2018 Spanish Camino

September - October 2018
Our 2018 European Adventures will mostly take place in Spain & Portugal. We start with a walk along the Camino pilgrim route to Santiago, followed by a ride in Portugal. We finish with some time in Amsterdam and the Swiss Alps. Read more
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  • Day 18

    To the End of the Earth

    October 5, 2018 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 15 °C

    One quite amazing feature of our hotel in Santiago is that it features a “24 hour breakfast buffet”. I had never previously heard of this innovative idea, however it is actually quite simple. Instead of breakfast only being available between certain hours (eg 7.30 to 10.00 am), the buffet is available at any time of the day or night. This would even make it possible to save valuable time each morning, by having your breakfast before going to bed.

    After completing our walk to Santiago yesterday, it was a huge relief not to have to don my serious walking shoes and backpack once more. I was even able to leave my walking pole in my room. With sandals on my feet and nothing on my back it almost felt like flying.

    Our day began with a guided tour of the old city precinct with a local expert guide who introduced herself as Maria. She certainly was a huge reservoir of information and proceeded to teach us about the place at every opportunity. When she explained that confessions would be heard that morning in the cathedral “in seven languages”, I couldn’t help but wonder how people got on who were not able to speak seven languages. (Sometimes my mind just works that way).

    She also explained that the cathedral is being seriously damaged because, some years ago, much of the roof area was covered with concrete. Although this might have seemed like a bright idea at the time, it actually caused damage because the building was no longer able to breathe. Expensive restoration works are now underway to remove the concrete layer and replace it with something more akin to what was originally installed about 900 years earlier. Another example where the original builders really knew what they were doing after all.

    After a couple of hours of this serious touring, my brain reached memory overload and I was really glad that I could finally wander off by myself for a little respite. There were a couple of small matters that I wanted to attend to. The first of these was to receive my final stamp in my pilgrim passport. Douglas pointed me in the direction of the pilgrim office , so I went in the door with my passport in hand. The only trouble was that about 400 others had arrived before me and had formed a huge queue snaking throughout the building. It looked like a line of football supporters waiting for finals tickets.

    Since I did not want to spend all day waiting in a line, and since I was not interested in getting a piece of parchment paper, I invoked the well known “Plan B”. In another room there was a much shorter line to a man sitting at a cash register. In a very short time I reached the front and explained that all I wanted was a little stamp. He understood perfectly and dutifully proceeded to stamp front and back of my black book. It was all over.

    The other task I wanted to do was to spend more time inside the cathedral. We had spent so much time walking to the resting place of St James, that I thought I had better at least pay him my respects. At the entrance door I had to get past, not one, but two gypsy “beggars” who had almost succeeded in making entrance impossible without paying their own form of admission price. It really seemed a shame that this behaviour was allowed.

    Once inside I spent some time gazing at the ceiling and all the other adornments inside. I had to agree that the place really is huge. I could have spent a lot of time looking at all the minor chapels, statues and images, but I was looking for St James. When I saw a big queue I assumed that I must be on the right track. I joined the rear and slowly shuffled forward every few minutes. It was only when I got closer that I could see that the queue was not actually to see the crypt of St James, it was to hug the statue upstairs. Since I was not much interested in embracing a statue, I ducked out of the line of huggers and went downstairs to see St James instead.

    Once through the narrow doorway and down a few steps, I came to a grated opening where the silver casket of St James was situated maybe 4 metres away. On the floor there were numerous pieces of paper where pilgrims had left prayer requests or messages for the saint. I looked at the casket and wondered what (or who ) was really inside. The lid was firmly closed so the mystery will have to remain unanswered.

    With my two tasks thus completed, I felt that my mission here was finally over. There was, however, one other unfinished piece of business that I wanted to do on my final full day in Spain. I had not yet had a seafood paella. I found a nearby café that was willing to satisfy my curiosity and my hunger at the same time and I have to admit that it was fine eating.

    Although the prime objective for the Camino is to reach the Cathedral of Santiago, for many pilgrims there is a secondary objective as well. That is to continue walking until you can walk no more. That happens when you reach the Atlantic Coast at Finisterre. In Roman times this was regarded as the westernmost point of Europe and the name Finisterre literally means “End of the Earth”. That was where the maps finished and where the unknown began. It was Christopher Columbus who famously sailed into this unknown to discover the new worlds beyond.

