The road is dry as we start though, but the skies are gray and it looks like
it is going to rain any time soon. We are cycling through hilly terrain. Small fields
alternate with dense forests. It is a good landscape for cycling, not especially
spectacular but charming and pleasant. As we are drinking coffee in a cafe, it finally
starts to rain. We are sitting inside so for now it does not affect us. After the shower
has passed, we start again. One and a half hour long it remains dry. Then we get a
new downpour, even fiercer than the last. Because we cannot hide here, we have to
continue.
The weather is awful now. As soon as one rainstorm has passed, a new one is already
chasing us. I notice that my brakes have problems again. The rear brake is hardly
functioning and the front brakes do not do do anything at all. In the freezing cold
rain, I am not able to fix them. My hands are frozen and I can hardly move my fingers.
I have to use my feet in combunation with the rear brakes in the decents. Finally
we reach a small cafe. Here we wait until the storm is over. Meanwhile I have the time
to repair the brakes. The adjusting mechanism is broken so that I cannot adjust the
brakes anymore. I can solve the problem for now by replacing only one one of the
two pads so that the brakes are precisely adjusted, althought completely asymmetrical.
It works in any case. The brakes are functioning again. We do not feel like cycling
further though. We stop in Tarouca and knock on the door of a simple hotel.
As we return to our hotel room after dinner we are faced with another problem: the door
of our room does not open. After ten minutes of trying, we go to the hotel owner. She
tries to open the door with a spare key, but the result is the same. The door remains
closed. Ten minutes later her husband arrives. He also tries to fix the problem by using
increasingly more strength but also he does not get the job done. We have to wait half an hour
before new help arrives. The repair service comes with a small suitcase with repair
material, the one item even more useless than the other. It is already deep in the night
as they are on the verge of giving up. We cannot continue because it is too noisy
according to the woman. Other people might not be able to sleep. I ask for one last
chance to try it myself. We do not have the luxury to wait untill somewhere in the morning,
as we have to cover a lot of distance tomorrow to be able to catch the plane the
day after tomorrow. In short, we need to leave on time tomorrow. Especially because
bad weather is predicted for tomorrow again. So it is the last chance now. I start
to pry with an old bank card behind the door handle and strangely the door flies
open.
Day 9: Tarouca - Lamego - Cambres - Resende - Ribadouro - Marco de Canaveses - Penafiel 103 km
We have two days to ride to Porto. Tomorrow evening our plane will leave. We have to
leave early to cover most of the distance today. The weather forecast is bad again
with lots of rain, but unlike yesterday there is a chance of a little bit of sunshine
in between the showers. On the road to Lamego the sun is nowhere to be seen though.
After five minutes it starts to rain on the way. After an hour we reach Lamego, an enjoyable
town between the wine fields a few hundred meters above the river Douro. The town has
an old center and the Nossa Senhora dos Remedós a church that is situated beautifully
on a hilltop.
On the descent from Lamego to the valley of the Douro, the sun unexpectedly breaks
through. The vineyards light up in intense green colours and offers a sharp contrast
with the gray clouds. Over a steep road we descend into the valley. We reach the Douro
just downstream of Peso da Régua, in the heart of the Port region. From now on
the route is simple. If we continue cycling downstream along the river, we will eventally
reach Porto. It will not be an easy ride along the river though. The Douro lies
between steep hills and the road goes continuously up and down between the villages,
which are sometimes low and sometimes a few hundred meters above the river. We have
to climb a lot and sometimes we are faced with steep climbs.
On a long climb suddenly all hell breaks loose. The rain shower has an intensity that I
only know of tropical climates. The rainfall intensity may evoke tropical images, the
temperature certainly does not. The rainwater is intensely cold. I am shiver on the
bike. After a few minutes water is flowing in thick layers over the road and quiet
mountain streams have become mighty, wildly swirling rivers. But as fast as the storm
came, so fast does the storm calm down. After a quarter the rain intensity is low and
fifteen minutes later, it is dry again and another fifteen minutes later the sun is
already shining again. Everything would be fine, were it not that after fifteen minutes
we are confronted with a new shower.