    For a pilgrim to walk from Santiago to Finisterre it usually takes an additional 5 days of walking. For us it took a leisurely 90 minutes by bus. The rolling green hills along the way were liberally covered with eucalypts and pines and it made me feel like we could have been driving through parts of Victoria.

    Cape Finisterre is a beautiful spot, surrounded by steep cliffs dropping down to the ocean over 100 metres below. The late afternoon was warm, the sky cloudless and the air still. I sat on a rocky point and gazed out at the endless ocean and imagined how the ancients could really feel that this was the end of the world. I also took the time to think back over some of the events of the past three weeks. We had shared so much together in that time. Much of our walking time had been spent talking to fellow pilgrims and, for a brief time in our lives, everything was so simple – just keep walking westwards. And now we were here. This marked the end of chapter one of our adventure. Tomorrow morning most will be travelling to Portugal and the two Christines will be leaving to continue their own adventure.

    There was a tradition among pilgrims to burn all their old clothes when they reached the ocean. Presumably they would then start afresh and the rest of their lives would begin. Although the authorities are trying to stop this tradition (this is a high fire danger area after all), we noticed that pilgrims had left a number of items behind – boots, socks, walking poles, etc. Some of these had been tucked into the rocks.

    Then it was finally time to return to the bus for the very last time with Raoul. We were headed back to Santiago for our final night in Spain.

    After dinner some of us went for a walk back to the Cathedral. There were still hundreds of people there and we were attracted by the sounds of some nearby music. It turned out to be a group of colourfully dressed musicians who were playing a wide variety of stringed instruments and singing well known Spanish songs. Throngs of happy students were singing and clapping to the music. You would have had to have a stony heart not to feel touched.

    Somehow it felt like the perfect way to finish an amazing trip.

    Buen Camino indeed.
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  • Day 19

    South to Porto

    October 6, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    Over a year ago, when I was planning this trip, there was always one important variable in my mind. It was the one element that we have very little control over. Most of our previous European adventures had been scheduled to start in late August or early September. No one wants to travel in Europe in the hottest and busiest months of July and August, if they can possibly avoid it. I was also aware that Spain and Portugal can be even hotter than the rest of Europe. For that reason I decided to start the trip a couple of weeks later than usual, knowing full well that the final result was still a lottery.

    You could imagine my relief when we were able to complete the entire Camino walk without any rain (apart from a gentle early drizzle on the very first day). In fact every day was almost a carbon copy of the previous day - cool in the morning and the warm and sunny every afternoon.

    Following our visit to Finisterre, our mission in Spain was done and it was time to move on to the next chapter. We began our final day in Spain by saying goodbye to the two Christines (aka C1 & C2). The remaining ten of us would be catching a bus down to Porto in Portugal.

    The taxi van we had ordered the previous evening turned up a few minutes ahead of time. We were a little apprehensive whether all of our luggage would be able to fit in, but we needn't have worried. It is really amazing just how many bags you can fit in a small space when you resort to sheer brute force. You have to just ignore the possible collateral damage that might be happening to your fragile contents.

    A few minutes later we had arrived at the big bus depot and struggled to find out exactly where to catch the bus. We were not alone. Dozens of other multinationals were also wandering around in a state of confusion trying to sort out the vague directions. The bus we were waiting for arrived promptly on time at 11.15 am (it was due at 11.00 am) and we climbed inside.

    To our initial relief there were many empty seats, suggesting that the 5 hour ride could be more bearable than we thought. It wasn't. After a few stops all the remaining seats were taken and I was reminded afresh why I would NEVER go on one of those terrible bus tours.

    If the bus ride was not bad enough it got even worse when we pulled into one of those huge roadside stops. You know the drill. The women all rush to the toilets, while the men line up for potato chips and drinks. The smokers make their way to form a guard of honour outside every doorway. It really is horrible. How some people put up with day after day of this torture I will never know.