We cross the river Douro near Ribadouro. There we begin on a steep cobblestone climb,
ending on the ridge between the rivers Douro and Tamega, the main tributary of the
river Douro. A lovely road that continues in the descent over slightly weathered asphalt.
Just before the bridge over the Tamega in Marco de Canaveses it starts raining again.
We find shelter in a cafe.
The shower lasts a long time; after one and a half hour waiting we decide to continue
whatsoever. It is late now and it looks like the hills on the other side of the river
are pretty high. A lot higher than expected actally. e need to climb four hundred
altimeters. From the pass we descend to the small town of Penafiel. We reach the
town just in time before a new storm erupts.
Day 10: Penafiel - Campo - Porto 67 km
Penafiel is a nice town, about fifty kilometer away from Porto. There are several
major thoroughfares to Porto. For us as a cyclist we are faced with the challenge
to avoid the major roads as much as possible. That is not so simple, but Marco
has found a route without major roads. And yes, it works. We sometimes cycle over
cobblestone roads, sometimes on unpaved roads, sometimes on roads with
that are overgrown with high grasses and sometimes we have to cross a cropland.
The last kilometers before Porto we cycle on a dirt road in a narrow valley
with high hills on both sides. It is an unexpected spectacular final stretch
before we enter the outskirts of Porto. For the first time during the trip we ride
under a bright blue sky. It is good to know that there is possibilty of nice weather
in Portugal. I had some serious doubts this week. We cycle to the town center and
decend over the steep slopes to the port, meanwhile enjoying the views over the
steep flanks. Porto is a festival of colors with the characteristic painted houses
with red roofs. Then it is time for the last kilometers of the journey. The airport
is located north of the city. We first follow the Douro westward to the mouth of
the river and continue along the coast in a northward direction. These are the truly
final kilometers of the small trip, which nevertheless seemed to last longer. Altogether
Portugal showed to be a varied cycling country, much greener than expected, with
beautiful towns and villages, fine cuisine and a friendly, but somewhat subdued
population. Just a pity it rains so much.
Suddenly I have another problem. My rear brake does not work anymore. That meabs the
brake does not function any more and neither does the adjustment mechanism. It seems
that my hydraulic rear brakes no longer function once the pads are worn halfway or
further. The only solution is a temporary one: I replace one of the pads for a new one
and let the other be. Two new ones are not possible, as I cannot adjust the brake.
The repair is sufficient, at least for the time being, but I am not assured that
the rear brake will continue to function. An annoying risk as I will not be able to
do anything about it this trip.
So it is not surprising that more people have come up with the idea to visit
the kitschy town. The main street is packed with tourists. The side streets are
a lot quieter though and in the other streets there is nobody and silence reigns
supremely. And the dirt road along the river has not seen a sign of life for a long
time. Although? After a few kilometers we face an iron fence with lots of barbed wire.
The main road far above the river is subject to extensive road repair works and dynamite
blowings. But not today because it is Sunday now. We decide to us push our bikes
through the bushes and carry the bikes across the fence. After a few minutes we
have crossed the hurdle. The second hurdle is even more difficult. We climb up a
slope of loose, freshly bloated boulders up to the thoroughfare. Walking over the loose
stones on our slippery click pedals with a bicycle in the hand is kind of a struggle,
which we have to repeat with the panniers. After fifteen minutes we are up with all our
stuff and we have succeeded the final hurdle. A fence on the other side is a piece of cake.
We have passed successfully and we can continue to travel.
In 1917, Mary appeared in an oak tree to the shepherd children Lucia and her cousins.
Mary came with a promise. Within about five months later she would come back. To
the same place. Five months later, there were 70,000 people, waiting for the return
of Mary. And five months later Mary indeed appeared, as was being witnessed by a
significant part of the crowd. Now she revealed three prophecies, that were testified
by Lucia as the only from the crowd. None of these prophecies mentioned the appearance
of the Lonely Cyclist, yet Marco Duiker and the Lonely Cyclist are on the holy ground
of the square of Fatima more than 99 years after the first Mary Apparition on the square. The
65-meter basilica pales into insignificance when compared with the huge space of the
square. Two female penitents are crawling on their knees across the square. Apart from
the penitents, there are not too many people here this morning. If we had been here
two weeks earlier, we would have been here exactly 99 years after the first Apparition
Mary and we would have seen different scenes.