    It was also worth noting that something strange was happening outside. Heavy rain was falling and the temperature had dropped a few degrees. What perfect timing.

    Somehow I endured the 5 hour trip, only sometimes losing all feeling in my left leg. It really was worse than the 14 hour plane trip from Melbourne to Dubai. It was a huge relief when the bus finally pulled into the depot in Porto and we were able to stagger out into the fresh air again.

    Our home for the next two nights is the Porto Domus Hotel, situated in one of the highest parts of the city. The hotel was surprisingly good, although I had some initial trouble getting the Internet to connect. I then took the opportunity to walk through the centre of town down to the waterfront.

    Porto certainly is a fascinating city and its buildings contain a riot of colour and patterns that reminded me a little of the famous La Boca district of Buenos Aires. It was easy enough to find my way down to the water as all I had to do was keep going downhill. Along the way I passed through a number of pedestrian shopping malls and numerous buskers. One of the more interesting ones was a colourful women playing a hand organ, complete with pet chicken. She seemed to be doing a good trade.

    At the waterfront I watched the jet ski riders intent on killing themselves and simultaneously deafening everyone within a 2 km radius. A number of larger tourist boats sailed back and forth, while overhead there was a cable car leading to a large Ferris wheel. It was obviously all happening on this Saturday afternoon in Porto. It was also an unusual feeling being in a country where I did not speak a single word of the language. Although my Spanish is not so good, at least I could usually muster enough vocabulary to make myself understood. Here I felt a little like an intruder into a foreign world and Spain quickly felt like a long way away.

    So what did I do ? I sat at an elevated restaurant and enjoyed a seafood pasta while I watched the action that was taking place on the water. It seemed like a perfect way to start a new adventure in a country that I had never visited before.
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  • Day 20

    Porto - the Party City of Portugal

    October 7, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 19 °C

    It seems that every country has a city that offers the visitor about 50 different ways to kill themselves. I didn’t have to be in Porto for long before realising that Porto is obviously the thrill seekers' favourite Portuguese city. Whether it’s jet skiing, jet boating, motorcycling, Segway riding or a few dozen others, you are never far away from the roar of some kind of engine. In New Zealand the place for action is Queenstown, in Portugal it’s Porto.

    The city itself is certainly a fascinating mix of contrasts. From affluent shopping centres to derelict and abandoned houses, from well dressed young shoppers to filthy beggars sitting by the roadside asking for a handout. With its hilly location on both banks of the Douro River it really has geography working in its favour. The river itself is spanned by several towering bridges, the most impressive of which is the huge Dom Luis I Bridge.

    This huge metal structure was designed by Gustave Eiffel (yes the tower guy) and was completed around 1890. At the time its 172 m span was the greatest in the world. The upper path is now only for pedestrians and trams and, at 85 metres above the water, it offers an amazing view down to the city.

    You might have thought that the walking part of our trip would have been completed by now. If you though that you would have been wrong. According to my GPS I walked over 12 km before I sat down for lunch. I had also made life a little harder for myself by climbing the staircase to Mr Eiffel’s bridge, rather than ride in the funicular railway up the hillside.

    After wandering back and forth across the bridge I started to make my way back towards the hotel. I had not walked long before I was tapped on the shoulder. When I turned around there was a young gypsy girl with a clipboard in her hand. It was evident that the famous petition scam was alive and well in Porto. I told her that I was not interested (actually I might have told her to clear off if I am entirely honest).

    Since I had nothing better to do with my time I decided to follow her for a little while and watch her at work. To my dismay many tourists were not aware of how the sting works and bent down to sign the bogus bit of paper. I was even more alarmed when some handed over money when the inevitable sting kicked into action. At least she never got the opportunity to pick anyone’s pocket while I was watching.

    I was also greatly relieved that yesterday’s rain has now passed completely. The air is now clear and the temperature is now much milder. The low humidity also helps greatly when you are working hard exploring a city.

    Our hotel is not very far from the main shopping precinct. When I first walked down the main street yesterday, I was a little unsure of where all the smoke was coming from. I soon discovered it was from many vendors roasting chestnuts on the street corners. It is apparently a popular snack at this time of the year. There are also copious clouds of smoke billowing forth from the numerous smokers. As in most European countries, the anti smoking message has made little impact on the smoking habits of the population. Just as upsetting is the casual way that they blithely toss their used butts on the footpath, even when there is a bin within arm’s length.

    We have one more evening in this fascinating town before catching the Lisbon train tomorrow morning. I am so glad it is NOT another bus ride.
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  • Day 21

    Douglas Dices with Disaster

    October 8, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ 🌙 17 °C

    Our two days in Porto came to an end all too quickly. We had developed an affinity for the place and would have loved to have spent a little more time enjoying all that it had to offer.

    We had arranged to be collected by taxi at 10.30 for the short drive to the Porto Campanha Train Station. Allan and I were ready early and decided to go for a short final walk to fill in some time. When we found a small coffee shop it seemed like an appropriate place to grab a coffee before the long train ride to Lisbon.

    "Did you realise that no one has lost anything so far on this trip ?", I asked Allan. Even the two small batteries and fitness bracelet that had gone missing in my luggage had somehow reappeared a couple of days ago. When you are changing hotels so regularly it is very easy to misplace small items such as plugs and chargers. But so far we had not lost a thing. Well done us.

    We managed to find and board the train without mishap and soon we were smoothly and silently gliding towards Lisbon at over 200 kph. Although it was not as fast as the 300 kph Grand Vitesse trains of France, it was a far cry from the 80 kph shaking and lurching rattletraps that we call trains in Australia. I wondered why we are so incapable of building this type of train at home.

    The kilometres quickly ticked by and I couldn't help but be glad that it was so much more comfortable than the 5 hour bus trip we had endured two days earlier. We were even served food and drinks by two stewards. The country that flashed by was green and picturesque and the sky had once again reverted to a cloudless blue.

    The train first stopped on the outskirts of Lisbon and a number of passengers got off. I checked the GPS and it told me that we were still 7 km from our hotel, so I assumed that we had not reached the final stop yet. About 5 km further on the train reached the end of the line and our journey was over.

    Douglas and I had been seated in carriage number one, while another 5 members of our group had been seated further back in the train. After Douglas and I managed to exit the train station there was no sign of the other 5 passengers. It became obvious that they had mistakenly jumped off at the earlier station. At least they knew the name of the hotel, so we knew they would be OK.

    Douglas and I climbed into a waiting taxi and made the short trip to our hotel, right in the centre of Lisbon. Just as our taxi pulled up, we were joined by the others who arrived in a couple of other taxis. We all walked the short distance to our hotel, congratulating ourselves on how smoothly the arrangements had gone.

    It was only when we reached the hotel foyer that Douglas's face went white. He had just realised that he had left his backpack on the back seat of the taxi. He immediately ran back to where we had been dropped, but the taxi had disappeared into the Lisbon traffic with his backpack inside. We had no idea of which taxi we had just been in. The only thing we knew was that the driver spoke good English.

    It had only been a few hours earlier that I had been gloating that on one had lost anything on the trip and now Douglas had seemingly lost his entire backpack and contents.

    The only thing we could think of was to ask the hotel for help in tracking down the taxi, but we knew it would be areal "needle in a haystack" search. Douglas decided to try once more and disappeared back up the street. A few minutes later he reappeared with a smile on his face and a backpack in his hand. Apparently the driver had seen the backpack and had come back looking for him. It really was a miracle that could restore our faith in human nature.

    With our items missing tally thus restored to zero, we all checked in to the hotel and then spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Lisbon. My initial impressions were very positive and the reasonably priced lunch I enjoyed at 4.30 pm was excellent.

    Later I met Mary and Pam outside the hotel and we were all able to catch up on the events of the past few days. They are the final two group members to arrive from Melbourne and it was good to see that they had already checked into the hotel the previous afternoon.

    It had been a long and eventful day and I was ready for bed.
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  • Day 22

    Postcard from Portugal - Pt 1

    October 9, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ 🌙 19 °C

    When I was putting this trip together, almost 2 years ago, I have to admit that I had no idea what to expect in Lisbon. In fact, if I am being totally honest, I would have to say that my expectations were pretty low. The only recent news I had received from Portugal suggested that the whole country was struggling with a huge debt problem and was in danger of going bankrupt. Now that we have been here for a day and a half, it is worth mentioning how my opinion has changed.