Cycling at times means suffering. Even though we do not crawl on our knees over
the square, I am hurting from a nasty knee injury as we are cycling through the hills
towards the little town of Tomar. I am amazed because I usually do not ever suffer
from injuries while cycling. And certainly not from knee injuries. A large part of the
route follows a gravel road through a beautiful pastoral landscape. We are passing
abandoned farming villages and we are riding through fields full of blooming flowers.
Cycling on the road to Tomar, the injury worsens considerably. I am riding slow
and I am trying to suppress the pain. The last part of the road to to Tomar is paved
again and from that moment I have less pain. Finally we reach Tomar, where we drink
coffee in front of the São João Baptista Church in the center of the old city.
During the afternoon I have a lot more pain in my knee. Cycling eastwards the hills
are getting higher. We are climbing and descending all the time and especially the
last forty kilometers to Sertã we encounter many short, steep climbs. On
the flatter parts I am cycling slowly with a high cadence to minimize the pressure
on the knee. On the steep climbs there is no way to avoid pressure on the knee,
even in the lowest gear. With a high cadence I am having less problems and therefore
I am relatively fast on the way up. Marco does not understand anything about my
highly varying velocity. On the flat parts he has to waiting all the time but if
the road goes up, I am going like the fire brigade. I must admit that it must seem
odd, but as this way of riding hurts less, it seems like the best way to keep myself
on track.
After the descent we ride through a gently rolling landscape. Around lunch time we reach
Castelo Branco, the largest city of Beira Baixa. The city has beautiful and atmospheric
areas, but the large numbers of uniform concrete highrises make sure that the balance
bends towards the disadvantage of the povincial town.
We reach Idanha-a-Nova, a pretty village on a hill above the surrounding landscape.
We look for the hostel and we find it eventually. After having settled, we explore
the village. We walk through the small, winding streets and climb to the top of
the hill, where we have beautiful views over the pockmarked landscape. Then it is
time to eat. We find a small restaurant with a terrace at the edge of the village.
A Flemish woman comes around and joins us. Loes is running a cooperative company
that produce organic seeds with a few likeminded souls. Against all odds, she has
left her job and her friends in Belgium and has emigrated to the periphery of
Portugal. The move can be considered as swimming against the stream, as there are
many Portuguese who have left their homeland to settle in the wealthier northern
EU countries. She explains that she is well taken care of by the local, mostly
older population, although the aid is not always asked for. So she gets unsolicited
advice on how long the beans must be cooked or how the laundry should be dried.
The advices are not always appreciated by the independent spirit of Loes and thus
there is still room for further integration in the future.
On the rocky slope on the other side we cannot discern anything that looks like a
footpath either. What shall we do? Go back? We both do not want to go back. And
so we push our bikes across the 'bridge' to the other side of the river. On a slope
with rocky passages We climb up. I am going up first with my panniers to go down again
for the bicycle. With one bike in the one hand and using the other hand for balance or
for fixing me against the rocks I am able to overcome the passage. From now on the
terrain is a bit easier. With the panniers on the bike again I am pushing my bike up
over the steep grassy slope. Marco is already above, where he waits against a fence. 
My knee is even worse than the last days. The pain is continuous and intense so that
my appreciation of cycling for the first time in my life has dropped to zero.
We are cycling through beautiful landscapes on quiet roads. Although the outside
circumstances are very good, I am looking forward to the end. On top of that: it
only looks worse for the foreseeable future. In the four days that we have until
the return flight we still have to cover a lot of mileage, largely in mountainous
or very mountainous terrain. The next days will be a lot more difficult than the
days before. 
Penafiel is a nice town, about fifty kilometer away from Porto. There are several
major thoroughfares to Porto. For us as a cyclist we are faced with the challenge
to avoid the major roads as much as possible. That is not so simple, but Marco
has found a route without major roads. And yes, it works. We sometimes cycle over
cobblestone roads, sometimes on unpaved roads, sometimes on roads with
that are overgrown with high grasses and sometimes we have to cross a cropland.