    Many people would already know that, when I arrive in a city for the first time, I love to just wander the streets and observe how the city really works. Rightly or wrongly, my opinion is often formed within the first few hours of my arrival. Our arrival in Lisbon yesterday was dramatically punctuated by Douglas leaving his backpack on our taxi. Although this could have easily been a minor disaster, we were amazed when the taxi driver had turned his car around and then came looking for us in the crowd. My opinion of this city immediately took a quantum leap upwards.

    After breakfast this morning, Mary, Pam and I walked in the direction of the Sao Jorge Castle. This structure is situated on the highest point of the city and can be seen from just about anywhere. Yesterday the girl at reception had warned that it was a very hard walk up to the castle and went on to add that "even for young people" it is a struggle. Obviously she didn't realise that the Ghostriders are made of stronger stuff.

    Although most tourists resort to jumping on one of the continual stream of tuk tuks that convey visitors to the castle, we made our way through a series of narrow back streets. On either side were graffiti covered old houses - the sort of places that the normal visitors never get to see. We actually found it fascinating and the walk itself was not that hard at all.

    Soon we were at the entrance and found ourselves embedded in a heaving mass of tourists that had been disgorged from the three huge cruise ships that we could see docked in the harbour. I always think these monstrosities look like live sheep transports and I could not imagine anything worse than being imprisoned in a floating sarcophagus with 5,000 other people.

    Once we got through the entrance it was possible to have a little more space (but not a lot). At least the views down to Lisbon were spectacular and the morning air was fresh and cool. We spent several hours wandering the battlements and looking through the museum, before making our way back down to the waterfront.

    Lisbon is a modest sized city of some 500,000 inhabitants and we soon felt that it would not take too long to find your way around the place. It certainly has a lovely combination of architecture, seaside location, great climate and lively nightlife. The main city streets have numerous buskers who add vitality and interest to the place.

    I have just returned to the hotel after having a slow stroll back through the city. My GPS tells me that I have walked over 20 km today, no wonder my legs are tired. These so called "rest days" are starting to wear me out.

    So what is my final score for the city of Lisbon ? I think I would happily score it an 8 out of 10. If it had not been for the excessive number of cruise boat tourists, I would have actually given it a 9. It would have been good to have an extra day or two here, but tomorrow we must move on to begin our cycling adventure.
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  • Day 22

    Postcard from Portugal - Pt 2

    October 9, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ 🌙 18 °C

    Since I can only upload a maximum of 10 pictures with each footprint, I though that Lisbon deserved more than that. So here is the second footprint from Lisbon.

  • Day 23

    Goodbye Lisbon, Hello Arraiolos

    October 10, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    After spending such a pleasant couple of days in Lisbon, I must admit that it would have been easy to stay a little longer. Unfortunately that wasn't an option - we had a schedule to keep. Our instructions had clearly told us to be ready and waiting outside the Millennium BCP Bank, in order to catch our bus to Arraiolos at 2 pm precisely.

    That only gave me a few hours to spend my final morning in Lisbon. I first wondered along the now familiar main pedestrian street to the waterfront. It was still early in the morning for the familiar buskers to have set up shop, but obviously not too early for the gypsy beggars to be out and about hounding everyone in sight. I thought it somewhat amusing that they must have made a bulk purchase of crutches at some time. We saw about a dozen gypsy girls regularly working the streets . Each one of them was equipped with a single crutch, although even a blind man could see that there was nothing wrong with them. When they were out of sight of the masses, their limps immediately disappeared.

    One place that I had passed many times over the past couple of days was a towering iron structure in the centre of the city, with a viewing platform at the top. In order to get to the top you pay 5 Euro for a ticket to the ancient elevator. Each previous time that I had passed by the queues had been so long that I lost interest. On this occasion, however, the queue was very short so I took my opportunity and bought a ticket. A few moments later I was standing atop the structure and looking down at Lisbon. It certainly offered a great view of the city.

    After checking out of the hotel and having lunch,it was time to collect my luggage and wait for the bus. Fortunately it was only about 10 minutes late. We were also pleased that it was a very comfortable Mercedes Benz bus. Soon we were leaving Lisbon and passing over the huge suspension bridge that we had seen from the city.

    We were on our way to the small rural town of Arraiolos, about 130 km from Lisbon. Most of the trip was undertaken on a huge freeway with almost no other traffic. We were also interested to pass extensive plantations of cork trees, where you could clearly see how the bark had been systematically harvested from the trunks.

    About two hours later we arrived at our destination, although the bus driver had some difficulty navigating the narrow one way streets. Fortunately I had my Garmin GPS with me and was able to provide him with the necessary directions.

    Our home for the evening is the Casa de Platana Hotel. It was certainly unlike any hotel we had stayed in thus far on this trip. Two things it had in abundance were character and candles.

    Later in the afternoon we met our guide Jorge and collected our bicycles. The consensus of opinion was that the bikes were well prepared and very comfortable to ride.

    Our evening meal was at the Restaurante Pelourinho. I think I can safely say it was easily the best meal we have enjoyed so far on this trip. The food was excellent and the wait staff were attentive and very helpful.

    Tomorrow we start riding.
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  • Day 24

    Our Wheels Start Spinning

    October 11, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    Our first impressions of Arraiolos were rather confused. In some respects it was a bit like being transported back to the 1950s and a time when shops were only open when the owners felt like working, when people still had time to sit and talk in the centre of town and where the only two colours of paint available were blue and white.

    By 9.00 am most of us were ready to start riding. After all, that is what we had come so far to do. The only trouble was the weather was looking threatening. From time to time a light drizzle started to fall. When I spotted a tiny patch of blue overhead, I boldly announced that "the rain was finished for the day" and that we would not be needing the wet weather gear most of us had donned. It turned out to be a little bit premature.

    There was another small problem. Our guide Jorge was yet to arrive, and he was the only one who knew where we were meant to be riding. Soon after 9.30 am he arrived and proceeded to explain that he would be driving the van to each important road junction and then showing us the way. It sounded simple, but I was not overly confident that it would work.

    Actually there was yet another small problem - the road immediately climbed up at a steep angle. Since most of us had not ridden a bike for several weeks, we were soon left stretched out over a large distance. I guess that was why the tail enders took a wrong turn and managed to get lost within the first 5 minutes. It was a worrying start.

    The lost sheep were eventually located and we worked hard to perfect the system. At one point we stopped outside a very old church. If I heard Jorge correctly, he explained that it had been built in 300 BC. That posed all sorts of problems in my head, but I guess I should not get bogged down with details.

    The road continued to climb and climb, making me wonder we were ever told that this region is very flat. After our very first day in the saddle, we all know now that it is simply not true.

    Our first stop for the day was at a large cheese farm. It was quite interesting watching the cheese being made, but by far the most interesting part was when the guide explained that the large Russian female cheesemaker was a fearful woman who continually worried that someone was going to steal her husband. I must admit that I would not have wanted to have been on the receiving end of a beating by Nina. The other fascinating attraction at the farm was a beautiful (and very large) three legged dog that seemed happy to follow after us. I can't remember what name was, but I think it might have been Hoppalong.

    I was curious why every building had been painted blue and white and asked whether that was the only colours available on the Portuguese colour chart. The reply was that it was to "keep away the flies". I think she was serious.

    It was while we were at the cheese factory that the weather took a turn for the worse. With steady rain now falling, Jorge explained that our planned picnic lunch would no longer be possible. We were told that we would be able to have it in the big hall instead. It certainly was an impressive space. The fireplace was the biggest I have ever seen and the mantlepiece was large enough to accommodate two huge stiffed boars. It was that sort of place.

    None of us were sure what happened next, but somehow it seemed to take an eternity for the picnic lunch to be ready and we didn't get back underway until about 2.30 pm in the afternoon. At the least the rain had stopped by that time and the sun eve started to make a reappearance.

    Of course the only way out of the cheese farm was up the same steep hill we had arrived by. When you combine a steep slope with bone shattering corrugations it makes for a serious hard work.

    Jorge had equipped Douglas and Brian with GPS units to help them find the way through some tiny off road tracks. That move was guaranteed to inject mass confusion into the peloton. The path deteriorated into a sandy cow track (complete with real cows) that had everyone quickly trying to perfect their mountain biking skills. In spite of the difficult riding, only Rhonda managed to actually fall off, although many others came very close.

    We finally arrived at the Winery which was to be stop number two. While most of the group went into the premises for a lengthy session of wine tasting, the rest of us sat outside and chatted. The winery was also famous for its huge collection of antique and beautifully restored carriages. Apparently the entire collection is worth many millions of Euros. It certainly was fascinating, but I was really starting to worry about the time. Sunset was rapidly approaching.

    We finally headed away from the winery and started climbing more huge hills. You could only imagine my horror when I saw that we had actually ridden right back into Arraiolos. After hours of riding we were right back where we had started from. It was now about 5 pm and I knew that there were only two hours of daylight remaining.

    Normally when you hear that you will be riding on a "rail trail" you imagine that it will be a lovely smooth surface to ride on, with almost no hills. This one was more like a sand pit, with numerous patches of treacherous deep sand. On several occasions my bike almost came to a complete halt, but somehow we all managed to keep moving ahead.

    We finally arrived at our destination Evora with only a few minutes of daylight remaining. The most impressive sight that greeted us was the towering city wall that seemed to continue for ever. It was with a huge relief that we eventually reached our home for the next two nights - the huge M'Ar De Ar Muralhas hotel. It has a four star rating, but inside it had a distinct "lived in" feeling that suggested that its grandest days were behind it. Nevertheless, the room was large, clean and very comfortable. It was a pity that the towel rail fell straight off the wall as soon as I touched it, but somehow I wasn't surprised.

    The restaurant that we enjoyed our evening meal was packed. I also noticed that it had a Michelin rating. When we saw the level of service experienced the quality of the food we could see why it was the most popular place in town.
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  • Day 25

    Carnage at the Breakfast Buffet

    October 12, 2018 in Portugal ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    When I realised that we would be staying at what was probably the largest hotel in Evora, I could not help but feel a little excited. Apart from the large bedroom, my thoughts raced ahead to what delights might await us at the morning breakfast buffet. We might even be able to feast on scrambled eggs and other delicacies. These are the sort of things that you NEVER have for breakfast at home, but become staple fare when you are travelling.

    Although breakfast had not been scheduled till 7.30 am, by 7.00 I had already been up for over an hour and was ready to tuck in. It was only when I left my room and noticed the huge line of suitcases that filled the corridor as gar as the eye could see. Each one bore the label of some accursed bus touring company. It was not only evident that there was a whole infestation of these bus tourists, but it was also obvious that they didn't feel obliged to eve take their own bags to the foyer. I wondered if the passengers would also be carried out as well.

    With feelings of foreboding I made my way to the breakfast room. It was not a pretty sight. The entire room was jam packed with a loud mob of bus travellers who were all trying to scoff as much food as possible in the least amount of time. They were descending en mass like a swarm of locusts on any scrap of food that appeared on the buffet. I could almost see fist fights breaking out over the last croissant.

    Since there was not a single seat available, I had no choice but to return to my room, hoping that the swarming mass would soon move on to repeat the same obnoxious performance at some other hotel. I could not help but feel sorry for them - they would have to endure this same spectacle every single day, while we only had to witness it once.

    By 7.30 pm most of the swarm had departed, along with all of the cutlery and most of the food. They had disappeared almost as fast as they had appeared. If that is modern tourism, I would never want any part of it.

    As the other Ghostriders arrived to survey the carnage, we could only look with amazement. The staff were also obviously still in a state of shock. When Allan tried to retrieve a knife and fork to eat his breakfast (surely not an unreasonable thing to do), he was met with a torrent of abuse from the young female attendant. Apparently we were meant to eat the tiny amount of remaining scrambled eggs with our hands.

    I managed to grab a few leftovers and was glad to be out of the place. In the meantime the busloads of travellers had been herded into their live stock transports and were already on their way to the next roadhouse and toilet stop. And to think that some people actually PAY to do those sort of tours !!!!
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